Only there did she stop and wriggle out of her cloak, throwing it to the floor with a moan of disgust. They were all over her, she could feel their legs tickling and their fangs sinking in. Romilla slapped and beat at the swarming spiders, crushing them with every motion until at last they were all exterminated. Her skin still itched with the invasive sensation of arachnid legs, but Romilla made herself stop before panic took hold.

‘You’ve killed us all!’ gasped Thackeray, still swatting madly at himself.

‘They’re too young to be venomous,’ replied Romilla. ‘Calm yourself, man!’

‘How can you possibly know that?’ asked Thackeray, still scrubbing at his skin, his mouth twisted in disgust. Eleanora leaned against a nearby wall, whimpering slightly as she methodically checked each part of her body for spiders.

‘I don’t, but I assume we’d feel the effects by now if they had been,’ replied Romilla. She didn’t want to go into how just such an arachnid had bitten Eleanora many days ago, and that the effects of its bite had taken days to manifest. Somehow, she didn’t think any of them would find that comforting. ‘The alternative was to remain trapped in that basement while they crawled all over us and our comrades fought and died without our help. Would you have preferred that?’

‘You’re a cheffing lunatic,’ said Thackeray, drawing his pistol. His lantern lay discarded a floor below, still attached to the end of his halberd. Its light spilled up from below, dots seething across it where spiderlings covered its glass surface and making Romilla’s flesh tingle all over again.

‘Call me what you like, just help me get this done,’ said Romilla. Thackeray shook his head and set off up the next flight of stairs. The cobwebs were sparser here, forming diaphanous veils rather than knotted clumps. Romilla turned to aid Eleanora, taking one of the engineer’s arms and giving her a last look over for the telltale movement of spiderlings. She heard a wet crunch from above, and turned to look up the stairs.

Thackeray was hauled off his feet, up the last few stairs and into the air above. Something awful enfolded him, a mass of spine-haired limbs and busy mandibles. The watchman’s eyes locked with Romilla’s for a moment, his expression a mass of horror and pain and terror. Then chitinous blades flashed and his head parted company from his neck, to be sucked into a glistening orifice that yawned beneath a cluster of staring eyes.

Romilla froze. She couldn’t move. The enormous spider took several steps down the stairway, squeezing its nightmare bulk towards them. It gave off a carrion stench. The sounds of it crunching and sucking at Thackeray’s severed head made her gorge rise.