The rain complicated matters. But this time round there were no rucksacks to weigh them down. They knew the way. They knew the obstacles that lined it. Chloe had re-examined the GPS and made a few adjustments. Ben would force his way through a field of thorns if it were deemed the quickest route. Clear the gate and don’t look back. For Aoife and for Chloe, and for any future perfect candidates out there.

The door clicked open like a vacuum and cold air raced in around Ben’s legs.

‘You ready for this?’ he said, turning to Chloe as he sank a boot into the mud.

‘Just try to keep up this time.’

24

The rain-soaked lands surrounding Tír Mallacht were nothing like Ben remembered. His memories were lost to the dark waters flooding the low ground like black syrup, sucking their boots into its depths. The absence of their rucksacks kept them from cratering too deep. But they still had to remain mindful of every step. One twisted ankle and they would never make it to the village before nightfall.

‘What do you think Sparling hoped to gain by sending us here?’ Chloe asked as she snapped at fistfuls of passing grass.

‘If the village is still cursed, then so is he,’ Ben replied. ‘The man’s basically a Tír Mallacht. Maybe he’s hoping that they’ll find a way to lift it, though I can’t see that happening. They’ve modelled their lives around the curse’s restrictions, just like Sparling. And every time they teach a child to fear the night, they’re just passing it down to the next generation, keeping the thing alive.’

‘So, the…’ she stopped, not wanting to speak its name ‘…curse survives because people know about it. That means if Sparling and all the Tír Mallachts die, it’s over. There’d be no one to speak about it, to spread it.’

‘You’re forgetting about us.’

She ran both hands through her hair and sighed. ‘We’re just like the Tír Mallachts now, aren’t we?’

‘No way, we’re far better-looking.’

‘Why must the beautiful always die so young?’ she sang dramatically before throwing a handful of torn up grass into his face.

Ben had committed to going it alone. But he knew in his heart that if the cottage held the key, Chloe was their best shot. Her educated eye could see things that he wouldn’t even know to look for. And her company was a light in the abyss that he had dragged them into.

This time, when Ben spoke to the Tír Mallachts, there would be no smiles, no gentle push or politeness. Whether the secret to their survival was in the creeper’s cottage or locked away in one of their inbred heads, he needed it before dark. Otherwise, his last day of life promised to be a short one.

*