Jack raised the shotgun slowly, careful not to let it clack against the door. The growl came again - closer now. Too close.

  “Easy,” he murmured, more to himself than anything else. He reached into his center console, and popped a peanut butter candy in his mouth. He chewed the peanut butter slowly, letting the flavor settle his nerves.

  Something moved between the trees. At first, it looked like a shadow slipping sideways, a trick of the light. Then it stepped forward into the open, and his brain stalled for half a second trying to make sense of it. Cat-shaped. Mostly.

  It was big - larger than a mountain lion - its body low and sleek, muscles sliding beneath dark, glossy fur that seemed to blend with its surroundings. The fur didn’t just absorb the light - it bent it, like the creature never quite sat where Jack’s eyes expected it to be. Six legs carried it forward in a smooth, deliberate prowl. Its longer forelimbs ended in elongated, almost finger-like digits, built more for grappling than running. Curved horns swept back from its skull, framing a head that felt wrong in a way Jack couldn’t quite name.

  “Oh,” he breathed. “Nope.”

  The creature’s eyes fixed on the Charger. Then - without warning - it *wasn’t there anymore*. His heart slammed.

  “What-”

  Something hit the side of the car. The impact rocked the Charger hard enough to make the suspension creak. He yelped, gripping the wheel as the shotgun slid against his leg.

  The beast reappeared ten feet to the left of where he’d been looking, claws gouging furrows in the dirt as it landed. It hadn’t moved so much as *rearranged itself*, snapping into place like reality had misfiled it for a second.

  “Okay,” he said hoarsely. “That’s cheating.”

  The creature circled the car, padding just out of clear sight. Sometimes it was solid. Sometimes it wasn’t. His depth perception twisted every time it moved, like his eyes were fighting each other. He tracked it with the shotgun, lining up the barrels-

  And hesitated.

  The image wavered. Was that where it *was*… or where it *wanted him to think it was*? The creature snarled, rearing up to pounce. Jack rolled down the window. He swallowed hard and tightened his grip on his shotgun.

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  “Fine,” he muttered. “We’ll do this the hard way.”

  The beast lunged. Jack reacted without thinking. The shotgun boomed inside the car, deafening, the recoil slamming into his shoulder as buckshot tore through the air-

  -and through nothing.

  The blast went through the creature, but did no visible damage. Then its image snapped sideways, and the dirt behind it exploded as something unseen tore a chunk out of the field.

  “Shit!”

  The real beast reappeared several yards to the right, untouched, its forelimbs swiping as it hissed - *amused*.

  Jack's heart pounded. “Okay,” he said, forcing his breathing down. “Okay, learned something.”

  The thing paced closer, head low, eyes locked on him. Sometimes it was solid. Sometimes it wasn’t. His depth perception twisted every time it moved, like his eyes were fighting each other. Then it leapt - not at him, but at the car.

  Claws scraped metal.

  The Charger rocked violently as something heavy landed on the hood. Long talons shrieked against paint, carving shallow lines as the beast tested the surface.

  “Oh hell no,” he snapped, anger flaring hot and sudden. “Get the fuck *away* from my car!”

  The claws slammed against the windshield, leaving spiderweb cracks that made his stomach drop.

  That did it.

  Fear drained away, replaced by something sharper. Personal.

  The claws struck again, slamming into the hood hard enough to pierce the metal. That was it.

  “Fuck off!” Jack honked his horn. “My car is *not* a toy!”

  He shoved the shotgun down against the seat, stomped the brake, and slammed the shifter into neutral. Then he released the brake.

  The Charger lurched forward violently, tires biting dirt. The sudden movement threw the beast off balance - claws scraping uselessly as its projected image flickered. And for just a split second, the distortion *lagged*. It wasn’t teleporting. It was projecting. The real thing was always a step sideways.

  “Got you.”

  He threw the car into park and shoved the door open, rolling out hard. He came up on one knee, shotgun already shouldered, barrels lined up on the creature’s shimmering outline. The image snarled and lunged.

  Too late.

  He ducked behind the open door just as something slammed into it with bone-jarring force.

  The door crumpled inward, metal shrieking. He felt the impact through his boots, rattling his teeth.

  But the illusion *stayed* where it was. He glanced at the dent. Then followed the line of force. His eyes snapped to the right. There.

  The real beast stood half a car-length away, claws recoiling from the strike, eyes wide with surprise. He didn’t hesitate.

  The shotgun roared.

  Buckshot tore into flesh this time — thick, wet, final. The creature screamed, a high, broken sound that ended in a gurgle as it collapsed in a heap of twitching limbs and lolling tongue.

  Silence slammed back into place. The air reeked of scorched fur and blood; Jack’s hands were slick, but he didn’t care. He stayed frozen for a long second, barrel trained on the body, ears ringing. Then he exhaled, shoulders dropping half an inch.

  “…Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “That’s what I thought.”