It was the first time Conall had ever seen him, and he felt another great surge of anger towards him for ruining everything. His rage filled my own body, and the sheer force of it made me shudder as I realized that Conall truly hated this man. The lighthouse seemed to hold its breath around him, and Conall could sense how much the old stones wanted him to do it. How pleased they would be if he went ahead.

So he lifted the knife and plunged it straight into the man’s throat. He fully expected him to die instantly and quietly, and I felt the shock ripple through Conall when blood sprayed into his face and the keeper lunged up with a wet, gurgling, inhuman groan. Conall struggled to keep a tight grip on the slippery knife as he raced into the corner, and watched in terror as the keeper flailed round the room, blood pouring from his throat to splatter over the rugs, the panelled walls, the marble fireplace, 307the bedding. It seemed to go everywhere. Conall had had no idea that a man contained so much blood.

When the man finally crashed to the floor, Conall longed to turn and run from the room as fast as possible, but he could feel a dark, ancient hunger emanating from the lighthouse’s stones – and now I sensed it too. It was impossible to know if it was real, or Conall’s imagination, but it really felt as if the lighthouse was willing him to finish the job.

Conall didn’t want to make the lighthouse angry, so he advanced with the knife and stabbed the keeper a few more times, desperately trying to end it. Yet even then the man wasn’t dead. Conall was shocked and confused and afraid. The only other person he’d killed had been that warden back at the workhouse – an accident, yet he had died the second his head struck the floor. It had all been over so quickly. Almost peacefully. This wasn’t like that at all. Conall even began to wonder whether the keeper was a demon who couldn’t be killed.

Not knowing what else to do, he sat back and watched. He could hear the keeper breathing – a horrible, rasping, rattling noise that made it sound as if each breath was destined to be his last, yet still he 308lingered on and on until, finally, Conall’s father Finn came to rouse his partner for the morning shift.

Conall thought his papa would be pleased by what he’d done. He had solved their problem. Now the two of them could be together in the lighthouse once again. Only Finn wasn’t pleased. Conall could tell just by looking at his face.