by C. E. Martin
The thrown axe emerged from the stream of flame and slammed into Ketzkahtel’s forehead, right above and between his dragon eyes. The axe head, designed for chopping through steel doors in an emergency, cleaved skin and bone, burying itself to the handle.
The dragon’s flame sputtered out as its eyes rolled up in its head. As the dragon slumped lifeless to the concrete pool patio, Kenslir splashed back down into the water, once again beginning the regeneration of all his burns.
Kenslir swam to the edge of the pool, away from the dragon, closer to Josie. He stood up out of the water, skin regenerated, hair slowly growing again. His pants were bloody and ripped. His legs, now fully regenerated, were covered in just long strips of blood-stained fabric.
Josie ran to the edge of the pool to see if Mark was okay.
Agent Keen stepped away from the wall of the hotel and waved for his men to come out. Five agents tentatively stepped out of the broken window. The five approached the felled dragon slowly, pistols drawn and ready.
Kenslir stood on the submerged steps of the pool, letting his body draw in the water so he could finish his regeneration. His fresh, light skin darkened back to its tan color.
“Are you okay?” Josie asked.
Kenslir held up a finger and turned his head to the side. He spit out a liter of water, his lungs fully regenerated now from the fire he had inadvertently inhaled. His eyebrows and flattop grew back into place.
“I need another shirt,” Kenslir said. He stepped up out of the pool, Josie moving out of his way.
By the dragon, Keen and his agents were leaning in close, watching it closely. They had all holstered their weapons. Suddenly, the dragon’s eyes opened.
The dragon lifted its head, the axe falling out as it began to quickly shrink back into Ketzkahtel’s natural form- the giant.
The panicked agents all leapt back, clawing at their holstered pistols. Ketzkahtel swept his long, six-fingered arms out, knocking the six humans off their feet. Two were knocked into the pool.
Ketzkahtel grabbed Keen, spinning the agent around and pulling him in close, like a human shield. Ketzkahtel quickly shrank down to the form of the telepath Echo and hid behind Keen.
Kenslir stepped around in front of Josie, while Keen’s three agents suddenly stiffened and spasmed briefly. All three agents then rose slowly, robotically, to their feet. They drew their pistols and aimed them at Kenslir and Josie.
Kenslir turned around, pushing Josie down to a crouching position and stooped over, shielding her with his body. The agents began to fire their weapons.
Josie could just feel the impact of the bullets as they slammed into Kenslir’s back, shaking his body with each hit. But Kenslir remained unmoving, ignoring the hail of bullets tearing into his back.
When the agents had emptied their pistols, Kenslir quickly turned around and began to walk toward them. Josie could see at least twenty wounds in Kenslir’s back. Even the back of his head dripped blood. For a moment.
As Kenslir stormed over to the closest of the agents, all of whom were methodically reloading their weapons, Josie could see lead fragments pushing out of the wounds in his back.
As the first agent finished his reload, he extended his arm, aiming the pistol at Kenslir. Before he could fire, Kenslir grabbed the agent with both hands, crushing the agent’s gun hand, and lifting him off his feet. Without even slowing his pace, Kenslir threw the agent up and over his shoulder. The agent landed hard at Josie’s feet, his gun clattering out of a broken hand and onto the concrete by her feet.
The next mind-controlled agent was ready, and stepped in as Kenslir reached him. He began firing his pistol as rapidly as he could, pumping rounds directly into Kenslir’s chest.
Kenslir ignored the bullets tearing through his skin, flattening against his ribs or punching holes in his stomach and intestines. He swatted the agent aside as though he were hitting a mosquito. Bones broke as the agent was sent hurtling over the pool. He splashed down in the deep end.
The third agent was now firing as well. Ketzkahtel maneuvered him into a solid shooting stance, carefully aiming at Kenslir’s face. Bullets began to fly.
Kenslir ignored the first few rounds that tore into his lips, struck his teeth. He lunged forward and let loose an uppercut punch.
The agent caught the punch in his chest- it doubled him over and lifted him off his feet. Kenslir let his fist push against the agent, sending him up and over Ketzkahtel’s head. The agent struck the ground behind the shapeshifter and his hostage, unconscious.
