I open my eyes to darkness so complete that for a moment I think I haven’t opened them at all. Then the moon breaks through the clouds and a face appears. Familiar, and not familiar. Probably the last face in the world I need to see while I’m lying all confused on the ground.

Alberic.

He reaches down to help me sit.

‘Are you all right? What were you doing?’ he asks.

‘I don’t know . . .’ I shift back, straining my eyes until I’ve worked out that we’re beneath a massive oak tree in the middle of a field. It’s the old common. I’ve flown kites here, made daisy chains, tried my best at cartwheels (Mallory put me to shame, every time), shared picnics with Mum, but I’m not sure I’ve ever been here in full night. All the shapes that would normally be so familiar are like little bits of nightmare: fences creaking, spiny trees clustered together like gnarled old men and, for a moment, I’m sure I see strange shapes darting along the hedges in the distance, little otherworldly creatures, ready to chase and pounce and gibber and howl.

When I look back there’s nothing at all, just a solid line of black where the hedge is. I shake my head and pull myself up against the tree, ignoring the wobble in my knees. If there was something there, it’s gone now.

‘What are we doing here?’ I ask, making my voice firm. ‘Why are you here?’

‘You rushed into me,’ he says. ‘Don’t you remember? You came right at me and then sort of collapsed. I staggered about a bit and then managed to carry you here.’

‘But why?’ I look around as a low autumn breeze begins to play with the leaves on the ground, picking them up and shuffling them like cards before throwing them out in all directions. I give Alberic a sharp look as my hair blows back from my face. His eyes are focused on the leaves, his expression distracted. ‘Why you? Why here?’

‘I don’t know! I was lucky, I suppose.’ He shakes his head, the leaves drifting silently back to the ground. ‘I didn’t know where else to take you. I don’t know where you live! What were you doing out there, anyway?’

‘I was looking for . . . someone.’

He stares at me. ‘Did you go looking for Jack? Did you find him?’

What did I find? Not what I was looking for. I try to forget the way Jack looked, the way he acted when he saw me.

‘How do you know I was looking for Jack?’

‘I know who you are,’ he says, his voice gentle. ‘I told you, we come from the same place. And even if I didn’t know before, it’s clear. It shows on you.’

‘What shows? What place?’

‘You’re connected to Jack. You have the same affinity with ice and frost. There were rumours of a daughter . . .’

‘Rumours?’

‘At the Royal Court,’ he says. ‘The Royal Fay Court of Mother Earth.’

He says it with such reverence. The Royal Fay Court of Mother Earth. All the little bits of nightmare seem to come to life again and for a moment I think that perhaps I’m just going to drown in all of this, that nothing will ever be the same again, no matter what I want. Then I think of Mum discovering my empty room. How long have I been out? It must be hours by now.

‘I have to go,’ I tell Alberic, dragging myself away from the tree. ‘I can’t just sit around here under trees all night. I’ve got to go home.’

‘Let me help you,’ he says as I stagger forward, narrowly avoiding colliding with him.

If everything else weren’t quite so overwhelming I’d be dying of embarrassment just from all this swooning around in front of him. Not that he looks overly bothered by it. In fact I wonder, as I look up and see the way his copper eyes shine, if he’s even enjoying it all.

‘No, thanks,’ I say, my voice stiff. ‘I’ll manage.’

‘Owl . . .’

I look up at him. All I can see in his face is concern, kindness even.

‘I’m not going to hurt you. We’re not all monsters.’

But that’s exactly what I think Jack is. And maybe so am I. Maybe the whole world is full of monsters and Alberic is one of them, no matter how kind he might be acting.

‘I need to go.’

I turn my back on him and make to stride away, but I don’t get very far. My knees are trembling, my head suddenly starts to throb and for a second I think I’m going to throw up. I pull away when I feel his arm around my waist but I don’t have the energy to do it properly, and actually there’s something quite comforting about the way he smells, reminds me of bonfires and roasting chestnuts.

‘Where are we going?’ he asks in a mild tone.

‘Cumberland Road,’ I mutter.

And there you have it. Dragged back home by the weirdest, most unknowable boy in school, after an evening spent freezing puddles and being petrified by my supernatural father.

Not a lot of room for normal any more, I’d say.