“The Rakshasas know we are here, which means they know that we’ve made contact with the Vanaras. If they’re smart, they’ll realise that British policy is to try to integrate newly found wereanimals. Your husband still thinks you’ve been kidnapped. I know what I’d do if I were a Rakshasa queen and I hated Vanaras.”

Mrs Featherstonehaugh paled. “No!”

“The army has been told where we are.”

The frontline attack of any British night campaign is always werewolves. They form the perfect vanguard – supernaturally strong, amazingly quick, fierce, tireless, and immortal. Werewolf packs had won England her territories, and vampire hives had determined how to keep them. It gave Queen Victoria an empire upon which the sun never rose. As the famous saying went, “It is always night somewhere, so somewhere werewolves are fighting.” Tonight that somewhere was Tungareshwar Forest.

The Kingair Pack charged into the fire-lit grounds of the Vanaras’ sacred temple. There were not many but they made a good show – bristling and fierce, battle-hardened, and fighting fit. The Vanaras turned their weapons away from The Spotted Custard and onto this new threat, but they did not strike the first blow. Instead the weremonkeys stood, furry arms drawn back, spears and arrows at the ready, awaiting their Alpha’s command.

So too did the werewolves. Kingair was an old pack, once not very stable, but in Lady Kingair they had a strong Alpha. She could hold them in check by sheer force of personality, even with all their instincts urging them to attack.

With the attention of both parties diverted, Rue looked up and caught Prim’s eye. She gave a sharp nod. Prim gestured with her handkerchief.

Spoo dropped a rope ladder which unfolded swiftly, thunking softly to the top of one of the temple walls.

Rue signalled to Mrs Featherstonehaugh. “Best to get out at this point. Everyone’s finished conversing.”

“I can’t accept that. Can’t we convince them that this is a set-up? Somehow?”

“Look at them. This is no longer our battle.”

Mrs Featherstonehaugh did not budge.

Rue couldn’t give her any more time. My first priority must be to save Percy. He is my responsibility and if the fighting gets deadly or moves towards the fire, he’s trapped at the heart of it. Rue couldn’t decide how to break his chains. She wished for good old-fashioned vampire abilities. Or possibly some training in how to pick a lock.

She inched close enough to touch Percy.

The Vanaras and the werewolves remained at a stalemate. Clearly, the Kingair Pack was under orders to keep the enemy in place and not engage. The Vanaras were under no such orders, but their weapons were designed to fight vampires. Nothing was tipped in silver. They could hurt with wood, but cause no serious injury.

Rue examined Percy’s shackles as surreptitiously as possible. They looked to be silver-coated iron. She needed a tool.