‘You’re not the only one with magical food,’ said Archie fiercely, as they backed away. Sherbet dropped Cogswallop and barked protectively. The man gave a dismissive laugh.

‘Gingerbread dragons? Unfortunate fool! I think you’ll find there are none left in the entire town. My campaign has seen to it.’

‘No, there aren’t,’ said Archie, reaching for the bag of Fizzfires at his neck, ‘but we’ve got something better.’ He scoffed one of the sweets and yelled to the others. ‘Eat the Fizzfires! They’ll protect you from Preen’s magic!’

Billy took a sweet from his bag and stuffed it into his mouth. ‘Hmmm, they’re tasty …’ he said, eagerly chewing the Fizzfire. Then his eyes went wide. ‘And fizzy – my mouth is tingling like I’ve a mouthful of glow-worms! And you weren’t wrong about the extra ginger. They’re super-fiery! That’s quite an upgrade on the gingerbread.’

For the first time, Edward Preen was not smiling. He glowered at them.

‘Yes – that’s something else you don’t like,’ said Archie. ‘Fire. I saw you at the twins’ party, when Portia incinerated your cake – goodness knows how many people you were planning to bewitch with that – you were hiding from the fire! And we’ve got our own source!’

Fliss knew immediately what she had to do and pulled at the bag which contained Blossom. ‘I can’t open it,’ she said desperately. ‘Blossom – are you all right?’

Preen swung around, his eyes filled with malice, just as a blast of flames scorched a hole through the bag from the inside and the little dragon’s indignant face poked out. The man cried out as Blossom wriggled free and soared in circles around the shop, firing bursts of embers and smoke. Preen sank to the floor, shielding his head with his arms. Then he lay very still. Too still.

‘Is he … dead?’ said Billy. ‘Because if he is, I know where he can get a coffin for free.’

‘The coffins!’ said Fliss suddenly, as the little dragon landed on her shoulder and stroked her cheek with its nose. ‘I remember everything! Oh, Archie! Miss Clabbity …’

Archie was crouched over the unmoving dentist. There was something odd about him. He still had his smooth features – his dark hair, his smile and his cold eyes – but he was … changed. His face looked more chiselled, more polished …

‘He looks like he’s made of wood,’ says Archie. ‘He looks like –’

‘Archie,’ said Fliss. ‘Listen to me! Miss Clabbity –’

‘A puppet,’ said Miss Clabbity, appearing from the back of the shop, through a door they hadn’t noticed. ‘He looks like a puppet. Because that is what he is – carved from wood and magically brought to life.’

‘So that’s why he was afraid of fire!’ said Billy.

‘How do you know all this, Miss Clabbity?’ said Archie.

‘How do I know?’ said the old lady, smiling. ‘Fliss knows. She was trying to tell you. I know because I made him, of course …’

‘You made him,’ repeated Archie, turning very pale. His head was suddenly rocked with pain. ‘You’re behind all this – you’re the Mirk!’

Miss Clabbity kept smiling, but it wasn’t a nice smile. It wasn’t a human smile.

‘I’ve waited five hundred years for tonight. Five hundred years, to fully regain my power. Hiding inside this shop, using my puppets, human or wooden, to do my bidding.’

‘But you can’t be the Mirk!’ said Fliss, close to tears. ‘Miss Clabbity’s a nice old lady. She makes toys. I’ve seen her outside the shop, everyone has!’

‘That was the real Miss Clabbity,’ the monster said, its eyes turning pure white. It walked to the display of puppets and picked up Red Riding Hood’s grandmother, who Archie had noticed looked so much like the old toymaker. ‘And here she is. I turned her into one of her own toys when I assumed her identity. I wanted her to know what it felt like, after she carved the last bit of Mirkthorn, my home, into one of her playthings.’

Miss Clabbity’s voice had turned into a growl, and her teeth were now pointed and glistening. She dropped the grandmother and picked up the Mirkthorn puppet, eyeing its spiky, black surface with affection.

‘She found the last surviving piece of Mirkthorn wood in the forest, all that was left after the dragons thought they had destroyed it. Something told her what shape to carve – a wicked plant that binds and strangles.’ She laughed. The laugh was dark and cruel. ‘Little did she know.’

Miss Clabbity began to grow, her shadow filling the shop. Her back arched and her woolly old-lady clothes merged into a twisted monstrous body. It was as black as the night, covered in needle-sharp spines which moved unnervingly. Archie screwed up his eyes and could see the creature’s hide was covered in jet-coloured earwigs, woodlice, centipedes and spiders, their constant silent wriggling making the spines writhe as if they were alive. They dripped on to the floor like boiling oil. Her hands twisted into claws and her smile transformed into a hungry, drooling snarl. Then she raised her head and let out a cry that, despite the heat, turned their blood to ice. It was a cry of triumph.