Mark and I sat in his living room quietly while he let me process. It was a little after 7, and in the hour and half I'd been awake today, it was already the strangest day of my life. 

I'd not only learned that magic and mythical creatures exist, but that my best friend was a mage and my dad knows a powerful fae woman. On top of all that, a Mark look-alike assassinated the Unseelie ambassador.

"There are really things out there that can look like anyone?” I asked after a few moments.

"Yeah, relatively speaking there aren't many individual beings that are capable of true mimicry without consuming the original. I'm no expert, but I'd ballpark it at around 2000. Unfortunately there's a massive amount of different types of things that can."

A horrible thought occurred to me. I hastily got up and shoved my hand inside my jacket, pulling out the pistol, and held it at the ready while still not pointing it at near Mark. If there were things that could look like people, then couldn’t the Mark in front of me be a fake?

“If what you’re saying is true, then how do I know you’re you?”

"Have you even loaded the gun?" He asked while raising his hands slowly. "But you make a fair point let me think."

With much less fervor than before, I slid a ten round clip into my dad's antique pistol, a Red 9. He watched me fiddle with the gun while trying not to laugh at my ineptitude.

It was almost definitely him, since he reminded me to load it, but I didn't feel like taking a chance on it was particularly smart after all I'd seen today.

"Did you think of something yet?" I asked Mark. 

"When we were in 7th grade you still didn’t know what the word gay meant. You ended up asking me when we were walking home from school. You didn’t talk or look at me the rest of the walk to our neighborhood. Later you-”

“Ok ok, I get it's really you.” I stopped him as I felt my face heating up. I rested the pistol in my lap and asked. "Do you need to prove it's me?" 

“Nah, I’m sure it’s you. Your reaction to that is proof enough.” He chuckled.

“What’s that supposed to-”

I was interrupted by a knock at the door. I looked at Mark for what to do. The playful teasing in his expression had disappeared completely. He sat bolt upright like a meerkat looking for a predator. 

He shook his head and put one finger over his lips, while his other hand formed a finger gun pointing at the door. Getting his meaning, I silently took off my jacket and removed the strap to the holster. As quietly as I could, I slid the wooden holster into the slot at the back of the handle of the Red 9, turning it into a rifle stock.

Mark threw me a set of earplugs, then put in his own. Why does he have these on hand? I thought. I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so I awkwardly shoved them in my ears with one hand so as to not drop the gun. The knock came again, but much louder this time. Even with the earplugs, I could hear the muffled creaking of the door under the force of the blow.

Mark pulled a rune-covered drumstick under the table and pointed it at the door like a loaded gun. I squinted at him and mouthed 'seriously'. In response, he flipped me off and pointed at the door urgently.

Whatever was out there was done waiting for us to answer. The next knock was more like an enormous crash, as whatever was on the other side of the door made a baseball-sized hole in it, sending splinters flying.

I couldn’t see anything through it, not because the hole was too small, but the balcony outside Mark’s apartment was completely dark. I was momentarily confused, as it should've been broad daylight. 

Then a skeletally thin arm with skin like a shark slid its way through the hole. The abnormally long fingers all had one extra joint. It moved around trying to find a way to unlock the door. 

Mark’s door, thankfully, required a key for both sides. I thought we might be safe long enough for backup to get here, or even for that whatever this thing is to give up. 

That hope vanished when the flesh of its arm started pulsating and more of the creature entered through the small hole. I heard the sound of cracking bones as the monster forced its way through the door. Its skin split, slowly oozing out a pitch black ichor instead of blood. Its bones jutted out at odd angles, allowing it to creep its way through the opening.

I stood there in utter terror as the part of the monster that had made it through the door started regenerating into a cadaverous humanoid torso much larger than a human's should be.

"What the hell is that thing? What do we do?!?" I yelled terrified.

“No idea, just shoot the damn thing!”

I fired the Red 9 in a panicked three shot burst. I had fired the Red 9 before at a range and even with full ear protection it had been loud. Firing it indoors? Not recommended in the least. Even with the protection of the earplugs. It felt like someone took a hot needle to my eardrums. The high pitched ringing of tinnitus started in my ears, partially deafening me to anything else.

