Cheering.

The crowd’s roars reached fever pitch, assaulting Lydia’s ears. She kneeled. As the holograms disappeared, she swallowed, glowering at Hannah.

“Your winner, and new champion, Judgement!” A swell in noise met this announcement, but Lydia tuned it out.

“What’s that face for?” said Hannah, frowning. “You’re the one who came here instead of looking for a way to fix the HARDON!”

“Have you tried Viagra?” said the announcer, voice booming from the speakers.

A lump formed in her throat. “And what is it you actually think I’m doing here, you idiot?”

“I’m the idiot?” asked Hannah, tapping her chest. “How is a card game supposed to help you find a runesmith?”

Climbing back to her feet, Lydia growled. “Well it won’t, now. You’ve ruined everything!”

“I—wh—how can you say that?! Don’t try to pretend you’re not just here because you wanted to play!”

Her mouth twitched. Why wouldn’t she? She had still worked toward their goal. So what if she had a little fun? Selflessness, she reasoned, was one of the greatest lies of existence. Every act had some self-centred motivation, even if that was only a fluffy feeling in the stomach.

Screw it.

“Oh?” she said, voice low. “And what about you? Are you telling me that you’re searching because finding Jack is best for him? Isn’t it to assuage the worry eating away at you?”

Hannah’s expression tightened. “I, um…”

A lanky man in a suit skipped over to her, presenting a microphone. “Okay, everybody, I’m now here with Judgement, your new champion! Anything to say about tonight’s victory?”

Eyes wide, she sputtered, the sound bouncing across the arena. Her gaze locked on the man’s neck. Sighing, Lydia strode across the field. With a glare, she snatched the microphone from the announcer and cleared her throat.

“Um, excuse me…” he said, being silenced by a sharp glare.

“Right, peasants,” she said over the speakers, “I want everybody to listen to me.”

A chorus of boos erupted, the audience standing and jeering and throwing things.

“Why the bloody hell should we?”

“Yeah, who wants to listen to second place?”

“We might be peasants, but you’re a loser!”

She itched to throw something—perhaps a fireball—but she restrained herself. Cold moisture splashed across her cheeks as something thudded into them. A drink. Trembling, she raised her arms, ascending as the beverage dripped from her forehead.

“Who threw that?” She didn’t speak into the microphone, but her voice carried anyway.

There was a moment of silence, then they all screamed. The scratch and rumble of feet on metal overwhelmed everything as people scrambled to escape. Before she could blink, the bleachers were empty.

“Hmph,” she said, alighting. “That was rather an overreaction, wouldn’t you say?”

His jaw hanging, the announcer backed away.

“What are you doing?” Hannah’s glare stabbed through Lydia. “If you were supposed to ask them after you won, why couldn’t I do it?”

That was a good point, actually. “Well…”

“This is your problem! You never think about anyone else before you do things—it’s all about Lydia!”

“Coming from the woman who ran in like Rambo without wondering what my plan was!”

“Of course I wondered, the answer was just obvious!”

“Oh, my apologies, I forgot you had twenty-four seven access to my thoughts! I’ll make sure to write you an essay explaining my motivations next time, because you clearly need to study.”

“Of course—”

“Oi, arseholes!” A rough Scottish voice from the stands cut off Hannah’s response.

They turned to see Elizabeth, red-faced, standing next to Dr. Wen and a short bearded man.

“In case you didnae notice,” she bellowed, “we already have a fuckin’ runesmith! Noo get yer arses oot of here before I have to come doon there!”

The newcomer waved robotically. “Alright?” he shouted. “Nice weather, innit?”

Her mind went blank. What weather?

They were on a space station.

***

Not being the first time he’d fallen from great height, Jack was prepared for the sensations.

First came panic. This manifested as a full complement of organs vacating the building for a sunny holiday in Greece. Without them, he became breathless, bile flooding up his throat.

