Jack waved his hands in front of him. “We didn’t mean to kill you, I swear!”

Throwing back his ethereal head, Bassman laughed; it rolled across the landscape, booming between thick pillars of webs reaching into the empty sky.

“You think that you have the power to kill me? I’ve been fucking with you from the start, boy!”

Lizzie stepped forward, her hands alive with crackling energy. “Is that so? You should know: I don’t appreciate bein’ fucked wi’.”

“Wait,” said Jack with a hand on his face. “If we didn’t kill you, then how did you die?”

Grinning smugly, Bassman said, “life and death are such outdated concepts. All I did was fuse my soul with a magical clock and manipulate its energies, gathering the power of as many worlds as possible for myself!”

“All ye did?” Lizzie squinted. “That’s all ye did? Nae time for a spot of ironing, as well?” She thrust her hand forth, a stream of freezing air enveloping the ghost.

It blasted him, covering him in rimes and crystallising around him. Within seconds, Bassman was frozen solid.

“Looks like he didnae gather enough power.”

A laughter, deep and booming, grated across their hearing. Their eyes widened as Bassman floated through the ice like it was nothing, his grin almost splitting his nonexistent cheeks.

“I gathered plenty,” said Bassman, and Lizzie was flung back, screaming.

His heart grasped his uvula, and he clenched his jaw. He heard Lizzie grunting and the soft patter of footsteps on what passed for a floor in this realm, so that was one less thing to worry about.

He hoped this guy hadn’t read the list, either.

“But what’s it for?” said Jack, eying Bassman warily as he sized up the rest of the group.

Bassman turned his gaze to Jack, sending tremors racing up his toes. “My life’s work. I will reclaim the one injustice that has gone forever unnoticed:

“I will have revenge for season four!”

Everything stopped. “Why? It wasn’t even that bad!”

Pointing at him, Bassman said, “you understand absolutely nothing! Those goddamn producers took too many liberties, and they must be punished. As an author, I didn’t have that power, so I had no choice but to accrue it.”

“Then what’s your problem with us?”

Bassman growled. “You piss me off. Why break the fourth wall so much? How’s a reader supposed to get invested if you remind them that they’re reading in every chapter?!”

Jack’s eyes widened. “That’s your issue?!”

“That’s right,” said Bassman, clenching his fists as bright colours swirled around him. “And you can’t talk your way out of this one!”

“You intrude upon my realm.” Lord Lost had silently floated over, surprising everyone when he spoke, a Cypress Stick in each of his eight hands. “You threaten those who have assisted me. In the name of Lord Lost, this place shall be your end!”

He lashed out in a flurry, his sticks somehow managing to impact Bassman. The ghost flinched, backing up under the onslaught; a strange mantra began repeating in Jack’s head, saying ‘ora ora’.

Lizzie stopped at his side. They looked at each other and nodded; after so many years, sometimes words aren’t necessary.

Turning back, he cast his eyes for his other companions. They bugged out of his head.

Sitting on the floor next to a pillar, a few feet behind him, Hannah and Lydia were across from each other with Popcorn to the side - the teen was intently studying the floor between them, his eyes flickering back and forth between the ebb and flow of two sides.

They were playing cards.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

“You forgot to censor that one,” said Lydia, taking a card from her hand. “Okay, I equip Cl**d with the Mythril Shield and end my turn.”

Hannah took a card from her deck. “The content ratings board shouldn’t be hypocrites.”

He had to fight against the sudden urge to tear his own hair out. “That’s not the point! This is a life and death battle, so why are you so calm? Why are you playing cards?”

“So, I can call as many servants as possible, right?” said Hannah, brow creased in concentration.

“Take this seriously!”

They all looked at him and blinked, as though they were running on some kind of hive mind.

“What do you expect me to do?” asked Popcorn. “Open a Gate at him?”

“Look, peasant-”

Jack scowled. “Stop calling me that!”

“I don’t even know what that-” she gestured at Bassman, who was trying to wrestle Cypress Sticks from Lord Lost’s hands, grunting as the rest of them pelted him. “Is, so what am I supposed to do? You saw what happened when Elizabeth tried; I’m useless here.”

“Me too,” said Hannah, turning back to the game. “Ride, the Emperor!”

Lydia blocked her off. “You can’t do that yet, you have too many life points.”

Jack screamed. “Nobody cares! Just use a Cypress Stick!”

They both gave him flat stares and said, “I’m not touching that.”

Blinking, Jack said, “fair enough.”

Crack.

Whirling round, Jack’s stomach fell through his legs as he saw Lord Lost flying away, Bassman levitating with a triumphant look as he cackled - Cypress Sticks littered the floor, and Lord Lost barreled through the air quickly enough to blur.

He impacted one of the pillars, stretching it as he bounced back and went for another flight, right towards another pillar; the dimensions were weird, and each pillar looked both an infinite and infinitesimal distance from the others.

Lord Lost’s bouncing did nothing to ease this confusion. His speed was constant, and it gave the effect of a blur of orange drawing a line connecting the webs.

