“Yeah,” the Hounds chorused.

“I just wish she wasn’t so … final about it all, you know?” Bub whined.

“It was supposed to be final!” I snapped, then shook my head. It wasn’t fair to take my misery out on my Hounds. “What I mean to say is, she will be safe from Hellen’s clutches now.”

The Hounds shared another one of those looks. It was as if they were questioning my sanity.

“Will you cease your silent judgement of me? I already feel utterly wretched, as is evidenced by the puddle of sick in the bottom of this refuse receptacle.”

“Yeah, about that …” Beezle began, side-stepping the sour-smelling can. “Why’d you bring us back into the Ratty-Man’s territory?”

I cleared my throat, wincing at the burn of bile. “I … have something I need to set right.” Straightening, I headed for the end of the alleyway and the road we would cross to The Artful Bite. The scrabbling of Hound nails on the concrete behind me ceased as two mice clawed their way up my trouser leg, and over the back of my shirt to nestle inside the collar.

“Boss,” Beezle warned. “You’re not seriously going to undo his reaping, are you?”

“Yeah, I think that’s real bad form,” Bub added. “That was one of the only things Jemma Bliss wasn’t mad at you about!”

“I have no intention of undoing what has been done,” I muttered, striding across the road. A horn blared, and I turned my head to find one of those silent automobiles careening towards me. I leapt out of the way, chest pounding at the final second, watching with wide eyes as the car swerved and almost clipped a streetlight before righting itself. The owner screeched a stream of profanity out the window at me.

“You’re really messed up, Boss,” Beezle’s little mouse voice shook. “I dunno if now’s the right time to be making decisions.”

“I must make this right. I have the power to … to do some good for her, after all the bad.”

They fell into an uneasy silence, their little mousey eyes burning teeny holes in the back of my neck as I pushed through the door and into the hum of the café. The noise slowly died as I weaved my way through the ridiculous rubbish they called furniture. I must have been exuding such an intense aura of malevolence because the silence became so piercing that all that could be heard was my boots on the polished concrete floor.

Thump, thump, thump.

In time to the thumping in my chest.

I shoved my way past the girl serving at the counter. She watched me, mouth agape, as I headed through the kitchen. One of the staff dropped a ladle. The clatter was deafening. But no one stooped to pick it up. They all stared, eyes wide, as I took the corridor that led to the office.