The tide had progressed inward, causing The Spotted Custard to tie in closer to the promenade, making their walk back shorter than their walk out. The hot evening had become almost temperate, quite bearable. Rue was enjoying herself – she’d met Dama’s contact, received a code, uncovered possible scandal from her parents’ past, and encountered long-lost relations. Not to mention the fact that there had been a kidnapping recently. India, she thought, was turning out to be a delightful place.

Unfortunately, when they arrived back at the ship things took a turn for the worse. They could not board, for the gangplank was hauled in. Arranged up on the main deck was a row of fierce-looking sooties, decklings and Greaser Phinkerlington, all armed with slings and other projectiles. Down below, standing on the shore, trying to look like he didn’t care, was a man.

“’Ware, Lady Captain,” shouted Spoo, the moment they were within earshot. “We got us an uninvited vampire.”

CHAPTER NINE

RAKSHASAS

The vampire turned to face them. Rue expected him to look like any other vampire, only Indian in appearance. Mostly, he did. Mostly. But it was in the vein of how a broad bean looks like a runner bean – different, but both still beans. He had thick dark hair, a straight nose, high cheekbones, and a dark complexion combined with the clear smooth skin indicative of immortality. His facial topiary was questionable, being one of those large thick moustaches that curved down and around below the cheeks before connecting to the hair above the ears. An unflattering statement at best, but not one he could really be blamed for selecting. It was probably the height of fashion when he was metamorphosed. Poor vampires – so obsessed with style yet often cursed to look decades behind the times.

The crew of The Spotted Custard had, at least in part, been assembled by a vampire. One might expect them to be amenable to a visit from the supernatural. However, it was clear why they stood arrayed against this vampire, for he was too different a bean.

This was quite possibly the most unpleasant-looking creature Rue had ever had the misfortune to meet. His fangs were larger than those of British vampires and closer to the front of his mouth so that they protruded, and could not be tucked respectfully away under the lips. And those lips, while well-shaped, were red and moist and curled at the edges. His eyes appeared sunken into his skull with circles so dark that the skin looked black. His fingernails were long and wickedly sharp and shone with some oily substance in the moonlight. He smelled of carrion.