So far, she had only antagonized them.

Did she even understand that such an affront was conceivable?

A kind of electricity came from Althene. Rachaela experienced the tingling of it. But it was not fear.

Too arrogant to be afraid.

The five men were slouching there in front of them, liking their own strength, enjoying the threat more than the action. Turning themselves on. Only one of them was as tall as Althene, but in this type of encounter, that was not going to matter.

"I like the bird with the big tits," said the one in rompers.

"The other's better. Big girl."

"I bet she's got a big cunt. Take two of us at once."

They laughed again, they had overlooked Althene's patronizing remark. They began to move forward.

Althene spoke.

"Wouldn't you like to see what you're getting first?"

They checked, chuckling disbelievingly.

Rompers moved out. "You show us then.''

Althene opened her coat. She started to raise her skirt, very slowly.

They encouraged her, whistled. They watched the long slim leg appear above her high leather boot. Rachaela saw, also. Just below the stocking top, was a garter of dark green lace. And in the garter, a tiny gun.

Althene had the gun neatly in her hand. She let her skirt fall.

Four of the men had stopped laughing. But Rompers was not impressed.

"Look. It's a toy. It's a fake."

The gun was silver with a white bone handle. It looked too elegant to be anything dangerous.

Rachaela said, "Althene—"

"Tell you what," said Rompers, "she's showed me hers. Now she can see mine. I've got a big one, darling. Just the size for you and your friend."

He moved forward again, and the other four were there behind him.

The gun gave a little click, like a pip breaking between the teeth. Then Althene fired into Rompers's body.

Deafening red in the smoky light, blood jetted from his genitals. He gave a shrill squeak. He flopped backward and the others split away from him. They paused in odd attitudes, half crouching, looking at him. He screamed once, and then he only lay on the pavement under the fog.

The men ran away abruptly, like a herd of animals frightened by something unseen.

"What have you done?" said Rachaela.

"Don't you know?" said Althene. Her voice sounded deeper, rougher, less glamorous. She raised her skirt once more and set the gun back into the preposterous garter. "That will keep me warm."

The man on the ground did not move. Was he dead?

Rachaela glanced up. No one at the window.

"We'll have to call an ambulance." She tried to speak sensibly, as though Althene had done something normal, like twisting her ankle.

"Why?"

"You shot someone."

"So I did. Did you love him?"

Rachaela said, "That isn't an answer."

"Yes."

"He was scum," said Rachaela.