But then I remember it isn’t just the two of us.

With a shriek, Dust, still in falcon form, dive-bombs the General. His talons sink deep into the General’s face, the huge Mogadorian grunting in pain before he manages to backhand Dust away.

It’s exactly the distraction I need. Quickly, I form another fireball and pitch it at the General. This time, he doesn’t have a chance to get his sword up, and the fire hits him right in the chest. I expect him to at least be knocked off his feet, but the General merely stumbles back a few steps. The front of his uniform burns away, revealing a carapace of obsidian Mogadorian armor beneath.

Dust, stunned by the blow, flops into the grass at the General’s feet. He brings his sword down hard at the Chimæra, but Dust transforms into a snake at the last second and manages to slither through the grass away from the blade. The General, fresh claw marks across his face, swings his gaze back to me.

“Hiding behind your pets!” the General bellows. “Disgraceful. Fight me with honor, boy. No more tricks.”

I hold up my hand and smile at the General, noticing the birds fluttering in from all sides. “Hold on. Just one more trick.”

And that’s when the rhinoceros drops from the sky.

One moment the Chimæra—I’m not even sure which one—is a robin flying innocently above the heads of the Mogadorians; the next it’s a half-ton African rhino belly-flopping on top of them. A couple of the Mogs on the porch are crushed outright, the wood breaking and splintering, the front of the house even sinking a little at the beast’s weight. Another Mog is gored by the rhino as it starts to rampage around. The other Mogs spill into the yard, blasters firing. They aren’t laughing anymore. This whole noble execution the General had them watching has been ruined by our small army of Chimærae.

It’s chaos. All around us, birds are morphing into more lethal forms—a bear, a couple of jungle cats and a lumbering lizard thing that I think is a Komodo dragon—and running down the Mogadorians. I see some of the Chimærae sustain blaster burns as the Mogs fire madly at them, trying desperately to regroup. They won’t be able to hold out long. For once, we’ve got the element of surprise.

“Looks like you should be the one running,” I yell at the General as I square up with him. Truth be told, I’m not sure what to do with him. He is Adam’s father, after all. Adam told me to show no mercy, but it still feels wrong to kill a father in front of his son, even if they are Mogadorians. I glance over to Adam, hoping he’ll at least give me a thumbs-up or thumbs-down, but he’s still crumpled in the grass, struggling to pick himself up. Dust is next to him in wolf form, also looking a little beaten up, gently licking Adam’s face.