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‘We should probably sleep off the alysoplasm,’ I said. ‘Do you want to pick a room?’

‘The choice is yours,’ Arcturus said.

‘If you’re sure.’

The walls of the house were pale stone. On the upper floor, the main bedroom had a fireplace and a balcony. I left that for Arcturus. I would have liked a balcony after my imprisonment.

The other room was snug, with shutters on the windows and beams on the ceiling. As I started to unlace my boots, my phone chimed. Verca had sent a message.

Widow explained the situation. We can hold the fort.

Call if anything changes, I replied.I can get back quickly if needed.

I’ll tell the others. Just at the station waiting for them. She kept writing.Orvieto is one of my favourite places. If you have time to look around, you should visit the Pozzo di San Patrizio, a medieval well named after the patron saint of Ireland. It’s a very impressive feat of engineering.

Thanks. I’ll try to see it.

I had missed another message. Maria had sent a picture of herself on the train with Nick.

The Mime Order is on its way!

I smiled and put my phone on charge.

It reassured me that Nick had almost reached Rome. He stood the best chance of controlling Jaxon, and I had enough on my platewithout having to worry about what sort of tricks my old boss had up his sleeve. He might be acting prim and proper in front of Carter, but I knew Jaxon. There was only so long his ambition could be contained.

I really didn’t know why he was on the Council of Kassandra. Whatever shite he spouted about wanting voyants to have a better standing in the world, he must be gaining something personally. I didn’t trust his intentions, but I did trust Nick to defang him for a while.

Arcturus looked into the room. ‘Do you prefer this one?’

‘It’s grand,’ I said. ‘You’ll have more space in the other bed.’

He nodded. As he left, I thought of the nights I had slept beside him in Paris. How safe I had felt.

Even now, he was withholding his emotions, keeping a tight grip on the cord. I had no right to his feelings – neither of us had consented to this connection, and we still had no idea of its purpose – but it unbalanced me to have no idea if he could read mine. I certainly wasn’t trying to stop him.

It was his choice. I would accept it. I put my washbag in the bathroom and faced the mirror, grimacing. My last dose of alysoplasm was still working its way through me, worsening my dark circles. It was time for a break. I closed the shutters and crawled into bed.

I slept for a day and most of the night. When I woke, it was two in the morning, and I had a crushing headache. I could also feel the æther. My body welcomed the return of my sixth sense, but my dreamscape was rebuking me for suppressing it for so long in the first place. I felt my way back to the parlour and took a box of painkillers from my holdall.

Arcturus was asleep. After days of absence, I could sense his dreamscape. I washed down the pills before I burrowed into bed again.

The next time my eyes opened, it was Saturday afternoon. Just over a month since I had woken in Wroclaw.

Sometimes I wished my life would slow down.

At once, I rushed to the bathroom and purged the last of the alysoplasm. I had drunk too much in too little time. When it was all out, I slumped against the bath, drenched in sweat.

Arcturus had been right to tell me to come here. I needed to get this poison out of me. I felt like death warmed over, but I was hungry enough that I wasn’t likely to get back to sleep.

Orvieto was colder than Rome. I bundled up in my fleece-lined jacket before I left the house. A thick mist had gathered in the valley below, but the city rose above it, alone in the sky. I wandered along its sun-drenched streets and lanes, stopping at shops to buy fresh bread and cheese and fruit. Lastly, I picked out a bottle of red wine. There were no tourists but me, and time moved like the first trickle of a spring.

Perhaps I could have woken up and lived every day as gently as this, if I had made different choices in life. I was under no illusion that it would last. Orvieto was a dream. A last intake of easy breath before I faced the Devil.

It had occurred to me that I might not survive the encounter with Cade. For all I knew, Orvieto could be the last time I ever knew peace.

When I got back to the house, I chopped the food and arranged it all on a wooden board. I sliced a pomegranate last.

Arcturus was still in his room, probably sleeping off his own overdose of alysoplasm. He must have gone out to feed at some point. I ate in the parlour, trying to get used to the feeling of not having to do anything in particular. It reminded me of our early days in Paris.