The night air was chill upon my cheeks, as I stood, listening.

No crowds teemed. No children ran shrieking. No horses clip-clopped. Nothing stirred, but what echoed in my mind. Dill sobbing to me, not to leave her, please. Please.

I gritted my teeth to it, and moved from doorway to doorway, the wall at my back. Laughter bellowed within. A tavern, its drunks all at sea, sailing the long night. I moved on. Shuttered lights from slumbering houses lit my path. But I could see no square.

I remembered my first hunt with Mother. I had fretted so to catch the prey, to not shame her. And she had put her head close to mine.

Evey… Breathe slow…

I did. Deep, and slow.

Feel the wind…

And like her breath upon my cheek, I felt the wind pluck straw pieces from the ground, dancing them along as little old men, tumbling under her fingers.

So I followed those swirling straw men down the street, to where it curved, and grew wider still, showing shop fronts. The wind dropped, the straw men stopped. The square was silent. Waiting.

‘Thank you, Mother.’ I crept on.

The market was bartered to bed. Stalls and boxes lay like boats upon an empty shore. But as I moved, I spied the flicker of a lantern.

I crouched to a stall, listening, feeling the wood rough beneath my fingers. No sound.

I passed a water trough, breathed its smell of cow and dung. Something moved in the light. I reached a stack of boxes, and around one edge I peered. My breath held.

Beside a glowing lantern stood a great frame, nailed tall and strong, a long bench beneath. There, one aside the other, swayed seven ropes. And at their ends, like seven mouths, hungry for the day, hung seven nooses.

My fingers dug to the box, splinters biting.

The gallows.

Under my shaking grip, the box tottered. I watched it slide, too angry to care.

It fell with a crash.

‘W… wuuh! Who…?’

From beneath the gallows stage rolled a pile of rags.

A beggar turned and saw me.

‘Lady?’

‘The jail,’ I hissed. ‘Which way? Tell me!’

With a trembling finger, he pointed across the gallows to a narrow alley in the darkness.

‘There,’ he whispered, unblinking. ‘Follow there.’

Nearer I stepped. ‘How will I know it?’

‘Beacons…’ He grasped for words. ‘About the door!’

Then he fled, rolling, scampering, skidding through the stalls, and was gone.

I had not meant to scare him, but I could not help it. It was the sight of the gallows under lantern light, left for all to see and be afraid.

The wind came whipping down the alley. I lifted my nose, like Mother taught me.

Can you catch her scent, Evey?

I breathed in. Dust. Straw. Muck from the market. And there, I smelled smoke.

I ran. The clouds drew back from a slender moon, curled upon her bed of stars, and beneath her naked light, I reached a crossroads. Which way?

Whichwoo!

An owl, a beautiful white queen, perched high on the houses. Her eyes glinted, as she steeled to hunt. Her beak nipped the air.

‘Would you lead me, your majesty?’ I whispered to her across that silent street.

This way, this way!

She rose, the feathers of her wings brushing the moon.

‘For I am lost!’ I cared not who heard me. ‘I seek my sister!’

Follow, then! Follow, follow!

As her grateful subject, I flew in her wake, and together we crossed streets, and turned corners, till finally we landed with a flutter. She hooted soft, talons tapping stone, and I turned to follow her bold gaze. Yellow light was beyond the closest corner.

Slow I edged round, and I felt the heat before I saw them. Four beacons blazed upon a corner house, with bars across its shutters. The jail.

I looked back to cry the owl thanks. But she flapped and took flight.

Danger! Danger!

And then I heard what startled her. Marching boots, coming closer. I drew into a doorway.

‘Hold up now! Hold up!’

The patrol was back, dogs padding for home.

‘At ease, all of you.’

A door clattered open. I held so still.

‘Up to quarters now. Till my order at four bells.’

I flattened my back, my heart knocked to the wall.

Men muttered, shoved and shuffled.

‘Not you, lad, you’re on watch.’

A deep growl of a voice.

Boots on stairs, yawns and coughs.

‘I’ve been on my feet all night, Captain!’

‘Stow that bellyache, Caldwell. Rest when you’re dead, boy!’

My fingers scratched the wall. Caldwell. His musket had smashed her skull. The jail door slammed. Their voices murmured. A laugh on the stairs. I closed my eyes to think of Mother tumbling over and over.

And I fought not to shout for her, as all grew quiet.

The jail was closed, its flickering beacons hissing guards of flame.

Caldwell was within. His captain, that rumble of a voice. Meakin. I was sure of it.

They were here. And Dill was here.

Know your mark, Evey.

Mother and I had watched the deer drinking, breathed their musk across the water.

Choose one, then wait.

I came for my sister. Yet I swore revenge for Mother.

