Fear for him shot through me, but then I finally saw the culprit, and fear for me shot through me.

It looked like one of the fuaths, I thought. A fachan, possibly. If so, he was far from home since they were native to Ireland and Scotland. Still, the Otherworld had become as global as the human world, and you never really knew what could pop up where.

He looked like something you might get if Bigfoot had sex with a cyclops and then their offspring moved to the Deep South and interbred for another century or so. He was almost eight feet tall and every part of his grossly muscled body was covered with hair-matted and smelly hair that needed a thorough washing. One giant eye, its color indeterminable in the starlight, peered out at me. One extra hand extended weirdly from the right side of its chest, and an extra leg hung off of its hip. The leg didn’t seem to help him walk; I wondered if it and the extra arm did anything at all or were just used for effect.

Seeing me, he left the car alone and started lumbering forward. Hopefully Kiyo would be able to get out now. I reached for my gun and discovered it was gone. Son of a bitch. It had slipped its holster either from grappling with Kiyo or when the car had tipped.

“Get my gun out!” I yelled back toward the car.

Meanwhile, I took a few cautious steps back, assessing how to handle the fachan. Fachans, despite inhabiting the earth, originated in the Otherworld. They could therefore be banished back there. They also crossed to this world in a physical form, which meant they could be killed. I had both athames in my belt. Silver would be more effective, but iron would probably do some damage too. Okay. I just had to manage one of those while keeping it from getting too fresh with me. No problem.

He swung one of his long, almost awkward-looking arms at me, and I intercepted it, stabbing him in the hand with the silver athame. I pushed as hard as I could, shoving through tendons and bones. The creature shrieked and jerked his hand back. My hand was on the hilt, but he moved too quickly, too strongly. He took the athame with him. Shit.

“Kiyo!” I yelled.

I took out the iron athame and darted over to his right side, opposite the car. The fachan was bigger, but I was smaller and therefore faster…right? My blade snaked out, digging deep into the soft flesh of his stomach. This time I made sure to bring the athame back with me before he moved and took this one too. Blood, looking black in the dim lighting, gleamed where I’d cut. I put some distance between us. I just needed to slow him so I could snag a few moments for the banishing.

But he wasn’t slowing. He hadn’t seemed happy about the injuries, but he still kept coming for me. I kept the distance between us, wanting to injure him without getting within his range. It was kind of hard when it felt like his arms were as long as my body.

He swung out his uninjured fist, and I ducked it, using the opportunity to draw blood again. As I did, something occurred to me. His blow, had it landed, would have done some serious damage. Very serious. It had had no purpose, save to inflict as much brute pain as possible. I could understand the tactical advantage of rendering me unconscious before sex, but being in a coma-or dead-might complicate the prophecy a bit.

My blade bit into him again, and I followed with a sharp kick to his side, dodging at the last minute. We soon developed a little dance. His large, muscled arms would swing out at me, and I would sidestep and get in my slash or kick. Considering my fight with the mud elemental had been two days ago and I wasn’t entirely in peak condition yet, I felt my performance here wasn’t too shabby.

At least until I moved too slowly, and he caught me with the edge of his hand-his extra hand. Apparently it wasn’t useless after all.

It was a glancing blow, but I flew backward, into the car, up onto the roof, and into the windshield. The glass-already cracked and fractured-shattered upon impact, and sharp, excruciating pain burned through the side of my stomach as I hit. The skin there was still bare and uncovered from where I’d stripped in the car. My head felt like a cartoon character had just dropped an anvil on it, and for a few seconds, I couldn’t get my body to do the things I wanted it to do.

The fachan lurched toward me, his limbs and their bulging muscles swinging, and I didn’t have anywhere to go. He grabbed me by my shoulders and lifted me up high. I knew in those slow-motion seconds that he was going to slam me down and that I would be dead. As it was, the jerking, lifting motion alone made my addled brain scream.

Suddenly, the fachan’s head tipped back, and a look of agony crossed his face. His hold on me released, and I dropped back to the hood. It was much less painful than what he’d been about to do, but it still hurt. I frantically tried to sit up and see what had happened, but everything spun.

Some wolf was attacking the fachan. No, no wolf. The colors and shape weren’t quite right. The ears were more defined, the tail haughty and white-tipped. It was a fox. It was Kiyo. But he was bigger than I’d ever seen him, which was why I’d mistaken him for a wolf. He was huge, muscled and powerful, and his teeth were tearing into the fachan’s back.

The fachan turned and swatted him away. Kiyo took it with grace: hitting, rolling, and then getting right back up. I wished I could do that.

I still felt like crap, but my vision had righted itself. Peering into the car, I could see where my gun had rolled across the passenger seat and lodged between it and the door. Beyond me, I heard blows and yips as Kiyo and the fachan continued their fight.

Gingerly, I started crawling back into the car on all fours, careful to avoid the shards of glass ringing the gaping remains of the windshield. I didn’t do a very good job and brushed sharp points in a few places. They stung my skin. Worse, I could do little to protect my hands when forced to creep over the broken shards covering the dashboard.

At last I made it inside and retrieved the gun. Grabbing it, I worked my way back to the driver’s side seat and took aim at the fachan still grappling with Kiyo. Only, my hand could barely hold the gun up. That was no good. I shifted and held the Glock two-handed. My arms still shook, but I was steadier now.

I watched them pace and attack each other, moving fast. Too fast, I worried. I was likely to shoot Kiyo in the process. But I had to try. Nothing was hurting this thing. It was unstoppable. I didn’t want to try to banish it at full strength, particularly since I’d never get close enough to put the death symbol on him and speed his passage. I therefore needed him wounded and easy to send over.

Taking aim, I waited for a window of opportunity, for a broad target on the fachan. There. The bullet bit into his back, and he jerked in surprise. It slowed him just enough. I fired again. I kept firing until I’d unloaded the entire clip into him. He made horrible noises and staggered slightly. I half-expected him to keep coming, but then Kiyo the Giant Fox leaped at his chest and knocked him to the ground, teeth tearing into what appeared to be the fachan’s throat. Ew.

My wand was in the car. I swapped it with the gun, and called upon Hecate, focusing on the snake wound around my arm. My mind slipped this world, opening the gates, and I aimed for the fachan’s spirit. My will, pouring through the wand, seized him and ripped a hole between the Otherworld and my world. It was harder than usual. “Mind over matter” might be the adage, but the mind was reluctant to obey when the body was so weakened and had had its head slammed into a windshield.

My path to the Otherworld was clear. But then, seeing him start to get up, despite Kiyo’s mauling, I decided I didn’t want him potentially coming back. So I pushed my mind past the Otherworld, brushing the gates of the world of death instead. I felt Persephone’s butterfly flare on my arm as I connected with her domain. The fachan roared as it recognized the tug. He resisted me, his body and spirit presenting a formidable match for my own.