MirrorWorld

“C’mon then,” I say. “Let’s get this over with.”

He stalks toward me, pausing to shake his head, throwing streams of glowing red from his ruined eyes. I take a quick look around for the pistol. It’s gone.

Standing almost casually, I wait for the charge.

When it comes, I’m almost surprised by its quickness.

Almost.

Lyons’s primary attack has been swiping at me with those big claws. He repeats the same tactic, or perhaps instinct, once again. I duck beneath the strike, step to the side, and hack down as the lumbering monster that was my father-in-law rumbles past. The chiseled blade tip cuts a gouge in Lyons’s flank. It’s hardly a mortal blow, but I’ve severed several of the thick, external veins covering his body. Blood loss will eventually slow him. Emphasis on eventually.

Reacting to the pain of the cut, Lyons brings his rear limb up and kicks out like a horse. Quick reflexes and Lyons’s broad foot dispersing the force of the blow over a wider area save me. But the kick is still solid enough to send me sprawling toward my broken ribs. Fear or no fear, the impact will nearly blind me with pain.

I slip into the mirror world. The swamp buffers my landing, sparing my ribs. I’m about to slip back when I realize I’m no longer alone. And it’s not Lyons. Holy shit, I think as I turn my head in a slow arc. The swampy clearing is surrounded by towering trees, sagging low with twisting black coils. But standing among the trees are hundreds of Dread. Bulls, pugs, mothmen, mammoths, Medusa-hands, and crocs. There are even two of those massive winged centipedes and a cloud of small bats circling the area.

They’ve come to watch the end of the two men who nearly destroyed their world. We’re probably infamous characters to the Dread. Destroyers of colonies. Invaders. I suppose watching the two of us fight — the fearless man versus the Dread man — would be a little bit like watching Osama bin Laden and Hitler go at it.

Not quite, I remind myself. I did help save this colony and prevent a war between worlds. So maybe they’re just here to cheer me on? Given the way they’re all lingering at the clearing’s fringe, they’re clearly not here to help, though I suspect they might also be here to deal with the winner.

Lyons unknowingly takes advantage of the distraction. He explodes into the mirror world, slams a hooked claw into my shoulder and another into my side. I shout in pain as I’m lifted out of the swamp and slammed back down. Water surges into my mouth as the air is knocked from my lungs. I can’t even scream when the hooked claws are yanked free.

I clear my head from the water, coughing and gasping, but am pinned. Lyons is above me, leaning closer. At first I think he’s going to simply bite my face off with those snapping jaws, but then I note the tendrils writhing on his face. With those, he can enter my mind.

He can make me afraid.

He can erase my memory again.

It’s a fate worse than death.

I’m about to use my last seconds to cuss him out when a voice shouts out, bold and strong. “Father!”

Lyons pauses. Glances up.

I follow his gaze, seeing Maya upside down. She’s a mess and physically afraid, but I haven’t seen this stern look in her eyes since before Simon died. She wades through the muck and water. Raises a finger at the monster she knows is her father. “You let my husband go.”

For a moment, Lyons appears to consider her demand, but then his eyes squint. He roars at Maya in a way that says, you’re next. It’s all the motivation I need.

I slip into the real world, somersault forward, and stand.

It takes just a second, but I’m now in a race. If Lyons chases me and enters this world while I’m still here, he’ll erase me. But if I move first … I shift back into the mirror world and miss my mark. I had intended to emerge inside Lyons, to replace his insides with myself. But he’s stepped forward, and I’ve come up behind him, weaponless.

Technically, I’ve been trained to be a weapon, but that was against people, not … whatever Lyons has become. My best chance of stopping him was punching a hole in his body by slipping through dimensions. But now …

My eyes widen. I still have one weapon — the assassin’s best friend, hidden in a pocket all this time, waiting for its deadly potential to be released.

Lyons swipes at me with his tail, but I’m already leaping for his back. The appendage sweeps beneath my feet. I land on his hard back, grunting as my ribs are bent inward. I manage to cling to the protective plates covering him and use my newfound strength to hoist myself higher. Lyons reaches for me, twisting his arms back, but his bulky muscles lack the flexibility. He spins and roars, reaching, clawing. I climb over his back, sliding up over the line of mammoth tendrils covering his spine, and stop at his plated shoulder blades.