I open the door, then slam it behind me and draw across the bolt. A howl of rage sounds from the other side, the wood bowing as if the demon is hurling itself against the door. I hurry along the passageway and look up the narrow steps of the lighthouse. If I go to the top of the tower and the creature breaks down the door, there’ll be nowhere for me to hide – and what if more shadow demons come through the portal and take physical form? Turning back, I go to the door that leads outside. The creature is still banging and howling, trying to get in through the passageway. My only chance is to go out.

I slide open the bolt and step into the night and the wind pounces on me, pushing me back into the building. Holding my arm up against the driving rain, I head for the disused engine room next door. It was full of broken furniture when I looked through the window before, so maybe there’s something I can use as a weapon. I reach the circular white building as a group of cormorants flies overhead. One of the birds lands on the flat roof before me, and then another and another. I turn and bump straight into Morgan.

‘You came!’

‘Thiten sensed you were in danger. She insisted we come – they all did.’

The birds flap down to the ground and land as women. Their faces are taut with anxiety, their wings hanging low and their bedraggled feathers dripping with rain. They crowd around me and I try to thank them, but I’m too overcome with gratitude to get the words out. Despite being so weak, despite knowing the danger, they came for me – my sisters. Emotion tugs at my breastbone, a love so strong and deep it takes my breath away.

I point at the house. ‘We have to go back. Tom’s alone with the demons.’

Glitonea strokes my hair. ‘Shush now, he’s safe. It’s not him they want.’

The witches move around me, three standing behind and two on either side, with Morgan holding my hand in front. Wrapping their arms around my waist, they usher me towards the building and lead me inside. The red glow of the lighthouse slants across the single bed in the centre of the floor and suddenly I realise. This is the circular room from my dream, the one with all the windows. This is where I saw eight empty chrysalides with their grey husks lying open, the ninth one still closed, the woman inside trapped in an abortive metamorphosis.