But Constable Peel didn’t get to reply, because the darkness swallowed his words, and then his breath.

And, finally, it swallowed him.

XX

In Which History Comes Alive

NURD WAS LYING ON the top bunk, staring at the ceiling. Mrs. Johnson had gone out to bingo again. Nurd suspected that Mrs. Johnson was a bingo addict. Whenever anyone mentioned a number in conversation, Mrs. Johnson would instinctively try to cross it out.

Nurd was sulking, although it was hard to tell because Nurd’s face naturally formed a kind of sulk, even when he was happy.

“I spy with my little eye—” said the voice of Wormwood from the lower bunk.

“I’m not playing anymore,” said Nurd.

“Come on. It’s fun.”

“No, it’s not. I-Spy is only ever fun for the person doing the spying. I hate I-Spy. Anyway, you’re on the bottom bunk staring up at the top bunk. So far you’ve spied a mattress, some wood, and a sheet. You’re unlikely to spot a camel, are you, or a spaceship? There’s a limit to how interesting it can be.”

“I’ll look somewhere else, then.”

“No.”

“Please, just one more? Oooh! Oooh! I’ve just spotted something. It’s great. Seriously. Please? Oh, please?”

Nurd sulked even more. While he really did understand the reason why Samuel hadn’t wanted him to go along to the grand reopening of Wreckit’s store, he remained hurt. Once again, Nurd recalled that he had once been a demon with high hopes. He’d even had ambitions to take over the Earth. They hadn’t worked out very well because Nurd was useless at being properly demonic, and a squirrel with a nut allergy had a better chance of ruling the world, but at least it had been something to aim for.

Now here he was, sharing a small room with Wormwood, and Wormwood wasn’t meant for small rooms. Wormwood could have made a cathedral smell a bit funny. Nurd had grown fond of Wormwood in the way a dog might grow fond of a particularly friendly flea, but he really did wish that they could see a little less of each other.

A lot less of each other.

“Go on, then,” said Nurd. “But this is absolutely, positively the last time, and I’m only taking three guesses.”

“Understood,” said Wormwood. “You’re the best demonic master I’ve ever had!”

“I’m the only demonic master you’ve ever had.”

“You have a point,” admitted Wormwood. “Now, I spy with my little eye something beginning with e.”

Nurd thought about it. He was very competitive and he didn’t like to lose, not even at I-Spy. He had managed to guess mattress, wood, and sheet easily enough. He wasn’t about to be beaten on the final try by Wormwood.

“Eiderdown,” he said.

“Wrong!”

Nurd scratched his ear. It helped him to think. He poked at his ear hole, and kept poking until the tip of his finger came out of the other ear. Nurd wasn’t sure why it sometimes did that. Wormwood had once suggested a possible answer. Nurd had kicked him in the bum for his trouble, but not before putting on his pointiest boots.