The first two bullets missed the creature entirely, but the third hit it squarely in the chest, leaving a wound that leaked ichor. There was an inhumanly low howl of pain, and the monster's advance into the apartment quickened. 

Mark brought down his drumstick wand in a short arc, and something I couldn’t see slammed into the creature, accompanied by a loud boom that I felt as much as I heard. It rocked me back where I stood. 

I had thought the gunshots were loud, but compared to whatever Mark had just done, they were like a dog's bark. The ringing in my ears had been turned up to 11, and the needles upgraded to ice picks. That explains why he had the earplugs. I thought as I tried to steady myself to fire again.

The thing’s bald head emerged from the hole last. Like the rest of it, it was elongated to an extreme degree. Inhumanly stretched, the head was over a foot and a half tall. It had long pointed ears, a fish hook of a nose, and an elliptical void where its mouth should have been, which seemed to absorb any and all light that entered it. 

Now that the creature was completely in the room it had to bend over in order to stand. It must have been over 10 feet tall at full height. 

The expression on its face would surely haunt my nightmares for weeks to come - Assuming I survived, that is - Its face was locked into a mix of absolute agony and haunting sorrow, like Edvard Munch's The Scream by way of H.R. Giger.

It looked between us with its glassy eyes and started lumbering toward Mark. Mark climbed over the couch and after firing twice more, both hitting the creature's shoulder, I followed suit. 

It picked up the table with one hand and flung it at us. Most of the force was absorbed by the cushy couch, but some of it shattered against the edge, sending splinters everywhere. 

Mark deftly ducked under the sofa, I wasn't as quick. I tried to dive to one side, and nearly made it, but some shrapnel from the table embedded into my left arm and side. White hot pain shot through me as I awkwardly landed on top of Mark. 

I tried to stand up, but my left arm wasn’t cooperating, and instead I just rolled off him onto my already injured side. The short drop felt like a sledgehammer had just driven into me, and I screamed in anguish.

Mark sprang up and sent another wave of whatever magic he was using at the monster. I couldn’t actually see it from behind the couch, but I felt a loud thump through the floor that I assumed was the creature being knocked over. 

I crawled to the kitchenette and pulled myself up on a counter. The creature had indeed been knocked over; One of the thing’s legs had been broken quite badly. I’m not sure what I expected it to do, but I certainly didn’t expect it to rip the leg clean off and throw it at Mark. By the time the leg embedded itself in the drywall right next to Mark’s head, the ragged wound left by the severed limb was already closing up. 

I attempted to steady the Red 9 on the counter and fired three more shots. Firing a gun with one wounded arm is not an easy task. All the shots missed by a large margin. Why isn’t this fucking thing dying?!? 

“Fuck this we need to leave!” I shouted and pointed to the door. I doubt Mark could actually hear me but he gave me a thumbs up. I shot twice more, hitting the monster in its upper back with each bullet, the inky substance that seemed to be its blood spurting out with each hit.

I realized as I stopped leaning on the counter that I was bleeding quite a bit more than I thought. Luckily I could move my arm enough to grab a couple of dishrags that were hanging on the stove’s handle. 

I pressed them into my side as much as I could to stop the bleeding and stumbled my way to the door. The creature was still on the floor, crawling towards Mark as its leg reformed, Its over-long arms making short work of the distance.

Mark turned and went to circle the sofa, but the monster managed to get a hand around Mark’s ankle and he face planted on the floor next to his drums. The fall sent the drumstick wand flying out of Mark's reach.

I took aim at the wrist pinning Mark to the ground and took a deep breath. If I missed, there would be nothing I could do to stop Mark from dying. I prayed to any god that would listen that I could save my best friend.

I pulled the trigger. I couldn't hear the click of the empty gun but I knew it was there. My stomach dropped as I tried to reach into my jacket for another clip but my blood soaked arm wasn't able to bend enough to retrieve a new clip. 

I dropped the gun and rushed toward the beast. Injuries be damned, I wasn't giving up. Even if it got me killed in the process, I couldn't let Mark die. Mark grabbed a snare drum and slammed it into the head of the thing. It let go with the hand holding his ankle, but raised its other one for the finishing blow.

A warm tingling moved from my core, down my good arm and to my hand. I drove my fist down the back of the monster’s neck, screaming wordlessly.

