Police lights greeted Captain Renard's arrival at Columbia Park. He checked in with the precinct as he pulled into a parking spot.

"Tell me what's up at Columbia Park?"

"We got a call about eight minutes ago about an assault. The caller asked for two ambulances and hung up. Lieutenant Rogers arrived three minutes later. Our last report is female victim with a possible concussion and a badly injured suspect."

Renard climbed out of the car. "Who injured the suspect?"

"No idea, sir. You'd have to ask Rogers."

"I'll do that. Thank you,"

Paramedics were hovering over two separate figures. An officer was also with each group. The first group that Renard passed was rather messy. The EMTs had just stabilized the man's vital signs though he remained unconscious. Lieutenant Rogers was standing by on alert just in case he woke and caused trouble. The victim was several feet away, wrapped in a blanket and holding an icepack to her head as a paramedic shined a light into her eyes. She didn't seem entirely coherent.

"I never saw him before… just came out … the bushes. I yelled but…hit me."

"Captain Renard?" Rogers called. Renard stepped over. "What are you doing here—Sir?"

"I was going to enjoy a nice evening stroll," he began. "What happened?"

Rogers gave a wry smile. "You won't believe it."

"You're new on our force, son. Try me. "

Rogers shrugged. "Starts out normal. Lowlife bum grabs a woman walking home from the grocery store through the park. Mrs. Sanchez lives two blocks away and shops at the bodega on the other side of the park. We found her bags just through the trees. She'll need a new carton of eggs."

"I think we can arrange to get her some on the way home?" Renard suggested.

Rogers blinked, but nodded. "Consider it done. Well, there are gouges in the grass near the bags that make it clear that she was grabbed and fought. Then she was dragged into those bushes over there. EMTs say she was hit on the left temple and may have a concussion."

Renard eyed the poor woman. She didn't seem to be bleeding or injured elsewhere. She would probably be fine. He might have to expand a beat to get more officers in this area earlier in the day. Even now the sun wasn't quite down.

"So how did our suspect wind up like that?"

Rogers shifted nervously. "That we don't know. Mrs. Sanchez hasn't been up to saying much yet. Nothing that we couldn't piece together ourselves. But she doesn't seem to have been in any condition to do that herself."

"What are his injuries? "

"Now that's where it gets really weird."

"I'll say," said an EMT. They had strapped the suspect onto a gurney and were preparing to load him into an ambulance. "Sir?" he said to Renard.

"Go ahead."

"He shows several sets of injuries. There are lacerations on almost all exposed areas. The patterns suggest claws, though the cuts are much too fine to be any animal claws I know of. Also the cuts are too precise. Both wrists were slit. He easily could have bled out. Based on the blood pattern in the bushes over there I'd say he's lost at least two units of blood. He also shows blunt force trauma to head, ribs, and knees. I'd guess being struck with on oversized baseball bat."

"You mean like a club?"

"Possibly?" the EMT continued. "One of the blows is an inch from the sternum, specifically from the xiphoid."

"An inch from being fatal," Renard clarified.

The EMT nodded and continued. "The throat was nearly crushed, though the damage wasn't lethal. Combined with blood loss it's no wonder he passed out. And finally, he has stab wounds. The docs at the hospital will be able to tell you more, but based on size and shape my guess is that he was stabbed with a spear."

"A spear?"

"Well, I can tell you the blade was at least three and a half inches wide, maybe four, and almost an inch thick."

"Three and a half inches wide?" Renard said incredulously. "How does that happen?"

"Like I said," the EMT replied. "It's a guess. But the guy has lost at least one kidney and his right quad will not be same again."

"Yeah, or his left knee," said Rogers. "Sir, whoever did this wasn't just diffusing a situation. They were sending a message."

Renard nodded, thinking. "So we have three different ways our suspect almost died. Have we found any evidence of a third party?"

"Other than the injuries? No. There are no weapons or significant footprints to indicate a third party."

"And no other witnesses?"

"Just our 911 caller." Rogers gestured to the side where his partner, Officer Cejka, was talking with a woman in running gear.

