Jaggles left the shack too, presumably to go up to the lighthouse and pretend to operate it. Ward had discovered Jaggles's secret his first day back on the island. It had been bad news. Ward used to cherish the hours Jaggles spent at the light; now he was almost never there.

Ward resolved to get off the island altogether. This wasn't as difficult as it might have seemed. Eblis Island lay only a furl to the west. Ward had grown up around the sea, a significant portion of his life had been spent in it, and he was a strong swimmer. He had swum the channel several times before (that Eblis Island was rumoured to be cursed only made it more appealing) and explored part of the island, which although similar to Devil Island had the great virtue of being Jaggles-free. And this time he wouldn't even have to swim. The boat he had rowed to Devil Island was still where he had left it. He didn't know why Nick had not towed it back to the ship. Perhaps he had left it behind for just such an event. It was hard to know. But with Nick there was always a reason.

So, after waiting until he was sure the Brother was gone, Ward crept out from under the shack and across to the storehouse. He wanted to take his bag with him. There was little chance of the Brother discovering it, but Ward wasn't going to leave anything to chance.

Once he had retrieved the bag from the cellar he slipped Fidelma into one of its small pockets, (not the one holding the pouch, for she was curiously frightened of it), slung it over his back, and headed north, making for the cove where the boat was hidden. When he reached it he stopped and looked back. The ship was hidden behind a ridge he had just crossed. He would have to wait for dark before crossing the channel. If he went now he would be seen from the ship.

An hour later he was rowing across the channel to Eblis Island. He could make out the ship in the distance, lit by the silver full moon that rode in the sky, the wheelhouse lanthorn a yellow dot floating over the water. He knew they would not be able to see his small, unlit boat from that distance. His main concern had been the noise of his oars on the calm water, but thankfully the wind was blowing from the south-west tonight.

He reached Eblis Island ten minutes later, and dragged the boat up amongst the boulders at the water's edge, until it was hidden from sight. He took a last look back at the ship. His eye caught movement in the foreground. A small dark shape was moving on the water, emerging from the mouth of the cove. The Brother's boat. He waited, hoping it was just returning to the ship. For a moment it looked like it was. But it was an optical illusion. It took him a few minutes to be certain the shape had grown larger. Then, his heart racing, he turned and began to climb.

Eblis was as long as Devil Island but only half as wide. It consisted of two mounts connected by a neck of swampy land that the sea could bridge in a big storm; as Ward climbed he caught glimpses of the ocean in the V between the mounts. A strangely bare, round island lay to the north-west. The mainland floated like a long cloud on the horizon; it seemed a fae place in the moonlight.

When he reached the summit and looked down through the trees he could see the rowboat. It had pulled into a cove and run up onto the beach. He didn't stop to watch: if he could see the boat the Brother could see him.

He made for the sound of the ocean booming against the western shore, hoping to find a hiding spot, though he could think of none off the top of his head. The wind was stronger here on the island's seaward side. Spring rains had carved runnels down the hillside; he chose one and clambered down it.

It ended at sheer cliffs. Far below, a shelf protruded out over the waves. He looked along the cliff-face and saw a track zigzagging down towards the shelf. He would have to backtrack to reach it. He would lose precious time. Without stopping to reconsider, he set off through the bush.

Five minutes later he was standing on the shelf. The drop to the water was sheer, and the cliff enclosed him on three sides. A dead end. There was nowhere to hide. It had been a mistake coming here.

He turned to start back up the cliff-face, then stopped. He had heard something. Fidelma, perhaps feeling his heartbeat quicken, stirred in his pocket. He listened to the night, trying not to breathe.

There it was again. The familiar sound of a ti-tree branch brushing across fabric.

The Brother was coming down the track.

Ward considered jumping into the sea. But his books would be ruined, and Fidelma would drown. No. Instead, he looked about for something to defend himself with. A strange calmness had fallen over him. He wondered, in a distantly curious way, if he was about to die.

The Brother emerged out of the darkness, the moonlight shining off the long, cruel knife he held in his hand.

Some of my long-time readers may recognise this scene from an early draft of Sleepers.