I cuffed him across the side of his face. ‘Please nothing. I haven’t got all day.’

His eyes still screwed up, water trickling out of them, he rummaged his fat pale fingers through the bag. ‘I can’t. The bracelet needs a special release code and I didn’t think to bring it . . .’ Then he gave a hopeless little sob. ‘I still can’t see. I think you’ve really blinded me.’

Losing my patience, I tipped the bag upside down and spilled its contents onto the floor. Out came numerous containers, vials, syringes. I pawed through the medical clutter until my fingers closed on a bottle full of some dark purple fluid. I thumbed the stopper away and jabbed a syringe into the inky contents, withdrawing the piston until the cylinder was fully charged.

‘Get on your feet.’ I touched the tip of the needle against the flab of his neck. ‘Do you feel that? It’s a syringe, ready to be squirted right into you.’

He struggled to his feet, blinking furiously. ‘What are you hoping to achieve by this, Arafura?’

‘Oh, I’ve lots of plans. Precisely none of which you need to know.’ I dug the tip of the needle a little further into him, dimpling his flesh down under the pressure, but not yet drawing blood. ‘Move. You’re my hostage now, until we’re out of this house.’

We left my room, with me still clutching the pillowcase I’d filled earlier. I was to Morcenx’s right, using my free hand to twist his arm around to the small of his back while I used the fingers of the other to press the syringe against his neck, trying not to drop the pillowcase in the process. I thought of all the limbs a Crawly had and wished I’d a few spare ones of my own. At least Morcenx wasn’t struggling. All his strength counted for nothing now, with the fear of that injection.

‘We must take the service elevator,’ Paladin said, as we moved out of the bedroom, turning left into the adjoining corridor. The elevator was near the end of it, where the corridor met the landing on the top of the third flight of stairs.

‘I can manage the stairs,’ I said.

‘I do not doubt it. However, I cannot. The service elevator will accommodate all three of us.’

I heard footsteps below us, my father struggling up the stairs.

‘She’s got me, Mr Ness. I’m being taken hostage! Your daughter is psychotic!’