Rue was not amused. “Come back here, you mangy beast! That’s my mother’s parasol.” Rue hiked up her skirts, regardless of showing ankle to the entire tower, and gave case.

Quesnel and Prim, still crouched behind the table, barely registered her impetuous action. Both tried to rise at once and got caught up in the tea things and each other so that by the time they reached the broken window of the tea-shop, both lioness and Rue had vanished into the milieu of the Maltese Tower.

Rue chased the parasol and the cat through the crowd. The assembled personnel seemed mainly annoyed by the disturbance. A few were quite upset by a rampaging lioness with an ugly accessory in her jaws – but their concern seemed more to do with the risk to the parasol rather than the presence of the lioness. Rue also garnered dirty looks. After all, since she was chasing after the beast, they assumed it was her lioness off-lead. The cat relaxed into an easy loping pace, fast enough so that Rue could not catch her but slow enough for her black tail tip to be ever beyond Rue’s reach, like an extremely frustrating fishing lure. Rue wished one of her father’s pack were nearby – if she could steal wolf form for a while she could certainly catch the blasted creature. Not that any werewolf could withstand being up so high and so close to the aetherosphere.

The lioness dodged between two food booths – one which dealt in fish and chips, the other smelling of curry. Behind the stands was a shanty town of dockworkers’ hovels made of old scrap metal and stretched fabric. Laundry dangled between and above the makeshift structures. Rue charged through, blissfully unaware of the impracticality of a lady of means running with skirts hiked up – and no bloomers – into what amounted to a sky-high slum.

The cat flicked inside one of the not-quite-buildings and Rue paused, suddenly aware of her surroundings. There were only a few people visible but she had the distinct impression of many eyes upon her. This was someone’s home she was about to enter, without invitation. Dama’s face appeared before her, finger shaking madly. Vampires were very taken with proper invitations. Then again, there was a lioness inside with her parasol! If anyone could think of a better excuse for barging in uninvited, she’d like to hear it.

So Rue barged.

There was no door, only a weight of bright material hanging long and heavy in the entranceway. Rue parted it and cleared her throat. “Um, pardon me, is anyone home?”

No answer.

“Yoo-hoo. May I come in, please? It seems your lioness has possession of my accessory.”

When still no one answered, Rue pushed through the fabric.