“Any meat will do,” he said, in a surprisingly soft and ordinary voice. “As long as it’s raw. Human flesh is the best. It’s like a drug . . . Got a real kick to it. Wonder how much of a jolt I’d get . . . from eating a Drood?”

“Sorry,” I said. “Tinned meat isn’t on the menu today.”

“What do you want here?” said the Hungry Heart, all the tiredness of the world in his voice. “No one here wants any trouble. We all have enough of our own. All we want is to nurse our wounds in private, among our own kind.”

“Just looking for a little information,” Molly said breezily. “We’re trying to locate Mr. Stab, and we’ve been given to understand that he frequents this place.”

“Now that really is an insult,” said the elf lord, rising gracefully to his feet, a slender, shimmering dagger in his hand. “As if even we would tolerate such an abomination as Mr. Stab in our select little circle. We do have our standards.”

“Yes,” said the monk, rising to his feet, pulling back the sleeves of his crimson robe to reveal arms corded with muscle. “You come in here and insult us to our faces? Associate us with the likes of Mr. Stab? There’s a limit to the abuse even we will take.”

The Frankenstein monsters were on their feet too, looking even larger and more imposing. And the Hungry Heart sighed, pushed his empty plate to one side, and rose to his feet.

“I’m hungry,” he said. “Anyone here got a can opener?”

“I might have,” said the monk. He produced a short knife from under his robe. “This is the blade that cut Judas Iscariot down from the tree where he hanged himself, in Haceldama, the Field of Blood. Legend has it this blade can cut through anything. Maybe even Drood armour.”

He lunged forward incredibly quickly for one so old. The dagger slammed into my side, skidded across the silver armour in a flurry of sparks, and continued on, leaving my armour entirely undamaged. The monk staggered forward, caught off balance, and I hit him in the head. The whole left side of his face flattened, bone crunching and splintering, but he didn’t fall. He raised the knife to cut at me again, so I grabbed his head with both silver hands and turned it all the way around, so that he was looking backwards. His neck broke loudly, but he still didn’t fall. I pushed him away, and he staggered off around the café, lost and bewildered.