Ketzkahtel smiled nervously.
Suddenly, Keen lifted his pistol. But instead of aiming at Kenslir, the mesmerized agent jammed the pistol into his own mouth.
“Stop! Or I'll kill this man!” Ketzkahtel said with Echo’s voice. He knew these modern humans cared about one another.
Kenslir, now just fifteen feet away from Ketzkahtel stopped. He shoved both hands in the pockets of his tattered pants. His face was already turning back to flesh, the bullet wounds healed.
“Put your hands up!” Ketzkahtel screamed.
Kenslir shrugged, then whipped both hands out with blinding speed. His left hand opened and he released his old, partially-melted Kabar in an underhand throw. The knife streaked across the short gap between them faster than Ketzkahtel could react. It speared directly into Ketzkahtel’s eye, the six-inch blade driving deep into his brain.
Ketzkahtel staggered back, releasing his mental and physical hold on Keen. The freed agent collapsed to the ground, unconscious. In the pool, two of Keen’s men tried to help their fallen comrade Kenslir had batted out of his way.
Ketzkahtel recovered his footing and stood up straight. He reached up and casually pulled the Kabar from his eye.
“Well, played, Colonel,” the shapeshifter said. “But now I have a knife.”
From behind Kenslir, still standing by the fallen Secret Service agent he had thrown there, Josie spoke. “And I have a gun.”
Kenslir turned around and saw Josie holding the fallen agent’s pistol in both hands. She trembled slightly as she tried to aim the pistol at Ketzkahtel.
Ketzkahtel smiled. He transformed from Echo into the shape of Josie’s best friend since kindergarten, Jimmy.
“You wouldn't shoot me, would you?” Jimmy taunted Josie. He stood there, naked- defenseless except for Kenslir’s knife he clutched in one hand.
Kenslir turned back to Ketzkahtel and saw the form he had taken.
Josie’s lips trembled and she tried to hold back tears. She knew too well that if the shapeshifter could take this form it could only mean Jimmy was dead. Jimmy, who had never wanted to go along on this adventure. Who’d secretly had feelings for her all these years.
“That was the wrong body to take,” Kenslir told the shapeshifter.
Josie knew it wasn’t her friend Jimmy looking at her. She squeezed the trigger of the pistol. The shot went wide, ricocheting off an umbrella pole behind and to the right of Ketzkahtel.
The shapeshifter was impressed the human could even try to shoot her friend. Maybe she didn’t know just how much this Jimmy had been in love with her. But enough was enough. Ketzkahtel threw down Kenslir’s Kabar knife.
“Enough!” the shapeshifter yelled. He quickly transformed back to his giant form.
“I will consume you both!”
The transformation continued, the giant’s huge body turning red, swelling, growing scales. His neck stretched as his head swelled and formed the dragon’s head. The giant’s limbs swelled, forming the four legs of the fire-breathing monster. A tail and one wing sprouted from its back.
Kenslir immediately noticed this. The dragon now only had one wing. The other was still laying on the side of the pool.
“So... there are limits to what you can regenerate,” Kenslir told the dragon.
Ketzkahtel glanced over his left shoulder. Of course his wing was still severed. He didn’t have the energy left to completely restore this, his favorite stolen form. But he didn’t need win
gs. He would burn them both alive, then burn them to ash.
Ketzkahtel turned back to Kenslir and opened his mouth wide, roaring in fury. Kenslir sprinted forward, legs carrying him almost twice as fast as the fastest Olympic runner.
The fire in Ketzkahtel’s throat swelled out, directly toward Kenslir- who dropped to the deck, sliding under the flames. Fire burned off Kenslir’s flattop, passing over him and missing Josie by several feet.
The flames splashed against the windows on the back of the hotel, making the assembled reporters and patrons recoil in fear. But the glass held, blackening under the terrific heat.
Kenslir slid up under the dragon’s front legs. He smashed his right hand into the dragon’s chest, his fingers held flat, knife-like. Kenslir felt scales shatter, flesh part from his blow. He punched through the dragon’s chest and deep into its body.