“Lowly Lord Lost,” said Bassman, grinning, “reduced to a pinball in his own realm!”

In an instant, a horde of demons surrounded him. Leading the fray were Antibody and Platelet, the dog and baby tearing in futility at Bassman. They were followed by a variety of horrifying creatures, from scorpions with chicken legs to dragons with a pug’s head; each dove onto Bassman, leaving him no room to manoeuvre.

With a flash, the horde was blasted into the distance, many of them turning to dust as Bassman flexed his arms.

Picking up a Cypress Stick, Jack looked around for Lord Lost: he was still bouncing. Lizzie was next to him, waving her arms with a constipated expression.

Bassman chuckled. “You think your magic is any match for mine?”

Choking and clutching at her neck, Lizzie rose into the air, levitating in Bassman’s direction.

Jack howled. Charging at Bassman, he readied his weapon to swing.

His stomach leapt when Hannah popped up in front of him, her expression wild as she whimpered.

Chest flaring, he halted, looking over the collection Bassman had gathered; Lydia, Lizzie, Hannah, and Popcorn were all struggling in his invisible grasp.

He grit his teeth.

“Can you get through your friends to get to me, I wonder?”

His gut twisted, and he gripped the stick hard enough to crack it.

***

Flailing, Popcorn grasped at his neck as his vision faded. Stars and spots overtook his sight, and though he struggled, Bassman’s hold was inexorable.

Beside him were the three women, one of whom he assumed was court-mandated to keep an eye on the crazy man glaring past them.

It was the end. But if it was, would that be so bad? He had few people to miss him, and he was sure that the ones who would would be better off without him. It was only natural. He’d never been able to make friends, or get involved at school. He’d been rejected for the football team without a trial. And he’d succumbed to his own weakness, committing an unforgivable act.

His death would be a blessing.

He felt light, as though everything had slid off him, leaving a new and enlightened Popcorn.

And in his enlightenment, he realised several things which he never could have otherwise - a common occurrence once one acknowledges how stupid they actually are.

It wasn’t over yet; he just hoped he could make it in time.

***

Time was running out.

Hannah was staring at him with eyes like a puppy, and his heart had already been torn to shreds. She was so young, yet had an adult’s head on her shoulders. She was kind and bright and had a stubborn streak almost too translucent to see - and he couldn’t save her.

What would he tell her mum?

Lizzie’s face had gone blue, and Lydia’s was locked to Condescension in C Minor - a particular, practiced kind of sneer.

The consistency of her attitude, at least, was impressive.

When he looked at Popcorn, though, his brow furrowed: the teen’s face was scrunched in concentration.

“Polkageist,” Popcorn grunted.

Narrowing his eyes for a second, Jack wondered what it could mean. What did the polkageist have to do with this?

Something green sparked in front of him. That was it.

He checked his pockets; now that he thought about it, he’d never emptied them, had he?

“What the hell?” cried Bassman, reaching his psychokinetic grasp for Jack.

But he was gone, skipping through the Gate.

“Just because you escaped, don’t think I won’t find you! Are you really going to abandon your friends?”

Exhaling, Jack descended from the Gate behind Bassman, tearing a charm from his sheaf booklet.

“Oi, Bassman. What’s important in a comedy…” He slapped the paper onto the ghost’s neck. “Is the jokes!”

With a curdling yell and a flash of light, Bassman disintegrated, his voice modulating into something like a siren as his existence petered out.

The force holding the others disappeared, and they dropped unceremoniously to the floor, where they were for the first time grateful that it was made of webs.

“Well done,” said Lydia, patting Popcorn on the shoulder. “You’ll make a great magus.”

Jack’s eye twitched. “You know I helped too, right?”

He turned to Hannah; she would understand. She always saw his best parts.

But at that moment, she saw nothing but her knees, around which her arms were wrapped in her sitting position.

Lizzie approached him with a small smile and a touch on the arm. “Thanks for savin’ me. That makes it two hundred and nineteen y’owe me, noo.”

Shaking his head, Jack turned to see Lord Lost floating back over.

“Thank you, friends,” he said, holding out his arms. “You have brought me home, and rid it of an invader - you have my eternal gratitude.”

“Usually I take payment in Pounds Sterling,” said Jack, grunting and doubling over when Lizzie hit him in the gut.

“It’s nae problem,” she said. “It’s what we dae.”

“Oi, that’s my line! And easy for the rich girl to say!”

She put her face next to his. “Does it look like the demon has any fuckin’ money?”

He shrugged. “Don’t hurt to ask.”

Palming her face, she shook her head. “What’ve I been tellin’ ye for the last decade? Pick your battles, Jack.”

Lord Lost coughed. “Anyway. I have missed my castle, so I shall bid you all good day. I would open a Gate, but I sense it would not return you to your world.”

What castle? He looked around, but all he could see was webs.

Lizzie nodded. “Probably best, mate, aye.”

