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his hands. Not like the warmth that came from being in someone’s pocket but warm like a living thing.
    ‘ Everyday Daemonologie ,’ he read aloud, ‘ Or a Demon a Day .’
    The book, covered in black scales, glistened in Edgy’s hand. The shifting colours within it reminded him of the swirls of oily blue and purple he’d seen on the wings of black beetles.
    He glanced out of the small window and into Eden Square. Three dark figures sat hunched around the statue of Satan.
    Edgy lay on the bed but sleep didn’t come. He flicked through the book. It wasn’t like any book he’d seen before – not that he’d seen many. Edgy wasn’t sure he liked it but it fascinated him. Certain articles jumped out at him again and again. Others he skimmed through once and then they couldn’t be found again no matter how hard he searched.
    He flicked through woodcut pictures of huge demons locked in combat, armies of devils bearing cruel weapons, assembling on vast plains. Titles such as Getting the Best out of Imps and Asmodeus Proposes jostled with The Role of the Governing Body at the Royal Society , until his head whirled with jumbled-up facts.
    ‘ Imps are the most minor of demons, ’ he read aloud, totally engrossed. ‘ Usually the lost souls of unbaptised child­ren or babies kidnapped by demons. Imps are the workforce of hell. They make fiercely loyal friends and annoyingly obstructive enemies. ’ Edgy thought about Spinorix and his anger about things going missing.
    Another passage caught his attention:
     
    In 1797, Hector Corvis, seventh Earl of Rookery Heights, invited a hooded stranger to install panelling to the Royal Society. Bizarrely, once this stranger had finished, fellows of the Society soon found themselves lost in their own building. It was the associate demon Asmodeus who discovered that because of the demonic decor one had to think of the approp­riate location to find one’s way there, as he was often fond of saying, ‘Just think where you might be tempted to stray and you’ll find yourself there . . . but one still has to walk.’ Typical demon capriciousness.
     
    Edgy looked down at Henry, who lay curled at the foot of his bed. ‘Well, that settles that,’ he murmured. ‘This place is a nuthouse. First thing tomorrow, we’re off, demons or no demons. It’s all well and good livin’ like this but I’ll take me chances, I think, Henry, old chap.’
    Henry gave a contented whine and buried his muzzle in his chest. Gradually the events of the day took their toll on Edgy and he fell into a restless, dream-filled sleep, chased by demons and dead boys, carriages and the grinning face of Janus.

Devils can’t be driven out with devils.
    Traditional proverb

Chapter Six
    The Exhibition Hall
    Grey shafts of morning light coaxed Edgy out of his sleep. He stretched. Normally at this time of day he’d be shiver­ing at the cold and rubbing his hands together, but every inch of the Society glowed with heat. Edgy felt good – well fed, clean and dry. He’d never been able to say that. Henry yawned and shook himself, jumping off the bed. Edgy rubbed the condensation off the tiny windowpanes and peered through.
    Mist made the surrounding buildings grey and ­indistinct. A white frost cloaked Eden Square but the three demons had stayed close to the Satan statue. Edgy could see steamy breath clouding around their curling horns as they stamped out the cold. One of them glanced up, making Edgy pull back from the window, his unease creeping back.
    ‘Still there, Henry,’ Edgy murmured. ‘How are we goin’ to get away from this place?’
    He picked up the book and stuffed it in his pocket. The heat stifled him, made him feel trapped. Edgy reached for the latch of the door.
    ‘Let’s go an’ find a way out, shall we?’
    He opened the door and gave a yell. Sally stood right in the threshold, making Edgy fall back. She must have been standing with her face pressed against the door to be so close when he