Page 19 of Anatomy of the Immortal Species
Amelia gathered all her recovered strength and slammed her elbow into his stomach.
The man didn’t even flinch. He only tightened his grip on her. “Ouch!” he mocked. “I can’t say I didn’t see that coming this time. Isn’t she cute?” He traced her jawline with a finger.
She hit him again, in the same spot.
“Stop it!” Amelia didn’t listen. Instead, she drove her one good heel into his foot. “I said,stop!” he repeated, still holding on to her.
A wheezy, husky laugh interrupted them. “That chick beat you up bad, dude!”
All three turned towards the pile of rags on the ground, from which a puffy face emerged. The homeless man, whose presence Amelia had completely forgotten, had woken up. His smile vanished as quickly as it appeared. “Where’s my vodka?!” Dirty fingers crawled out from under the pile, searching the ground around him. “You drank it all, you fuckers! You drank it! It was right here.” His eyes widened. “MAFIA!” he chanted. “MAFIA! MAFIA!”
Mikhail pounced on Amelia and the man, sending them both tumbling to the ground. Somehow, Amelia was pushed aside, while Mikhail landed on the stranger. Leaning on her bruised elbows, she propelled herself up onto her feet, realising that Mikhail had been the one to shove her out of harm’s way.
Her eyes fixed on his broad figure struggling for control over the reptilian. Mikhail’s fingers clamped around the man’s wrist, still holding the knife. He twisted the blade forward while the man struggled to break free from the manticore’s weight. Mikhail’s face twisted with tension, and the muscles on his back strained against the seams of his jacket as he fought to overpower the stranger.
For a split second, Amelia thought Mikhail might shift into his secondary form – the winged lion, the spirit inside him that was an integral part of who he was.
Then the knife clattered to the ground. The stranger freed his fist and slammed it sideways into Mikhail’s jaw.
For the next few minutes, they were nothing more than a blur of hits and roars, rolling over one another in a vicious struggle, each trying to gain the upper hand. The stench of blood hung thick in the cold air, while Amelia hovered like a helpless observer, unsure of what to do.
“Right! Left!” the homeless man cheered, occasionally shouting out advice.
The stranger tore himself free from Mikhail, rising to his feet as if the fight had barely cost him any strength. He brushed a flattened lock of hair from his forehead and smiled, revealing two sharp teeth.
“Let’s get to business,” he said, his smile widening as those sharp teeth gleamed.
Amelia swallowed the panic rising in her throat. A moment ago, those fangs hadn’t been there. And neither had the thin, long, forkedthingnow flicking between them. A forked tongue.
The man laughed, his tongue extending almost twenty inches from his mouth. It was rose-red and slick, streaked with blue-violet veins that saturated the split tip.
She thought about the homeless man. He made no sound despite the grotesque scene. Amelia didn’t dare look at him,knowing that whatever was happening to the stranger was a transformation. She expected him to cry out as Mikhail had the few times she’d witnessed him transform. But nothing of the sort happened. He was still the same man – dishevelled, his suit torn, and with blood dripping from his mouth. But now, several asymmetrical dark spots shadowed parts of his face.
Snake spots. A reptilian.
An insane need for reassurance had Amelia seeking Mikhail’s gaze, but his golden eyes were glued to the creature facing them. The stranger extended his upturned palm towards her. “Are you coming, love?” he rasped.
Yet another difference from Mikhail. In his secondary form, the manticore couldn’t speak…
Mikhail threw his jacket to the ground and arched his back in a painful spasm. His limbs and torso expanded, dark, dense fur sprouting over his body. Amelia blinked, trying to process the transformation. Something was wrong, but she couldn’t pinpoint what…
The clothes. The last two times she’d seen Mikhail transform, his clothes had been torn apart under the strain of his growing muscles. But now, they seemed to have disappeared into some invisible space.
Her thoughts of his clothing evaporated while she took in the awe-inspiring sight before her. Mikhail’s face had become a lion’s muzzle, framed by a magnificent dark brown mane. A sinewy tail extended from his lower spine, ending in a sharp spike. The black wings on his back were folded between his shoulder blades. He stood on his hind legs, his golden eyes still locked on the stranger.
The smile on the stranger’s face grew wide. He turned to Amelia. “Are you really into this, love? It has fur!”
Mikhail attacked, but the man seemed to have expected it because he turned on his toes. Flinging himself to the animal’sside, he drove his fist into its neck.
The manticore tackled the man to the ground, his massive body covering him. For a moment, Amelia couldn’t understand what was happening, her heart sinking when she glimpsed the blood staining Mikhail’s mane and fur.
Then Mikhail pulled back, revealing his enemy’s emaciated form. With a furious snarl, the manticore sank his teeth into the man’s neck. For several agonising seconds, the man kicked helplessly, trying to free himself from the powerful jaws clamped around his throat. Finally, his movements ceased.
It’s over, Amelia thought, feeling the tension drain from her. She wiped away the small beads of sweat from her forehead with a shaky hand.
Yet Mikhail continued to hold the lifeless body between his teeth, refusing to release his grip.
“Mikhail, stop!” Amelia screamed, but he didn’t seem to hear her. “Mikhail, you’ll kill him! We need him alive!”
