She was glad the light in the shop was out, for though she didn’t imagine the tigers would notice her at the window, she felt very strongly that avoiding their attention was better than drawing it. Shoulder to shoulder, the two huge cats paced slowly down the street until they reached the empty house two doors east of Manfred’s, where they simply vanished into the shadows. Their smooth movements, their silence, the massive heads turning slightly from side to side to survey the night around them . . . it was as eerie and powerful as anything Fiji had ever seen.

Perhaps they’d vanished because they’d heard the car coming. The road was empty for only a few seconds before it appeared. It was an antique car with big tail fins. Fiji had no idea what make and model it was, and she was not interested. She didn’t know the driver, who seemed almost irrelevant to the behemoth he was driving. He was a short, plump man with thick blond hair and a lot of rage. She could see it simmering and shimmering in the night like a red nimbus. He’d pulled into Manfred’s driveway, blocking Manfred’s car, and he got out of the car to walk rapidly to the front door, his arms pumping with energy. He banged on the door with his fist and began yelling.

“Oh, no,” Fiji said. “Oh, no! This is awful!” She rushed over to her own door and suddenly felt a lot of needles sticking in her back. She shrieked.

Mr. Snuggly hissed, “Do not open that door!” He’d launched himself from the stool to land on her upper back, and he was clinging desperately to her with his claws.

“I have to stop him! He doesn’t know!” she said. “Dammit, get off my back!”

“Just back over to the stool,” Mr. Snuggly said. “I’ll drop off.”

Clumsily, she did so, and he landed on the stool, righting himself immediately and with as much dignity as he could.

“You silly woman,” the cat said.

“I can’t let—” Then a noise from outside made her look through the window.

One of the tigers was peering around the corner of Manfred’s house at the newcomer, who was still banging and screeching. Above the pawnshop, in Bobo’s apartment, a light came on. Bobo flung open a window. She could see the silhouette of his head.

“Get back in the car, man!” Bobo called.

“What?” The man stepped back and peered upward.

“Get back in your car and leave. Right now!” Bobo sounded very serious.

“See?” Mr. Snuggly said. “He has a whole floor between him and the creatures. Let him speak.”

“I will not!” The man fairly twitched with indignation, and Fiji pulled up her own window.

“Get back in your car, you moron!” she yelled. “You’re in danger!”

“Don’t threaten me,” he yelled back, and he banged on Manfred’s door again.