LH: I’m afraid we have no listing for a Dr. Augur.

ME: But…I came in to see her today. You’re making a mistake. Please. Just…try again.

LH: I’m afraid there’s no mistake. There is no Dr. Augur. Not at the Lister Hospital. Perhaps—

I slam the phone back in the receiver and try not to panic.

I’ll call the police. That’s what I’ll do. I won’t tell them about the creature, I’ll just…I’ll say someone took her. My mouth is dry. I can’t swallow. The thought of Bea out there somewhere with that thing makes me feel violently ill.

I lean over the side of the bed and retch into my bin, then recoil from the smell. I cough and spit, wipe my mouth with the back of my shaking hand and shove the bin under the bed.

And then I snatch up my iPad.

In the bright glare, I begin typing a Google search.

I think I’ve landed in a parallel universe.

I scroll down and stop when I hit a story about a woman called Lerina Garcia. She goes to bed one night, same as usual, and when she wakes up her sheets are a different colour. She brushes this off and heads to work, but when she arrives at her department she’s told she works in another part of the building on a different floor. In a panic, she heads home only to find a man in her house who can’t recall a breakup she believes they had six months before. Her new boyfriend—who Lerina claims she was seeing for a month—is gone. No trace of him. No trace of anyone who knows him. Just gone. I feel the skin tighten on the back of my neck.

I turn off the iPad and lie down again, shivering. I’m confused—that’s all it is. The Old Man isn’t blind. Bea isn’t gone. She’s at home. She’s fine. It’s all fine. I begin to drift, convincing myself everything is right in the world and things are just as they should be, as they ought to be.

The room tilts and my lids close.

I fall into darkness.

—

I dream of winged things, pink and bony. They carve the dark outside my window, releasing blood-curdling screeches. One of them descends through the gloom, its eyes black and bottomless, so dense they suck in the light. It swoops towards my window, extends a pair of clawed talons and slams into the pane, scraping at the glass.

Snick…snick…SNICK!

I sit bolt upright, drenched in sweat, heart thumping against my ribcage. It’s quiet. No light shines beneath the door. The house is fast asleep. I can hear Gad’s snores through the walls, and yet…something isn’t right.