“Mr Bern said that to me in the disciplinary meeting. I could have killed someone. Like I didn’t know. But I already knew. I could have killed Matty. He wouldn’t have been there if I hadn’t asked. I knew I needed him, I couldn’t do the summoning without him, he just puts so much more magic into everything than I can—but he was scared, he was only there for me.” Nikki took a breath. “And I could have killed him. I could have killed Matron, and Reverend Ezekiel, and everyone in School House, all the younger ones. That demon wouldn’t have stopped once it was loose, would it? It would have killed you, and Marshal Kenning, and then it would have just kept going. It would have eaten the whole school, and everyone it ate would just make it stronger. It was already so strong. I could feel how strong it was. Like—I went on the Geography field trip in Year Ten for the rivers topic, and we were just in the shallow bit, but you could still feel the current round your legs. It was like that, but huge. I read an article once that said when people go into the Thames, they don’t ever find the bodies.”

“Nikki,” Walden said again.

“And it wouldn’t even be the first time,” Nikki said. “Mum and Dad and Dewey—they all died because of me. Because I’m magic, and I was stupid, and I couldn’t control it.”

Dewey. Walden didn’t think she’d ever heard the name of Nikki’s younger brother spoken out loud before. “Nikki,” she said, “you were seven.”

“It was still my fault! And I’m still magic, and I still can’t control it, and I’m still so—so—stupid!”

Nikki stopped talking. She took a deep breath. Walden watched her compose her expression. She’d taught Nikki that trick, in interview prep. Don’t speak too fast. Pace it, stop and breathe, don’t apologise or try to fill the gap. Give yourself a moment to think. It feels much longer to you than it does to the person you’re talking to.