Madison stood there, her hair wet and clinging in the rain, her red lips drawn back in a snarl. ‘You witch,’ the girl hissed. She shouldered her way forward and forced the door all the way open. She had something in her hand: a small wooden statuette.

‘Get out of my house,’ said Eliza, rage boiling up.

‘I’ve heard all about your “confession”. You’re a liar. A liar. I know what you really are. How did you get into my room?’

‘Your room? What the hell are you talking about?’ spat Eliza.

‘This.’ Madison held up the statue in her hand. It was a carved figure of a woman, about the size of a carton of milk, rough and messily hewn from light brown sassafras, shards of bone driven where its eyes should be and a rough rope noose around its neck.

Eliza stepped back. ‘What is that?’ she said in disgust.

Madison dropped the statuette on the floor, trembling. ‘Don’t lie to me – I know you’re the one who put this in my room! This is one of Denni’s statues! I know you’re lying about Cierra, too!’

‘Denni’s statues?’

‘Why did you help us? You played along with the fight, you did what I said, but now you’re claiming you weren’t sleeping with Cierra?’ Madison’s voice shook, and her eyes kept coming back to the statuette, like iron filings to a magnet. ‘You know what I can do to you, so why did you go along with our plan only to mess with me now?’

‘Aren’t you happy, you little bitch? Everyone’s looking at you. Everyone’s watching your videos. Poor little Madison, her sister and her friend are missing. Poor little Madison, her friend Georgia is dead, just like poor Denni. Good for you, you got what you wanted.’

‘Shut up!’ shrieked Madison. ‘You took the girls! I’m going to tell everybody!’ Madison looked at the statuette again, whites showing around her eyes. ‘Where are they? Where are they?’

‘Get out of my house. Get out!’

‘Or what, you’ll call the police?’ said Madison.

‘No. I’ll make my own video, telling everyone how you blackmailed me, how you planned for the girls to disappear.’

‘You can try,’ said Madison, her pale hands clenching and unclenching. ‘Don’t you realise I’m three steps ahead of every one of you?’

‘Then I’ll tell everyone about the Kundela Game.’

Madison froze. A beat later she sneered, but it was forced. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘I know Denni was playing. If it had anything to do with her death —’

‘Stupid bitch.’ Madison turned and stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind her.

The thud of the door set the timber walls creaking. Denni’s ghost, raging.