Dama directed the driver through Hyde Park and out onto the Edgware Road towards Regent’s Park. Far less popular and less populated by the supernatural set, Regent’s Park was quiet at night. They drove along one side before turning in towards a dense plot of trees near Boating Lake. There, in the centre of a petite forest, sat an abandoned cricket pitch now occupied by a small but cheerful family of squirrels and Dama’s latest acquisition.

“Oh, Dama! She’s so beautiful.” Rue was embarrassed to find herself actually clutching both hands to her breast like the heroine of a romantic novel, for there in the middle of the pitch was moored the most amazing airship she had ever seen.

Rue was particularly fond of floating. She’d spent many a summer’s day up in Dama’s personal aircraft, Dandelion Fluff Upon a Spoon. He himself never used it of course, but kept it on the roof because it was the kind of possession that a man of means kept on his roof. Dama always made the appearance of doing what was proper and modern. He would never want to be thought old-fashioned – that was for other vampires. When Rue turned sixteen, the drones taught her to fly old Fluff. Since then, Rue had never missed the opportunity to bundle Prim up in hair muffs and goggles, pack a suitable picnic and take to the skies. Prim grew to enjoy it more than she would admit and had invested in a wardrobe to complement.

“I don’t want to be thought an outdoorsy sort of female,” she initially objected.

“Don’t be silly, Prim – everyone is taking to the skies these days. It’s not only the country set. It’s not like we’re riding horseback or something passé like that.”

“But, Rue, I’m all too often seen on wolfback. If I take to floating as well, people will say I’m – oh, I don’t know – athletic.”

“They will say no such thing. The height of your heels alone belies any suggestion of brawniness.”

That hadn’t helped – the mere mention of “brawn” nearly gave Prim hysterics. Through dint of cajoling and application of a very handsome drone to assist with lessons, Primrose eventually allowed herself aboard.

But this dirigible was utterly unlike such a poky little craft as old Fluff.

“Dama, she’s perfectly topping.”

“She is rather, isn’t she? I commissioned her several years ago, before some of the technology was even ready. Now she has all the very latest of everything, from navigation to habitation to mechanics to munitions. She’s lighter, better, faster and more deadly than anything, even Her Majesty’s floatforce. And, my darlingest of puggles, she is yours to command.”

Rue was moved to italics by the gesture. “Mine?”

“Indeed. I think you two will get along swimmingly. Or should I say floatingly?”