heavy objects fall on their heads, or stumbling off cliffs in the dark.
Equally, one might ask why bad things don’t happen to bad people, which was just what Constable Peel was asking himself at that precise moment. Somehow, against all the odds, the dwarfs had survived in a basement filled with carnivorous eyeballs, bald vampires, and at least one monster with bladder-control issues. If Constable Peel had been stuck in that basement he’d have been food for something within seconds, but Jolly, Angry, Dozy, and Mumbles had waltzed safely through it all as if it were nothing more dangerous than a field of daisies.
“We appear to have upset him,” said Angry as Constable Peel continued to weep and curse the gods from his position on the floor.
“He’s very sensitive for a policeman,” said Jolly. “I think he’s just relieved that nothing bad happened to us.”
“He’s swearing a lot for someone who’s relieved,” said Angry. “He seems to be doing a lot of fist-shaking as well.”
“He’s getting rid of tension, that’s all,” said Jolly. “It can be a very emotional experience when you find out that someone you care about has been in danger. Imagine how much worse he must feel knowing that the four of us—and Dan—were almost killed.”
Constable Peel’s wailing grew louder.
“I mean, think about it: just one little bit of bad luck and we might not have been here at all.”
Constable Peel began banging his head on the floor.
“Constable Peel,” Jolly concluded solemnly, “would never have seen us again.”
Jolly shed a tear at the near tragedy of it all. It fell on Constable Peel’s neck. As it trickled down his back Constable Peel reached for his truncheon, and he might have done to Jolly what the eyeballs and vampires and monster had failed to do had not Sergeant Rowan stepped in and ushered Dan and the dwarfs away.
“Give him a little space, lads,” he said. “Poor old Constable Peel has had a bit of a shock.”
He knelt by his fellow policeman, who was taking deep breaths to try to calm himself.
“Are you going to be okay?” asked Sergeant Rowan.
“It’s not right, Sarge,” said Constable Peel. “Even Hell couldn’t get rid of them fast enough. Every time it looks like we might be about to see the last of them, something terrible happens and they survive.”
“I know, son, I know, but we can’t have you beating them to death with your truncheon. We’d have to find somewhere to hide the bodies, and right now we’re stuck in a toy shop with all kinds of nasties, so we don’t have the time to go stuffing the bodies of dwarfs into closets or under floorboards.”
He handed Constable Peel a handkerchief. Constable Peel blew his nose loudly and wetly in it and tried to hand it back to the sergeant.
“No, you keep it,” said Sergeant Rowan.
“Very kind of you, Sarge.”
“Not really,” said Sergeant Rowan.
Constable Peel folded the handkerchief, stuffed it in his pocket, and got to his feet.
“When all this is finished . . .” said Constable Peel.
“Yes?”
“And if we survive . . .”
“It’s a big ‘if.’?”
“But if we do . . .”
“Yes?”
“Can I kill them then?”
Sergeant Peel handed Constable Peel his hat.
“We’ll see, Constable, we’ll see . . .”
• • •
High above the Earth, within sneezing distance of the moon, a small hole appeared in the fabric of space and time, and Crudford squeezed through it. He gazed down at the small blue planet below. It was, as planets went, nothing to write home about. It didn’t have spectacular rings. It wasn’t made of diamond. It did not, unlike the planet Cerberus IV in the Dragon Dimensions, have jaws and teeth, and move around the galaxy chewing up smaller worlds. It was just kind of pretty in a blue, watery way.
Crudford floated closer to the Earth. He hovered over England. He narrowed his focus, concentrating on the area around Biddlecombe. He saw that it was there but not there, as if he were seeing the town in a dream. Black smoke swirled around it, great columns of it like tornadoes.
No, not smoke: shadows.
And not shadows, but
“Oh, the Great Malevolence is not going to like that,” said Crudford. “It’s not going to like that at all.”
XXX
In Which Help Arrives, Wearing a Very Fetching Hat
THE STREETS OF BIDDLECOMBE’S town center were largely deserted as Maria and the scientists drew closer to Wreckit & Sons. Most of Biddlecombe’s citizens had barricaded themselves in their homes and businesses, or were off battling elves and reindeer elsewhere. A small crowd had taken refuge inside the Town Hall, where the forces of darkness were being kept at bay by the singing of BoyStarz, as it turned out that even demonic elves and reindeer had a limited tolerance for infinite variations on “Love Is Like . . .” Some of those trapped inside with BoyStarz had tried to make a break for freedom to take their chances with the forces of darkness, but common sense had prevailed, helped by earplugs and the contents of the mayor’s drinks cabinet.
Professor Hilbert parked the car outside Mr. Tuppenny’s Ice Cream Parlor, where a quartet of abominable snowmen had made the mistake of breaking in and eating some of the stock. Mr. Tuppenny’s ice cream had a reputation for being heavy on the ice and light on the cream. It was said of his Lemon Surprise that the only surprising thing about it was the fact that it eventually melted at all, and lumps of coal had more lemon in them. There were people who swore that they had eaten one of Mr. Tuppenny’s Special Ice Cream Sundaes in May and still had an icy ball moving slowly and painfully through their lower intestine come September. Mr. Tuppenny had stayed in business only because of tourists and mad people. The abominable snowmen had eaten so much Strawberry Swirl that it had made them very unwell, and they were now unable to do anything more threatening than wave their claws in frail “kill me now and make the icy pain go away” gestures.
It was Professor Stefan who spotted the two figures picking their way through the broken glass and ruined Christmas decorations.
“They’re a bit tall for elves, aren’t they?” he said. “Seems to defeat the purpose, having tall elves.”
“They’re not elves,” said Maria. “They’re demons! Unlock the car doors, please. I want to get out.”
Professor Hilbert did as he was told, even though it didn’t seem like a good idea to go after two large demonic elves. The small ones were bad enough.
Maria leaned over Reginald, opened the door, and clambered out.
“Nurd! Wormwood! It’s me!”
Nurd and Wormwood were just as pleased to see Maria as she was to see them. They hugged, and were soon joined by Professors Stefan and Hilbert, and Brian and Reginald, who kept a cautious distance from them.
“When you say ‘demons,’ that usually implies a degree of badness,” said Professor Hilbert to Maria.
Maria tried to explain.
“Look, not all demons are demonic,” she said.
“I did try for a while,” said Nurd. “I just wasn’t very good at it.”
“He was useless,” Wormwood added, unhelpfully.
“I wasn’t useless, I was just . . .”
Nurd tried to find the right word.
“Rotten?” Wormwood suggested. “Incompetent? Gormless?”
Nurd settled for “different.”
