For a moment, nobody spoke. The only sound in the room was the whistle of the wind through the cracked window panes. Then the dancer Nahara recognised from the ballet – Masahiko – stepped forwards.

‘Not that I haven’t enjoyed your company, but I rather think Miss Enfield and I ought to be leaving.’

‘Excuse me?’ Nahara spluttered. ‘On what authority—’

‘First come, first served,’ the dancer said simply, ‘I got to Miss Enfield first, ergo, I keep her.’

Nahara felt an unfamiliar emotion bubbling through her veins. Anger.

‘How dare you speak of Nigella like she’s an object to be kept at your beck and call!’

The Snake – Selander – cocked a curious eyebrow. ‘Nigella?’

Nahara shoved him aside, stooping, despite the pain in her side where Masahiko’s knife had grazed her, to where Nigella lay.

‘On my oath,’ she said, kneeling with her fist clenched over her heart, ‘you will not harm Nigella Enfield.’

‘Enfield!’ Selander exclaimed. ‘Of course! Why didn’t I see it before?’ When everyone turned to look at him, he turned rather sheepish. ‘Um, never mind. Carry on.’

‘Your morals are … inconvenient,’ Masahiko sighed, ‘are you sure I can’t persuade you to let me finish kidnapping her?’

‘Absolutely not!’ Nahara said, affronted.

A sudden clap split their argument, as Oswin, the smudge of a boy skulking behind Selander stepped forwards to sign.

Nahara was shocked to see he was speaking to Masahiko and not her. But the dancer was unable to decipher Oswin’s hand motions.

‘What’s he saying?’ he asked Selander. ‘I don’t speak mime.’

Selander’s eyes narrowed. ‘He wants to know what you want with her.’

Masahiko shrugged, the motion unnaturally fluid. ‘Why should I tell you?’

‘Does it have anything to do with the fact that she can, oh, I don’t know, turn into a massive red rage-monster?’ Selander said lightly, but his eyes were dark with suspicion.

‘If you must know, I accidently witnessed her … serum administration a couple of nights ago and thought she might be of some use.’

Nahara blanched. ‘To what end?’

Masahiko folded his arms over his chest. ‘It’s personal.’

‘Alright,’ Selander held up his scaly palms, ‘why don’t we take a moment to calm ourselves? Clearly, Miss Enfield is more popular than we all assumed.’

‘Then I was right,’ Nahara scoffed, ‘you have a stake in her too.’

‘I’m not sure I’d phrase it quite like that,’ Selander winced, ‘but given … recent events, yes. I can see how she could be valuable.’

‘No,’ Nahara snapped, ‘she is not to be bargained over.’

‘Says someone already doing the bargaining,’ Masahiko drawled, pointing his toes in his ballet slippers.

‘That’s lieutenant to you!’ Nahara retorted, as Masahiko stuck out his tongue at her.

Then Nigella groaned, stirring as if waking, and everyone fell silent. When her eyes remained closed, Nahara slipped her army-issued jacket off and draped it over the sleeping girl’s frame.

‘I propose a truce,’ Selander said eventually, ‘Oswin and I take Miss Enfield,’ he raised a hand to cut off their protests, ‘and let you come and visit us tomorrow?’

‘And why the hell would we let you do that?’ Masahiko wondered.

‘Because I’m the only one who knows how to cure her manifestation,’ Selander said.