“No!” She shouted. “Stay back!” and that was all she managed before the light-exposed Shadowbeast jumped her Hare. Shrieking, it threw her hard into the nearest brush and kicked the Beast square in the head. White fur was decorated with red blood within seconds.

“We’re coming!” Now that was Henry Dyson, and he was considerably closer than Em had been before.

“Giant creature! Big danger! Run!” she said, articulately, and then thought fuck it and whirled to watch the creature.

Its broad and frightening teeth were stabbed deep into her Fleet-Hare’s body. So were several of the long, lionfish like tendrils encircling its face like a mane. Poisonous, she thought. And how did those get down here? Did somebody have a tropical fish tank or something? She began crawling away, slow and backwards.

“Hawk!” Someone shouted, not too far away. The flare was starting to sputter, the light fading from the gleam of the monster’s eyes. She wasn’t sure how many it had, but certainly it defied the usual two.

“Here!” She whisper-cried…and drew the monster’s eyes back to herself. And now it held her gaze. Oh, God. She knew that was bad. Looking a non-human, pack-driven creature in the eye was usually fatal. Maybe she was lucky, and this thing was a loner, and it wasn’t going to eat her—an especially fierce growl put that notion to bed. It lunged for her, though it kept its fanged mouth firmly on the remains of her Fleet-Hare.

Dyson thumped through the woods in the next half minute, crashing into her clearing like an eighteen wheeler, no breaks. He carried a flashlight, and in it she caught a few glimpses of the average American Male as he realized there are, indeed, things undreamt of in our reality, and it was eating Hawk’s rabbit. “Holy fucking shit!” he said.

The beast heard him, too, and shuffled its bulk so that it was facing off against both of them. Its growl became low and threatening, like some sort of enormous, ancient machinery trying to start its generator. Blood, Hare blood, dripped from its maw to the white-covered ground.

“Stay where you are, Henry,” Hawk whispered.

“What? It’s not going to hurt us?” He sounded hysterical.

“It’s already got a whole horse-rabbit-thing in its jaws. I think it would rather eat that than go after us. Just be calm and back up slow.”

“Right. Gotcha.” He took a step back and started to turn.

“Don’t! Turn.” The first word came out sharp, and that brought the cephalopod-like eyes of the Beast back to her. The jeweled blues and golds of its skin glinted in Henry’s flashlight. “If you show it your back, it’ll go for your throat. It’s instinctive. Don’t they wear masks on the back of their heads in India?” She took her own slow, measured steps back from it. Unfortunately the stupid white silk robes gave her a more visible bulk in the dark. She’d never envied fatigues so hard. “Just walk back until it can’t see us anymore. Who came with you?”

“Emile and Kaiser. They’re back in the brush.” Henry swallowed. Stepped back. Swallowed again. “Hopefully they’re close enough to hear.”

“Alright. I’m going to move closer towards you. Do you have the flare gun?” she said.

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“Yes,” he whispered.

“Alright. I want you to pull it out very slowly. Do not draw attention to it.” Hawk whispered.

“Why are we whisper—OH MY GOD!” Emile had stepped out into the clearing. The Shadowbeast’s growl grew in proportion to their appearance. Their triple-threat hair color seemed to glow like neon in the darkness. They, too, held a flashlight.

“Em, you need to put the flashlight down now,” Hawk sing-songed, because it was either that or start screaming. “And back up slowly. Head towards Henry, there you go. We’re just going to meet up together slowly and let the big monster eat its dinner.”

“What the hell is it eating?!?” Emile said.

“It’s a giant rabbit. Don’t think about it too hard. Were you guys following the procession?” She kept moving back, step by step. The beast looked from her, to Em, to Dyson, and back.

“Yeah. They’re the loudest, brightest thing in this hell hole.” Em was moving too.

“Well, it’s lead by the biggest psychopath I’ve ever met. Including you.”

“Hey, I prize myself on my amoralism.” Emile said.

“This woman would make your head explode.” What was done to the Earth Archon would be enough to make Em’s head explode. But right now they needed to get away from the monster without any heads exploding, except maybe its own. Thinking about exploding heads was safer than thinking of punctured veins and disembowelment. Some of the Fleet-Hare’s smooth, pink inner organs were visible in the pink-matted wreck of its hair. She didn’t need to think about how soft and safe that rabbit-creature had felt, or how profoundly sorry she was to be right here, in this moment. But her reaching fingers touched Emile’s outstretched fingers.

“How about Alex?”

Alex! Being afraid for her life hadn’t diminished that pain by an ounce. “He’s probably dead,” she said.

“He’s the Archetype for humanity. If he’s dead, so’s the rest of us.” Henry Dyson said.

The Shadowbeast let go of the Fleet Hare. Its empty, ivory lined mouth dripped with blood and its own saliva. Its forked tongue tasted the air and lavished itself across the creature’s invisible scent organs. Its growl lowered, deepened, became more vital.

“Okay, Hawk. What do we do now?” Henry Dyson said. The Shadow beast was looking him dead in the eye.

“You got the flare gun?” Hawk whispered.

“Yeah,” Henry said, his voice rising in both volume and tone. Knowledge of his own death dripped off every tone.

“Shoot the flare gun, Henry.” She whispered.

The beast gathered itself for a jump.

The flare hit the beast in the face, triggering an instant howl as white phosphorus scalded across flesh and scale. “Now run!” Hawk shouted, but neither of her friends needed to be told. Off they went into the forest together. “Willheim! Run!” she shouted, and a flashlight ahead turned on and began pitching itself into the woods.

Her lungs began burning, her legs aching with the ghost-feeling of teeth on a femur. She remembered flashes from before, her first encounter with the things, being dragged down the pylon in the teeth of something similar. And why weren’t you bloody? Why weren’t you out for more than a day? These fragmentary questions spun out to the periphery. She didn’t have time to search for answers, not when she was running for her life.

She could hear it running beside them all, pacing the slowest of all of them, which was unfortunately Hawk. She stripped out of her robes, all but the under-chemise, and shortly after she dropped them on the dirt she heard the sound of ripping fabric and the howl of frustrated monster. “We’re going to need another flare, Henry!” She shouted.

Dyson said, “I’ve used mine up!”

“I’ve got one!” Em shouted, as they ran, “But I’m a god-damn terrible sho—ho shit there’s a drop.” And they skidded into a tree, with Hawk directly on top of them seconds later. Henry Dyson was a few paces further up than they, already pausing next to the drop off. About fifty yards away from that was the light Hawk assumed was Kaiser Willheim.

Nearer than either Dyson or Kaiser was the Shadowbeast.

It crawled out of the woods, half of its face leonine and lethal in beauty, the other half shredded down to muscle and bone by the flare. It padded forward without rush—the time for running, it seemed, was done. Its gleaming golden eyes were fixed on Hawk and Emile.

Emile caught her hand, turned to her with a smile on their lips, and said, “God, I wish you were Henry.”

“I wish I was, too.” Hawk said.

The Shadow beast roared.

And another roar greeted it.