But he stares right at me. His eyes are bloodshot, looking like he lives in a world of perpetual smoke. His face is curious and angry at the same time, as if he’s offended by an intruder watching him.

‘Spy,’ he hisses. ‘You don’t belong here.’ His words sound like a hundred slithering snakes, but I can still understand him.

As soon as the demon says the word spy, the hellions all look at me. Their eyes widen as though they can’t believe their luck. It doesn’t take me long to figure out that I’m not invisible anymore.

The demon takes a good look at me with his bloodshot eyes. Then he whips his stick in my direction. The heads – the screaming, drowning, bloody heads – shoot out toward me at the end of his unspooling whip.

Their expressions are a mix of despair and hope. They’re desperately delighted to be heading my way, with their fractured teeth showing in their gaping mouths. Their hair, which should be flying back, reaches toward me.

At the same time, the hellions leap at me, all claws and fangs.

I stumble backward.

I try to turn and run, but the uneven ground trips me, and I’m falling onto the sharp glass and shards of bone.

The heads scream as they race toward my face.

I’m falling.

Falling.

I stumble backward and fall onto my butt.

I’m back on the island. Beliel, wingless and shriveled again, lies on the ground in front of me.

Then a hellion jumps out of Beliel’s back. It leaps at me with extended claws.

I scream, crab-crawling backward.

It swipes my shoulder as it flies past me. Blood flows down my arm.

The tip of my sword is still buried in Beliel’s back. I try to pull it out. There’s resistance, like someone is pulling on the other side. Revulsion reverberates through my arm as though the blade is an extension of me.

Two more hellions shove through along my sword like conjoined twins. They pop out of Beliel’s back, which is bleeding from the slit where the hellions came out.

They’re leaping out of his memories.

I finally yank out my sword and scooch back as fast as I can away from Beliel.

The hellions land in the garden with a thump. They roll and land on their feet, shaking their heads and moving drunkenly as they look around the small yard. They squint against the sunlight and lift their hands to shield their eyes. That gives me a second to get on my feet and catch my breath.

But then they jump. It’s all I can do to lift my sword and swipe blindly in front of me.

I’m in luck because they seem disoriented, and one even trips over its own feet. They change course and stay out of range of my blade.