I tumbled out of the portal into an alleyway, barely keeping my footing. I wrinkled my nose at the smell of refuse and those smoking sticks that humans sometimes liked to suck on.

“Jeez, Boss, that was a rough ride!” Beezle complained, giving himself a shake. One of Bub’s ears was flopping, and he kept tilting his head to try and right it.

“Get small, the pair of you,” I ordered, already striding towards the end of the alley that led onto an unfamiliar street. Where on earth was Jemma Bliss? And why was she so agitated? The Soul Token continued to throb in my pocket, matching the odd throbbing in my chest.

As I reached the main street, two sets of tiny claws tickled their way up my body to settle into my collar. The mice were back.

“Ready, Boss!” Bub squeaked.

“What exactly do we need to be ready for?” Beezle asked.

“I am not sure,” I muttered, glancing around. This part of the city was high-rise, and the humans here wore clothes that were the opposite of the sorts of things Jemma Bliss wore. All dark, neutral colours, heavily tailored. No garish patterns.

They looked so … boring.

“Where are all the sausage dog pyjamas?” Bub wondered, his whiskers tickling my ear.

“Perhaps that is just a healer thing,” I suggested, striding into the street. Immediately I was drawn towards an eating establishment. The sign pronounced it The Artful Bite. I snorted at the pretentious name, peering in the windows and frowning.

“Have they used rubbish for furniture?” Beezle asked, distaste in his teeny mouse voice. “Even Pit Demons don’t do that!”

“It appears so.” I stepped inside.

Immediately the Token pulsed violently. She was in here. And she was very unhappy. It was verging on gloomy inside, with the exception of spotlights on a variety of what looked to be children’s art on the walls. Perhaps this was some exhibition for art students of hers?

A flash of pink at the very back caught my eye, and my stomach jolted. She sat, slumped dejectedly at a table with two men who were chatting animatedly. As I watched, her shoulders slouched further. The Token buzzed.

Before I knew what I was doing, or why, I strode forwards, my hand finding her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. And, in a fit of insanity, I leaned down and brushed my lips against the top of her head.

“Morning, Mouse.”

She straightened, and as if in slow motion, she turned to me, her eyes sparkling. But not with that canny calculation I’d seen in them more than once.

No. There were tears glistening in those eyes. The same way they had only yesterday when I’d pushed her to them. Except these had not been caused by me.

Her pouty lips parted on a tiny gasp. I smiled, or tried to smile down at her, all the while feeling that strange, swooping sensation in my gut.