I nodded gratefully, darted over to the creature before he could change his mind about surrendering and tied his hands and feet together. He lay curled foetal-like in the long grass while I surveyed the damage. ‘Where’s Morna?’ I scanned around. ‘Morna!’ I called. ‘You can come out now. It’s safe!’

‘How the hell did Fomori demons get the border down and get through here?’ Taylor asked.

‘They’re not demons,’ I said tersely. ‘Morna!’

‘Eh?’

‘That one who tripped and knocked himself unconscious called me a bitch.’ Where the hell was Morna?

‘Some of them must speak English though?’

‘Not with Aberdonian accents, they don’t.’

Taylor grabbed my arm. ‘There.’

I looked at where he was pointing and saw Tipsania materialise. She let out a cry and fell to her knees. Something flickered in my peripheral vision; the main castle inhabitants had apparently realised something was wrong. I dimly registered Angus leading the charge towards us. The MacQuarries weren’t my focus though; it was the crumpled figure at Tipsania’s feet, almost completely camouflaged by the long grass, which made me forget to breathe.

Time seemed to slow down. It was probably only seconds before I reached Tipsania and collapsed beside her but it felt much longer. When I saw what state Morna was in, things got even worse. She was on her back, her white hands clutching at the hilt of the knife that protruded from her belly. Blood bubbled up from her lips as she tried to breathe. Oh God, oh God, oh God.

‘I don’t know what to do,’ Tipsania yelled, grabbing my sleeve. ‘What do we do?’

My jaw worked as I tried to speak. Morna’s eyelashes fluttered as she turned her face to me. She opened her mouth to say something but no words came out.

‘Integrity!’ Tipsania screamed. ‘What the fuck do we do?’

I didn’t know. I reached down for the knife. Maybe I should pull it out or do something to stem the blood that was seeping out from the edges of the ragged wound. My heart thumped against my ribcage with fear. None of the Gifts I had would work, not a single one. Think, Integrity. Bloody think.

Taylor joined us, taking in the situation in one glance. Deftly he examined the wound. I didn’t need to read his expression to know how grave the situation was. I grabbed hold of Morna’s hands. ‘Let go,’ I told her, hoping my voice didn’t betray my panic. ‘I need you to let go.’

For a moment I wasn’t sure she’d heard me then one hand moved away from the lethal blade and flailed upwards. ‘Integrity,’ Morna whispered.

‘Don’t talk,’ I said. ‘Conserve your strength.’

‘Integrity,’ Taylor said, his voice strained. ‘The blade is too deep. There’s nothing you can do.’

I paid him no attention. His skills lay in first aid, not mortal wounds; he didn’t know everything. I yanked off my jacket then pulled my T-shirt over my head, before bending over to dab at the wound and clear some of the blood so I could get a better look. Maybe the blade wasn’t that long. It was possible that none of Morna’s vital organs had been hit.