Back when telephones had been stationary things with rotary dials, Tanith could recite the numbers of dozens of people without even thinking about it. But things were different now. She doubted she’d ever tapped out Ghastly’s actual number in order to call him, or Valkyrie’s or Skulduggery’s, for that matter. So here she was, alone in Dublin City, with no idea how to contact her friends.

She didn’t even know where the Sanctuary was. The last thing she’d heard, there were plans to use Roarhaven as their new base of operations. She didn’t like that idea. It was a small grey town full of narrow-minded, spiteful people. The Torment had lived in Roarhaven, and probably a few other Children of the Spider. Anyone who didn’t like mortals could find a sympathetic ear in that horrible little place. Unfortunately, it was her best chance at getting in touch with her friends.

She didn’t have any cash to pay for a taxi, so she jumped from rooftop to rooftop until she found a motorbike she could steal. She didn’t even have a pen and paper to leave an apologetic note.

She hot-wired the engine, pulled out on to the road, and gunned it.

She got lost twice. She’d only been to Roarhaven once, years ago, and the turn was hard to spot, but as she followed the winding road she started to think that maybe some of this was familiar. When the road straightened, Tanith knew she’d come the right way.

She saw tail lights ahead of her. A car parked at the side of the road. An elderly man waved to her as she slowed.

“Afraid the road’s closed, miss,” he said.

“The Sanctuary’s up here, is it?” Tanith asked.

The smile remained on his face. “The what? I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with the—”

“My name is Tanith Low. If the Sanctuary is in Roarhaven, I’d like to come in. I’ve been possessed by a Remnant for the past two years. I’ll wait, while you call it in.”

The elderly man lost the smile. He nodded to her and backed away. Tanith stayed on the bike, but turned off the engine. She heard him speak into a radio, but couldn’t make out the words. Thirty seconds later, he came back – but kept his distance.

“Miss Low,” he said, “some Cleavers are on their way now to escort you in. I have been asked to try to shackle you. Would you be agreeable to that?”

“That depends,” said Tanith. “Who’s Grand Mage?”

“China Sorrows.”

Tanith frowned. “How the hell did she manage that?”

“I couldn’t possibly comment,” said the old man. “So … the shackles?”

Tanith sighed and held out her hands. By this stage, the headlights of a truck were approaching.