She was bruised and sore and the weight of her schoolbag was slowing her down, but still she ran, weaving around rocks and jumping over holes. The field was pocked and uneven and more than once she almost tripped. When she reached the stone wall at the edge of the field she hauled herself over and as her feet landed on the other side she caught a glimpse of the coachman striding toward her as if he were in no particular rush. She felt her breath burning in her lungs and the beginnings of a stitch in her side. She knew it was useless. There was no way she could outrun him. What was worse was that he clearly knew it too. Cat fought back a sob. There had to be another way. She needed to think.

‘The brave young girl had to face many obstacles, each more hopeless than the last,’ the words from her dream ricocheted around her brain. ‘She knew how to untangle riddles and make sense out of nonsense.’ There was something important in those words. Something she should remember, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t quite grasp their meaning.

She was less than halfway across the next field when she felt the sting of the coachman’s whip as it wrapped around her neck. It was too late. He had caught up to her.

‘You’re a tricky one, Caitriona Donnelly,’ said the coachman as he pulled her close. If she didn’t know better, she might have thought he sounded impressed. ‘But you’ve given me chase enough for one night. This ends now.’

A cold hand shot out and clamped down on her shoulder, ensuring she couldn’t escape him again. Immediately, Cat felt a strange sensation deep in her chest and with a shock saw that her whole body was glowing with a faint silvery light. Cat realised that the coachman wasn’t going to wait until they reached his carriage, he meant to take her soul right now. She tried to struggle free, but she was so tired and he was too strong. Cat squeezed her eyes shut and felt tears slide down her cheeks. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

Suddenly, Cat heard a familiar voice.

‘Hey, ugly. Get away from her!’

She opened her eyes in time to see Shane aiming a well-timed kick at the coachman’s knees. The Dullahan growled and, with his free hand, swatted at Shane as though he were trying to bat away a fly.

‘Out of my way, boy,’ he said. ‘Or I will take you too. My carriage has more than enough room for you both.’

But Shane didn’t stop. He hopped backwards out of the Dullahan’s reach and picked up a mud-caked stone, flinging it at him with all his strength. It missed by the Dullahan by a hair’s breadth, but it was enough to distract him. His grip on Cat loosened and she immediately began to struggle.

Her mam always said she had been a wriggly baby, all elbows and shins. She put both to good use now, kicking and punching at him blindly. The neck of her coat tore open with an audible rip, leaving a patch of fabric in the Dullahan’s hand. She almost had it, she was almost free, but then the coachman caught one of Shane’s rocks and, with ferocious strength, threw it back at him. The stone hit Shane in the stomach and he stumbled backward, crying out in pain. Now the coachman’s focus was on Cat once again. The shrivelled head glared up at her in anger. The Dullahan let go of her shoulder and grasped her by the throat instead. His grip was like iron and Cat wondered if he meant to choke the life out of her.