Spring 1946 – A Lurking of Monsters

 

“My name is Archie,” said the manticore. His Greek had a strange accent to it, as if he had not spoken it in quite some time. “Do forgive me for not shaking your hand. My paws are quite filthy at the moment.”

“I take no offense,” I said. “How may I help you?”

“I believe we are both seeking the same quarry. I wanted to propose a partnership,” he said.