'Is it her?'

'It's her.'

Three cloaked and hooded figures stand shoulder to shoulder as they look up at your house. It's just an ordinary house in an ordinary suburb with a neatly manicured lawn and a white fence (you painted it just last week), which gleams brightly against the light of the full moon. A cool wind blows, rustling the leaves of the large ash tree planted by the roadside. Somewhere in the distance a dog barks.

You live alone, your house shut up tight. Your bedroom is on the second floor, your window closed against the cool autumn night. It's warm and cosy beneath your covers as you sleep deeply, oblivious to what's going on down below.

'Are you sure? Remember the last one ...' whispers the second hooded figure.

'I'm sure!' the first snaps. He lifts his nose to the air. 'I can smell her.'

'Then let's get her,' speaks the third hooded figure. 'We've been looking long enough.'

'Wait,' hisses the first, throwing his hand against the third's chest before he can move. 'We need to be cautious. She must be unharmed. If there's a nick or a scratch on her, he won't be pleased.' He looks at the second hooded figure. 'You still have it?'

The second figure pulls out a crystal vial from his cloak and twists it in his long fingers.

'You sure it's potent enough? She can't wake during the journey,' says the third.

'Of course,' scowls the second.

'Have it ready,' speaks the first. 'Quick and silent we move.'

So they do, parting company as they surround your house. The first approaches your front door. It has a heavy lock but it's nothing his strong hands can't break. The second attempts to scale your fence. It's seven feet high but it's hardly an obstacle. They both move quickly, unnaturally; they almost seem to glide.

The third, meanwhile, looks up at the second floor where you sleep. Briefly, he looks around, making sure he's alone before he sheds his cloak. With a hiss, he shakes out his wings; it's painful to keep them confined for so long. They're large. Black. Bat-like. With a sharp claw at their tips. He spreads them out slowly until they're stretched out as far as they can go. Now they're no longer large but huge. Together, they're wider than he is tall.

He drops into a crouch, then springs into the air. With one hard flap of his great wings, he reaches the height of your bedroom. With a second hard flap he reaches your windowsill. He lands his feet square on it, gouging his claws into the brick to keep balance.

Your white, diaphanous curtains partially obscure his view but he can see you well enough: a small figure curled like a bug under your blankets. Just as he wrenches open your window, snapping your lock, the first of the three steps quietly into your room through your bedroom door.

You wake up with a start. You blink in a daze, confused and tired, wondering what woke you. Glimpsing movement in the corner of your eye, you glance at your window. You freeze, your heart pounding in your throat. The moon is bright enough that you can see everything with terrible clarity. Your window is open and a face is looking back at you. A man's face! How? Who? You sit up with a squeal. Next, you see the figure in the doorway. Cloaked and hooded, he's so tall his head brushes the ceiling.

'Get out of my room,' you say bizarrely. 'Get out of my room.'

No response.

You can't move. You can hardly think. It feels like your body has turned to ice. Then the man in the window attempts to climb inside. It's enough to snap you out of your shock. You leap out of your bed and make a run for it. With another squeal, you duck under the arms of the man in the doorway as he tries to grab you. Then you're racing downstairs. As you watch your step, you don't realise there's a third figure waiting down below until it's too late. Trapped, you don't know what to do—stop or keep running—and your feet tangle together. You suck in a breath as you trip. You try to grab the banister but miss. Your heart drops into your stomach as the steps rush up to meet you.

You squeeze your eyes shut, then open them again at the unexpectedly soft landing. The third invader has caught you. You scream and thrash and kick. You almost get free but the two men from your room bound down the stairs after you, and together they haul you down the rest of the way.

Once your feet meet the floor, the one who caught you holds you tightly against him, his chest hard against your back as you struggle and scream. 'Let go! Let go! Let go!'

One of the men stands back, and amid your panic you realise there's something not quite right about him. What's that at his back? Wings? Are those wings?! Your stomach hollows out. You suddenly feel cold, so cold your jaw starts chattering. You lose feeling in the bottom half of your body and suddenly you find it impossible to hold yourself up.

You're limp, helpless. All you can think is that someway, somehow, you're going to die, that this is the end of your little life. 'Stop,' you gasp.

You watch in a daze as the third man pulls something from within his cloak. It's some kind of vial. Poison, you think vaguely. They're going to drug you! He tips the contents onto a rag. You want to fight, you have to fight, but you have no strength. You try to turn your head away but the man with the vial grabs your jaw.

You look up at him beggingly but it does nothing to stop him. Holding you tightly, he presses the rag to your nose and mouth. You hold your breath for as long as you can but soon give in. The drug smells pungent. Medical. It feels sticky in your throat. It burns your lungs.

'Please,' you manage to gasp before you start to fall and keep falling.

The man holding you lowers you carefully to the floor.

The three 'men' look down at you briefly before turning back to each other, glaring. The man with the vial scowls at the man with the wings. 'We were supposed to be quiet! I could have subdued her without all of this. You almost ruined everything!'

The winged man scowls back. 'She's not hurt. Besides, I wasn't about to let you get all the credit.'

'Shut it, the both of you,' hisses the man who held you. He throws off his cloak, revealing his own set of wings. The man with the vial slips the vial back it into his cloak and does the same.

Together, they look down at you.

'The deed is done.'

'After so long.'

'He is waiting.'

The one who caught you scoops you up into his arms as the other two watch warily.

'Remember, we caught her together,' speaks his companion.

'So be it,' says the one holding you.

They all turn to the front door. One after the other they take to the heights on their great black wings.