The Demon God Yoth-Ziggurat might want to chop your soul up into little pieces, but at least he doesn’t tell you that you haven’t got one.

And at least you’ve got half a chance of finding a magic sword.

He kept thinking about Mr Grimm. Even the dead kept away from him.

He woke up to hear Wobbler say, ‘We could go Trick or Treating.’

‘My mother says that’s no better than begging,’ said Yo-less.

‘Hah, it’s worse than that around Joshua N’Clement,’ said Bigmac. ‘It’s called, “Giss five quid or kiss your tyres night-night”.’

‘We could do it around here,’ said Wobbler. ‘Or we could go down the mall.’

‘That’ll just be full of kids in costume running around screaming.’

‘A few more won’t hurt, then,’ said Johnny.

‘All right, then, everybody,’ Wobbler said. ‘Come on . . .’

In fact Neil Armstrong Mall was full of all the other people who’d run out of ideas at Halloween parties. They wandered around in groups looking at one another’s clothes and talking, which was pretty much what people did normally in any case, except that tonight the mall looked like Transylvania on late-shopping night.

Zombies lurched under the sodium lights. Witches walked around in groups and giggled at the boys. Grinning pumpkins bobbed on the escalators. Vampires gibbered among the sad indoor trees, and kept fumbling their false fangs back in. Mrs Tachyon rummaged for tins in the litter bins.

Johnny’s pink ghost outfit caused a lot of interest.

‘Seen any dead around lately?’ said Baron Yo-less, when Wobbler and Bigmac had gone off to buy some snacks.

‘Hundreds,’ said Johnny.

‘You know what I mean.’

‘No. Not them.’

‘I’m worried something may have happened to them.’

‘They’re dead. If they exist, that is,’ said Yo-less. ‘It’s not as though they could get run over or something. If you’ve saved their cemetery for them, they probably just aren’t bothering to talk to you any more. That’s probably what it is. I think—’

‘Anyone want a raspberry snake?’ said Wobbler, rustling a large paper bag. ‘The skulls are good, too.’

‘I’m going home,’ said Johnny. ‘There’s something wrong, and I don’t know what it is.’

A ten-year-old Bride of Dracula flapped past.

‘I’ve got to admit, this isn’t big fun,’ said Wobbler. ‘Tell you what . . . there’s Night of the Vampire Nerds on TV. We could go and watch that.’

‘What about everyone else?’ said Bigmac. The rest of the party had drifted off.

‘Oh, well, they know where I live,’ said Wobbler philosophically, as a blood-streaked ghoul went by eating an ice cream.

‘I don’t believe in vampire nerds,’ said Bigmac, as they stepped into the night air. It was a lot colder now, and the mist was coming back.

‘Oh, I dunno,’ said Wobbler. ‘It’s the sort we’d have round here.’

‘They’d suck fruit juice,’ said Yo-less.

‘Their mum’d make them go to bed late,’ said Bigmac, but they had to think about that.

‘Why are we going this way?’ said Wobbler. ‘This isn’t the way back.’