After convincing Choo-chooin to spit out the vampire, which was easy once he realised how foul the taste was, they directed the turtle back to Jack’s office. He ducked inside, quickly re-emerging exactly the same as he’d entered.

On second inspection, there was a sword sheathed in his belt.

People around them were loading children into cars, goggling at Choo-chooin and flinching when they saw Jack. Lydia slapped her forehead. Whether he lived or died didn’t matter to her, nor did his incomprehensible reasons. She hadn’t wanted him to come.

He was weak, a loser, and an idiot, and bringing someone like that would only lead to trouble. But the bear-man had refused to let her ride him, and she couldn’t have expected to waste her energy flying. She’d learned her lesson the night before.

“A sword?” she said. “That’s your bag of tricks?”

He vaulted onto the disc, sitting beside Hannah and folding his arms. “It’s not just any sword; it’s a magic sword.”

She furrowed her brow. “Magic how?”

“Well, it has a ketchup dispenser, for one.”

She threw an arm out to the side. “How is that in any way magic?”

“Well, look at it.” He held it out in two hands. “Where do you think it’s being stored?”

“Have you ever considered that it’s not actually ketchup?” said Hannah, stroking her chin.

Lydia sighed. “Why am I the straight man in this scene? Can’t we just move on?”

“Hey.” Hannah’s tone was sharp. “Straight woman.”

“Whatever!” She glowered at Jack, who was whistling as he input the destination she had given him. “My point is, can you even use that thing?”

“Sure,” he said, pressing the enter button and leaning back. Choo-chooin raced off, eliciting the bleating of horns and the cries of civilians as he powered through the streets.

Pulling a red apple from his pocket, Jack drew the sword. It was a classic, double-edged blade, long and stout and covered in inscriptions. He held it in one hand, the apple in the other, and pulled the sword back.

Hannah’s eyelids broadened. “Aren’t you supposed to throw it in the air first? Jack, your hand!”

In one swift motion, he brought the tip to the apple and shook the blade, splurging a viscous red substance onto the fruit.

Lydia grabbed her temples. “That’s not what I meant by using it!”

“More importantly,” said Hannah, grimacing, “who puts ketchup on an apple?”

“That’s not important at all!”

“I disagree,” said Russ. “She’s apri-got a point.”

“That’s not funny.”

Hannah cocked her head. “I dunno, that one left my jaw a-grape.”

Howling in frustration, Lydia flexed her fingers. “That’s enough of your ballad of puns! We already have plenty in the narration, we don’t need you to make things worse!”

“Don’t you mean a salad of puns?” asked Jack, spreading ketchup over the apple.

She puffed up, nostrils flaring. “And you’re the worst one! Why are you making jokes when we’re on our way to battle?”

He shrugged. “Gotta fill the word count somehow.”

“Don’t admit to padding the story! How are people supposed to take any of this seriously?”

Folding his arms, he adopted a sage expression, in direct contrast with the ketchup smears now adorning his jacket. “Why should anyone take life seriously? It’s not like they’re gonna get out of it alive.”

She scowled. “How can something be so stupid, yet sound so poetic?”

He shrugged again, unfolding his arms and chucking the apple in the air. “Dunno. But I do know that if you skin an apple with a cat, you’ll have a very angry cat.”

“I hope the cat claws your eyes out!”

He swung, lodging the sword in the apple with a tearing sound, and taking the apple in his free hand.

He ran the blade back-and-forth.

Russ stared at him, his jaw dangling. “What the hell are you doing?”

Looking back at him curiously, Jack said, “Gotta do something while we make the trip.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t answer my question.”

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“I’m sharpening it.”

Lydia felt ready to explode. Her teeth were clamped together, and her muscles tight. “In what universe can you substitute a whetstone for an apple?”

“I mean, I did say it was magic.”

“That’s not how magic works! There is no rune in existence that allows you to sharpen metal with fruit!”

He continued sharpening his sword. “But this isn’t fruit. It’s a redstone.”

“That barely even qualifies as wordplay!”

***

Soon, they arrived at their destination, on a narrow street full of detached houses and greenery. There was almost a canopy in places, the bushes and trees of gardens wild and invasive, as though the Earth were saying ‘fuck you. I do what I want.’

It seemed to say that quite a lot, when he thought about it.

Aside from the houses, there was a large building a little ways up the road, a central block with two wings and a metal fence surrounding it. A locked gate was in the middle of the fence, ominously unguarded as a soft breeze rustled the leaves, and the smell of nectar brushed against their nostrils.

It was too quiet.

There were no cars parked along the kerbs, or people walking around to go to work, or pick up some milk, or complain to a manager somewhere.

A faded blue sign stood next to the gate. Many of the letters had been scratched away, to the point it currently read ‘Hwthrn Prmy’.

Stretching, Hannah said, “look, I’m not saying it’s obvious that there’s something funny going on here, but it’s as obvious as Tr*mp’s fake tan.”

Russ slid off the disc, eying the abandoned gate. “I agree. Where are the people who live in the houses?”

Jack rose to his feet, cold creeping up the back of his neck. “We should probably have a quick look, do some recon first.”