As Renard glanced up the woman also glanced his direction. A light flickered over her face and he recognized her.

"Mira?" He walked over so quickly he might have jumped. "What on earth are you doing here?"

She smiled a bit awkwardly.

Officer Cejka spoke up. "Captain Renard? I didn't know they called you. Ms. Spiegel is our 911 caller."

"Really? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, honestly. I heard her yelling from the path, saw him drag her into the bushes and then I made the call. That's it."

Renard nodded absently. She certainly seemed fine. A bit tired perhaps, but certainly not injured. It even looked like she had fresh lip gloss.

"Ms. Spiegel, I just have one last question," Officer Cejka said. "In your call to 911 you asked for two ambulances, and you said that before mentioning police. How did you know to ask for ambulances?"

Mira shrugged. "I heard a blow; it seemed obvious."

"But why two?"

She shrugged again. "Better to be prepared."

Officer Cejka nodded but seemed skeptical. "And you're sure you didn't see anything after that?"

"I'm afraid not," Mira looked disappointed. "It didn't seem wise to get closer. I'm so sorry. I wish I could be more helpful. It happened so fast and I was kind of freaking out at the time."

Officer Cejka sighed. "No problem. That's understandable. Thank you so much for your time. I'll call you if I have any more questions, and you have my card. Sir." She nodded to Renard then walked over to their victim.

"You're sure you're okay?" Renard asked again.

She laughed a bit. "Yes, I'm fine honestly."

"I'm sorry your welcome to Portland has been so complicated."

"Oh, I'm not worried. Or put off! Life is a pretty weird thing most of the time. Though, this…" She put her hands up. "You know. I'm not going to go there. I think my run is officially over. So I'm going to pick up a drin—"

She was cut off by a loud sob from the victim. Officer Cejka was crouching next to the woman, letting her ramble.

"He—he changed! He turned into-into a—a—thing!"

"A thing?" Cejka said gently.

The woman nodded fiercely. "A monster!"

Baka. ¡Cállate! Mira was muttering to herself.

"What?" Renard asked.

Mira glanced up. "Oh, nothing. I just feel sorry for her."

"He had—scales! And," the woman fluttered her hands near her mouth, "teeth!"

Cejka waited a moment as the woman regained some composure. " Teeth?"

"Yes! Teeth—fangs! It was horrible. I know it's—crazy but… and then suddenly she was there."

"She?" said Lieutenant Rogers, coming up behind Cejka. The ambulance had left with the suspect and he had come over.

"Are you saying there was another person involved?" Cejka pressed.

Mira sighed. "Shall we leave them to it?"

Renard glanced at her. She did look rather tired. "You were saying you wanted to get a drink? Did you have a place in mind? I could give you a lift."

"That would be lovely. Though, I didn't have anywhere particular in mind. It'd have to be someplace very casual." She gestured her running clothes. Renard noticed a dark speck on her nearly fluorescent running top. She must be chilly with the coat wrapped around her waist. He found himself reaching out and scratching at a speck. It didn't come off. Come to think of it, it looked an awful lot like… and her coat was tied inside out…

"Mira…?"

"—like a living mirror!" the woman cried. "I swear it's true. She was like an angel! Everything was shiny and… she was so fast. I hardly took a breath and then it was over and he was there on the ground… and she left."

Lieutenant Rogers and Officer Cejka shared a look. Renard sighed.

"Wait here," Renard whispered to Mira with a look at that meant he was serious. He walked over to the officers. "What have we got, Rogers?"

Rogers looked over, almost nonplussed. "Looks like there was a third person involved. Mrs. Sanchez reports a woman stepping between her and the suspect. But that's where it gets weird."

Cejka straightened up, frowning. "That's where it gets Portland," she muttered. Renard saw her glance at Mira.

Rogers continued. "Mrs. Sanchez claims that the suspect transformed into some kind of monster and that our mysterious third party also transformed but into some kind of angel."

"And then the angel beat the crap out of the monster?" Renard asked.

Cejka shook her head. "She seems a bit fuzzy—"

"A bit?" Rogers interjected.

Cejka continued. "If her timeline is to be believed the fight lasted about ten seconds."

