He quickened his pace, breaking into a run, feeling sudden, deep fear. Cleo, Kaitlynn, Bruno and Noah were all alone, with just their two weird hosts. Had he imagined the sound?

No.

He heard it again. Longer. A cry for help. Then silence.

Jesus, what was happening?

He was now sprinting, perspiring, and wishing he hadn’t drunk any wine at all. As he reached the circular driveway in front of the chateau, he stopped and stood still. Listening again, his heart thudding. Utter silence. The house was in pitch darkness. Not a light on anywhere. He looked up towards the tower, which was just a silhouette. No light on there at all, either.

Had Cleo gone to bed? It was unlike her. She would normally leave a light on – but the lights in that room were so feeble, maybe he couldn’t see anything from here?

Then he heard a sound that chilled every cell in his body.

BLOOOP.

It came from the lake in the middle of the drive. Moments later, he heard it again.

BLOOOP.

He shone his torch on the surface, just in time to see several large bubbles burst on the surface.

BLOOOP.

And he saw dark, shimmering, disturbed water.

BLOOOP.

As if something had been submerged.

Something large.

He ran to the lake’s edge and shone his torch directly on the water, just as a huge fish rose, breaking the surface, taking something. He saw an ugly, shiny, almost prehistoric head. A massive pike.

The thing seemed to be staring straight at him.

BLOOOP. It vanished, leaving a huge ripple.

Just behind him, from the chateau, he heard another scream.

And this time, he recognized Cleo’s voice.

For sure.

14

Roy raced over to the porch, panic-stricken, and up the steps. He turned the brass handle and pushed the heavy front door open, the hall still in darkness.

‘Cleo?’ he bellowed. ‘CLEO?’

He switched on the phone torch and hurried towards the staircase. Shadows jumped out at him. As if every suit of armour was moving, closing in on him. He stopped halfway and bellowed again, ‘CLEOOOOOO?’

A split second later something slammed, painfully hard, into the back of his head, sending him crashing forward onto the flagstone floor. For some moments, instead of the beam of his torch, he saw shooting stars. It felt as his skull had been cracked open.

As he lay there, dazed, his brain muzzy, his phone was several feet in front of him, the torch still lit. A heavy door slammed somewhere behind him. Then he heard the clank of a key turning in a lock. The front door?

He stayed where he was, his head pounding with pain, his ears pounding with the drumbeat of his heart and the roaring of his blood.

Motionless.

Waiting.

Waiting for his attacker to make the next move.

And wondering, terrified, why Cleo had screamed.