Instead of the bone-crushing impact she’d expected, she hit the wooden surface and sank inside it like it was made of thick syrup. Darkness enveloped her, and her ears were full of the creaks and pops of moving wood. Her breath wouldn’t come, and something in her chest felt broken and wrong. She tried to scream, but nothing emerged. The tree began to press on her, a giant’s fist tightening its grip, and Alice felt the pop and crunch of bone before her consciousness fled and her body fell away behind her.

Chapter Twenty-three: The Gideon

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

THE GIDEON

Alice opened her eyes, gasping for breath. She was standing at the rail of a ship, looking out at the sea. The setting sun filled the sky with gaudy colours, and the highlights on the gentle swells faded from gold to crimson.

When she worked up the courage to examine herself, she was doubly surprised – not only was her body intact, but she was wearing a dress she distinctly remembered leaving behind in New York. It was a blue silk-and-satin affair her father had given her this Christmas past, a bit fancy for Alice’s taste, but she’d always loved it because he did. Just the sight of it brought tears to her eyes, and she reached up to wipe them away. Her hand froze, midway through the gesture, and rubbed tentatively at her cheek. The thin, slashing scar she’d got from the Swarm was gone.

The colour drained out of the sky, and the ocean went from red to purple to a deep, impenetrable black. Stars began to emerge through the shredded clouds overhead, one by one. Alice turned round. The wall behind her was pierced by a set of round portholes and a single door, looking very nautical with a round handle set in the centre. Standing by the door—

That, Alice thought, is impossible. It’s a trick, and a cruel one. It’s—

Her traitorous legs were already in motion, paying no attention to her rational brain. She ran as though through molasses, slow and clumsy, expecting that at any moment the apparition would vanish and be replaced with something painful and awful. Then she was there, throwing herself forward, and her father’s arms wrapped around her. He was warm, and real, and as she buried her face in his chest he smelled of everything she’d ever thought of as safe and home.

‘Hello, Alice,’ he said. His familiar voice tipped her over the edge, and she began to cry great, racking sobs. He patted her head and ran his fingers through her hair, and Alice felt six years old again, crawling into his bed in the middle of the night because she’d read something scary and had bad dreams.