MirrorWorld

I leap into the air, painlessly shift my body between frequencies to the world between—which I note is a mix of Dread world trees and New Orleans city—cock my fist back, and drive it into the bottom of the thing’s triangular head, impacting the yellow vein-covered flesh beneath two of its four eyes. The impact is solid. The monster flails away, sliding smoothly at first but then stumbling and falling. As it falls, the black shroud covering its lower limbs falls aside, revealing at least twenty thin, triple-jointed legs, all ending in sharp barbs.

If the Medusa-hands were alone, there might be time to rush back and grab a gun or knife, but it’s not alone, and there isn’t time. Before I can even think about what to do next, a wave of fear tears through me, scouring away my fragile emotional defenses the way a nuclear blast would remove my skin.

But I stand against it. Maybe it’s the rage, or the part of me that’s becoming more Dread, but the fear, while powerful, doesn’t completely undo me. It does, however, freeze me in place, all my energy going toward overcoming the effect.

A memory surfaces. My first kiss with Maya. In the rain. Like some Hollywood cliché except soaking wet, cold, and out of our heads in love. I scream, but not in fear. A vibration moves through my body, curbing the effect of the Dread’s influence. When my mind clears enough, I turn my eyes up toward the mothman. It’s ten feet away, four wings beating, hovering beyond the reach of my physical body. Its four red eyes narrow almost imperceptibly. I’m not sure the things can even blink, but this slight expression of emotion, of doubt, in the monster’s split-pupil eyes is the last bit of encouragement I need.

I stand on shaking legs. Feels like I’m lifting a bulldozer. But the harder I fight, the less the weight, until suddenly I’m free. Like a snapped elastic band, the wave of fear generated by the mothman pulls back, the whisper cut short, pursued by an attack of my own. My body buzzes with energy, static whispering-roaring. And the Dread … it arches back and clutches its head. The furiously beating wings go rigid and the monster plunges from the sky, landing in a heap. The pain of pushing fear is gone, replaced by a sense of power.

I slip back into the real world for a moment to check on Cobb.

He gasps at my return, clutching the side of the SUV, Faithful in hand. But rather than take the weapon from him, I decide to enable his recovery from the fear effect. “Cobb, I’m going to bring one of them to you! Get ready for a fight!”

“What?” he shouts in what I now easily recognize as terror.

I slip back into the world between and bend over the recovering mothman, grasping its arm, which is covered in short, thick hairs. I pull it up, lean back hard, and propel the thing toward the side of the SUV. Before letting go, I force it into our reality and slam it into the vehicle. It crashes against the door and falls to its hands and knees.

Cobb shouts in surprise, jumping back, but quickly realizes the monster isn’t affecting him. With a battle cry, Cobb raises the machete into the air.

I don’t watch it come down. Back in the world between, the Medusa-hands is back on its many feet, scrabbling toward me over pavement, tendrils stretching for my head. There’s no avoiding it—by conventional means. I slip fully out of the world between and dive forward, passing through the Dread’s location. I feel a chill through my body, but nothing more. I roll to my feet just as I reenter the world between, coming up behind the not-so-spry Dread.

I sweep its legs out, snapping some of them. The Dread retreats fully to the mirror world before hitting the ground, and I follow it. The thing lands with a splash, much of it now underwater. I jump on its chest, which feels like thin skin wrapped over bony nodules, and stare into its yellow eyes, seething with anger.

Tendrils snake out of the water, glowing yellow, eager to influence my thoughts. I don’t give it the chance. A burst of fear, sent into the thing’s core, makes it shake. The four eyes widen, just a touch, the rectangular pupils narrowing.

Armed only with my bare hands, I flicker out of the mirror dimension, punch downward into empty space, and then reappear atop the Dread. My fist has occupied the space at the center of the Medusa-hands’s head, shifting matter, destroying stationary matter. I splay my fingers out, further shredding the Dread’s brain. The monster spasms and falls still.

Then I’m back in the real world, no trace of gore coming with me. That is, until I turn around. Bloodred gore, glowing and inhuman, covers the street. The mothman lies beside the SUV, hacked to pieces. Cobb stands there, breathing hard, Faithful in hand.

“Feel better?” I ask him.

“Much,” he says.

I push the mothman parts back into the mirror dimension. I don’t think seeing a dead bogeyman lying in the streets of New Orleans would do anyone any good. When I’m done, I turn my attention to Blair. He’s definitely dead. I place my hand on his chest, offer up a prayer for his soul, and hide his body beneath the waters of the Dread world swamp.