My partner and I had rushed to save a woman I had a history with from what we thought were mobsters.

We arrived to find the man left to guard her was unconscious or dead (things had moved too fast to check), and she was being held captive by a creature straight out of nightmares. Three of the monster’s four arms were engaged in keeping the hostage, Carol Mercotti, immobilized while the fourth held a lamp. It had a head that had traits of both a bat and a cat, yet somehow it could speak, although in a voice as monstrous as its form… and it knew my name.

“Jack. I am ordered not to kill anyone unless I must. Stand down!” It ordered me.

As it finished saying this, my partner Milt showed up and swore.

With a bravado that surprised even myself, I said: “so you know my name? Do you have one?’

It made a weird bellowing roar that I realized was laughter. “I like you, Jack Diamond. I have a name, but you may not use it. Call me The Hunter.”

Then it swung the lamp at the window and both items shattered. It let out that odd laugh again, and launched itself out through the new opening. As it left the room, wings sprouted or unfurled or something from its back; they almost seemed like liquid at one point but then they looked like much larger versions of a bat’s wings.

It's body was now between Carol and us so Milt took aim with his pistol but I waved him down. “Best case you kill it and it drops to the street below with her underneath. Worst case, the bullet bounces and it comes back in here angry.”

He hesitated a moment, but then holstered his gun as the thing rose up into the air and flew off. I followed suit. “You know, I am not sure how we would bring something like that thing in if we did arrest it,” he said.

I laughed. “Did you hear it talk?”

“Yeah. That may be harder to believe than the fact that it exists,” he answered.

“Yeah, but it said it has a boss. I don’t think we can put that thing in cuffs, but I’m willing to bet we can lock its boss up…”

“You got an idea who that boss is?”

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“A couple. Top guess is Morgan Price,” I replied.

He looked at me. “Interesting guess. Any way to prove it?”

“Maybe. Need to get over to the tech guys. Carol still had her burner in her pocket. If it is on, we can track them.”

We headed to the elevator as he asked: “you could see that? You are a good detective. I barely saw the girl that thing was holding, let alone what was in her pocket. Any idea what it was?”

I shrugged. “The Hunter. Or so it said.”

“Real helpful, that. Maybe we should consult a tarot reader on this case?”

As the elevator door slid shut, I said: “That is far from the worst idea I have heard all day.”

At the front desk, I tossed a couple of twenties (probably my grocery money for the week) at the clerk, and said: “There is a bit of a mess on three. We didn’t do it and it is probably much more than I can cover. Might want to look into it,.” as we headed out.

The look on the clerk’s face, as he went from bored to angry to greedy to worried was almost with the price of admission. Almost wished I could stick around to see his reaction when he saw the room, but I had bigger fish to fry.

“I do not think we can call this one in as a crime scene, Jacky,” Milt said as we stepped outside.

“Of course not - admitting I knew where she was would be bad enough, but trying to explain what that thing was that took Carol? We would be lucky to just face the wrath of Internal Affairs and not a full on psych evaluation,” I replied.

“Still, there is a body…”

“Did you identify as a cop? I did not,” I replied. “Could call it in anonymously, I guess.”

Milt paused for a second. “Let’s grab a drink first “

“On the clock?”

“I’m buying.”

I really wanted to but… “I think I should see about tracking that burner first.”

“Ah, you are right, partner. Pity my flask is empty.”

“Sorry about that,” I replied.

“If I didn’t want you to drain it, I would have kept it to myself. You know, that is the same flask dad used during the second World War. Just like him, I keep some juice in it for purely medicinal purposes,” he said with a wink.

Not knowing what to say to that, I just gave him a friendly pat on the back. Fortunately, we reached his car before either of us thought of anything further to say

As we got in, though, Milt surprised me: “Just remembered something. We want a trace on that, we have reams of paperwork to wade through and a bunch of explanations. But I know a guy who doesn't worry about those details…”

“Does he work out of the back room of a bar?”

“Do pigs like mud?” Well, he really did not say “mud” but close enough…

“Sounds like a perfect destination then,” I replied.