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‘He doesn’t have any –’
    â€˜I’ll get the first-aid kit!’ James rushed to the other side of the room.
    â€˜But he’s not –’ Barry and Terry looked at one another in panic. ‘Len needs –’
    â€˜I know what he needs.’ Derek eyed them both steadily. His face was a remarkable combination of authority and confidence. ‘I know exactly how to keep him safe. How to keep him healthy.’
    It seemed to Amelia that Derek had said that awkwardly – he was putting all the importance on the word keep , instead of on safe and healthy .
    He said, ‘You look after the others. I’ll keep Len with me.’
    There it was again, and this time, Barry and Terry blinked in wonder and just nodded obediently.
    Keep , Amelia thought. Tom said something about a Keeper. Could Derek be …?
    She gazed at him, and perhaps he guessed what she was thinking, because just as James rushed up with the red first-aid bag, Derek said to her, ‘It’s water Len needs. Can you get me a bucketful? As much as you can carry.’
    â€˜I can do that,’ said Charlie, grabbing another candle and pelting out of the room.
    By now James had unzipped the bag and was rifling through bandages and swabs looking for the emergency shot of adrenalin, but Derek interrupted him.
    â€˜We need to move him now .’
    James shook his head. ‘What? No! As if we have time to –’
    â€˜ Now ,’ Derek repeated. ‘Without delay. Into the annexe.’
    Amelia was disturbed. Was Derek really going to make Len wait for his shot while they moved him to another place? It didn’t make any sense, but arguing would only slow them down further, so she ran to the annexe door and slid it open. Derek and James carried Len inside.
    In the pale light of the candelabra, they laid the limp Scout on the floor. Thick green mucus was bubbling out of Len’s mouth. He was on one side and lay utterly still, with no sign that he was breathing.
    â€˜You’re crazy!’ James fell back and stared at Derek. ‘I think he just died and you wasted his last seconds. You killed him!’
    In that moment, Charlie staggered in with a bucket slopping water over the edges. Derek nodded in satisfaction.
    â€˜Close the door, please,’ he said to Amelia. Taking the bucket from Charlie, he poured the water over Len’s head. He nudged Len with his foot so Len rolled onto his back, and Derek made sure the rest of the water fell onto Len’s face and into his open mouth.
    â€˜And now you’re drowning him?’ James gasped.
    But rather than drowning, Len’s whole body jolted. He twitched, writhed on the floor in apparent agony, and then sneezed so violently a wad of green froth spattered the floor and wall.
    Almost instantly, there was a hard bang against the wall behind them. Turning, Amelia saw her brother had stumbled backwards, hitting his head and shoulder. His face was white with terror; he was staring fascinated and horrified at Len.
    To be fair, Len was quite a surprise for anyone.
    The sneeze had dislodged his holo-emitter, which now lay sparking on the annexe floor. Len himself, uncloaked from his holographic disguise, was now unmistakably alien – a giant slug, translucent and glistening, with a mouth wide enough to engulf James’s whole head. Two green hearts could be seen beating deep inside his body, while his digestive system made an oddly beautiful squiggly line through his middle, shading from purple to blue to black. His antennae were retracted miserably into his head, and he trembled as yet more green mucus foamed out of his mouth.

    â€˜It wasn’t a peanut allergy at all, was it?’ said Amelia. ‘It was the salt in the peanut butter that made him sick. Just like an Earth slug.’
    â€˜Correct,’ said Derek grimly. ‘You’re a clever kid …’ He paused.
    â€˜Amelia.’
    â€˜Amelia,’ he