Just then, the floating demon squawked and flapped his arms in alarm. A heartbeat later he plummeted downwards, crashing into the river and creating a mini tsunami in my direction. Panicked that he would notice me, I took a gulp of air and plunged underwater. I couldn’t see a thing; I just hoped that I could hold my breath long enough to keep out of sight.

I stayed under until my lungs were burning with a fire I’d never felt before. I had a choice: either drown or break the surface to get more air. I kicked, fighting against the pull of the water. My legs felt heavy and sluggish and it was only because I was next to the bank and could dig my hands into the mud that I managed to heave my head back up.

I gasped loudly but the noise of the demons covered my involuntary wheeze. The demon who had fallen in the river was already at the opposite bank, being helped out by a friend. I wiped the clinging, dark liquid from my eyes and peered across. He was gesturing into the air, confused; he obviously hadn’t expected his Gift to fail like that. Despite my shivers, I felt a flicker of curiosity – and suspicion.

His friend laughed and patted his shoulder then the pair of them turned their backs and walked away. My gaze flitted back to the bridge. There were only one or two Fomori on it now, still jogging across to catch up with the others. The skies were emptying. I had no idea where all the demons were off to; I was just thankful that they were leaving.

Five minutes later, everything was silent again. My heart was drumming against my ribcage, my fear still not entirely gone. If it hadn’t been for the water, I probably would have lingered for longer until I was sure it was safe to clamber out, but it was too cold. The chill was penetrating my bones and I realised that I would soon be in danger of severe hypothermia, despite the hot clammy air.

I moved along the bank, looking for a spot where it would be easier to pull myself out. There was a good metre of mud bank between where I was and the street further up where I wanted to be. No spot appeared better than any other so I reached up, thrust my fingers into the sticky mud and dug in my toes. Mustering up all my strength, I flung myself upwards. It was time to get out of here.

I made about five inches before the drag of the thick water was too much. I was still wearing my shoes and carrying the harp on my back but even without them the mud would have been too slimy for me to get sufficient purchase. I tried again but this time was even worse and I fell back into the water with a loud splash. Forcing myself to lie still, I waited in case something had heard me. Fortunately, I seemed to be in the clear ‒ but I still couldn’t get out of the Clyde.