She rocks back on her haunches, her tattered black dress rising up to expose sinewy white thighs. If she hears me, she doesn’t turn around. She snarls like a creature possessed, her hands held before her, fingers curled into claws, talon-like nails ready to strike.

‘Morgan?’

Her head snaps towards me and I shrink beneath her piercing black gaze.

And then her wings drop limply, her eyes fading to white once more. She half-collapses onto Tom, then awkwardly rolls off his body and climbs down from the bed, a shrivelled husk of a woman.

‘I must conserve my strength,’ she gasps. She stumbles towards the window and I rush to her side. She holds my arm for support and speaks through ragged breaths. ‘In the morning, you must train with your sisters. You are safe with them in the daytime, but they cannot protect you at night.’ She glances behind her. ‘If he wakes, get him to eat something.’

‘And if the demons take physical form?’

She sucks in a shaky breath. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve done all I can. Try not to watch for the shadows; look to each other for the light.’

I push up the sash window and she grabs hold of the frame. Her thin hands are gnarled and it takes a couple of attempts to haul herself up. She doesn’t so much launch into the sky as fall head first. I look down and my heart plummets as the seconds pass. One, two … I fear she might not return when a cormorant rises up, its body buffeted by the wind.

I shut the window and a stab of raw emotion pierces my heart. It’s her, the witch within, telling me how much she loves her sister, how much she loves all of them. Moronoe’s grief is so strong I can taste her bitterness. Swallowing hard, I stare at my hands and force them to stop shaking. Controlling my own feelings is hard enough without another person’s threatening to overwhelm me, and it takes all my strength to push down her pain.

I need to make sure Tom is OK, but my feet don’t want to budge. The demons that were inside him are now in the room – turning around means facing what’s in the shadows. My breath comes shallow and fast, turning the air white. Twisting my head, I risk a quick glance. Everything looks how it did before, and yet it feels different. The hairs on my arm lift as I realise why. The room isn’t just unnaturally cold, it’s buzzing with awareness.