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ten minutes, getting myself warmed up, getting myself in the zone. I know what I have to do: remove the guards one by one, silently but quickly. Difficult, because two of them are invisible, but then who wants easy? Once I’ve finished with the guards, I can go into the camp and deal with whoever’s in there. I have to move fast but calmly. Be prof essional and keep th inking , Celia would say. Kill them quick , I say.
    Back at my spot in the trees I look down at the first guard. She’s the old hand; she’ll be a good fighter. I mustn’t give her a chance to fight.
    I take a deep breath, think of cool air, check I’m invisible, and then walk down to her, careful not to make any sound. Close now. The Fairborn in my hand. The Hunter is right in front of me, staring through me. I take one more step and slice across her throat, grabbing her body with my free hand. She tries to hit me, her lips moving, but instead of words blood comes out of her mouth.
    I lower her to the ground as carefully as I would a sleeping baby, listening all the time. I can’t hear anything, so I run to the trees and on to the next guard, the first invisible one, slowing as I hear the hiss of her mobile. It’s loud but it gives me no sense of where she really is. I stop and listen for another noise, anything: her breath, a movement. But I get nothing, only the loud hiss of her phone.
    I edge forward. It’s dark but now I see the trampled bracken and her footprints. I take another small step, arms outstretched, and the Fairborn helps me now. It senses her. It wants her blood.
    I let it lead my hand. The Fairborn is straining and I know I’m only millimeters away from her. So I let the Fairborn loose, thrust fast into the air at chest level. The knife’s so sharp that her jacket, skin, even bone, hardly slow it and I feel warm blood on my fingers, and my right hand finds the Hunter’s mouth as she grunts loud and I pull the Fairborn down, ripping material and flesh. Hot, slippery guts spill over my left hand. The Hunter is visible now, writhing on the ground, and I’m kneeling over her, holding her jaw closed, muffling her whimper. She’s another young woman, maybe in her mid-twenties.
    I wipe my hand on her clothes, and I clean the Fairborn too, risking going visible for a second or two, but I have to move much faster now. That was too slow and she made a noise—not a big one but enough to alert the other guards, if they’re good. I can’t risk the guards waking the others.
    I have to get into the camp.
    I go as fast and quiet as I can. The fire is low but bright and I can make out the shapes of three people lying near it. Further away, by a large tree, is another Hunter and near her, chained to the tree, is a hooded prisoner, a female prisoner, petite and slim. I need to concentrate. So, four Hunters here, two left keeping guard, and the prisoner.
    I slit the throat of the nearest sleeping Hunter but she kicks and jerks and I have to move to the next one fast. I don’t need to worry about being silent now. I need to be quick; the sleepers are waking but still don’t know what’s happening. The next Hunter is getting up but I push her down and stab her throat and take a step toward the third, but the second one isn’t giving in without a fight and she gets hold of my leg, clinging on, bleeding out. Somehow she has her gun in her hand and shoots. I’m still invisible but off balance and the bullet misses me and I kick her in the face and roll away.
    That’s four Hunters dead, four still alive and it’s chaos now. The Hunter by the prisoner has gone invisible but is shouting for the guards. The Hunter by the campfire has got her gun. Fairborn in sheath, I send lightning out from both hands, one in the direction of each Hunter. Smoke and a scream comes from the one by the fire and I leap at her, falling on to her, and the Fairborn back in my hand knows where to drive