I staggered, put one hand down on the grass to steady myself, then turned. There was nothing there to trip over. No rock, no stick, no random discarded auto part.

I walked cautiously back through the patch, making each movement exaggeratedly slow and being careful not to commit my weight until my foot was down. On the second step, my toe hit … something.

I stared down in bemusement at my foot, which was pushing up against apparently empty air. I pushed a little harder with my toe and the invisible something yielded a little. Like a body, rather than a rock. I slowly withdrew my foot and then stepped back, my mind whirling. There was that old X-Files episode where some guy wished to be invisible and … I rolled my eyes, even though I was alone. Genies as an explanation? Nope, that way lay madness.

With a jerk, I reached for my phone. I really needed to get a picture of—

Of what, dumbass? Empty air? Uh huh. Poor Jack, his expulsion must have snapped his mind.

With a shake of my head and a snarl, I bent over to feel around the invisible object—then pulled back quickly. It had fur. And things with fur often had teeth and claws. Maybe I would start with a more cautious examination. I swept up some of the dust from the side of the road until I had a good pile. Then I grabbed a double handful and sprinkled it carefully over the body. Or whatever it was.

The dust settled onto something. There was a definite impression of fur, a head, arms … For some reason, the dust seemed to be getting absorbed into the body. Or maybe it was disappearing. Maybe whatever was making the body invisible was affecting the dust.

That wasn’t the way it normally worked on TV, but then, I wasn’t sure how much actual experience the script writers had with this kind of thing. Perhaps I’d have to write them a letter or something.

Two more double handfuls of dust, and I’d managed to work out a general outline of the body. Literally. The dust that hadn’t settled on the body now formed something like the chalk outlines the cops supposedly did at crime scenes.

It was big.

I couldn’t be sure, because it wasn’t lying straight or flat, but I guessed somewhere around seven feet tall, maybe a little more. I stand six foot five, and I’m used to be being the tallest person in the room, but this thing would be able to see the top of my head.

The proportions were wrong for a biped, though—too much torso, very short legs. And not a beanpole, either, unlike yours truly. I’d bet it had a hundred pounds on me.