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Next was pain. His body flipped and flailed, uncontrolled, the wind buffeting him. It tore his skin from his flesh one cell at a time.

“Oh, don’t be a baby.”

Hey, fuck you; I’m falling to my death here!

“Nobody forced you to start ranting at the edge, did they?”

He accepted his fate. This was probably better, anyway—at least he wouldn’t have to pay rent anymore.

Still, there were regrets. He wished he could have seen them again. If Lydia had been there, she’d have been able to save him: one wave and he'd float. Though she’d let him fall further first. Hannah’s vampiric strength could have saved him too, if she caught him.

In hindsight, they’d both saved him more times than he could count.

“Didn’t we already go through this?”

A rhythmic thumping shattered his thoughts.

He stared up at a figure sprinting down the side of the beanstalk as though gravity was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

Salia.

“Jack!” she yelled. “Hold on!”

“To what?!”

“Oh, goodie,” said Razor, “she’s back.”

Would you rather I went splat?

“Well…”

Actually, don’t answer that.

She came level, thrusting herself off and barrelling toward him. Twisting, she plucked him from the air, cradling him as she free-fell. Darkness and a sweet, earthy musk engulfed him. A few seconds passed before a jarring crash! He rubbed his head as she opened her hand, revealing a cloud of dust surrounding them.

As it cleared, he noted the hills rising up around them. Beneath them, one had shattered, cracks in the ground running all the way to the distant village.

She looked down at him, eyes soft and wide. “Are you okay?”

Nodding, he said, “Yeah, I think—”

He threw up in her face.

***

“How much longer is this going to take?” whined Lydia.

“How long’s a piece of string?” said Vorin.

Hannah clenched her jaw, squatting with her back to a stack of boxes. Vorin tinkered with the HARDON, which hung open, the console wires exposed and bottom panels removed. Dr. Wen and Lizzie stood at his shoulders, with Lydia hovering behind them.

She couldn’t focus on any of it. She wanted to carry on chewing Lydia out, and make her understand what exactly her problem was. Why her actions were wrong. But instead, all she could do was hope the others made a breakthrough. This lay at the back of her mind, the front occupied by a gnawing need.

Blood.

She hadn’t been this hungry since she was turned. The sound of four heartbeats built to a crescendo in her ears, a jackhammer against her skull. Soon. Soon enough, they’d be able to return, and she could get at the blood packs in the fridge. Until then, she just had to endure the chasm inside, and the way the smell of ozone and metal made everything spin. She had to focus on something else.

Anything else.

“This is a mess,” said Vorin, shaking his head.

“Yes,” said Dr. Wen, “most people think that, at first.”

“I’m not talking about the runes.” He fingered the exposed panel, eyeing the doctor. “I’m talking about the way they were rewritten. Old ones overwritten with magic, aye?”

“Aye,” said Lizzie, peering over his shoulder. “We didnae see a problem wi’ it.”

“That’ll be why you’re here,” replied Vorin. “There’s residue there that’s playing havoc with the rest of the systems.” He waved a beeping device the size of a phone over the runes, showing it to them. “You need an overflow rune and one to disperse it. Kind of like in shock absorbers.”

Lizzie blinked. “Hoo did we not think of that?”

“Because you’re idiots?” said Lydia.

“Hear that? It’s the soond of your glass hoose shatterin’.”

Vorin reached into his shirt, pulling out a thin silver rod with a sharpened point. He quickly carved on the panel. Nodding, he straightened, reaching out for the console. “Should work now.”

Dr. Wen lunged, extending an arm. “Don’t touch that!”

Sparks exploded with a colossal crack! The lights flickered and dimmed. A strange buzzing emanated from Vorin as he convulsed, his arm glued to the console. Hannah thought she should be scared, or surprised, something. But it didn’t feel real. Almost as though she watched it on a screen, disconnected from events right before her.

Smoking, the runesmith collapsed, a final gasp escaping him. Everyone stood stunned.

