Thea’s body took over. All she had to do was keep putting hand in front of hand, knee in front of knee; it was simple. Her brain snagged and caught in a loop that would have made no sense to anyone but her: she was a burning tree and, on each of her branches, ghosts were tied like bobbing balloons.

Burning tree, ghost balloons, burning tr—

Finally, in front of them were the rough stone steps that led down to the cove.

‘Down there.’ Rory pointed. ‘That’s where the boat could be, if it’s still there.’

The steps were treacherous, the kind of stone that was lethal when wet and positively murderous when covered with ice and a smattering of snow. Though it wasn’t elegant, they took the steps toddler-style, sliding down on their bottoms: more elegant than slipping and breaking a leg, or tumbling head-first into the rocks.

She was a burning tree.

With bobbing ghost balloons.

Thea couldn’t shake the feeling that all of this was wrong. Why had they been allowed to get this far? Why wasn’t anyone chasing them, or already waiting for them on these steps? Had they really escaped the full might of whatever was hulking behind Ing Enterprises, a shadowy beast of a corporation that could wipe out what happened here with one smack of its paw? She wanted to think she was clever enough to escape, but she couldn’t quite convince herself. It was chance that had got her this far and now … something else … was taking her the rest of the way.

‘Wait!’ she called out to Rory.

He stopped on the step below her and swivelled awkwardly.

‘What?’

Thea rubbed her hands together, trying to rub some warmth back into them. They were out of sight of the beach and below them swirled the sea, gulls diving with raucous shrieks, freewheeling in the air.

‘Doesn’t this feel wrong? We should have been caught by now …’

‘Is this about me again? Do you think I’m leading you into a trap? God, Thea, I just want to get off this island as much as you do.’ He glared at her, the hollows of his eyes a bruised grey, his jacket too thin for the cold.

‘No, I—’

‘How many more times do I have to tell you?’

She stood on the steps with screeching above her and swirling below.

‘I believe you,’ she said, her voice hoarse, not able to meet his eyes at first, but when she did she saw how his own had softened. There was a lot in the gaze that passed between them, a quiet calm binding them together on those steps at the edge of the island.