Renard nodded thoughtfully. "Without a stop watch human perception of time is highly unreliable. How much of her report is influenced by her head injury?"

Cejka shrugged. "It's impossible to say, but potentially quite a bit, sir."

He nodded again. "Very well. For now I think it's clear there was a Good Samaritan involved, to whom we owe our gratitude for Mrs. Sanchez's safety. Follow up with her again when she's recovered. Maybe things will make more sense." He turned to leave then stopped. "For the record, whoever this Good Samaritan is, it'd be good for us to know. With such skills they could be involved with... unsavory characters. Start a file. But tracking them down isn't a priority. Don't sacrifice any other cases for this one."

He stepped away then turned back once more. "But do let me know if you come across any other incidents with this MO," he said quietly.

"Sir." They both replied.

Mira smiled as he approached. "Everything alright?"

"I think so. You still want that drink?"

"Oh, yes. My treat. As a thank you for the lift. But you get to pick the place."

Over the next week Mira went for back to Columbia Park to run four times. It was blessedly uneventful. Not that she'd really minded the excitement of Saturday, but it wasn't something she particularly wanted to repeat. The other walkers and runners were pleasant and friendly, for the most part. Early in the week it was fairly crowded, but then the clouds rolled in, the temperature dropped, and the crowd thinned. Some of that could be time of day, which changed depending on her class schedule.

She saw Sean twice that week. They kept it casual, meeting for lunch or coffee near the university. Most of their conversation was in French, and therefore overly simplistic. She wasn't sure why, but something was encouraging her to keep it that way. For now. He seemed to steer clear of deeper discussions and she had no reason to push. So she kept it fun and light. They talked about likes and dislikes and simple daily activities. She learned that Sean liked opera, red wine, Mediterranean seafood (but not American seafood), and his favorite dog was a French breed called a Cursinu.

Of course, all he really knew about her was that she spoke four languages, liked running, reading, and watching anime. Still, the prospect of more meaningful conversations was quite the motivator and her French was improving rapidly.

She turned onto the university parking lot and noticed a station wagon parked on the side street. It wasn't particularly remarkable, except that it had been parked less than a block from her house all day yesterday. And hadn't she seen it in front of Safeway two days ago?

She parked at the opposite end of the lot, rather far from her building, and took a circuitous route around the center of campus to approach her building from the back. Her office was simultaneously sparse and elegant, with a few touches revealing her inner fun-loving geek. Her first stop was the electric kettle in the corner and a mug of steaming Genmaicha. While her computer warmed up and synched all her apps she peeked out the window at the quad. Nothing seemed amiss, but she stayed just a few minutes to be sure. Students and professors strolled, strode, and sprinted down the various paths. Some lounged on park benches, others sat hunched over textbooks and tablets on the grass in the sunshine. Oh, and a few…

There! Almost across the quad but far to the right was a man with two companions. He wore an old hoodie, fraying at the cuffs and with a pizza sauce stain on the right elbow. The same stain she had noticed on the young man she had seen taking selfies at the park the other day. Every few words he, or one of his companions glanced up at her building. One of the companions wore a cheap fedora, also old with a distinctive striped tie wrapped around the crown. When Fedora scratched his ear, Mira noticed a hole near the third knuckle on the left fingerless knit glove. The same rip on the same glove with the same hat that had hovered in the coffee shop yesterday morning.

She stepped back from the window and thought hard. Perhaps it was nothing, but her instincts said this was definitely not nothing. She was being watched. She quickly catalogued all the times she had seen anyone connected to the three outside. How many people were involved? Who were they with? What did they want? Could she prove she was being followed? Did she have enough evidence that didn't raise questions about unusual abilities? A normal person would need binoculars to see the details she had just seen. It was possible she could handle the situation, just like in the park last week. But she didn't know yet what she was dealing with. If she was being over confident there was a good chance they could find her in a dumpster in the morning. And even if she did manage to survive whatever these goons had in store there was a greater chance of… things getting out if they were handled the wrong way.

She pulled out her phone.

"Hi Sean. Actually, I have a favor to ask. I'm being followed. "