My feet root themselves to the spot and a sob builds in my throat. I want to beg them to let me go – I don’t want to suffocate, I don’t want to die. Morgan pulls me towards the bed and the witches support my weight and carry me forward. I tell myself that I can’t collapse, that whatever’s about to happen I have to be strong, but my body has other ideas and I take the last few steps bent double, my legs shaking. Strong hands reach under my arms and turn me onto my side as I crawl onto the mattress, the women hushing softly and stroking my hair.

Something bangs against a window and the demon’s face appears. It must have broken down the passageway door. Its fingers scrabble against the glass and I call out to the witches for help. Stepping away from me, they form a circle around the bed and hold out their right arms, a tiny golden flame hovering above each palm. The dots of light float upwards and meet above my head, sending a wave of energy radiating into the room. The golden shimmer covers the walls, the windows, the door.

I glance back at the window and the demon has gone. Whatever the witches have done, it seems to have worked. I want to ask if we’ll be safe, but the words stop in my throat when I see their faces change, one moment young and the next old and decaying.

Morgan sits next to me. ‘How many demons have taken physical shape?’

‘One. I ran but it followed me through the passageway.’

She lets out a breath, her shoulders relaxing slightly.

‘But I think others were starting to form. I saw footprints on the floor.’

Her eyes dart to the windows and I shuffle up the mattress and draw my knees to my chest. Morgan directs the women to watch the door then turns back to me, her face stern.

‘Tell me what happened before the demon became physical.’

I look away, not wanting to remember my argument with Tom, and something darts past the window to my left. Another figure moves outside to my right, followed by another.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

They’re trying to break down the door. A window smashes and I cry out as an impossibly giant hand reaches inside, its long, broken fingers grazing the floor. A skull-like face appears at a different window, a mass of tentacles hanging from its mouth.

Morgan shakes my arms, her voice urgent. ‘What triggered them to form?’