“I’m not giving you anything, you dirty scrounger. Who even are you?” Lydia turned her nose up, her legs dangling from the edge of Choo-chooin's great disc.

Jack pulled a card from his pocket, tossing it at the back of her neck. He hoped the corner hit her. “Jack Of All Trades, solving your paranormal problems for a low, low price. Except it won’t be so low for you.”

She eased to the side, allowing the projectile to glide past her. Craning her head, she finally glared at Jack, slicing across him. “Are you deaf? I just told you that I’ll be giving you nothing; why should I have to pay just because you don’t want to get a proper job?”

His expression writhed in affront. “This is my job!”

She smirked, her eyes sparkling with condescension. Who did he think he was? “What, riding around on a giant turtle?”

He choked. “Yeah, that’s right: it’s a turtaxi, so fork over my fare!”

She crossed her arms and harrumphed. “I owe you nothing.”

“I just saved your life!”

Her jaw plummeted. Was he being serious? She was back to square one, alone but for those she could intimidate into servitude, and this man wanted credit for a coincidence? “I just happened to fall on your turtle.” Her tone was filled with venom. “And besides, even if you did save me, the fact you expect something for it proves that you only did it for yourself.”

Jack flailed. “Yeah, damn right! I do it for the love of a roof over my head, but I guess little Miss Princess wouldn’t understand that, would she?”

Something started smouldering in her chest. “Excuse me for being a winner! Rather than being jealous, maybe you should think about what you’re doing wrong!”

“The only thing you ever won was the birth lottery, you smarmy cow!”

The smoulder became a blaze, and she snapped to her feet. He had no idea of the sacrifices she had made, the hells she had put herself through, just to be where she was. He couldn’t understand the pain of earning a doctorate, but having people refuse to call you ‘Doctor’.

She already had a title. Blackwell.

And now she had lost her sister, with no way of finding her. She refused to let the tears out; she wouldn’t be subject to the pity of a loser and a parasite.

She felt something move in her jacket pocket. She whipped round, readying herself to unleash fury, before realising that any more magic would probably fry her brain.

“Here you go, boss.” The monochrome vampire was next to her, tossing a lump of leather to Jack. Was she cursed? She wore leggings, trainers, and a t-shirt, but even they were just different shades of grey - like the allegedly-intelligent designer had gotten bored at the end of the sketch, and forgotten to colour her in.

Wait.

Jack rifled through the wallet, withdrawing a bundle of cash. “Yep, that’ll do.” He furrowed his brow at Hannah. “And I ain’t your boss.”

The nerve! Lydia’s rabid eyes ping-ponged between the two, wondering whose shins to kick first. “How dare you! What makes you think you can steal from me, you- you cretins!?How did you even find it?!”

Hannah beamed. “Women’s pants don’t have pockets.”

Jack shrugged, slinging the wallet back at her and pocketing the cash. “Perform a service, you expect to get paid. You seemed like you’d be into that kinda thing; all that talk of winners, and all.”

She caught it, feeling the heat rise in her face as she opened it. It was empty. “What kind of rip-off merchant are you?! I never asked for your help, and in fact, I was very clear that I didn’t want it!”

“Until you landed on the...” Hannah waved her arm over the disc. “Whatever this thing is.”

“Choo-chooin,” said Jack.

Hannah deadpanned. “How are Moonquill recommending this nonsense?”

Lydia stomped her feet, a vein popping from her forehead. “It’s not like I was aiming!”

“Still,” said Hannah, looking down at her, “do you disagree that you’d have been turned into fireworks if not for Jack and Choo-chooin?”

Jack crossed his arms and made a peace sign. “I think you mean dirty fireworks.”

Hannah made a face.

Lydia stammered, her nostrils holding a meeting on whether or not they should flare. “Well- I suppose, but that means nothing.”

“So, in other words, you profited from his labour? In that case, who’s the real thief here?”

Her brain thrashed around for a response. It couldn’t find one, and suddenly gained an unhealthy interest in her feet. “Still you.”

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Jack’s eye twitched as he stepped forward. “Now, listen here, Miranda, you can’t just go around exploiting-”

The rest of his tirade was muffled by Hannah clamping her hand over his mouth. “You’re riding a turtle, not a soapbox.”

The rest of the ride was short, and punctuated by the soundtrack of blaring horns and screaming pedestrians.

***

Jack climbed off Cho-chooin, heaving a sigh as he gazed fondly at his front door. Night had fully taken over, only half the streetlamps illuminated, and the smell of home-cooked meals wafting from the open windows around them.

He bristled. Lydia had also dismounted, and was looking the building up and down with a scowl.

“So, what next?” said Hannah, surveying Jack with shining eyes.

He raised his eyebrows. “I need to grab something from upstairs, and then I’m taking you home.”

She gasped, tension gripping her shoulders. “No, you can’t- I mean, they still want me dead, right? So, I’d be safer with you.”

He studied her curiously, before groaning. “I don’t know what your deal is, kid, but whatever.” He turned to Lydia, who was pivoting on her foot with a face like she’d tasted the methane explosion of a fertiliser factory. “What about you, Koko?”

She glowered at him. “What about me? I’ll wait for them to inevitably follow us, and beat some answers out of them.”

“Because that went so well last time,” said Jack.

She simmered. “It’s none of your business!”

He regarded her with a half-smile. “So tell me then, do you know where you’re gonna go next? Where to avoid if you don’t wanna get filleted? What do you even know about the New Bloods?”

