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Helen and Lynnette were busy observing the keys together.

“I have not driven a car in eighteen years.”

“Then perhaps I should drive, Your Highness.”

Hector waited for them to choose before looking at the board himself. There were two rows, each key hanging below the logo of the accompanying vehicle’s manufacturer.

Garovel pointed at the logo of a smoking, ghostly wheel. ‘Get that one. It’s Revenant.’

‘Revenant?’ said Hector, grabbing the key nonetheless.

‘Have you forgotten? Revenant makes motorcycles.’

‘Oh!’ He bit his lip. ‘And... oh. I just realized... we left that bike behind, didn’t we...?’

‘We sure did. Whoops.’

The key belonged to a motorcycle tucked away at the back of the garage. It was a cruiser, just like the previous bike, though a bit smaller and bearing a steely blue gas tank. It seemed sleeker to Hector’s eyes, perhaps even custom-built, and he noticed that the speedometer went higher than the other one.

Abruptly, the lights flickered, and everyone looked up. The center of the ceiling went black, and a hissing sound filled the silence. Stone and plaster melted away, dripping acid onto the Corvette below.

A darkened arm fell through the hole in the ceiling.

Hector immediately slammed his fists together, trying to coat the severed limb in iron. It exploded halfway through.

The fire lit up the chamber. But it did not spread. Hector squinted through the opening in his helm and saw the explosion being held at bay by apparently nothing. It just floated there in the middle of the room, a boiling bubble of flames and smoke.

Roman’s arms gripped the space in front of him, trembling. The strain of it ate away at his flesh, bloodying his arms and face. “Need some help here, Hector!”

Hector breathed deep and refocused. He spread his arms out wide and brought them together again. Iron spots gathered around the bubble, expanding, clustering, and soon became a completely metal orb, as big as any car in the room. It dropped on the Corvette like a wrecking ball.