“I know,” said Percy morosely. “Terrible tragedy.”

“Oh, Percy, do stop it. I get enough of that from Quesnel.”

“Another tragedy.”

Rue sighed. “Fine, be like that. What was it you had to tell me? Do be quick before someone catches you here.” She turned and marched back to her bed, flopping on top of the counterpane. Percy followed, sitting gingerly next to her on the very edge.

“What have you learnt?” Rue asked, and regretted it the moment she said it. Too open-ended a question for Percy.

Percy took a deep breath and prattled. “Under Her Majesty’s Supernatural Acceptance Decree – referred to by the unfortunate colloquial moniker of SAD – all agreements between the East India Company and undead of conflicting nationalities are standardised. Bombay Presidency doesn’t deviate. It is based on the traditional legal language maintained unbroken over thousands of years. Very correct and vampiric, as one might expect. Hives have these things well in hand, and most local vampires are eager to treat with the British Empire because England has such a progressive stance on open acknowledgment and incorporation of the supernatural.”

Rue blinked at him. What had this to do with anything? Oh yes, she had asked him to look into the Rakshasas before they stole the book on mythology. “Percy, did you find something out particular to the Rakshasas?”

“No, not that.”

“Percy!” Rue was not in a temper to play flighty word games with her resident academic. Nor was she a particular fan of the Socratic method. It impinged upon efficiency. “Just tell me.”

Percy sniffed. “Very well. I believe we may be dealing with Vanaras, not local dissidents. Or, more precisely, the Vanaras may be local dissidents.”

Rue had never heard the word before but she wasn’t going to dignify him with continued questions. She crossed her arms and glared.

Percy, in classic Percy fashion, remained oblivious to her frustration. He said nothing further, apparently feeling that this one statement was sufficient to explain everything that had happened to them since they landed in Bombay.

Rue finally crumbled. “Percy, what do you mean by Vanaras? Is it a different tribe? A thing? A population category? Please, O brilliant one, illuminate me.”

Percy relaxed, enjoying his superior knowledge. “Actually, this book held the key. She had the pages marked. It was almost too easy.”

“Please, Percy, enlighten me with your genius.”

“Since you ask so nicely. Vanaras – to wit, mythological creatures featured in Hindu legends, most specifically the Epic of Ramayana which your Mrs Festtenhoop was reading.” He tapped a passage in the book Rue had so recently retrieved. “They are extolled as brave and inquisitive, amusing and mildly irritating, honourable and kind, and so forth. They are reputed to have, at various points in the distant past, assisted local kings and generals in resisting Rakshasa domination.”

“You think these legendary creatures might have intersections with reality?”

“Well, the first British explorers determined them mere legend, flights of local fancy. Since then, British forces in India have never encountered evidence of Vanara existence. But what if they were real? After all, the Rakshasas are real, although perhaps not exactly as depicted in the myths. What if Vanaras simply didn’t want to be found? India is a very big country.”

Rue nodded. “Go on. What other evidence do you propose to support their tangibility? After all, there are myths about Ganesha but I don’t hold that we will see a giant elephant-headed man with multiple arms marching over the horizon any time soon.”

“I am afraid I must appeal to Mr Darwin on this. We have now seen evidence with our own eyes that Indian Rakshasas differ from European vampires. Vanaras are reputed to be shape-shifters.”

“Are you saying these Vanaras are what amounts to India’s version of werewolves?” Rue couldn’t help but be deeply enthralled by the idea.

“Why ever not? Different kind of vampires, ergo different kind of werewolves. If we have supernatural men who change into beasts, what is to stop other countries from having their own version thereof? It would be terribly conceited of us to believe Europe unique in this matter. Only…”

“Only what?”

“I don’t think they are wolves exactly.”

“Oh, no?”

“If my translation is correct, of which I am certain, of course, for I am never wrong in the matter of foreign tongues, then the best wording would be, well…”

He trailed off, acutely embarrassed. Wherever else this new theory was taking him, it was into questionable territory. It must be very questionable indeed to unnerve the man who once publicly hypothesised that bacon could be blamed for the explosion of Mount Vesuvius.

“Go on, Percy. Out with it,” urged Rue.

“I suppose the best way of putting it would be… weremonkeys.”

Rue couldn’t help it – she snorted a surprised laugh. It seemed so very undignified. “Men who change into monkeys?”

Percy nodded. “Very, very large monkeys.”

“Goodness, it hardly seems worth the effort. There is not so much difference, is there?”

Percy shrugged. “I suppose monkeys are stronger, faster, and can climb with greater dexterity.”

Rue cocked her head. “Climbing could be useful. So where in India might we find these Vanaras, should they exist?”

“All the various epics describe them as forest-dwelling. So, unless all my suppositions are entirely misguided––”