I crawled over to her, stretching out my hand. ‘Heal,’ I whispered, ‘heal.’ The magic flowed from my fingertips and almost immediately she stirred.

There was a roar from the demon as he realised I was up to something. He sprinted towards us. I swallowed. His figure blurred as I tried to focus on it but there was no doubt he was getting closer.

Then I blinked and he was gone.

I couldn’t hear anything. There was a ringing in my ears and I didn’t know if I was about to throw up or pass out. The pixie sat up and gaped at something above her head. Trying to clear my vision, I followed her gaze. Directly above us was the demon monster, impaled on one of the spikes.

I shook my head. ‘What?’

The pixie stared. ‘He tripped.’ She started to laugh. ‘He tripped.’

I frowned, my brain clouded by confusion as much as pain. I glanced to my other side. There, half embedded in the sand, was the flail. Apparently I’d had so little Apportation magic left that all I’d managed to do was transport it from his hands to the other side of the arena. The demon’s foot must have caught on it. Now, instead of slamming my soul from here to kingdom come, the monster was skewered in its own playground.

Blood leaked from the wound in its stomach. It groaned, its hands slippery as it tried to slide away from the spike. I stumbled over and lay my hand on his shoulders. Once again, I called on Aifric’s Gift as I pulled the limp body of the demon backwards. While he groaned, his weight shifted; he fell away from the spike and sprawled right on top of me. I gasped, writhing to get free. He clutched at what had been a mortal wound and stood up, looking at the blood on his hands.

‘What the fuck have you done?’ the pixie screamed. ‘We had him. We could have won.’

I ignored her and watched the demon. I didn’t have the energy to stand up again; the pain was too much. The demon scratched his head and looked away, glancing at something above. I rolled over. All six of the Fomori leaders were on their feet. The one on the end gestured to the demon. He nodded once and bent down towards me. I held my breath. Not again; I couldn’t cope with another blow. Rather than slamming into me, however, he dragged me to my feet then half pulled, half dragged me across the arena.

Now what? The demon on the end, who was wearing a cloak round his shoulders, gazed at me. He leaned over to his companion and murmured and I realised it was the English-speaking Fomori from earlier.

There was only one question. ‘Why?’

‘It was right,’ I gasped as another wave of agony rippled through me.

‘He was going to kill you.’

I gave a short, humourless laugh. ‘Who isn’t trying to kill me?’