MirrorWorld

As the mammoth and line of bulls are cut down and my presence is, for the moment, forgotten, I scan the chamber. Lyons is at the front line, his wedge of men now twice as long and two men thick. They’re heading for the matriarch. I consider going for the machine guns, but the time it would take to reach them and take them out would mean leaving the matriarch at the mercy of Lyons. Were it any other Dread, I’d let it fend for itself, but the giant creature buried beneath this chamber is the key to life or death for our planet. If it dies, we all die.

Mind made up, I take aim at Lyons and fire a single shot, striking him in the back. He pitches forward but quickly stands upright. His armor absorbed the shot, but it should have knocked him to the ground and left him gasping for air. I should have aimed for his head. Why didn’t I aim for his head?

For Maya. The man is still her father.

Lyons glares at me, oblivious to the danger around him, unflinching at the sound of gunfire, the closeness of Dread, and the fear they’re pushing. Unlike the other Dread Squad members, who, despite the drugs, still flinch at the fear effect, Lyons appears to be impervious. He’s fearless. And impossibly large. Powerful.

And … glowing. Radiating red from inside.

What has he done? Whatever it is, I’m going to undo it. And him.

I peel the mask from my head, let him know I’m still alive and kicking — and coming for him. And then I wink out of the mirror world and charge toward his position.

58

I race through the cavern, alone except for the dead Dread Squad men behind me. The air is crisp, clean, and a welcome change from the tang of the mirror world. A distant roar reveals the underground river’s outlet, which pours into the cavern, beyond my sight, no doubt flowing away, back into the earth.

Lyons had been a good hundred feet from me when I started running. If he’s still pushing forward, he’ll be within reach in just a few seconds. He’ll be surrounded by his soldiers, too, but I really don’t care.

At all.

Brief winks of light mark the arrival of the Dread Squad. Seven of them.

Not enough, I think. But then I remember what’s happening in the mirror world. That he sent seven of his protectors says he realizes the danger I present. But he’s still underestimating me. Had he really understood what I can do, he’d have sent everyone.

While the seven men take aim, I roar. Carried along with my voice, moving at roughly the same speed, is a whisper of fear the likes of which these men have yet to encounter. It’s a gift, I realize, from the matriarch, and it’s painless. The matriarch did a little more than return the last bits of my memory. While I can’t feel the fear effect myself, I somehow know that it’s on the level of what a Dread mole can produce. And I remember that feeling. It nearly broke me. No amount of drugs can overcome such raw, unfiltered terror.

I push it in waves, each invisible torrent crashing into and through the very souls of these men. I become their worst fears, in the flesh, rushing toward them. I’m so focused on generating this mind-numbing fear that I almost don’t notice I’m also pulling the assault rifle’s trigger, sending the last of my ammo into the seven men, ending their fear forever.

When the last of them drops in a heap, I stop, draw my Desert Eagle, and slip back into the mirror world, intending to put a bullet in the back of Lyons’s head.

Instead, I’m met by a thick fist, driven into my gut. I stumble back, pitched over, sucking air. The handgun drops from my grasp. Bent over, eyes shut, I can’t see a thing, but I know everything has changed during my brief time in the cavern.

“I saw you coming.” Lyons’s voice is deeper than before. Stronger. So is his punch. “You always seem to find a way to surprise me, but not this time. It’s your turn to be surprised. Your turn to feel fear.”

When he says “fear,” a ripple of energy flows through me. He’s pushing fear at me, but not hard enough. I barely feel it. Still, he’s adjusting to the change faster than I did. And in ways I didn’t.

He’s stronger, faster, all his previous ailments repaired, and then there’s the glow radiating from under his skin like … veins of color.

Oh my God … The refinements he made to the Dread DNA that allow a human being to sense the world like a mirror-world resident were intensified, or perhaps lessened, with his own personal batch. How long has he been changing? Did the alterations to his own DNA effect his mind? Is all of this a result of some kind of faulty rewiring? He wouldn’t be the first person to have boosted aggression from a body-altering substance.

“Look at me, son,” Lyons says.