MirrorWorld

“I’ll give you the whole story,” I say, and I break the details down for my entranced audience, telling them about the trail of green blood, the veined trees and earth, and my crash with and travel through the pine tree, and the muddy landing in the Dread’s world, which I describe in detail. I tell them how I killed the bull but leave out the pugs and colony. We’ll get to that soon enough. I finish with an explanation of how my pendant made the leap between worlds with me, confirming that all matter can change frequencies; oscillium just does it more easily.

“Show me,” Lyons says.

“Show you what?”

“Look into the world between.”

“Isn’t this old news?” I ask.

“You were very private about this before,” Lyons says. “Didn’t want Maya to know. Or Simon.”

With a flex of my new eye muscles, I feel the shift in my vision into the world between. The pain caused by this subtle shift — though slightly less intense than my previous experiences — forces my eyes shut, but I grit my teeth and push past it, opening my eyes again. The room’s structure is the same, but the people are gone, as are the less solid elements of the room — chairs, supplies, papers. I focus on my vision, shifting back to my home frequency without instigating a physical change, seeing the real world with Dread eyes. The room appears again. Everyone in the room, minus Katzman and Lyons, has taken a step back.

“What?” I ask.

“Your eyes,” Winters says.

Katzman is the least shocked, and Lyons just looks interested. He produces a small flashlight and shines it back and forth between my eyes. “Have you noticed any other changes? Perhaps less overt. Increased strength, or stamina, or—”

I shake my head. “I didn’t even know my eyes could look different.” There’s a mirror above a sink at the back of the room. I slide off the table, letting the now warm ice packs fall away, and head for the mirror. I can see something is wrong with my eyes, even from a distance. Up close, the truth is revealed. My once-circular pupils have split into two vertical rectangles, connected by a small dash. Like the bull. But they’re not glowing from within. My blood, it seems, is still human.

Not all of me, though. I really am part Dread.

But how much?

I still feel human. Like myself. My experience of the string-theory frequencies I call home hasn’t changed at all.

Except that I can choose to change that experience. I can see, hear, smell, taste, and feel what a Dread can, but can I really do those things like a Dread? And if so, are there other things I can do?

Only one way to find out. I decide to make the others my guinea pigs. I turn, face the group, and try to intimidate them. At first, nothing happens. Everyone just stares.

“You’re kind of freaking me out, man,” Cobb says.

“What are you doing?” Winters asks.

Katzman, hand on his sidearm, is nervous but tries to relieve it with humor. “Looks like he’s trying to shit his pants.”

Cobb steps closer to me, hand reaching out. “Are you feeling all r—”

A vibration slips from my limbs and into my core. My gut twists with agony, and I suspect the pain might be caused by the physical changes taking place, tapping underused muscles, or organs. But I turn the negative feelings outward, willing them toward the others … until five voices shout with surprise — and fear.

That’s when I hear it, in my head. The whispering. But it sounds more like static, lacking the cadence of the Dread whispers.

The vibration stops quickly as the pain becomes so intense that I nearly buckle and fall to the floor. When I look up, sweat dripping in my eyes, everyone in the room has backed away. I only managed to conjure up and project a brief moment of fear, but it’s had a clear effect on the others. Cobb is on the floor, scrambling to his feet. Katzman has his weapon drawn, aimed at me. Allenby is pale. Winters looks ready to fight, which I admire. And Lyons has a hand over his heart, not acting this time. Sweat on his brow.

“How?” Lyons says, before taking a deep breath. “How did you do that?”

Feeling winded, like I’ve just run several miles, I sit down. The pain begins to fade as I let my body become its old self. “Maybe I’m more Dread than you thought.”

Lyons pushes past his fear, and the others. With excited eyes, he says, “You’ve certainly never done that before.”

“Could his DNA have continued to change over the past year?” Allenby asks, sounding more concerned than scientifically interested.

“It’s possible, but it’s also likely the old Josef never thought to try.” Lyons looks at me. “Or perhaps he just kept it from us. Show me more.”

“I’m not sure what else a Dread can do.”

“Enter their world,” he says. “I want to see it happen.”

“It hurts,” I tell him. “A lot.”

“Does the pain linger?”

“Fades over time, but the initial shift is like getting kicked in the nuts. If you want to see it, you’re going to have to answer one more question for me.”

Lyons nods. “Anything.”