“You know how people go to see a doctor to get medicine?” I say. “Well, this is the same, only with books. The stories are like the medicine, see?”

But I can tell from Violet’s face that she doesn’t.

“You know,” I say, scooping up the rubbish from the bed and flicking the coin to Violet, “I think it would be best if I took you there to see for yourself.”

THE EERIE BOOK DISPENSARY

IT HAS ALREADY STARTED SNOWING as we head out into the twisting streets of Eerie-on-Sea. Only, because this is the seaside in winter, don’t go imagining a pretty snow-globe flurry. The snow is like a swarm of icy bees – stinging our eyes and trying to get up our noses.

“Is it always this cold?” says Violet, shouting above the wind.

I shrug, though you probably can’t tell because of my big coat. And it’s not my coat, exactly – like Violet, I’ve borrowed one from lost property. All signed out, and accounted for in the ledger, of course. In each coat pocket we have a hot pebble from the stack I keep on my wood burner.

“It’s not far,” I shout back, and we start to climb a narrow lane of steps, heading deeper into the town.

“Can’t see if we’re being followed in this weather,” Violet calls, looking back.

I look back too, and, for a moment, it seems like there is someone there. We both stop, squinting into the snow. Was that a shadow stepping back into a doorway? There are a few people around, hurrying against the wind.

“It’s nothing,” I say, almost convincing myself. “Mustn’t get paranoid.”

But I can’t stop myself from glancing up at the hotel tower, still visible over the rooftops behind us. Does Lady Kraken’s cameraluna work by daylight, too?

We come out into a square, with a bronze dolphin statue in its centre. We cross this, and find ourselves standing outside a large shop window, bathed in its warm light. Something grotesque leers out at us. It’s the mermonkey, looking just as ugly as the drawing on the postcard, sitting on a great, peeling circus pedestal and grinning down from behind an ancient black typewriter.

“It’s real?” says Violet.

“Well…” I shrug. “There’s real, and then there’s really real, isn’t there?”

“The Eerie Book Dispensary.” Violet reads the painted letters from the window. Then before she can say anything else, there’s a ding and the door of the shop opens.

A tall, handsome man with dark, grey-speckled hair steps out and pulls his jacket lapels up against the weather. He stops a moment as he sees us, and pauses. It looks like he’s about to say something, but then he just gives a small nod before striding away across the square.

“Is that the owner?” says Violet. “He looks … booky.”