“Yes,” said Jolly. “I’ve been keeping it as a pet, but I didn’t want to tell anyone because I thought they might make me hand it over to the zoo.”

“You can’t keep that as a pet,” said Angry, on whom sarcasm was sometimes lost. “You need a bigger hutch, for a start. It’s cruel keeping a—whatever that is—cooped up like that. I ought to report you.”

Jolly punched Angry on the arm.

“Of course I didn’t put it in there,” said Jolly. “I just opened the door and there it was.”

“Well, what’s it doing in that closet, then?”

“I don’t know!”

“I wonder how long it’s been in there?” said Angry.

From behind the door came what sounded like a sigh of relief, and liquid began pouring from inside the closet. Jolly and Angry took some quick steps back.

“Quite a while, I think,” said Jolly.

“We can’t just leave it there,” said Angry.

“We can’t take it with us,” said Jolly. “Did you see those teeth? Nasty, those teeth. Not the teeth of a vegetarian. Never met a bone they didn’t like, those teeth.”

On the wall nearby was an ancient blackboard. Fragments of dusty chalk lay on a shelf beside it. Angry picked up one of the pieces of chalk and wrote on the door. The writing was slightly uneven because Angry had to lean at an awkward angle to avoid the liquid that was still spilling from inside the closet.

“What’s it been drinking?” said Jolly. “If he doesn’t finish soon, we’ll drown.”

“There,” said Angry. He looked admiringly at his handiwork. On the door were now written the words

DO NOT OPEN!

“That should do it,” said Angry.

“Can I have that chalk?” said Jolly.

Angry handed it to him, and Jolly added one more word.

MONSTER!

“Better,” said Angry. “Much better.”

He slipped the chalk into his pocket.

“Now let’s find Dan, just in case we need any more doors opened.”

XXII

In Which All Threats Begin with the Letter E

MEANWHILE, IN ANOTHER PART of the basement that should not have been very far away but, because of the strange things happening in the Multiverse, was now much farther away than before, Mumbles and Dozy had stumbled upon old Mr. Wreckit’s selection of unsold Nosferatu photographs. They came in all shapes and sizes, and while most simply lounged against the walls as though recovering from a heavy meal of blood and a long flight home on bat wings, others had been nailed to the walls, creating a gallery of vampiric figures.

Just in case you’d forgotten, or were not having trouble sleeping, some of them looked like this:

Dozy tapped Mumbles on the shoulder and pointed to the nearest picture.

“Your mum’s looking well,” he said.

Mumbles kicked him in the shin.

A lightbulb flickered above their heads, casting an unpleasantly sickly light on the faces that surrounded them. It also made them look distinctly alive. The depictions started to seem less like pictures and more like windows through which far too many vampires were peering. It made the dwarfs feel like walking blood banks, and toothy creatures were queuing up to make a withdrawal.