The elves had pictures of Nurd and Wormwood implanted in their minds. They were sure of what the wanted demons looked like. What they did not look like was elves, which was why the remaining elves were slightly puzzled to see two more elves step out of a house previously occupied only by two demons. They were very large elves, and one of them smelled odd, even from a distance, but there was definitely something elfish about them. They had pointy ears, their cheeks were painted a rosy red, and they were wearing hats with bells on the end. They even had white beards, which made them very senior elves, and probably explained why they were so large.

Wormwood tried to keep from scratching at his cotton-wool beard, and from adjusting the Father Christmas hat that Mrs. Johnson had bought to be worn on Christmas Day, and which was making his head sweat. He had also borrowed Mrs. Johnson’s red bathrobe. Nurd, meanwhile, was looking radiant in the green shower curtain from the bathroom, belted at the waist.

The elves stared at them. Anybody would have, really.

“We’re going to die,” whispered Wormwood.

“We can’t die,” said Nurd. “We’re demons.”

“Then we’re going to nearly die, and we’re going to continue nearly dying for a very long time.”

“Keep smiling,” said Nurd, while keeping smiling, so that it came out as “Keek smigink.”

“Keek what?” said Wormwood.

“Keek smigink.”

“Oh. Right.”

Wormwood still had no idea what Nurd was saying, so he decided just to keep smiling and hope for the best. Together, he and Nurd walked down the garden path, their gaze fixed on a point somewhere over the heads of the elves, their smiles never wavering. As they passed, the elves fell to their knees in awe.

“It’s working!” said Wormwood.

“Keek quige!”

But it was working, and it would have kept on working had Nurd’s tail not poked out from beneath the folds of the shower curtain. The tail had been growing shorter of late, and Nurd was certain that eventually it would disappear altogether, but it still liked to make an appearance when Nurd was in stressful situations. One of the elves spotted it as it threw itself to the ground.

“Weeee?” it said.

It nudged the elf beside it, and pointed at the tail.

“Weeee!”

The word was passed among the elves. By now, Nurd and Wormwood were at the garden gate. Another step or two and they’d be on the street, and Nurd had Mrs. Johnson’s car keys in his pocket. He had promised her never, ever to drive again without permission, or unless he was being paid to crash the car in question, but Nurd looked at promises as things you said just to make other people feel better. You never knew what might happen in the future, and you didn’t want to go pinning yourself down.

Nurd reached for the keys. The car was in sight. He took one more step toward it and stopped: not because he wanted to, but because his feet wouldn’t carry him forward. He looked over his shoulder to find a dozen elves hanging on grimly to his tail. One of them was even gnawing at it. Nurd wished him luck. His tail was tougher than leather, and tasted like it, too.