Lydia made a constipated noise. “You’re telling me that after all that nonsense, waiting overnight, and ridiculous jokes, you’re going to make me wait even longer to save my sister?”

He turned to her, ascending an eyebrow. “Are you still complaining about the comedy when you’ve been playing the wise guy for fourteen chapters? I distinctly remember earlier you were treating me like an area rug!”

Harrumphing, she jumped off of Choo-chooin. “Yes, well can you blame me? You should feel honoured: a rug has a much greater contribution to society than you.”

Growling, he stepped towards her and opened his mouth, but was cut off by Hannah’s sharp voice.

“Rather than complaining, why don’t you just shut up so we can get on with it?”

They stared at each other in contemplation. She was one of the most despicable people he’d ever met: smug and arrogant and so infuriatingly sure that her perspective was the right one. She was basically the religious stereotype, only minus the deity-worship.

She was her own deity.

But they had a common enemy, and Hannah was right; they were wasting time.

Russ sighed, favouring Lydia with a pointed glance. “She has a point, you know.” Looking both ways, he crossed the road towards the fence. “Now, let’s go have a gander, shall we?”

They all followed him, smushing themselves against the barred gate in such a way that their heads ascended diagonally. Russ looked down.

He said, “you know this doesn’t need all of us, right?”

Lydia stared into the yard, her expression tight. “I am not waiting behind.”

Bouncing on the balls of her feet, Hannah said, “this is so cool. I feel like a spy.”

Jack made a face. “Spies don’t usually use the front gate.”

“Shut up!” Russ slapped Jack in the head, creating a chain reaction whereby each one thunked into the next, leaving them all spinning.

They complied, looking into the yard: it had been a car park, once, judging by the path leading to a separate gate at the other end of the fence. But the lines on the lumpy tarmac had faded to nothing, the only sign of their existence a few concrete blocks lined up at the edge.

“What is this place?” asked Hannah.

“Used to be a school,” said Jack, his voice terse. “Closed about ten years ago. There was a big scandal about magic books, or something.”

Hannah knit her brows. “How come I never heard about it?”

Shaking his head, he shrugged. “You were nine?”

“That fits with what the vampire told me,” said Lydia, fidgeting, “and there’s nobody in there. So let’s go.”

“Alright,” said Jack. “So are we breaking it down, doing some magic flying bullshit, or what?”

“Wait.” Russ held out an arm in front of them, pointing the other at something in the yard. “There. I can see something.”

They looked at where he was pointing, seeing a whirlwind kick up a cloud of dust as it tore across the car park.

Hannah squinted. “Is it some kind of magic?”

“I don’t think so,” said Russ, rubbernecking. “It looks like there’s something in the middle.”

The whirlwind halted, a shower of leaves and plastic raining down in its wake. They fell at the feet of a bipedal creature with spiky brown fur, broad shoulders, and a mouth full of glinting fangs, its tongue lolling out.

Lydia gasped. “How did they manage to tame a Tasmanian demon?”

Jack turned to her, one eye twitching. “What in the hell is a Tasmanian demon?”

“It’s a demon. From Tasmania. Why, what does it look like to you?”

“A complete rip-off.”

She cleared her throat. “Regardless, I believe we were right. We’ll have to figure out a method to get around that thing.”

Jack and Russ both gaped at her. “We?” said Jack, “may I remind you that not seven hundred words ago, your entire plan consisted of running in and shouting your name real loudly?”

There was a pause, before Russ said, “I think we’re missing a retort here.”

Jack nodded. “True. She can’t just be allowed to skate over things. Hannah! What are you…” He turned to the space where the monochromatic girl had been, and found it empty.

Before he could question this, a rumbling started, wrong-footing him as a cry rang through the air.

“Turtle...” Her voice was breathy and her face frenetic as she directed Choo-chooin to leap at the fence.

Russ pushed his lips together. “Oh, Christ no.”

Soaring over their heads, the turtle landed, tearing metal screeching as it folded under his weight.

“Power!”

Jack eyed the broken fence with an internal sigh - at least they weren’t wasting time anymore. “Well, that’s one way to go about it, I suppose.” He strolled over the deformed metal.

Licking her teeth, Lydia gave a rueful smile. “Huh. You know, if I wasn’t afraid she’d go for my neck, I think I could kiss her right now.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a complete bitch?” said Russ, with a flaming glare.

She faltered, returning his glare with a poisonous one. “I’ll remember that.”

“That’s kind of the point.”

Unrest simmering between them, they caught up to Jack, who was helping Hannah off Choo-chooin around ten metres from the fence. There were another twenty to the building, and the yard was maybe sixty across.

A tornado buzzed at them, and bounced back off the bear that appeared where Russ had been standing. The Tasmanian demon landed on its back, rolling before climbing to its feet with a snarl.

Jack could feel his galloping pulse in his fingers. Pouring not just from the front door, but from the sides of the building, was a legion of figures bearing either cloaks or parasols, red eyes shining from beneath hoods.

He tried to swallow his heart back down, but it was stubborn in its insistence at watching from the comfort of his tongue.

Before any of them could react, they were surrounded.

“Well.” Jack grabbed the hilt of his sword. “This is going well, isn’t it?”