“Hunter’s voice was quiet and intense. She did not break her step as she spoke. ‘I fought in the sewers beneath New York with the great blind white alligator-king. He was thirty feet long, fat from sewage and fierce in battle. And I bested him, and I killed him. His eyes were like huge pearls in the darkness.” Her strangely accented voice echoed in the underground, twined in the mist, in the night beneath the Earth.
‘I fought the bear that stalked the city beneath Berlin. He had killed a thousand men, and his claws were stained brown and black from the dried blood of a hundred years, but he fell to me. He whispered words in a human tongue as he died.’ The mist hung low on the lake. Richard fancied that he could see the creatures she spoke of, white shapes writhing in the vapor. ‘There was a black tiger in the undercity of Calcutta. A man-eater, brilliant and bitter, the size of a small elephant. A tiger is a worthy adversary. I took him with my bare hands.’
Richard glanced at Door. She was listening to Hunter intently: this was news to her too, then. ‘And I shall slay the Beast of London. They say his hide bristles with swords and spears and knives stuck in him by those who have tried and failed. His tusks are razors, and his hooves are thunderbolts. I will kill him, or I will die in the attempt.’
Her eyes shone as she spoke of her prey.”