Having dragged Ellie out of the Hollows, Charlotte went back for Jess’ body; couldn’t do otherwise, after how Ellie had fought to get the poor kid out of there. She’d barely made it through the gap in the embankment when the explosion had gone off, staggering as flame gouted from the sinkhole behind her and the ground shuddered and collapsed.

She’d dragged Ellie into the trees. Not far: the woods were a maze, Jess couldn’t guide them now, and there was no telling how many of the monsters were still out in the night. She’d dragged Jess too. Charlotte could have left her – they’d been clear of the tunnels, and the things had no interest in the dead – but it hadn’t seemed right.

She’d been afraid they would freeze, but had managed to rig up a bivouac amid a small clump of trees and grub together a fire. Not much, but it had got them through the night.

Charlotte had worried about Ellie too, at first, after the blow Madeleine had given her; a thump powerful enough to knock you out could often cause far worse damage. Although Ellie hadn’t seemed concussed, Charlotte still hadn’t been sure if she should let her sleep, but the third time she’d shaken her awake Ellie had kindly offered to kick her arse.

Well, Ellie Cheetham had earned a rest if anyone had. The two of them huddled together for warmth; Ellie hugged Jess’s body tight to her, like a doll. Determined not to let go, maybe, till Jess was safe away from Thursdale, once and for all.

Finally, it was morning. The fire was dead; sunlight fell through the branches; the few birds that hadn’t fled south for winter sang. Charlotte felt stiff and sore and her clothes reeked of smoke, but she could live with that. She had far worse to live with, after all. Her parents’ deaths, for a start. Dave’s, too – even if she’d always really known he hadn’t been worth much – and everything else she’d endured the past few days, from monsters human and otherwise. But you could do that, if you were alive.

Which was more than Jess Harper was. The poor kid lay in the crook of Ellie’s arm, moulded against her. Which was weird, come to think of it: shouldn’t she still be stiff? On an impulse, Charlotte brushed the hair back from Jess’ face. Pale, blood crusted on the lips –

The lips.

Charlotte blinked; leant forward. No way. Couldn’t be.

But when she leant close and watched, a tiny curl of steam escaped Jess Harper’s mouth.

“Fuck,” she said. “No way.”

Ellie stirred. “Whuh?”

“We’ve got to get back,” said Charlotte. “Find Milly.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s Jess. I think she’s breathing.”

Ellie stared. “She can’t be.”

“I know, but – look.”