Something so horrible that he would be able to ignore the light in Petrel’s eyes, and do what he had come here to do. But the boy in the box was anything but monstrous. He was no bigger than an eight-year-old child, and his silver face was beautiful. He lay so peacefully in his bed that it seemed a pity to wake him. Fin swallowed, and gripped the spanner in his pocket. “He’s real,” said Dolph in a choked voice. “I never thought he was, and neither did Mam. But he’s real.” “He’s going to save us,” breathed Petrel, and she reached out her hand, then pulled it back again, as if she wanted to touch the boy but did not dare. Missus Slink had no such concerns. With a great creaking of her joints, she clambered down into the box and stood on the boy’s chest. A small screwdriver appeared in her paw. “Now this,” she said, “is the tricksy bit.” She undid a panel in the boy’s shoulder and put the screws carefully to one side. Beneath the panel were two holes. It looked as if something was missing, although Fin, who knew nothing about either machines or demons, could not imagine what it might be.
