Mrs Featherstonehaugh said, “As I am sure the professor here knows, ancient history would beg to differ.”

Percy nodded his support.

Rue felt a twinge of betrayal.

Rue had more faith in coexistence than anyone, having been raised by both vampires and werewolves. “The wasp does not battle the wolf – they ignore one another.”

Mrs Featherstonehaugh looked frustrated. “This is not wasp and wolf. This is daemon and demigod.”

“My dear lady, there are no such things as daemons.” Rue would not budge on this.

Percy was compelled to interject at this point. “Well, actually, Rue, the technicality of the term is no different. Rakshasa means daemon – it’s the same word. It was we who classified them as a type of vampire on the basis of sanguinary subsistence. They would not have known to identify themselves as such. And the wasp and the wolf comparison is a metaphor, not an actuality. Werewolves are no more like real wolves than vampires are like wasps. It’s only a naturalistic model.”

“Yes, thank you, Percy, for your valuable input,” said Rue. Less betrayal than pedantry, which might be considered worse. “Regardless, why did the Vanaras not make themselves known to us sooner?”

Mrs Featherstonehaugh was annoyed. “Unlike everyone else, I bothered to learn the local language and I read considerably into the Hindu epics. If the legends are to be believed, for thousands of years Rakshasas and Vanaras have been enemies. There is even some suggestion that the Vanaras were created by Brahma specifically to battle the Rakshasas. They kill one another on sight. The moment Bloody John parlayed with the local vampires, England made an enemy of the Vanaras. These courageous, kind, and noble beings took to the forests.” She spoke with trained eloquence, her free hand moving broadly.

Rue had to admit that someone had blundered with the Supernatural Acceptance Decree in India. But what’s done is done. The question is how to repair the damage? This woman is overly enthusiastic in her support. A horrible thought occurred to Rue. “Mrs Featherstonehaugh, have you… gone native?”

Mrs Featherstonehaugh clutched her hand to her breast. She took a restorative gasp and lashed out. “Miss Akeldama! I am not the one dressed only in a scarf!”

Rue had forgotten that fact, warmed by the bonfire, not to mention the vigorousness of their debate. “I’ve had a difficult evening.”

They paused, at an impasse. All the Vanara around them stood watching in twitchy interest – even without knowing the language, the exchange fascinated them. They reminded Rue of her father’s pack witnessing similarly heated exchanges between Rue and her mother. It was as if the Vanara knew that if they uttered the merest peep, the womenfolk might turn on them.

Rue said, “And the tax money?”

Mrs Featherstonehaugh was offhand. “The Vanaras have certain expectations and I wished to parlay. Besides, those nasty Rakshasas don’t deserve the funds!”

“And Dama’s tea? You were given a sacred charge.” It was, after all, the reason Rue had come to India in the first place.

Mrs Featherstonehaugh looked frustrated. “The Vanaras like nothing better than tea – it’s the perfect bribe. He should understand.”

Rue considered her Dama’s feelings on the matter. “I doubt it.” After all, this was some very important tea.

At this juncture, the Vanara Alpha stepped up to Mrs Featherstonehaugh and prattled out a query. The lady answered him, her flow and mastery of the language far superior to Percy’s. Percy looked appropriately impressed.

Rue, who had initially admired Mrs Featherstonehaugh’s boldness, was now finding it abrasive. Mrs Featherstonehaugh reminded Rue of a small blonde version of her mother. Which was only a good thing when they were on the same side. Currently, and through no fault of her own, Rue had been forced into justifying a policy made ten years before she had been born. A policy that she had only recently learnt of and that, until a week ago, had had no bearing on her life whatsoever. If they hadn’t been arguing so aggressively, Rue might actually come around to agreeing with this horrible woman.

Rue tried to think about it without the spur of conflict, from the Vanara perspective. What if this was the war against Napoleon and she had come in and allied herself with the French because she had a policy that said she favoured all French emperors under a certain height? Absurd. Britain’s current supernatural policy might seem equally absurd to the Vanaras. If Vanaras and Rakshasas never thought of themselves as kin – despite being both immortal, both supernatural, both undead – then they would, perforce, think of themselves as different species. Scientific truth or not, some definitions are a matter of cultural tradition. It all comes down to categorisation in the end.

Rue said, “Percy, do you remember anything about the SAD treaty with India, the original document as written between Bloody John and the Rakshasas?”

Percy said, “Of course I do. I remember most of it.”

“You didn’t happen to bring a copy in that satchel of yours, did you?”

“The Vanaras took it away from me.” He was petulant, a schoolboy deprived of his sweeties.

“Well, cast your mind back, would you? Are the Rakshasas named as allies by title, or does it use the word vampires, or does it simply say local supernatural representatives?”

Percy thought about this for a long time.

Rue said, knowing she was up against his pride as an academic, “This is important, professor. Please don’t say it either way if you can’t remember exactly. You know how solicitors get.”