She looked away, flushing and pouting.

He sighed. Leaving her to her own devices, she’d probably be run out of town by the Firm, or chopped up by the Necromancer’s Guild.

They had several bones to pick with the Circle.

But unlike him, she still had the chance to take her family back. “Sounds like you’re in dire need of my services, then,” he said. “So why don’t you come upstairs?”

“I can think of one good reason,” piped Hannah, her voice quavering.

***

Above the thick silence of night rose a roaring growl, the pungent aroma of petrol fumes tickling her nostrils. A pair of motorcycles sped down the road towards them, flanked by a pair of flying vampires in cloaks, glowing like Christmas trees. She squinted.

Covering his eyes, Jack said, “what the hell? How did they find us so quickly?”

Hannah rubbed her forehead. “It couldn’t possibly have anything to do with the giant, highly visible turtle, could it?”

Choo-chooin rumbled.

He scowled. “Well, why would it? You’ll see, this time next year everyone will be jumping on a turtaxi; Cuber will be no more! Tuber’s gonna corner the market!”

Hannah blinked. “That sounds like an app for potato farmers. And is now really the time for this?”

He rolled his neck; the screaming of engines was becoming ever louder. “Suppose not. Get on the turtle!” Running, he vaulted onto Choo-chooin, extending a hand and helping Hannah up.

Lydia started towards them; as much as she was loath to admit it, he had been right. She had no other options. Advancing, she felt her stomach fall to her feet as the turtle began trotting from the yard.

“Where are you going?!”

Creasing his brow, Jack stared at her from his perch at the disc’s front. “Somewhere safe.”

“What about me?!”

“What about you?” He gestured to the rapidly approaching vampires. “Look, they’re here now: you can beat them up and get your answers.” He tapped at the keyboard, spurring the turtle to accelerate away.

She pelted after them, her expression frenetic. “But I can’t do any more magic!”

“Shoulda planned ahead then, shouldn’t you?”

She clenched her teeth. Pumping her legs as hard as she could, she could still feel the rumbling of the bikes in her temples. The bastard. He’d talked about helping, and then done his best to stomp all over her pride, like it was nothing. But it didn’t matter how dirty it felt.

It was for Jess.

She coiled her legs, bounding forward like a leopard on speed, and managed to wrap her fingers round the edge of the disc. Feet dragging on the road, she bellowed. “I’ll pay you, so just let me on the damn turtle!”

Jack cupped a hand round his ear. “Sorry, couldn’t quite catch that.”

“For fuck’s sake, help me!”

He slid over, gripping her arm and hauling her over the edge, grunting and groaning. She scrabbled, climbing up and trying not to chew on her heart.

“You know,” he panted, “for a midget, you’re very heavy.”

She punched him in the mouth.

***

Choo-chooin stopped in the city centre, along a narrow street lined by tall buildings with windowed fronts, various displays captured in darkness.

Jack massaged his jaw. Their pursuers had been left in the turtle’s dust, but if history was any indication, they’d soon find them again. But that didn’t matter.

In front of them was a two-storey brick building, old and rustic with small windows and a green façade - a sign above a pair of double doors reading ‘Paddy’s Tavern’. They all slid off, and approached.

The street was quiet but for the muffled hum of activity from the tavern, and the rough smell of booze was leaking out.

Hannah grabbed his shoulder, pointing back at the turtle. “What about Choo-chooin? You can’t just leave him out here.”

“Course I can,” said Jack. “Even if they find us, they can’t do anything in there, and the runes protect him.”

“But what if it rains? Won’t he be uncomfortable?”

Jack sidled up to him with a grin, patting the turtle’s neck. “Nah, the runes protect him from the weather, too. He even has his own temperature regulator; very high-tech, this one. Makes a great partner.”

He had to suppress a whine as he felt reptilian jaws clinch his wrist.

“Yeah,” said Hannah, “I can see the love.”

Lydia was studying the building with a grimace. “This looks... lovely.”

“Like your personality,” said Jack, pushing the doors open. “Come on.”

They entered into a foyer, which was small and square, with green carpets and walls, a staircase to their left and another pair of doors before them.

Lydia and Hannah could only gawp as Jack approached. “Alright there, Ness?” he said. “How’s life?”

Guarding the interior doors was a sandy-brown kangaroo, more than six feet tall with all of the features one would expect – though, disappointingly, no boxing gloves – hopping up and down in place. It chittered.

“Oh, yeah!” said Jack. “I heard about that. Terrible business. How’s he doing now?”

Another chitter. “Shame. Anyway, Russ about?”

The marsupial nodded, stepping to the side with a poisonous glance at the two women.

“They’re with me,” said Jack. He led them into a larger room with the same décor, a bar lining the back wall. To the left were three pool tables, all full, and the rest of the floor was filled by round tables surrounded with chairs.

“What in sanity was that?”

“Oh, that was Ness,” said Jack. “The bouncer.”

There were no tables free. He cast his gaze over the tavern, back and forth, until landing on a man drinking alone in the back corner. He looked like the result of a science experiment to give hair to a beach ball, as wide as he was tall with a square jaw and beady eyes. Striding over, Jack sat across from him with a wave.

“Alright, Russ,” he said. “I need a second opinion.”

Russ frowned, licking his teeth as he looked over to the bar. “And does that, perchance, have something to do with the very angry-looking vampires who just walked in the back?”