Sounds travelled far across open land. He imagined every Tír Mallacht – young and old – running stealthily towards them, funnelling through the narrow paths like rats, some carrying reams of rope, others dragging sledgehammers behind them, leaving long gutters in their wake. They must have heard the commotion, wherever they were.

Fortunately, whatever Chloe was doing inside was working. The man’s cries had steadily softened to a sad, soulful whimper, like an abused animal that knew only the malignance of mankind, thriving to be quiet so as not to be seen.

They were on the lighter side of twilight now. Ben looked towards where the bleak sky was brightest, where his last sunset had been denied to him. He thought of all those he had ever witnessed and failed to recall a single one. His memories were all borrowed from movies or photographs. So much had been taken for granted.

‘You shouldn’t be here.’

The shock of the child’s voice whipped Ben forward.

Her presence could only mean one thing – the Tír Mallachts had returned.

His nerves surged with an angst that fizzled down to his fingers. He turned to see that same girl standing behind him. She had manifested as she always did, without a sound and seemingly from nowhere. Ben cast an uneasy glance around the village.

She was alone.

The child was unchanged. Same dress, same shock of curly hair. She stood oblique, with her head bowed, staring at Ben like a security guard who’d found a trespasser during a routine walkabout. He’d never known a kid to emanate such a hostile energy. One that burned strongest around those eyes that he had yet to see blink.

This was the girl responsible for everything. She had known the consequences when she found them that evening, out of earshot of the adults. Knocking off outsiders must have been a hobby of hers.

‘Trust me,’ Ben said, keeping his anger contained, ‘this is the last place I want to be. Chloe,’ he called inside, ‘can you come out here, please.’

‘What’s going…’ She froze in the doorway.

‘Our friend is back.’

The child looked to Chloe with the same lifeless expression and then brushed right past her. She skipped through the dark and hoisted herself onto the table, sitting beside the man as though he were a sick relation. Sick didn’t begin to cover his condition. Her face screwed into a frown when she saw that the wire had been removed from his neck.

‘He’s not ready,’ she said angrily. ‘You shouldn’t have done that.’

‘What do you mean, he’s not ready?’ Chloe asked. ‘He’s good as dead, you little psycho!’