It’s a funny thing about fire, but it burns very well when there is wood involved. It burns even better when there is wood and petrol involved, and better still if a little paint is added to the mix for good measure. Basically, Mrs. Johnson’s garden was now full of small, painted, petrol-soaked pieces of wood.

Suddenly one of the elves finally managed to get a match lit.

“Weeeee!” it said with delight, holding the match above its head like a small, and not very impressive, Olympic torch.

“Weeeee!” said the other elves.

“Weeeee!” said the first elf again. It watched as the flame neared its fingers.

“Oh-oh!” it said, and dropped the match.

There was a loud whoosh, and a burst of flame. Mrs. Johnson’s garden was immediately turned into an elf bonfire. Somewhere in the middle of it, small figures could be seen running around trying to put themselves out. Bells tinkled hotly before melting.

“Can I make a joke about elf and safety?” said Wormwood.

“No, you can’t,” said Nurd.

They waited until the flames began to die down. Some of the elves, now slightly charred, had made it to safety, although they were still stunned by what had happened. In a very short time, though, it was likely that they would overcome their shock and get angry, and then they’d start looking for revenge.

“Now is our chance,” said Nurd. “If we don’t make it, I’d like to say that it’s been an honor to have you as a friend, Wormwood. I’d like to say that, but I can’t, because it wouldn’t be true.”

“Thank you,” said Wormwood. He was getting quite tearful. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“It is, Wormwood. In return, do you have anything you’d like to say to me?”

Wormwood thought for a moment. Nurd picked up a faint smell of burning. He thought it was coming from the elves until he realized that it was the smell of Wormwood thinking.

“I couldn’t have asked for a better demonic master,” said Wormwood finally.

“Really?”

“Really. I couldn’t have asked, because nobody would have paid any attention.”

“How true, Wormwood, how true.”

Nurd and Wormwood went down the stairs and paused at the front door. They each took a deep breath and crossed their fingers. Wormwood had an extra one on each hand, which made it more complicated for him.

“Ready?” said Nurd.

“Ready,” said Wormwood.

Nurd opened the door, and together they stepped into the garden.

• • •

The elves, as we have already established, were not the sharpest tools in the box. They had, until recently, been perfectly anonymous bits of wood before unexpectedly finding themselves infused with supernatural energy. They had only two purposes: to cause as much mayhem as possible in Biddlecombe, and to capture the demons known as Nurd and Wormwood and bring them to Wreckit & Sons. So far they’d been doing reasonably well on the mayhem front, but the attempts to capture Nurd and Wormwood had been less successful. Various elves had lost limbs and heads due to collapsing pyramids and letter-box-related injuries. Half a dozen more had been crushed when stones and rocks thrown optimistically at windows had fallen tragically short of their targets. Finally, fire had taken care of most of the ones that were still standing, leaving only a handful in any condition to resume the mission.