instincts vs fetch

My instincts suddenly screamed, and I flung myself through the curtained doorway, getting clear of the hall, as something darted toward me from the hall's far end. I didn't want to catch any bullets or blasts of fire or hurled hammers from my backup.
There was a roar of sound from the hallway-something letting out a ululating howl, a heavy handgun, a roaring shotgun, and the buzzing snap of an arc of electricity. Blinding blue-white light blazed through the curtain as I dove through it-and showed me the fetch that had lurked in ambush on the other side.
It was crouched on top of the glass cabinet atop the concessions stand's popcorn machine, and had taken the form of a creature that could only loosely be called a "cat." It was twice Mister's size, and its moldy black fur stood out in tufts and spikes. Its shoulders were hunched, almost deformed with muscle, and its muzzle was broad and filled with teeth too heavy to belong to any feline short of a lion. Its eyes gleamed with a sickly, greenish luminescence, and it flashed through the air, claws extended, teeth bared, emitting a mind-splitting howl of rage.


Proven Guilty Chapter 35, Page 285