Choose one.

Was Tall One there too? His sleeping throat pulsing with life?

I could only crouch in the darkness. And wait.

‘Three bells,’ cried the town clock. ‘Three bells, and all is well.’

We shall see, old clock, we shall see.

The wind tugged at my cloak, as I stole across the street. Mother’s stone weighed in my pocket. It was no blade, but it was something.

The flames from the beacons blazed fierce, as I stood before the door. My hand trembled as I knocked, the wood was hard upon my knuckles.

I heard a chair pushing back.

A hatch opened and Caldwell looked out, a frown upon his boyish face. ‘Who goes there?’

‘I do.’ I coughed and brought Lady Jane’s voice to be. ‘I am Lady Jane.’

‘What do you want?’ Caldwell chewed on a tear of bread.

I stepped to the hatch. ‘I want to see the prisoners.’

‘You want what?’ Gobbets fell from his mouth.

‘To see the prisoners.’ I leaned in, and Jane whispered those sacred words. ‘The witches, sir.’

‘Are you drunk, my lady?’

‘No, no, sir.’ Jane put my hand to her soft laugh. ‘My father promised I might see these monsters for myself.’

His eyes searched about me as he chewed. Jane held my tremble still.

‘Who is this father who promises such things?’

With a sigh, Jane raised my head. Would Caldwell see Evey watching him?

‘Why, Lord Whitaker, sir.’ I moved closer. ‘The presiding judge at the trial.’

Caldwell’s hand faltered upon the open hatch.

‘Lord Whitaker?’ He peered out. ‘Do I know you? You look familiar…’

Evey shrank back. Jane had to hurry. About his thumb a ring of dried blood.

One of those little devils bit me! I will see her hang for it.

Dill’s bite.

Turning Evey’s scratched palm from sight, Jane reached and brushed her fingers to his, ever so slight.

‘Are you one of the brave men who captured these wicked creatures?’

The boy watched Jane’s finger circle his sore wound.

‘Aye, that I am, my lady.’ He licked crumbs from his lips.

‘And,’ Jane’s sweet purr played him like the cat that pawed the mouse, ‘are you to attend on the day, to protect us all?’

‘Aye.’ Bread caught and made him squeak. ‘I’ll be there, my lady.’

‘Oh, good,’ she breathed and made his colour rise. ‘Then, if you let me see the prisoners undisturbed, perhaps we might meet after the trial?’ And we both watched Jane press to his shaking hand.

Gulping his bread, Caldwell closed the hatch, and quiet he drew the bolt. He was smaller, standing alone before me. A candle dripped in his hand. The mouse blinked to the cat.

‘Hurry, my lady, the captain will skin me alive if he hears.’

So Jane entered his nest, brushing Caldwell close, so that he caught the scent of her, quivered with wanton fear of her.

And I quivered too as the door closed. For I wanted him, his neck between my jaws.

The room was small and full of gloom, above a single lantern cast weak shadows. Two doors I saw. One ahead, one barred with a long stave.

Dill was in there. She must be. I must draw this mouse further.

‘This way,’ he whispered.

And Jane followed and watched him raise the heavy stave with a grunt.

‘We must be quiet, my lady.’ Caldwell put a finger to his lips and winked.

I swallowed.

‘Where is your captain? The other guards?’ Jane whispered, as she moved behind him, and watched him place the stave near the door.

He motioned above. ‘Asleep, the lucky dogs…’

I trembled. Yes. Dogs, they were.

I watched Caldwell open the cell door and raise his candle to the dark within.

‘These witches don’t half stink, mind.’ He held his thin nose as he stepped through.

‘Then we must be all the quicker, dear heart.’ And I stood on the threshold, as I felt Jane’s hand reach for the stave.

Caldwell winked again, the candle above his head, gasping in that foul air.

‘Where are they?’ Jane placed her hand upon his narrow back. ‘I cannot see them…’

And with her other, she lifted that heavy stave quiet behind me.

‘In the far corner, I’ll be bound.’ He turned about in the blackness.

‘Show me.’ Jane raised the stave high. ‘I must see them.’

As he turned away, showing her the back of his head.

‘You’re a strange one.’

Jane swung that stave so swift that it hummed before me, and it struck Caldwell such a blow that he dropped like he had fallen fast asleep.

His candle rolled into the dark cell.

‘I am, brave boy.’ Jane pursed her lips. ‘Stranger than you know.’

And then with all our strength, we hefted again to stove Caldwell for good, cleave his skull, like he did Mother’s. To kill—

‘Evey, stop!’

My swing stayed.

The candle rose into the air, and beneath it came a grubby hand, then a pale face in the tallow light.

Dill.