Tony counted:
“One—two—three—”
Give the stone time to pick up speed in free fall. The time a parachuting flier waits before he opens his parachute.
“Eight—nine—ten— Geronimo! ” said Tony.
He ran like the devil for fifty yards, stopped, and watched the spot where he had been. Then his jaw dropped open. His topcoat was running like the devil, too. The bush on which he had draped it was in full flight. As he stared, he saw the twinkling of pink legs under it. Then his topcoat stopped, and turned, and he saw Nasim in human form inside it. She waved gaily to him.
“Hello!” she called brightly. “I’m helping, too!”
WHOOOOOSH!
Something smacked the desert a mighty blow. Dust arose as from a bomb explosion. A concussion wave spread out with such power that Tony felt a puff of wind, and the topcoat went sailing from around Nasim. She had been forgetful again. She went after the coat and picked it up, swinging it cheerily in one hand as she turned to watch.
Es-Souk arose from the crater which he had made as a stone. He had a new form. He was huge and—now—black and terrible to behold. He was a giant of ebony flesh with four-foot tusks and hands whose clawed fingertips were feet in length.
Tony ran toward him, blowing on the wick of the cigarette lighter.