As my fist connected with the monster's spine, something odd happened; It felt like being shocked with a cattle prod, but instead of pain and my muscles being temporarily paralyzed it was exhilarating. Like winning a swim meet and playing with the band to a live audience all in one.

The creature spasmed and went still. Mark scrambled away and picked up his wand. He stared at me, then at the monster, then back at me like I was a ghost for a second. Probably as flabbergasted as me about whatever I had done. 

Suddenly, fatigue hit me, like I had just finished a triathlon, and I stumbled, barely catching myself before falling on the monster’s body.

Mark said something to me while trying to catch his breath, but it was hard to make it out through the tinnitus. Maybe something about leaves? I thought.

"We should go before the cops show and we have to explain all this," I replied. He squinted at me, he said something else, the words muffled but now distinguishable as words as my hearing started to return. He held up a finger in a 'wait a second' gesture, still trying to catch his breath.

I leaned against a nearby wall and held the dishrags in between my wounded arm and side with my good arm. My hearing came back after a couple minutes, and the first thing I heard clearly were odd popping and crackling sounds coming from the creature.

I looked down at the beast and noticed its leg was still healing itself, and pointed at it to make sure Mark saw it. No sooner had I done so then the creature started moving again, twitching in a nauseating fashion before moving to push itself back up. Whatever I had done, I couldn't count on a repeat performance. 

"Time to leave," Mark declared, as he rushed ahead toward the door and motioned for me to follow. He picked up the Red 9 off the floor and tried handing it to me. 

“Can’t shoot straight. Need to focus...walking.” I tried to say more but a mix of blood loss and whatever I’d done made the words come out slurred. I tripped trying to get to the door, but Mark managed to catch me before I fell.

“Let me help you walk.” He got an arm under mine and, with some effort, we managed to get to the balcony outside, and moved to the stairs to the ground level of the apartment. I chanced a glance behind us as we ran and saw one of Mark's neighbors, an elderly man, come out into the hall in a bathrobe.

Before the man could react to any of the goings on, the creature grabbed the man by his head, its hand engulfing the man’s head completely, and threw him like a major league fastball right at us. I turned back and pulled an oblivious Mark against the wall with me. 

The human cannonball slammed into a railing with bone-shattering force, shooting blood from his mouth and over and around the balcony. I almost wished my hearing loss was worse so I could have been spared the sound the impact made. Imagine dropping a watermelon on a pile of twigs and dead leaves from 20 feet up, but instead of wasted food, it was a man being brutally killed in an attempt to kill Mark and me.

After picking ourselves back up, we hurried down the stairs to Mark's car as fast as our injuries would allow. I heard a low rumbling growl behind us. I blearily looked back up the stairs and saw the monster was faced back the way we came. I couldn't see what the beast was looking at from where we were and had no wish to go back to find out.

My condition was getting worse by the time we got to Mark’s beat up station wagon. We got into the car and Mark shoved the key into the ignition. With a screech from the tires, we raced out of the parking lot. We took out my earplugs when it became clear we weren’t being followed.

"Hang in there Lucas, there's a safehouse nearby where you can get help." 

"We going to be safe from that thing there?" I asked weakly.

"Yeah, it's virtually impenetrable to the uninvited."

I grunted affirmatively and held the towels to my side as best as I could. Mark made a call while weaving in and out of traffic. I tried to focus on his words, but the waning but still present tinnitus and angry drivers honking their horns at us made that impossible.

Shortly after he finished the call we made it to the outskirts of the city. He sighed deeply.

"How do you do that without a focus?" He muttered more to himself than to me. 

I tried to say I didn't know, but it came out a garbled mess. He didn't respond to my nonsense answer. 

Eventually we pulled into a shopping center parking lot called Willowwisp Center and Mark stopped the car in front of a store. There was a sign proclaiming it 'Marshall's Used Books.'

"A used bookstore? That’s the impenetrable safehouse?" I mumbled.

"Stop talking and save your strength smartass." Mark scolded me through watery eyes.

Two people came running out of the store carrying a stretcher between them. One was a lean man in scrubs and the other was in a cooking apron and was too androgynous to make out a gender.

As hard as I tried to stay awake as they approached us, I couldn't hold on to consciousness any longer, and I slumped into my seat and blacked out.