Is that what Jack did, he wondered. Revisit the past endlessly, looking back at people he had once known. How it must all be blurred and strange now. Perhaps he could not even really tell the difference between the past and the present.

He felt trapped. One thing he realised was that he would not be able to find the Captive, release her and defeat Jack without help. And that would mean enlisting Zita or Kit – or both. He knew that they both hated Jack; but also that they were in thrall to him.

The memory of the girl in the woods came to him. He could also try to contact her again.

As he was eating toast and deliberating one morning in the kitchen after doing the wards with Kit, he was summoned once more to Jack’s rooms.

He climbed up the stairs two by two. When he entered Jack’s rooms, his uncle was sitting in his usual place behind his desk and, looking up, smiled at him. Tom was momentarily taken aback.

‘Sit down.’ Jack indicated the chair with a brisk nod. Without ceremony, he brought out the jewelled box again, and Tom sensed the slight shift in reality he had felt before, as if a weight were being placed down on a sheet, drawing everything towards it. Jack sighed, and placed his hand on it once more, and Tom, without needing to be told, touched the old man’s hand with his own right hand.

A shudder of pain coursed through Tom’s body.

‘Hurts, don’t it?’ gasped Jack, wheezing deeply. Tom wondered if it got worse each time. How much did it hurt Jack then? How often had he done this, over the centuries? The old man’s whole body was tense.

Then came the wrenching feeling, as if Tom was about to faint.

When it had faded, he felt the light on him again, the bright, clean light, and Tom knew they were in the past.

‘Come.’ Jack, youthful and vigorous, was striding out of the room.

The house, newly built, seemed much less confusing than its modern incarnation, and Tom started to wonder whether it had somehow extended itself over time, building up layers of internal rooms that were powered by the glamours that surrounded it, as if it were a living thing. Perhaps the Captive was in one of those rooms, hidden beyond sight, beyond the normal course of the senses. Tom despaired of ever being able to find her.

Perhaps Jack had poured his energy into the house, as he had put himself into the wards. The thought left him, as now, entranced by the sweet air and the pale light, he followed Jack outside.