Ketzkahtel’s stream of fire ended and he threw back his head and screamed in pain. He felt Kenslir’s stone-hard fingers wrap around his dragon heart. No one had ever thought to do this to the shapeshifter before. He felt fear.
Ketzkahtel reared up on his hind legs, trying to get away from Kenslir. But the Colonel held his grip, his arm buried to the elbow in the dragon’s chest. Now standing, he placed his feet on the concrete and ripped his arm back out.
The shapeshifter’s heart was torn free.
Kenslir looked down at the dragon heart, almost as large as a basketball, dripping blood and still beating.
Ketzkahtel staggered back on his hind legs. Then he began to shrink, transforming into his giant form. But instead of being a whole giant, the shapeshifter still had a gaping hole in his chest, blood pouring out.
“Regenerate that,” Kenslir said, noticing the dragon heart had shrunk as well, transforming back into the giant’s heart.
Ketzkahtel staggered back on his feet. He was weak. Shock showed on his face. He could not believe what had just happened. He fell backwards, crashing down on an overturned table. It held him up, in a seated position, his legs sprawled out in front of him.
Kenslir turned away from the giant and hurled the heart into the air. His throw carried it up and away, where it disappeared from sight.
Ketzkahtel started to spit up blood. His legs had grown numb and his vision was getting blurry. He wondered if this was what all his countless thousands of victims had felt like as they died. He extended a bloody hand toward Kenslir, as if for help.
Josie walked up, stepping past Kenslir. She stopped at the giant’s feet and extended her arm, aiming her pistol at the fallen shapeshifter. Her tears had dried up. She looked at the giant coldly, emotionlessly.
Josie began firing her pistol.
The bullets tore into the giant’s chest, punching through his flesh and bone. There was no instant repair of the injuries. Pain flared in his chest.
Josie slowly, methodically, fired, correcting her aim, and walking her shots up the giant’s body. Bullets began to tear into the giant’s neck, then his chin. He felt a round shatter his double row of front teeth, rip through his tongue and into his throat. The pain was excruciating, almost as bad as when he’d been beaten and imprisoned for millennia.
More bullets slammed into the giant. First one up his nose, then one into his eye. Two more rounds hammered into the giant’s skull, shattering bone and pulping his brain. Josie continued to shoot- five more times, before her pistol was empty.
The giant Ketzkahtel lay unmoving, his face a grisly mess, partly spread out on the overturned table behind him, along with a great portion of his brains.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
In the aftermath of the fight with the shapeshifter, the hotel had become a hot bed of activity. Military helicopters had flown in, armed troops spilling out and forming a perimeter. Local, State and Federal law enforcement had swarmed over the area, securing the many reporters and witnesses. Ambulances were everywhere, treating minor injuries and checking people for shock.
Kenslir and Josie stood by one such ambulance in front of the hotel. Kenslir now wore a Desert Oasis hotel t-shirt. He was fully regenerated, his out-dated flattop restored and no sign of injury or his battle on him.
Josie was wearing a matching t-shirt. She was getting her arm bandaged- she had cut her elbow in several places breaking the glass to get out the fireaxe for Mark. She would need stitches.
Now that it was over, Josie sat in shock, thinking about the past few days. She couldn’t believe Jimmy was gone. All she could remember was him clinging to the shapeshifter’s leg in the elevator, telling her to run. And she had. She was ashamed of herself.
Kenslir watched the girl closely. He was very impressed with her, but he worried about what she was so deeply thinking about.
Josie glanced up. She saw Mark staring at her. He had that same look of concern her mother often gave her.
“You look better with a shaved head,” Josie said, trying to smile.
“I know. But it just keeps growing back.”
Another black suited agent approached. He leaned in and whispered something in Kenslir’s ear. The Colonel’s face became very grim.
“Stay here,” Kenslir said. “I'll be back in a minute.”
Kenslir turned and walked away with the agent. They walked across the area crowded with emergency vehicles, toward the front entrance of the hotel. There, two paramedics were waiting with a gurney that held a black body bag.
Kenslir opened the bag and looked inside. It was Jimmy’s body.
The teenager’s face was frozen with a look of terror. His gray shirt was bloody, torn open, with a gaping hole in his chest where the shapeshifter had ripped out his heart.
