Angela was right. By the time the rabbit was stripped, sliced and fried, Sammi had returned from her walk and Lilou had bathed and dressed again. They ate sitting on the porch deck, with insects buzzing around them and birds calling from the nearby trees. Angela realised that she had not felt so relaxed for some time. It was over a year since Vince had vanished into the Fold, and she and Sammi existed day by day. She was constantly on edge, waiting for a visit from the law or, even more worrying, a Kin. There was no saying that some of Mallian’s followers hadn’t remained in the area.

When Lilou was with them, she relaxed. Angela could never quite get past the tension between them, and the element of mistrust in her that was settled and solid. But the nymph had a way of making her feel that everything was going to be all right, even though she knew it never would be. Nothing was going to be all right ever again, but that day, when she brought a rabbit and stole her bath, Angela knew that, despite everything, she was a friend. Bringing peace and comfort was what friends did, with no thought of payback, no ulterior motives.

* * *

“She was my friend too,” Angela said as they ran. “It was complicated, and sometimes I thought I hated her, but I didn’t really.”

“I know.” Vince could hardly speak, broken arm held across his stomach. They held hands and he squeezed hers tight, but at that moment she could not tell what was going through his mind. Her own mind had never been put completely at rest about Lilou and Vince. The nymph had sworn that they had never slept together, but she had seen what Lilou was—had experienced some of that extreme allure herself—and she knew that in his own confused way, Vince saw her as more than a friend.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“He killed her. Right in front of us. Didn’t care.”

“She tried to kill him,” Sammi said. She ran beside Vince. Angela was steering them, across the valley floor and up a very gentle incline towards the green landscape above. If they could reach the trees, perhaps they could get away.

There was something strange about fleeing. If Mallian wanted to catch and kill them he could do so himself, or send the raving infected Kin risen from their silty graves, or the powerful fairy now in his thrall. She could only deduce that he did not care about them, and did not consider them a threat.

Perhaps murdering Lilou had affected him more than it had appeared.

“We’re going the wrong way,” Sammi said.

“What do you mean?” Angela asked. “Any direction away from that mad fucking monster is—”