“I did tell him not to touch it,” said Dr. Wen, gaping.

“Aye,” said Lizzie, expression tight. “That you did.”

She tuned it out—all she could perceive was the smell of cooked flesh a few feet away, and the warm, coppery undertone.

She crawled forward.

Crossing her arms, Lizzie said, “Maybe we should get oot of here before someone finds us wi’ a dead body.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” Lydia strode toward the HARDON, moving to replace the bottom panel. “Hopefully now we can—Hannah, what the hell are you doing?!”

Glancing up, she wiped the blood from her mouth, pressuring the holes in Vorin’s neck to prevent her lunch escaping. “Well, he’s not gonna need it, is he?”

“It’s a fair point,” said Lizzie, shrugging.

Hannah bent back down and drank. By Dragula, that was better. Instantly, the fraying nerves had repaired themselves, the deep well of anger receding further the more she took.

Maybe she’d been too harsh before.

She heard another two heartbeats.

The storeroom door slid open, a pair of bulky men with guns, masks, and composite body armour stepping through.

“What the f—what’s that vampire doing?” said one.

The other pointed his gun at Hannah. “Step away, murderer.”

“Don’t suppose ye’d believe us if we said it were an accident?” said Lizzie, raising her hands.

Hannah swallowed, peeking at the pair and back at Vorin’s mangled corpse.

“Right,” said Dr. Wen, licking his lips, “everybody back to the HARDON!”

One of the men made a disgusted noise. “What the fuck kind of depravity is this?” He fingered his rifle’s trigger.

He fired.

Hannah froze, noting the barrel aimed at her. All she’d wanted was a drink, and Vorin was already dead. Sure, she was probably a top contender to cackle and turn into a bat, but why couldn’t they ask questions before shooting?

What were they, Americans?

In any case, if this was the end, she hoped the others could get Jack home. Even if she’d never see him again. Even if she couldn’t be the hero.

Her gut wrenched.

Nothing happened.

Smirking, Lydia held up a pair of black cubes. “You can’t do much without your batteries, can you?”

“Wh—how did you do that?” Both of them inspected their weapons, bewildered.

“Go!”

She didn’t need telling twice. With Lydia and Dr. Wen, she piled into the phonebox, slipping aside as the scientist hurriedly replaced the console cover.

Lizzie, meanwhile, remained still.

“Come on, Ms… uh…” Dr. Wen scratched his pate.

“Lizzie’s fine,” she said, bending down toward Vorin. “Aye, maybe nothin’ happened, but that bastard pulled the trigger. It’s time he felt the bite of a runesmith’s axe.”

Hannah gawked. “Are you seriously gonna use his—why are you using him as the axe?!”

Wielding the dead runesmith like a sword, Lizzie lashed out. She swung the corpse left and right at the pair. They both staggered back, steps uncertain as she advanced.

Lydia nodded gravely. “I’m sure it’s what he would have wanted.”

“Who wants this kind of funeral?” screeched Hannah. “And how do you know what he wanted? You met him two hours ago!”

“Well,” said Dr. Wen, “he did say we could have his axe.”

“That’s a different story!”

Brushing her shoulder, Lydia smiled. “At least you’re back to being the straight woman and not a blood-starved rage monster.”

Hannah eyed her. It was true she’d been harsh, but had anything she’d said been wrong? Even now, they seemed to have different priorities, but was she being a hypocrite? Lydia might have had a point.

Still.

“Whatever,” she said, turning away. “Let’s just get out of here. Lizzie!”

Tossing the corpse at the guards, Lizzie whipped around, sprinting to the HARDON. “Aye, hit the fuckin’ gas!”

She leaped in, pulling the door behind her.

Dr. Wen scoffed. “Actually, it runs on—”

“Naebody cares!”

As the guards fished in their belts for new batteries, Dr. Wen flicked the console.

The HARDON dematerialised with a grating screech.