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“Mothman, right,” he says. “Reports of the … creature were common in parts of West Virginia during 1966 and 1967. All black. Red eyes. Large wings. Those who saw it, only briefly, were terrified. There are many theories about what it was, including a giant crane. A folklorist named Brunvand came closest to getting it right. He believed the details present in the Mothman sightings were so similar to older folk tales that he’d cataloged and studied that the creature wasn’t something new, but something old being seen by a fresh audience.”

“I suppose you’ve identified a few of those myths?” I ask.

“A few thousand dating back to the beginning of human history.” Dearborn is emerging from his shell like a turtle that’s just had an energy drink. There’s an excitement in his blue eyes that wasn’t there a minute ago. “Many, like Mothman, have names. Ōmukade, the giant man-eating centipede in Japan. A real nasty one. Barguest, the black dog of northern England. The name comes from the German, Bärgeist, which means ‘bear ghost.’”

“Sounds like a bull,” I say.

Dearborn snaps his fingers and points at me. “Sasabonsam in West Africa. A man-sized black spirit with a twenty-foot wingspan that terrifies people with its cry and has bloodred eyes. Sound familiar?”

I nod. It’s a similar enough description to Mothman.

“Ahamagachktiat,” he says next. “Native American tribes had thirty-seven different names for what we now call the Bear of North America, not to be confused with an actual bear. This black apparition, which terrified tribes across the country, appeared as a horrifying, shadowy bear. Again, sound familiar?”

He knew it did and continued. “The Duende, with alternate names like Muah, Dominguito, and Duenos del Monte — the mountain lords — haunt South America. They’re small black creatures with flat, wrinkled faces.”

Pugs, I think, and understand what he’s getting at. “So, they’ve been around for a very long time, and they’re everywhere.”

“On every continent, living among us,” he says. “And they’re as old, if not older, than the human race.”

“But what do they want?” Cobb says. “And if they hate us so much, why don’t they just kill us?”

“Because they can’t,” Lyons says. “Not overtly. Fully entering our world and engaging us is against their nature. They prefer to hide between frequencies. At heart, they’re cowards.”

“We don’t know that for sure,” Allenby says. “It’s possible they simply don’t want to kill us.”

Lyons waves the comment away like a foul smell. “They’re bullies whose longtime victim is on the cusp of growing stronger. They might have enjoyed tormenting the human race for centuries. But the writing is on the wall. We’re going to expose them. We’re going to fight back. And they mean to stop us.” He turns back to Cobb, shifting gears. “Just a hint of a Dread is enough to make people afraid. We feel them around us all the time. As a cold draft, or an unexplainable feeling of being watched, or a creeping paranoia that someone means you harm. We’ve all felt those things. Some of us more than others.”

“Can you see them out of the corner of your eye?” Cobb asks.

Lyons eyes the man. “Only if they are close to our frequency. Why do you ask?”

“Nothing,” Cobb says, looking a little sheepish. “Just something from Doctor Who.

“Doctor Who?” Lyons asks.

“The TV show,” Dearborn says.

Lyons sighs and rolls his eyes.

“We most often attribute their actions to ghosts,” Dearborn continues, oblivious to Lyons’s annoyance. “Or if they do affect the physical realm, poltergeists. They’re also often reported as UFOs and / or aliens, but if there is a Dread species resembling the typical gray alien, we have yet to encounter it. But the abject, paralyzing fear most abductees report is consistent with a Dread encounter.”

“So the Dread are abducting people?” Cobb asked.

Lyons shakes his head. “Abduction reports are likely a result of fear-induced hallucination. Shifting between frequencies of reality is taxing, and taking a body along for the ride, while theoretically possible, is probably not what the Dread can do.”

It’s not theoretical. I’ve already proved that but decide to keep my cards close to the vest. I don’t know if it’s something the Dread can do, but if I can figure it out in a day, it seems likely the Dread would have figured it out by now.

“Probably,” Cobb says. “But you’re not certain.”

“We’re not certain about much,” Lyons says. “Other than we can no longer afford to ignore our neighbors, and they are not happy about it.”

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