Miss Angorian backed into the nothingness until half of hervanished. “You’re hard,” she saidreproachfully.

“Yes, I am!” said Sophie and slammed the door on her.She turned the knob to orange-down to prevent Miss Angorian comingback and dumped the guitar back in its corner with a firm twang.“And don’t you dare tell Howl she was here!” shesaid unreasonably to Calcifer. “I bet she came to see Howl. Therest was just a pack of lies. Wizard Suliman was settled here,years ago. He probably came to get away from her beastly throbbingvoice!”

Calcifer chuckled. “I’ve never seen anyone got rid ofso fast!” he said.

This made Sophie feel both unkind and guilty. After all, sheherself had walked into the castle in much the same way, and had beentwice as nosy as Miss Angorian. “Gah!” she said. Shestumped into the bathroom and stared at her withered old face in themirrors. She picked up one of the packets labeled SKIN and thentossed it down again. Even young and fresh, she did not think herface compared particularly well with Miss Angorian’s.“Gah!” she said. “Doh!” She hobbled rapidlyback and seized ferns and lilies from the sink. She hobbled withthem, dripping, to the shop, where she rammed them into a bucket ofnutrition spell. “Be daffodils!” she told them in a mad,croaking voice. “Be daffodils in June, you beastlythings!”

The dog-man put his shaggy face round the yard door. When he sawthe mood Sophie was in, he backed out again hurriedly. When Michaelcame merrily in with a large pie a minute later, Sophie gave him sucha glare that Michael instantly remembered a spell Howl had asked himto make up and fled away through the broom cupboard.

“Gah!” Sophie snarled after him. She bent over herbucket again. “Be daffodils! Be daffodils!” she croaked.It did not make her feel any better that she knew it was a silly wayto behave.

Howl opened the door toward the end of the afternoonand sauntered in, whistling. He seemed to have got over the mandrakeroot. It did not make Sophie feel any better to find he had not goneto Wales after all. She gave him her very fiercest glare.

“Merciful heavens!” Howl said. “I think thatturned me to stone! What’s the matter?”

Sophie only snarled, “What suit are you wearing?”

Howl looked down at his black garments. “Does itmatter?”

“Yes!” growled Sophie. “And don’t give me that about being in mourning! Which one is it really?”

Howl shrugged and held up one trailing sleeve as if he were notsure which it was. He stared at it, looking puzzled. The black colorof it ran downward from his shoulder into the pointed, hanging tip.His shoulder and the top of his sleeve grew brown, then gray, whilethe pointed tip turned inkier and inkier, until Howl was wearing aback suit with one blue-and-silver sleeve whose end seemed to havebeen dipped in tar. “That one,” he said, and let theblack spread back up to his shoulder again.

Sophie was somehow more annoyed than ever. She gave a wordlessgrump of rage.

“Sophie!” Howl said in his most laughing, pleadingway.

The dog-man pushed open the yard door and shambled in. He neverwould let Howl talk to Sophie for long.

Howl stared at it. “You’ve got an Old English sheepdognow,” he said, as if he was glad of the distraction. “Twodogs are going to take a lot of feeding.”

“There’s only one dog,” Sophie said crossly.“He’s under a spell.”

“He is?” said Howl, and he set off toward the dog witha speed that showed he was quite glad to get away from Sophie. Thisof course was the last thing the dog-man wanted. He backed away. Howlpounced, and caught him by two handfuls of shaggy hair before hecould reach the door. “So he is!” he said, and knelt downto look into what could be seen of the sheepdog’s eyes.“Sophie,” he said, “what do you mean by not tellingme about this? This dog is a man! And he’s in a terriblestate!” Howl whirled round on one knee, still holding the dog.Sophie looked into Howl’s glass-marble glare and realized thatHowl was angry now, really angry.

Good. Sophie felt like a fight. “You could have noticed foryourself,” she said, glaring back, daring Howl to do his worstwith green slime. “Anyway, the dog didn’twant—”

Howl was too angry to listen. He jumped up and hauled the dogacross the tiles. “And so I would have done, if I hadn’thad things on my mind,” he said. “Come on. I want you infront of Calcifer.” The dog braced all four shaggy feet. Howllugged at it, braced and sliding. “Michael!” heyelled.

There was a particular sound to that yell which brought Michaelrunning.

“And did you know this dog was really a man?”Howl asked as he and Michael dragged the reluctant mountain of a dogup the stairs.

“He’s not, is he? Michael asked, shocked andsurprised.

“Then I let you off and just blame Sophie,” Howl said,hauling the dog through the broom cupboard. “Anything like thisis always Sophie! But you knew, didn’t youCalcifer?” he said as the two of them dragged the dog in frontof the hearth.

Calcifer retreated until he was bent backward against the chimney.“You never asked,” he said.

“Do I have to ask you?” Howl said. “Allright, I should have noticed myself! But you disgust me, Calcifer!Compared with the way the Witch treats her demon, you live arevoltingly easy life, and all I ask in return is that you tell methings I need to know. This is twice you’ve let me down! Nowhelp me get this creature to its own shape this minute!”

Calcifer was an unusually sickly shade of blue. “Allright,” he said sulkily.

The dog-man tried to get away, but Howl got his shoulder under itschest and shoved, so that it went up onto its hind legs, willy-nilly.Then he and Michael held it there. “What’s the sillycreature holding out for?” Howl panted. “This feels likeone of the Witch of the Waste’s again, doesn’tit?”

“Yes. There are several layers of it,” saidCalcifer.

“Let’s get the dog part off anyway,” saidHowl.

Calcifer surged to a deep, roaring blue. Sophie, watchingprudently from the door of the broom cupboard, saw the shaggy dogshape fade away inside the man shape. It faded to dog again, thenback to man, blurred, then hardened. Finally, Howl and Michael wereeach holding the arm of a ginger-haired man in a crumpled brown suit.Sophie was not surprised she had not recognized him. Apart from hisanxious look, his face was almost totally lacking in personality.

“Now, who are you, my friend?” Howl asked him.

The man put his hands up and shakily felt his face.“I-I’m not sure.”

Calcifer said, “The most recent name he answered to wasPercival.”

The man looked at Calcifer as if he wished Calcifer did not knowthis. “Did I?” he said.

“Then we’ll call you Percival for now,” Howlsaid. He turned the ex-dog round and sat him in the chair. “Sitthere and take it easy, and tell us what you do remember. By the feelof you, the Witch had you for some time.”

“Yes,” said Percival, rubbing his face again.“She took my head off. I-I remember being on a shelf, lookingat the rest of me.”

Michael was astonished. “But you’d be dead!” heprotested.

“Not necessarily,” said Howl. “You haven’tgotten to that sort of witchcraft yet, but I could take any piece ofyou I wanted and leave the rest of you alive, if I went about it theright way.” He frowned at the ex-dog. “But I’m notsure the Witch put this one back together properly.”

Calcifer, who was obviously trying to prove that he was workinghard for Howl, said, “This man is incomplete, and he has partsfrom some other man.”

Percival looked more distraught than ever.

“Don’t alarm him, Calcifer,” Howl said.“He must feel bad enough anyway. Do you know why the Witch tookyour head off, my friend?” he asked Percival.