The thing stood until it blotted out the street lights at the mouth of the alley.

As if to replace them, a line of searing light opened below the sizzling eyes.

A mouth. Or a beak, more accurately.

The sound that came out of the beak could barely be classified as a growl. It was the rumble that made your floor vibrate when a cumulus cloud had picked your house to grow fat and dark over, combined with a phlegmy, organic snarl that brought it down to earth just enough to stop you from forgetting the situation.

Here, 'you' would be Anthony, and 'the situation' would be the part where a god had him by the arm.

The beast narrowed its fiery eyes and yanked the hunter up into the air like a ragdoll.