‘Cat!’ said the wind, ‘You have to get up! You have to fight him!’

Silly wind, she thought. There’s no one to fight, I’m with Granny. I’m safe.

Granny’s lips were moving, but Cat was too far gone to hear a word. She closed her eyes and–

–and she was back. Back in the field. Back kneeling on the cold, muddy ground with the Dullahan towering over her, his rotting head just inches from her own.

She thought of her mam who worked so hard to make sure she and Mikey were taken care of, and she thought of Granny lying in the hospital bed fighting for her life with every breath. They never gave up even when things got tough and neither would she. The Dullahan was trying to steal her soul. Was she going to sit there like a limp rag doll and allow it to happen? She was a Donnelly girl and Donnelly girls didn’t go down without a fight. She could get out of this. She just had to think.

‘Rise,’ said the coachman through his cracked and rotting lips. ‘And follow me.’

Cat felt an outside force yank her onto her feet. She tried to struggle, but it was no use, the Dullahan’s power was strong and she found herself stumbling after him, back toward the road. To the carriage.

Think, Cat! Think!

The whip was curled around her wrists, binding them in front of her like handcuffs and the coachman was using it to drag her along behind him. She gave an experimental tug, but there was no give. The shrivelled head still hung from the Dullahan’s left hand. He obviously didn’t need it to navigate because it was turned to face Cat, jeering up at her as they walked.

‘As one with the Sight, I had hoped you would present more of a challenge than this,’ said the Dullahan. ‘But I see now you are nothing special, just a silly little girl.’

Cat felt her temper flare. They were almost back at the road. If she was going to act it had to be now. She would have to get him to drop the whip if she had any hope of escape.

I can’t believe I’m going to do this, she thought.

Cat took a breath and leapt forward aiming a kick at the coachman’s head. She watched as the head frowned up at her, but before it could say anything her foot connected and the head soared through the air like a football, landing on the mud with a hard thump. The Dullahan howled and dropped the whip. Cat was free and began to run.

She spotted Shane across the field sprinting toward her and yelling her name. She wanted to tell him not to be stupid, to turn around, but there was no time. All her focus was on escape.

She could hear the coachman behind her, his heavy boots thumping against the hard-packed earth. She risked a quick look over her shoulder and saw that he had retrieved the head, which now hung from his belt and bounced against his thigh with each step.