Thanks to The Spider hacking into the burner phone I gave Carol Mercotti, I had reason to believe she was being held hostage in her own home, so, being the wise and dutiful cop I am, I broke in to rescue her. Well, that and it seemed the Mercottis knew enough judges to make getting a warrant problematic at best.

So, I knew this might mean my badge, but if I could save Carol, at least, it would be worth it. I did not stop to think that the critter that kidnapped her is likely far more powerful than I am, nor what kind of people might have the ability to control both it and a large chunk of the government; my only concern was that a friend (who had once been more than that) was in trouble and needed rescuing.

This wing seemed nearly deserted. I suspected it was built to house staff, and the Mercottis kept minimal staff, so likely only used three or four of the rooms here. The one I had entered was a small bedroom, neat but dusty. I passed two identical rooms as well as a water closet, then the hall opened into an open area that looked like a lounge of some sort. Stairs led down, while another open passage beyond led to the main part of the building.

I peeked through the opening and saw no signs of life. I did see the bay window that my little friend Patrick had claimed an “ape thing had brought the pretty lady” into the house through. The area was dark, but I could make out what looked like stairs up through a distant opening. I started creeping through the room and almost made it to said opening, when…

A light behind me came on.

I spun around and saw Domenic Mercotti standing there, with a twisted smile on his face. “So, we meet again, Jack Diamond!” He announced, quite needlessly.

I stood up straight and turned to face him: “It does sort of look that way. Say, I left my matchbook here when I stopped by this morning. You did not happen to see it?”

“Did you honestly think you could slip past Zoligahr the Beast, Lord of the Hunt, so easily?” He said, his voice suddenly much deeper than before.

I frowned. “Well, when you put it that way, it does seem kind of silly. Now, about those matches?”

He roared - literally roared - at me; his head had somehow become that of the creature that took Carol earlier, but his body still looked like Dom’s. “It is a shame that blood shed before the ritual could screw things up and let more than we need through or I would end you now. Please hand me your firearm so I do not have to rip your arms off.”

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Well,” I replied, reaching for my sidearm, “since you asked so nicely…”

I tried to muscle him out of the way and draw my piece but hitting him with my shoulder felt like slamming into a wall; he casually grabbed me by that same shoulder and hurled me across the room like a rag doll. I slammed against a wall, and then just set my gun down on the floor. If it could toss me around like that, best case bullets would only annoy it, worst case they would bounce and maybe do some damage to others in the building, so turning over my piece seemed like the best dumb idea out of far too many dumb ideas today.

Not sure if he summoned them or the noise attracted them, but two men suddenly rushed into the room, and his head promptly reverted to Dominic’s. He told the men “Take him upstairs. He wanted to see Carol so badly, give them a few final moments together.

The men were Old Man Mercotti’s security goons, I realized. Heck, I even knew one of them, a Wendell something. Very serious guy, great poker face. He was not the one who grabbed me by the shoulders and forced me to my feet; he was the one who held a gun on me.

As we started up the stairs to the attic, I thought “aha! My gut was right about one thing at least!” And noticed that Dominic or whatever he was now, was heading back downstairs, and I called out: “Hey, Dom, one question - back at the restaurant, you told me to call you if I could not take out ‘the animals who killed Linda’ or something like that.”

He stopped and turned back to me with a bemused smile. “Yes, I did.”

“Even though you are one of those animals?”

His smile widened. “Yes. I wanted to see if you had the spirit to be a good quarry or not. So far, my only disappointment is that I have to wait to kill you.”

I was not sure what to say about that, so just shrugged and let the goons handle me as Dominic headed back downstairs.

This line didn't work for Steve Martin, but I figured what the heck: “Okay guys, how much is he paying you? What say I double it, and we go beat him up?”

I felt a gun pressed to my ribcage. “You’re a cop. You don’t have that kind of money.”

“I have some bearer’s bonds…”

“Silence!”

Figuring I should go for broke, I asked: “One last question - why am I still alive?”

Wendell actually answered that one: “because too much blood is as bad as too little. Rest assured, when the window closes, you will die.”

“You know, somehow that is a little reassuring.” And, surprisingly, it was.

After that, I figured it might be a good idea to keep my mouth shut. It wasn't easy.