As he left, his path was blocked by Popcorn, who had a face like he was about to pass a kidney stone. “I’m sorry!”

Lord Lost cocked his head. “Excuse me?”

“For stealing Anti. I’m sorry; it was wrong, and I was an idiot, and I’ll never do it again!”

Waving it away, Lord Lost floated past him. “It is no matter. I am sure it was a new experience for Antibody, and it all worked out well in the end.” He disappeared into the webbed expanse, waving. “Consider it a lesson.”

***

After leaving Lord Lost’s realm, Jack found himself in the landing of the Brady home, facing Lizzie as they stood next to the front door.

“Next time,” she said, punching him lightly in the shoulder, “it better no’ be for work. We havenae had a chance to talk yet.”

He sighed. “Yeah, sorry. I guess things just got away from me.”

Grabbing him by the chin, she forced him to meet her gaze. “And all that worryin’ for nothin’. Never thought I’d see the day you ride around with other people.”

He rubbed the back of his head. “Neither did I. Never thought you’d be part of the Circle, either.”

“Och, no’ for years. Hard to tell, though, since Lydia’s still the same size.”

He spluttered. “Not even an inch?”

“No’ even an inch.” She smiled. “Still, I know it might no’ seem it, but she’s one of the good ones.”

He pinched himself. “You what?”

Nodding, she said, “as much as she don’t wanna admit it, she cares about people. Anyway, don’t be a stranger, y’hear?” She made to leave, but Jack blocked her.

“Actually…” he said, giving detailed instructions on how to direct Choo-chooin to return.

“Seriously? You want me to dae it?”

“You can fly!”

“It’ll cost ye.” She held her arms out wide.

He gave her a quick and awkward hug. “Consider this a down payment.”

Giggling, she opened the door, waving as she took to the sky.

“My ears are burning.”

He jumped from his skin as he turned to the approaching Lydia. “Shame the rest of you isn’t, as well.”

She smirked. “Enjoy your walk home.” Grabbing him by the chin, she stared into his eyes, sending shivers rampaging through him. Was this a thing, now? “If she’s still sad tomorrow, I’m holding you responsible.”

He saluted, swore, and swung the door shut behind her. It had dawned on him to thank her before realising that she’d done so little that night he could have replaced her with a scarecrow and he probably wouldn’t have noticed.

Fondling his beard, he strode back into the living room, where a red-faced Whirling was getting in Popcorn’s face.

“Absolutely not, I forbid it! You’re still a child, you can’t just swan in here thinking you know what’s best! We’re your parents; we’ll provide what you need.”

Popcorn’s lip trembled. “But…”

“No buts! You’re not going on any kind of journey, and that’s final!”

Hannah was in the armchair, hand on her face and paying no attention. Juniper was sitting on the couch in a frilly nightgown, her eyes half-closed.

Poking Hannah’s shoulder, Jack grabbed her attention, before clearing his throat.

“Not that it’s any of my business, but it’s a parent’s job to prepare their kid for the world. But there are a lot of things you can only learn for yourself. Like bravery, or working under pressure, two things that helped your son defeat the ghost of Kev Bassman.”

Whirling made a face. “The what?”

Popcorn flapped his hands. “ I didn’t tell them that part!”

“We tried so hard,” said Juniper, looking down. “We really wanted to give you a sibling. Even if none of the other kids could try understanding, at least they would.” She was about to cry.

Popcorn walked over, crouching and taking his mother’s hands in his. “It’s not your fault, mum. It’s not anyone’s fault. I just-” His voice caught in his throat. “I just want to be better. To work out what it all means.”

Juniper pulled him into a hug, one which Whirling joined as he apologised to his son.

Grabbing Hannah, Jack decided to leave the family to their moment, and pulled her out of the door. They’d have to wait on the driveway, anyway, so it was a perfect time.

“What’s the problem, kid?”

“Nothing.” She refused to meet his eyes.

“Sure about that?”

She nodded.

He flicked her on the nose. “This just grew.”

She recoiled, grasping her face. “Ow! What are you doing?”

He regarded her, unsure what to say. How was he supposed to put it into words?

“Everyone forgets I’m in the room,” she said, lowering herself to a miserable squat. “I didn’t do anything this time. Or last time, now that I think about it. I just got held up like a damned damsel and used for dramatic effect. It’s never been more obvious that I’m a side character; I’m not important at all.”

He grasped her shoulders with an affronted gasp. “Didn’t do anything? Every day, when the phone fails to ring, you’re there, keeping me out of the hell in my own head. When we fought the New Bloods, you were the one who got us into their base. You’re the one who saved those vampires. Every time I see your face, it reminds me that there’s hope in the world, even for someone like me. Even if the entire world forgets you, you’ll still be important.

“Because I never will.”

She looked up at him, the tears barely contained, and sprang to her feet with a nod.

“Thank you,” she said, diving into his chest and wrapping her arms around him.

Patting her back awkwardly, he felt something strange and unfamiliar tug at the corners of his mouth.

However small or imperceptible, a smile adorned his face.