The trip was short, which Erin had expected. What she had not was the dirt road the coach had taken, similar to the one that led to Gran Weston’s retreat in Blanes, but on flat terrain. The city was nowhere to be seen.

‘Where are we?’ she asked.

Adam took a peek through the dark glass behind them. ‘I have no idea,’ he said. ‘I’m going to ask.’

Halfway down the aisle a hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, causing him to yelp. The police officers raised their heads, saw a baffled teenager glaring at his father, and went back to reading, meditating, or whatever they were doing in their seats.

‘What’s the matter with you?’ Mr Weston said.

‘Too much coffee,’ Adam muttered. ‘Have you spotted the absence of city? And...

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