David was stomping down the stairs from the royal bedroom at Buckingham Palace. In a bad mood. The storm had passed, but he still had a headache. Thunder always gave him a headache. So did problems, and this was a night of problems.

The last surviving members of the royal family, whom he kept in the room upstairs, had gone weird on him. They were standing there, frozen like dummies, holding their arms out as if they expected him to give them a tip. He’d been looking after them and keeping them alive in the hope that he could eventually use them to take over London. They were his mascots, the symbols of his authority. At least that was the plan. He was beginning to wonder if it was a huge waste of time and he shouldn’t just use them for target practice instead. He’d been tearing into his quite frankly useless head of security, Pod, when they’d been interrupted by one of David’s guards, who said he had a visitor. A visitor who wouldn’t give his name.

Who the hell came visiting in the middle of the bloody night?

Some idiot probably.

Bringing more problems.

The world was full of idiots.

‘It could be Nicola, or someone from the Houses of Parliament,’ said Pod, plodding along behind, trying to keep up with David, who was walking angrily fast.

‘Yes, and it could be Father Christmas,’ said David.

‘Wrong time of year,’ said Pod, who had no sense of humour.

‘Well, the Easter Bunny then,’ said David.

Pod chuckled. Idiot.

David pulled open the door to his study and went in.

Oh. It was him then. The weird boy from the museum. Another born idiot. What was his name? Peter, or Richard or something. John?

‘Yeah, hi, Paul,’ said Pod as he came in. ‘How goes it?’

Paul. That was it. He looked terrible. Thin and wasted. Soaking wet, black hair plastered to his white face. Shaking. Eyes red and bloodshot. Feverish. David hoped he wasn’t going to infect them all with some boring disease.

‘You’re back then,’ he said. ‘What a lovely surprise.’

‘Yes.’

‘So what happened? The last we saw of you, you were going back to the museum to stir things up a little.’

‘Did you let the strangers out of the cellar, dude?’ said Pod. ‘Did they, like, attack?’

‘Yes.’ Paul nodded. Didn’t look like he was going to say anything more.

‘Cool,’ said Pod.

‘So what happened?’ said David impatiently.

‘Some others turned up.’

‘Other grown-ups?’

‘No. Kids. A whole load of them. Good fighters. They killed my sickos.’

‘Epic fail,’ said Pod, and then he frowned. ‘That was the same night that Maxie and Blue and the north London guys left here,’ he said to David. ‘You don’t reckon …’