Alistair let out a high-pitched cry, one hand going immediately to his throat as his windpipe closed off. He dropped the knife and it fell to the ground with a dull thud. If I’d thought he was going to give up because he couldn’t breathe, however, I was sorely mistaken. Still scrabbling to breathe, he ducked his head and barrelled towards me just as I got up to my feet.

Despite my best efforts to avoid cramp, I was wobbly enough to sway and half collapse on one knee, allowing Alistair the time he needed to smack into my chest and knock me down on top of Gareth. I couldn’t maintain my hold on the magic and Alistair’s breath was released. He spun round for another attack but his magic was too clumsy.

I flung out a ward rune, creating a protective barrier around both Gareth and me. Alistair rammed into it but he didn’t know of any way to break it down apart from brute force. It held, shimmering in the night air.

He let out a curse and spat. Then he turned once more and walked over to the knife. He picked it up, his finger touching the tip of the blade as if to test it.

‘Ivy,’ Gareth said in a strained voice.

‘Shhh.’ My attention was on Alistair. When he made a beeline for the sheep, I hissed and dropped the ward. I stalked forward, throwing a rune out behind me to loosen Gareth’s bonds. ‘Leave the animal alone, Alistair.’

The sheep bleated, as if it knew what was coming.

‘Everything else is ready,’ he muttered. ‘I just need the blood and the words and then I can set Morag free.’

‘Morag is at peace,’ I told him. ‘She’s no longer there. What lies beneath that headstone is just a shell.’ In fact, surely she was nothing more than bones by this point. Even if he did bring back to claw her upwards, I reckoned her skeleton would collapse before it took a single step. At that point, though, it wasn’t Morag’s corpse that worried me it was what would happen with Alistair’s magic if he succeeded.

Alistair started to mutter as the night itself filled with his power. It was so strong I could almost taste it. It was now or never.

There was a faint whoosh of air on my nape and Gareth burst forward. He tackled Alistair and they both fell to the ground. I darted forward to grab the knife but they rolled away from me, grunting – and then the entire area was bathed in bright light. What the hell?

Both Alistair and Gareth froze, as startled by the light as I was. A voice boomed out and I spotted several shadowy figures towards the end of the line of graves. ‘Keep going! Don’t stop because we’re here!’

Morris Armstrong. And not just him: there was a cameraman, pointing the lens in our direction, and the white faces of both Barry and Amy staring at us.