“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 Shadows.

“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.