[h3]Adam Temple[/h3]

"Everything is documented and there are those living who were present to witness the event," Temple didn't confirm or deny if he were one, but did blow a thoughtful smoke ring, taking a few moments to let it drift towards the ceiling.

"Miss Treich," he said after a moment, "there is no end to the dusty old tomes the night watch has!  And if that interests you I can arrange for you to see some.  But if someone does not wish to believe they will treat them as every bit as fictitious as one of my novels.  A medieval bestiary full of superstitious nonsense.

"I do not aim to move anyone with words, written or spoken," he added, "The proof, as they say in England, is in the pudding.  We may find some terrifying hell spawn in this city.  Or we may find a murderer akin to the one in Whitechapel when I was a teenager.  Or we might simply find rabid, neglected hounds.  I would be most surprised if it were the latter, but I will keep an open mind.  All I ask of our skeptics is that, for now, they do also."