Archie didn’t sleep a wink that night. He knew the Mirk was dangerous, but it hadn’t ever occurred to him that someone might want to harm him and his friends. And what about Fliss? She’d been acting so strangely. She wasn’t her usual self at all, and he really needed his friends’ help right now. Lying in the darkness, his mind clouded with fear.

Monday morning eventually dawned, sunny and warm. Archie awoke with a burning desire to stop the Mirk at all costs. Perhaps the Mirk had been using his fear against him? Whispering its malice and darkening hearts, the brownies had said. Was this what they had meant? He remembered how the dread had stopped him from taking action earlier.

‘I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into this,’ he said, when he and Sherbet met up with the others in the hideout. Blossom was with them sitting in her usual spot on Fliss’s shoulder. ‘Yesterday was pretty scary.’

‘Forget it,’ said Fliss dismissively, though she looked pale. She was playing absent-mindedly with the clockwork dragon she’d been gifted by Miss Clabbity. ‘Someone’s just trying to frighten us.’

‘But how did they know we were going to the graveyard?’ said Billy, who had been the most shaken. Sherbet was getting used to his anxious hugs.

‘Preen must be keeping watch on us somehow,’ said Archie. ‘He must be behind this. It would be just his style of humour – creepy.’ He picked up Fliss’s red pen and started writing on the paper that was still stuck to the pipe. ‘Let’s recap what we know so far. We’re missing something, I’m sure of it, and it might help us work out what.’

‘Firstly, there’s the weird rhyme in tomb,’ said Fliss. ‘Though that’s not been much use.’ She threw the dragon toy on the floor dejectedly.

‘What happened to that black star puzzle thing you had?’ said Billy, as Archie wrote out the lines of the poem. ‘You’ve stopped playing with it.’

‘I lost it somewhere,’ said Fliss despondently. ‘I can’t think where. One minute I had it and then I didn’t. I told Miss Clabbity, but she didn’t seem to mind. I was worried because it looked really precious.’

Meanwhile, Archie wrote Edward Preen on the board.

‘We know Preen’s involved,’ he said. ‘I’m sure he might even be the Mirk in disguise. So far he seems intent on wrecking Unquiet Night and turning people against the factory, even roping the P-Ps into his plan. And he’s been using tree bark to make the Safer Wafers. I’m willing to bet he got that from those cut-down trees we found.’

‘If he’s cutting down the trees, it will weaken the protective magic of the forest and the Wyrdie Tree, according to the brownies,’ said Billy. ‘It all helps the Mirk, either way.’

‘To be fair, the wafers make a nice change,’ said Fliss. ‘Gingerbread Dragons can give you belly ache.’

‘Only if you stuff yourself,’ snapped Billy, ‘and you won’t be able to do that for much longer. People have stopped making them, thanks to Preen.’

‘What?’ said Archie.

‘Clootie is the only person in town still baking them,’ said Billy. ‘I picked up one of the last bags from her shop on my way here, although it was a struggle to get past those protestors. We’ll have to start making our own at this rate, which is the other thing I have to tell you …’ He took the journal of Belle McBudge from his bag. He thumbed through the book until he found a page thicker than the others. It was a pocket, formed by two pages stuck together. ‘There was something hidden in the journal, just like the map was hidden in the atlas.’ He carefully eased a small, fragile piece of parchment from inside the hidden pocket. It was covered in words – a list of ingredients and instructions – written in Belle’s familiar handwriting.

‘A recipe?’ said Archie, taking the parchment from Billy and studying it. ‘A recipe for Gingerbread Dragons.’

‘So what?’ said Fliss. ‘That just means she liked baking.’

‘In my research,’ said Billy, ignoring her, ‘I’ve not found evidence of anyone making Gingerbread Dragons before Belle’s time. I think this could be the very first recipe for a Gingerbread Dragon. Look, it’s dated the day before the Unquiet Night when she defeated the Mirk.’

‘Belle invented the Gingerbread Dragon!’ grinned Archie, impressed. ‘It has to mean something!’

‘It’s just a biscuit,’ snorted Fliss.

‘Then why is Preen so bothered by it?’ retorted Archie. ‘What could he have to fear from biscuits? Unless …’

‘What?’ said Billy.

‘Unless they’re magic,’ said Archie slowly.

Fliss laughed. ‘That’s ridiculous,’ she said.

Archie examined the Gingerbread Dragon recipe, looking for anything that might give him some kind of clue. There was nothing obvious. But then Belle would have made sure there was nothing obvious, he thought. An idea suddenly struck him. Belle’s map that showed the way to the Wyrdie Tree – she had used Arcanolux Ink to draw the secret path! Maybe she had used the same trick twice.

‘Blossom – give me a fire-burst please,’ he said, holding up the recipe. The little dragon obliged, the golden light of her magical breath reflecting off the pipes of the hideout. There was a glow from the ancient paper. He’d been right! Under the list of ingredients, there were hidden instructions in shining letters:

Ginger is the most important ingredient, for it is the fire root that will keep the Mirk at bay. Then bake in an oven of DRAGON-FIRE to enhance its power.

Dragon-fire! The biscuits had been cooked by a dragon!

‘The rhyme from the tomb!’ gasped Archie, pointing at the paper he had just written on. ‘Seek the fire in the bite of a dragon, if by darkness you be pursued – not a real dragon, a bite from a dragon biscuit with fiery spices!’

‘You’re right!’ said Billy. ‘The Gingerbread Dragons have magic powers! Powers that protect you from the Mirk! Preen must have known, so he tried to stop people making them.’

‘Not only that,’ said Archie, his mind churning, frantically trying to put pieces of badly fitting puzzles together. ‘He made his own, evil version. Georgie said Preen was using a mind-control potion, but wouldn’t tell me how. I’ve only just worked it out – he put it in the Safer Wafer. And everyone who ate one is under his control.’

‘Everyone?’ said Billy. ‘But that means … that means …’ He turned to look at Fliss.

‘Yes,’ said Archie. ‘Fliss is working for Edward Preen.’