Tuesdays were always slow. Not as slow as Wednesdays, true, when Bob manned the bar alone and was grateful for every pint he pulled, but slow enough. Never as slow as this, though. He hadn't seen a Fae all morning, and several times he'd seen someone open the door, look around and leave. He wasn't vain enough to think humans came here for his wit, nor his gorgeous looks. Humans came here to rub shoulders with the Fae. What the Fae came here for he wasn't sure, but whatever it was, it wasn't here today. Thank God for his regulars, such as they were.

He glanced at the clock and frowned. Twelve-thirty. Some of the office workers had already come in for lunch, if a cheese roll and two pints of lager could be called such. It wasn't like Daisy to be late. Not that she needed to be here, but it was worrying. She'd been really shaken the day before, with that bastard Wilson. Well, fair enough. If anyone deserved a day off, it was her. It would have been nice for her to at least have texted him though. If this kept up, she could have the evening off as well.

Bob hoped she wouldn't need to stay off permanently. How long could he keep open if the Fae stayed away? He ran sums in his head as he served the few clients. He could meet next month's rent. If business was bad, he could maybe meet the next by selling some of his excess stock. And that was it. Wither then for a failed ministry man and failed pub landlord?

At about one the threatened rain started, drizzle at first but quickly getting into its stride. By half past the rain was coming down like it meant it, with enough stamina to last the whole day. By two he was down to two office workers, who drank up and scurried out into the dismal afternoon. For a while Bob busied himself clearing the tables and washing the dirty glasses, uninterrupted by any punters. Finally he made himself a coffee and sat on the customer side of the bar. He thumbed Dawn's number and listened to it ring out. He texted her, telling her she didn't need to come in that evening.

Someone had left a Metro on the table. He read it cover to cover, then gave the crossword a half-hearted attempt. He wasn't expecting anyone but, all things considered, he couldn't afford to lose any custom, even if it was a half of shandy from a disappointed tourist in search of a Fae.

Three o'clock came and went and he seriously considered closing down for the day, the evening be damned, when the phone rang.

"Lion and Lamb," he answered, pushing the paper away.

"Bob?" Amanda was breathless and he could hear London traffic in the background.

"Amanda, light of my life. How wonderful to --""

"It's Dawn."

"What?" Bob sat upright, his heart falling to his feet.

"Oh Bob, Bob. It's terrible, they --" Taxi! Taxi! --" The Lion and the Lamb. Yes, yes. Hello? Bob?"

"Here."

"Oh Bob, it's Dawn. She's been attacked."

"What? Where?"

"On her way home last night. Oh God, Bob, it's horrible. What they did, they â?" they --." She started sobbing into the phone.

"Okay, okay, calm down. Deep breaths. Just tell me, where is she?"

"I don't know. She was discharged this morning, apparently. Home probably. I don't know."

"Discharged? From hospital?"

"Yes."

"You know what happened?"

"They got her, Bob. They grabbed her and they -- they cut her."

"Okay, okay. You're coming here, right? That's fine. We'll sort something out. Pop round and visit her maybe. She can't be that hurt if they let her go."

"No, you don't understand," Amanda sobbed into the phone. "They cut them off. Her wings, Bob. They cut her wings off!"