One of the bikes was close. Very close. The ground was becoming one big blanket of dark and Amber nearly tripped half a dozen times on roots or logs or vines or rocks, but she kept going, and kept going faster, and the bike was getting even closer, but its light was off and it was hard, it was impossible, to tell where it was, as there was sound all around them now, and then she stumbled on to a road in time to see a bike slam into Milo and flip him into the air.

“Milo!” she yelled, and the Hound braked and swung round 180 degrees in a sudden cloud of smoke, the headlight snapping on, and Amber ducked back before she was seen.

Milo rolled to a stop, and the Hound rode back to him slowly.

Amber watched Milo prop himself up on to his elbows and try to get his knees under him. The Hound passed, then stopped, leaned his bike on its kickstand and got off. He had a chain in his hands, a heavy one, and he twirled it. Milo got to one knee and the Hound lashed the chain against the side of his head.

Another Hound roared up, and Amber shrank back as the headlight searched the darkness around her. When it was safe, she looked again. The Hound with the chain had attached it to Milo’s handcuffs while the other one circled them, then rode off. The Hound with the chain attached the other end to the back of his bike, and got on.

“No,” Amber whispered.

The bike revved and shot forward, and the chain went taut and jerked Milo after it.

Amber couldn’t help it. She leaped from cover and screamed, but Milo was already gone, dragged away into the darkness.

She stood there, her thoughts a horrified jumble. The bike’s tail lights disappeared round the bend. The road looped. If she was lucky …

She broke left, running into the trees, her shoes slipping on the incline. She could have cleared this little hill with no trouble as a demon, but she wasn’t going to let her own natural weakness stop her. Not this time.

She got to the top, met the road again as the first Hound passed. Gasping for breath, she crouched in the dark and waited. To do what? What the hell did she think she was going to do? If she shifted, she’d break her damn wrists, and then what good would she be to Milo?

The key was tiny in her freezing, slippery hands. She managed to get a good grip and tapped it against the cuffs, searching for the keyhole.

“Come on,” she snarled to herself. “Come on, you useless piece of …”