I looked back to John. The other two had plonked him on a kitchen chair. They were lounging against the big enamel sink, stretching out their necks, checking their watches with a weird kind of symmetry of movement, torches in their mouths.

‘Please,’ I said, to nobody in particular. ‘I don’t know what’s happening. Just take what you want and go. Cordelia will be here soon …’

The little gnome gave a real grin at that. Smacked his lips together as if savouring something delicious. Glanced past me to the door that led through to the main body of the house. I followed his gaze. There was another fellow in the doorway. He was perfectly still: just an outline, shoulders almost touching the frame. A perfect red circle glowed for a moment and then a drift of grey wafted across the kitchen like a cloud. I smelled cigar smoke. Smelled sweat and oil.

‘Please, I just need to call an ambulance … I’m only here to …’

‘To clean, yes,’ said the man who’d led us in. He shook his head. ‘Jeez, you do repeat yourself.’ He looked to the small man. Looked to the two dark-haired strangers, huddled up against each other as if sheltering in a doorway on a bitter night. He gave a shrug. Looked to John and then to me and then back to the little man. ‘It might be quickest …’

And right then, right in that moment, like a train pulling into a station, realization finally hissed and clanked into my head.

We were going to be dead before the dawn.

CORDELIA