His head snapped to the side. Before I could so much as say his name, a giant hand clapped over my throat and another seized the front of my jacket, lifting me bodily off my feet. Suddenly I was face-to-face with Hector’s muscular henchman, who seemed intent on cold-blooded murder. Choking, I kicked at his knees and scratched at the arm that held me up, to no avail. I had been manhandled before, but not like this.

My vision swam as he squeezed my throat. I was sure I was about to black out, that I was dead – then he slammed me into the wall and let me crumple to the ground.

‘Before we can fight with spirits,’ Hector said, while I heaved and coughed, ‘we must learn to fight with our bodies. We must learn to stomach pain. A few bruises, a damaged bone or two … I doubt it will hurt you in the long run.’ He paced towards his mollisher and wound an arm around her. ‘Bloatface, the Pale Dreamer likes to backtalk. Break her jaw.’

My eyes were watering, my throat on fire. I tried to look defiant, but I couldn’t breathe for fear.

I didn’t want to die today. I had been lonely and afraid for years – now I wasn’t. I had been told by strangers that I should die – I hadn’t.

I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction now.

The bald man bore down on me. Breathing in rasps, I struggled away from him and held up my knife, which seemed comically small in the shadow of this behemoth. Nick had been too soft on me in training. I tried to remember where to stab, where to avoid.

I am the Pale Dreamer. I am the Pale Dreamer.

‘Hector.’ Nick was already back on his feet, his lips like wet ruby. ‘Don’t touch her. She didn’t—’

‘We all spill blood on London’s streets,’ the Underlord said. ‘Fail to do so, and we have no right to walk them.’

Being thrown against the wall had winded me, and I knew I would be bruised, but I stood, my jaw set in resolve. The bald man closed in on me. This time, I was ready. I watched his fists, ducked his first punch that slammed towards me, and twisted away from the second.

‘Look, Hector. This one’s got some fight in her,’ Chelsea said.

Bloatface turned slowly to face me again. I thrust my knife towards his face.

‘Come on, then,’ I breathed.

‘Oblige her, Bloatface,’ Hector drawled.