'Any other phones, devices, toys?'
'No. Blackbird has hers.'
'No, she doesn't. Amber?' He turned to the slim figure who walked calmly from the wood, unhurried and coldeyed. He passed her my phone and Blackbird's. 'Burn it all.'
She didn't even look at me. She walked up to the house and tossed the phones inside, then shut the front door. As it banged closed, she pressed her hand to the woodwork. There was a chilling of the air, an echo of what I had done earlier. The breeze stirred and then there was a whoosh. The windows downstairs burst outwards as flames pulsed through the glass. Long licks of flame began to curl languidly up the walls. The thatch, which should have steamed damp and slow, caught immediately and within seconds I was standing back from the waves of heat while Amber still held her hand to the door. The heat intensified until she nodded and turned her back on the burning cottage. Another cloud was forming over the house, piling smoke into a tower that slanted with the wind out over the woods, following the thunder.
Garvin spoke to Amber. 'See if you can help at the other end. Niall and I will be a few minutes.' She nodded and walked back into the wood. Garvin turned and followed her track.
'Are we waiting to make sure it burns?' I asked him.
'There'll be nothing left,' he said, walking on.
I followed him into the trees. Amber had already gone. I noticed that even though we had all made multiple trips across the grass and down this path, there was barely a sign of our passing. Someone had removed the tracks as thoroughly as Amber had torched the cottage.
'Wait,' said Garvin.
We stood in the clearing while the sliding crashes and steaming pops of the burning house filtered through the trees. The smell of burning thatch filled my nostrils and tendrils of smoke curled around between the trunks.
'Listen,' he said.
There was a sound above the roar of the flames, a low buzzing that grew harsher until it opened out in a Doppler drone as a helicopter banked over the house and curved away over the trees.
'They get faster every time,' he said.
The helicopter circled the wood, staying wide of the column of smoke. It slowed and then hovered out over the lane.
'They're looking for somewhere to land. Time for us to leave,' said Garvin. 'You first.'
I stepped into the clearing where the node-point of the Way was. The presence of the node was one of the reasons this little house had been chosen for us, that and the trees Blackbird loved. I had loved the place initially, but now it was filled with too many memories. I took a last glance through the trees at the burning shell of the house. The thatch had collapsed inward and flames flickered in the column of smoke.
Then I turned and stepped on to the Way. The deep blue-black of the void answered my call as it swelled beneath me and carried me far from the smoke-tinged clearing to a room beneath a house filled with random piles of our belongings. I arrived a refugee. Our things were stacked higgledy-piggledy around the room, black sacks on boxes, pans holding plants. I noticed an empty vase that wasn't ours and had been in the house when we arrived. Never mind, it would have only been burned if it had stayed.
Garvin appeared after me in a swirl of twisting air. He looked around, surveying the debris of my life.
'I'll ask Mullbrook to find you rooms here for the moment,' he said. 'Most of the house isn't used very much.'
He addressed Fellstamp and Amber. 'Try and stack this lot in the corners, if you can. We may need access to the Way and I don't want anyone tripping over. Niall, you're with me.'
I followed him upstairs, though the hall with the grand staircase and into a room which must once have been an elegant salon, a place for receiving guests. Now covers shrouded the chairs and the curtains were drawn against the daylight. Garvin pulled a curtain back slightly, letting a wedge of sunlight stripe the room.
'Sit,' he said.
I flopped on to a two-person sofa, the covers inflating in a puff of air and dust. He turned an armchair around to face me and sat on the edge of it, his hands braced on his knees.
'Tell me everything you can remember. Start from when I left you.'
He watched me while I told him what I had found out. He didn't interrupt, he just let me speak. When I reached the part where I could hear Alex struggling, I stopped.
'They were hurting her, Garvin. I could hear her yelling for them to stop.'
'Finish the report, Dogstar. Then we'll talk about what we know.'
Obediently, I finished the tale, ending with him telling me to get dressed.
'So' – he sat back in the chair – 'we know they have her but we don't know where.'
'Who has her, Garvin? Who would take my daughter?'
He clasped his hands together in his lap, then leaned forward again.
'The Feyre and humanity have lived alongside each other in peace for centuries. Peace is a relative term, though, and occasionally there are problems. When there are problems on our side, we deal with them. That is part of what the Warders do. On humanity's side, though, things are more complicated. Most humans aren't even aware that the Feyre exist, and that's the way they like it. Occasionally, though, things spill out. People can come into their gifts unexpectedly. If the gift is weak, it isn't usually an issue. Those people can live on the edges of society. They are the psychics, the faith healers, the fortune tellers.'
'You think Alex has come into her gifts?'
'We know something happened. They said that three other girls died at the scene. As far as we know, Alex is the only survivor.'
'So what happened to Alex? Where is she now?'
'They will have her safe, somewhere. She will be cared for.'
'What do you mean, 'cared for'? What are you saying?'
'I'm saying that not everyone comes into their gifts cleanly. For some, the leap is too great. Their bodies know what power is, but their minds…'
'She's not mad, Garvin.'
'She may be very frightened. If she can't control it, she may be a danger to herself and everyone around her.'
'She's just a girl.'
'A girl with a potentially lethal talent.'
'They did things to her, Garvin. They were hurting her.'
He took a deep breath. 'You may… may, I said… be able to get her back. But the person you get back may not be your daughter.'
'She'll always be my daughter.'
'You may not like what she's become.'
'I'm her father, Garvin. What do you expect me to do? I can't leave her there. What if she's hurt, or frightened, or lonely?'
'What if she's all of those things and much worse besides? Can you do what needs to be done?'
I stopped. 'What are you talking about?'
'If she's not their problem, she's ours. That's what the Warders do, Niall. They clean up the mess.'
'You're talking about killing her. You can't kill my daughter. She's just a child.'
'If it comes to it, can you?'
I closed my eyes. I couldn't lie to him. 'No.'
'Then maybe she's better off where she is.'
'But they're hurting her.'
'They only hurt her when you spoke to her. If you leave her be, she could be fine. She might be able to have something close to a normal life.'
'What kind of a life would that be, Garvin? Drugged up, half awake, frightened, wondering if it's the drugs that's making her see things? Is that the life you're talking about?' I was shouting. I hadn't meant to shout.
'Sometimes it's kinder to let things be,' he said quietly.
'They took her from me. They snatched her from right under my nose. Christ! I even signed the consent
