“You’re not some kind of teenage spy or something, are you?” the driver said as they sped eastward across The Strand, whizzing past Charing Cross Station and a blur of high street shops.

Saffie opened her mouth to say no, but stopped herself as she realised that saying she was indeed a teenage spy would probably require less explaining than the truth.

“Yep. Ya got me. On very important business for His Majesty The King.”

The driver glanced back at Saffie with wide eyes, then gave a little squeal of excitement.

“And that red car is…?” he said, refocusing on the road ahead.

“Oh yeah, full of total bad guys. They uh… have the Princess of Wales in the boot. Kidnapped her from Adelaide Cottage.”

In the rearview mirror Saffie saw the driver’s mouth drop open, and he accelerated, closing the distance between them and their target.

Saffie grabbed the inner corners of the front seats and peered through the windscreen. She could see that the yip-yap was still clutching tightly onto the roof of the red car, its ears flapping wildly in the wind. But before the taxi could completely catch up to it, a heavy cement mixer truck pulled out of the busy lane to their left and settled in front of them, blocking their view and slowing the taxi to a halt.

“Dammit!” Saffie blurted, expecting to have to wait, but the driver didn’t seem to have any intention of letting the truck stop them.

“No one gets in the way of His Majesty’s Secret Service,” he announced in a bold voice, then revved the taxi’s engine and swerved to the right. Saffie was flung against the rear left door with her arms spread-eagled and her legs akimbo as the driver mounted the island in the middle of the road, bounced across it, and plunged into the opposite set of lanes. Saffie dug her fingers into the backseat cushions, clinging on for dear life as they weaved through oncoming traffic to the sound of distorted, angry horns whooshing by.

Within seconds Saffie could see the red car again on their left, and she was catapulted to the other side of the seats as the driver swerved manically back onto the correct side of the road, this time exactly where they needed to be.

“We’re onto ‘em!” the driver celebrated. “You got some kind of dart gun back there to take ‘em out one by one? Or an EMP thing built into your phone to mash up their engine?”

“Um…” Saffie said, trying to think of a logical excuse to why she didn’t have a single gadget to her name, but before she had time to come up with anything, she saw the yip-yap glance back at the taxi. It knew she was close.

A moment later the yip-yap dived from the roof of the red car to the pavement, and the taxi sped past it.

“Stop!” Saffie yelled.

The driver glanced back at her.

“But… the bad guys!” he protested, pointing at the red car.

“JUST STOP!” Saffie shrieked, and without another question the driver swerved wildly to the left, mounting the curb to the screams of pedestrians and coming to a screeching halt.

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“I… um… made a mistake,” Saffie said as she fumbled for loose coins in her pocket, all the while trying not to lose sight of the yip-yap, which was crossing the road towards the luxury Savoy Hotel. “False alarm. Kate’s fine.”

“Oh,” said the driver, looking mildly disappointed. “Well… Will’l be pleased.”

Saffie opened her palm to three pound coins, a couple of twenty pence pieces, a hair pin, and a chunk of lint.

“This is all I…” Saffie started, feeling her face go red, but the driver put up his hand.

“No charge for you,” he insisted, and Saffie flashed him a grateful smile before clambering clumsily out of the taxi while the driver gave her a proud salute.

Saffie waited impatiently for a break in the traffic, then scooped up Acorn and ran across the road towards the entrance of the hotel where the yip-yap was now slipping into its revolving door system through the feet of a businessman. She entered the partition behind it, and watched as it scuttled across the reception’s glossy chequerboard tiles and began hopping up the staircase.

“Good afternoon Miss,” came a voice. It was the hotel’s immaculately dressed doorman, who tipped his top hat at Saffie before frowning at her soaking wet hair and clothes. “Are you… one of our guests?”

“Just um… visiting someone,” Saffie lied, grimacing as the yip-yap disappeared out of her sight once again.

“Do you know which room they’re staying in?” the doorman asked her, and Saffie shook her head. “Well, I’m sure reception will be able to help you with that.” He put his arm on her back and gestured with his other in the direction of the front desk, making it clear that he didn’t want this lunatic roaming the hotel without reason.

Saffie reluctantly approached the front desk, and Acorn ran to the foot of the staircase, waiting for her to join him.

The receptionist behind the desk looked Saffie up and down with a sweet smile that just about hid an underlying disgust.

“I’d like to see a family member who’s staying in one of your rooms,” Saffie said.

“And that someone is?” The receptionist held her false smile without faltering.

“Mrs…” Saffie stared at the woman’s cream coloured shirt that was poking through the front of her blazer. “Beigeblouse.”

“Mrs… Beigeblouse?” The receptionist repeated. “Beige… blouse?”

Saffie nodded slowly, gulping.

“Please bear with me one moment.”

The receptionist typed into her computer.

“It appears that there is no Mrs Beigeblouse staying in any of our suites at present. Perhaps you have the wrong hotel.”

Saffie’s frustration got the better of her, and she banged a closed fist on the desk.

“Look, I know this sounds weird, but I’m on an errand for the Mage’s Guild, and if I don’t catch a little devil creature that just ran up your stairs, I won’t be able to get my uncle out of his coma.”

There was a moment of silence as the receptionist’s smile faded, then she said, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Saffie looked over at the staircase and saw that the yip-yap was leaning over a bannister, sticking its tongue out at Acorn. She was so close to completing the errand, she couldn’t let herself fail it now.

With a quick glance back at the doorman who was busy welcoming a wealthy looking couple into the foyer, she said “Sorry!” to the receptionist and pelted towards the staircase.

“Excuse me, miss!” the receptionist called after her. “Miss!”

Saffie galloped up the stairs with Acorn leaping beside her, and in the background she heard the receptionist calling for security.

As they reached the third floor, the yip-yap darted into its corridor, and Acorn snatched at it, narrowly missing its tail. Saffie skidded awkwardly on the carpeted floor, knocking a few framed paintings from the wall as she steadied herself, then sprinted down the lengthy hallway, diving over the trolley of an unsuspecting butler delivering someone’s dinner, and getting closer and closer to the yip-yap as the corridor came to an end and there was nowhere else for it to go.

With a desperate look on its little face, the yip-yap pounced through the gap of a room door that was slightly ajar on its right.

“Gotcha!” Saffie said through her panting, and kicked the door inwards with all her force.

As the door slammed against the room’s inner wall, Saffie threw her arm out wildly and shouted, “PLACATE!”

The spell hit the yip-yap mid-air, and with a sigh it landed at the feet of a plump woman wrapped in a white towel who had her hand pressed to her collarbone in outrage and who began screaming at the top of her lungs.

In the corner of Saffie’s vision a line of text appeared that read:

Attack of the Yip-Yaps - COMPLETE