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“Come on,” I said. “We have to get out of here.”

To my utter astonishment, she hesitated. “Wherever I go, Sir Alastair will find me.”

“No he won’t,” I said. “Not now. I know where your skin’s hidden.”

I couldn’t see her expression but I felt her tense.

“Really?” she whispered. “You know where it is?”

This wasn’t the moment to admit that I might be wrong. That I hadn’t actually seen Sir Alastair burying her skin. But I had to keep faith. It was all I had left.

With as much confidence as I could muster, I said, “As soon as we get out of here, I’ll take you to your skin.”

“Let’s go.” She sprinted up the stairs, pulled open the door and bolted into the hall.

Keeping my flashlight steady, I followed her. Casper sprinted up the stairs behind me. We rushed through the door joining her in the hall. Bad move. We should have gone more cautiously.

A fist hit my jaw. I reeled backwards, dropping the flashlight as I crashed to the floor.

I heard Justina shout, “Let me go, Francois!”

A French-accented voice said, “Hold her, Phillips, while I take care of the others.”

I ducked my head, hoping to escape Francois’s notice, and concentrated on finding my flashlight. For a while I scrabbled around on my hands and knees. Then I found it. I flicked on the light and shone it on the commotion above.

Phillips had hold of Justina. She was kicking and trying to twist away, but he was too strong for her. I moved my light and saw Francois facing Casper.

The chef moved very fast. Arms and legs perfectly coordinated. Punching, kicking. I didn’t see how Casper could avoid taking a beating. He might have height and weight on his side but Francois was nimble and quick as lightning. Casper’s only choice was to disappear, but in doing so, he would give himself away as a supernatural being. He chose not to.

Instead, he simply stepped backward out of Francois’s reach. In this case “stepped” was an understatement. I’ve never seen anyone move as quickly as Casper did. Francois seemed surprised, but that didn’t stop him launching another attack. Two punches. One. Two. The second connected. Casper’s head snapped back.

Francois came in for the kill, kicking with all his might. Casper caught hold of his ankle and shoved upward, sending Francois off balance. Francois stumbled, struggling to right himself but he didn’t succeed. He teetered at the top of the cellar steps. Casper watched as though considering his next move. Then he reached out, ever so casually, and gave Francois a little push.

The chef fell, rolling over and over down the stairs. He was still conscious when he reached the bottom, but he didn’t get up. He curled himself into a ball as though he was hurt. I hoped it was bad.

I turned my attention to Phillips, who was struggling to subdue Justina. I kidney-punched him. He yelled and released her. As he whirled to face me, I laid him flat with a punch to the jaw. Like Francois, he remained conscious but he was too groggy to pose much of a threat.

“Come on,” I said, grabbing Justina’s hand.

Chapter Twenty-Four

We sprinted out the back door and sped around the house to the gravel drive. We followed it until we reached the road. Casper was behind us all the way.

I didn’t risk turning on my flashlight again. There was enough moonlight to illuminate the road, and Sir Alastair kept it in such good condition there was no risk of twisting our ankles in any potholes.

My only concern was how fast Justina could go. Although we were traveling downhill rather than up, she was used to swimming, not running. Her breath came in short sharp gasps. I kept a tight hold of her wrist as I urged her on.

For someone who had planned suicide, she was made of sterner stuff than I had imagined. Despite her labored breathing, her pace never faltered. We reached the village in double-quick time and sprinted down Loch Road.

Mac’s was closed so we went in the back way. After bolting upstairs to get my keys I rejoined the others. We hurried outside to the car.

“Get in,” I said.

Just then I heard the unmistakable purr of Sir Alastair’s Rolls.