As she hauled herself back to her feet, dizzy and disoriented from the fall, the clouds cleared and moonlight flooded the field once again, revealing the headless coachman only metres away from her. In one hand he clutched a whip with a handle fashioned from what looked like a thigh bone. Cat feared it came from a previous victim. In his other hand he cradled a small, shrivelled lump. Cat wanted to run, but she couldn’t move. She felt as though her feet were rooted to the ground. Somewhere in the background she heard Shane yelling her name, telling her to run, to hurry, but it was no good: she was under the Dullahan’s spell.

The coachman raised the misshapen lump until it was chest height and Cat realised with growing horror that she was staring directly at a decapitated head. The cheeks were sunken, and the skin had turned a putrid yellow, but she could still make out the hideous features. It almost looked like it was smiling. Cat felt bile rise in her throat. Suddenly, the head’s eyes flicked open and fixed her with a glare that turned her blood to ice.

‘Caitriona Donnelly,’ rumbled the deep, bass voice of the Dullahan. ‘Your time has come.’

He flicked the bone-handled whip and Cat felt it wrap around her wrist. She opened her mouth to scream but the coachman yanked hard and pulled her toward him. Another wave of power washed over her and forced Cat to her knees.

‘Your soul is mine.’

Chapter Twelve

Silver and Gold

For a moment Cat felt nothing but darkness and pain and then–

–then she was back. Back in Granny and Granddad’s house, curled up on the couch with her overly sweet cup of tea and the storm still raging outside.

How did I get here? she thought, but her mind felt fuzzy and slow.

She looked over at Granny and saw her familiar face smiling back.

‘’Tis blowing a gale out there now,’ she said. ‘And just as we’re getting to the scary part of the story – the part where all hope seems lost. Do you remember what happens next, Caitriona?’

Cat tried to shake her head, but it was such a lot of effort and she was so tired. The tea and the blanket and the warmth of the fire were getting to her, and she could feel her eyes beginning to close. Granny seemed to understand. She always seemed to understand. She patted Cat on the knee and continued with her tale.

‘The brave young girl set out on her quest, and she had to face many obstacles, each of which seemed more hopeless than the last. But the girl wasn’t just brave, she was smart. She knew how to untangle riddles and make sense out of nonsense.’

Riddles. Cat thought she had heard one of those recently. How did it go again …?

She tried to remember, but remembering was hard. It was much easier to give up and sleep for a while. She yawned. It was so cosy in Granny’s living room and the sound of the wind battering against the window was hypnotic. It almost sounded like it was calling her name.