Kenslir closed the body bag and turned to the agent beside him. He began to give the agent instructions.
Josie, her arm now bandaged, watched all this from the back of the ambulance. She couldn’t see who was in the body bag, but cold chills ran up her back.
Josie got up from the ambulance, and walked slowly toward Kenslir and the body bag. Her heart was pounding. Her throat was very dry.
Kenslir turned and saw Josie approaching. He stepped away from the gurney, holding up his hands. “Don’t.”
Josie felt sick to her stomach. “What?” she asked hoarsely. “Is that Jimmy?”
She hoped, she prayed, it wasn’t. Maybe the shapeshifter could take forms without killing people? She tried to step around Kenslir to see for herself.
Kenslir held Josie firmly by the shoulders. He turned and nodded to the agent and paramedics. They began to walk away with the gurney and body bag.
Josie struggled against Kenslir, trying to break free. He held her shoulders, his grip unbreakable, but not painful.
“Jimmy!” Josie yelled, panicked as the body was wheeled away “Jimmy!”
Kenslir wasn’t sure what to say. This wasn’t a soldier to be consoled after the death of a comrade. This was a child- a girl. And she had just lost a loved one.
“Calm down,” Kenslir said softly. This was out of his area of expertise.
Josie struggled again and Kenslir released her. She stepped away from him. Her face was red and tears were again streaming down her cheeks.
“Calm down? Calm down?” Josie said. “Jimmy's dead!”
Josie wanted to be angry- angry at Kenslir, but she was overwhelmed by grief and guilt. Jimmy was dead. It was all her fault for making him come along.
Kenslir considered the sobbing girl for several seconds.
“We may be able to fix that,” he said.
***
Hours later, after the scene of the shapeshifter battle had calmed down, and civilians had been removed, and the helicopters had begun leaving, a coyote came out of the desert.
Small, brown, with mangy fur, the hungry canine trotted along the road that ran past the hotel. It was some thousand feet away from the humans and all their activity. But it knew where it was- it had rummaged through the garbage cans of the hotel many times for scraps.
The coyote sniffed along the edge of the road, looking
for food. Its sensitive nose caught a whiff of something and it trotted quickly away, off the road.
The coyote followed the scent. It passed small scrub brushes, its nose going back and forth from sniffing the air, to sniffing the ground. The smell grew stronger.
The coyote finally found the source of the smell- a wet lump, covered in dirt and sand, about the size of a softball. Food.
The coyote pawed at the dirty lump, flipping it over. It was a heart.
The heart beat once, scaring the coyote, who recoiled. But hunger brought it back. It sniffed at the heart, then licked it. Fresh blood.
The coyote bit into the heart. Then it held the heart down with its paws and tore a chunk of flesh off. The flesh was still warm.
The coyote, ravenous as it always was, began to tear the heart apart, gulping down mouthful after mouthful. In just a few moments it had consumed the entire heart.
The coyote sat on its haunches, licking blood off its mouth, then paws. Suddenly, it whimpered.
The coyote leapt to its feet and spun around, biting at its own side. The side bulged. The coyote was in pain now, growling and snapping at its sides as they bulged and heaved, as though something were growing inside it.
The coyote suddenly expanded, hair falling off as its skin turned red and scales began to grow. The small canine expanded rapidly to the size of a horse. Its ratty tail elongated, turning hairless and also growing scales. Wings sprouted from its back and its limbs thickened, sprouting grasping claws.
In seconds, the coyote had turned into a red, four-legged, winged dragon.
The dragon looked over at the hotel over a thousand feet away. Its eyes narrowed angrily.
With a beat of its enormous wings, the dragon leapt up into the sky and flew away.
EPILOGUE
It was a day after the shapeshifter’s slaying, and Josie found herself in a military helicopter, flying over Miami.
After the hotel, Kenslir had escorted her to a black, government SUV. They had ridden together to a small airfield, where a four-engined, private passenger jet awaited. More SUVs arrived, with suited agents loading Jimmy’s body bag, and a much larger one, into the plane’s cargo hold. Josie guessed the larger body was the shapeshifter’s.
