Pure Destiny

by Aja James

  “No, I imagine had you been, you wouldn’t be here now,” Rhys quipped.

  No one took offense at his casual sarcasm. They’d understood early on that the eagle liked to diffuse tension with flippancy. And they could all use a little reprieve from tension while they still had the opportunity.

  “The hellfire of a dragon is said to burn silvery blue in the dark, almost invisible in the light,” Tal explained. “As such, you feel it before you see it, making it much more dangerous and deadly. It is stronger than regular fire in that it can exist without air. Even in water, hellfire will burn. In fact, perhaps it is most potent in water, for it is said that dragons who breathe it tend to dwell most comfortably in lakes and beneath the sea.”

  “Well, that explains the location we’re headed towards,” Rhys said. “All it shows in my GPS is a large body of water.”

  “The Hydra prefers underwater caves as her base,” Dalair inserted. “Do not engage her in the water. She is most deadly there. She can grow to the size of a four-story building last I recalled, though that might not be her greatest size. Do not let her form deceive you. She is most agile and fast in water. The Hydra is a water snake, after all.”

  “At least it can’t fly,” Rhys said, ruffling the feathers of the wings he kept folded behind his back even in humanoid form.

  “But her reach is tremendous,” Tal reminded the young eagle spirit. “The long neck and tail, added to the range of the hellfire she breathes, will never let you close enough to do damage.”

  “I’m pretty good at maneuvering,” Rhys replied.

  “Do not underestimate the Hydra,” Dalair reiterated. “We engage her only as a distraction to get to the boy. We are not here to take her down. If the stars are aligned in our favor, perhaps we won’t have to engage her at all. Perhaps only her soldiers await.”

  “Well, we’ll soon find out,” Eli said quietly, his gaze trained on the gigantic lake below.

  “Brace yourselves.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Benji slowly rubbed his eyes open and blinked.

  The low light of his surroundings was soothing upon waking, allowing his still drowsy self to adjust.

  “Hello, little man.”

  He shifted his half-lidded gaze in the direction of the melodic voice and focused on the speaker.

  “Hullo.”

  She was sitting beside him on what seemed to be a gigantic bed, certainly much larger than his own back at the Shield, though his bed was bigger than most boys his age, according to his friends at school.

  He had what was called a “King” bed while his friends slept in “Twin” and “Full” beds. But what he really wanted was a “Bunk” bed. His room was large enough for at least three of them. That way, he could have lots of friends visit for sleep-overs. Alas, his parents didn’t even allow play-dates, unless it was Benji who visited other people’s houses.

  Only Annie got to visit, since she currently lived at the Cove amongst vampires.

  It made him a little sad, that he couldn’t have friends like other boys even though he was human too. Just a human that lived among vampires, fairies, animal spirits and other magical creatures. He supposed it was a reasonable trade—normal friends for access to a supernatural world—but it still made him sad sometimes.

  “Slept well, my darling?” the strange, beautiful woman asked, her voice a husky purr.

  But not the soothing kind of purr that Mama Bear rumbled when she was in her kitten form. This was more like a predatory purr.

  “Yes, thank you,” Benji answered politely, the way he was taught to interact with strangers. Or really anyone. Mom and Dad insisted that everyone deserved courtesy and respect.

  Nevertheless, curiosity won over polite, first-meeting distance.

  “Who are you?” he asked bluntly, sitting up.

  “I’m going to be your new best friend,” she said silkily, regarding him with those uncanny black eyes, the ones that looked like Sophia’s when the monster overtook her.

  They reminded Benji of spilled petroleum oil or tar. Those eyes seemed to taint everything they looked upon.

  “What’s your name?” he asked. “Shouldn’t I know that first before you claim friendship? Mine is Benjamin Larkin D’Angelo. Most people call me Benji.”

  He added silently that he’d prefer she didn’t call him that, for he was in no way comfortable enough in her presence to allow this familiarity. But he didn’t want to be outright rude.

  Her full, blood-red lips curled in a serpentine smile as if she heard his thoughts.

  “Such big words you say,” she murmured. “You speak as one who has many more years than you do.”

  He shrugged.

  “I live with lots of…old people. They tend to talk funny. I guess it rubs off on me.”

  He stared directly at her, into those eerie black orbs.

  “And you still haven’t told me your name.”

  “You may call me Lilith, little angel,” she finally conceded.

  “Lilith…” he tested the word on his tongue.

  Somehow, her name seemed familiar, though none of his friends or acquaintances had such a name.

  “Does it mean anything?” he asked.

  Living amongst ancient Immortals, Benji learned early on not to take names for granted. They always had meaning. Sometimes, even when it hadn’t been intended when the names had been chosen or given.

  “It comes from an older name, Lilītu,” she answered without really answering. “Do you know it?”

  Benji scrunched his face a little in concentration as he dug into his memory banks where all the random knowledge he’d accumulated thus far was stored.

  “The name of a Mesopotamian night demon? Also known as a Dark Angel? Storm Goddess?”

  He considered this for a few seconds, letting the implications sink in.

  And then he pronounced, “Cool name.”

  For a moment, she seemed nonplussed at his response. She blinked rapidly at him in some confusion, at a loss for words.

  “You…aren’t afraid?” she ventured tentatively, as if he was a strange, woodland creature that might disappear at any moment.

  He shrugged.

  “It’s just a name. Kind of a mouthful, even if you use the modern version of Lilith. Works a person’s tongue more than other names.”

  He stuck his tongue to his teeth as he pronounced her name a few times.

  “I’d much rather call you Lily. May I?”

  At this, she pulled back from him a little to regard him with more distance between them, as if the previous close proximity had distorted her vision.

  He could see that he perplexed her. This was not unusual, for Benji often had that effect on people.

  “You may not,” she finally answered, even though her statement wasn’t delivered with the fullest conviction, as if she was still debating within herself.

  He nodded, to give her the sense of agreement, but what he said was, “I think I will, anyway.”

  She arched a brow at that to show her displeasure at his presumption.

  He didn’t feel like he presumed. He felt like he knew her somehow. And he could sense that she felt the same. But neither of them knew precisely why.

  “Maybe if you hear it enough, Lily will grow on you,” he argued reasonably. “Much better than Lilith, don’t you think? One means Night Monster and the other one is a pretty, white, sweet-smelling flower.”

  She blinked owlishly at him, finally uttering, “You confound me.”

  Benji took that in stride, not taking offense.

  “I do that to a lot of people.”

  He looked around him then, taking in the sparsely furnished but richly appointed surroundings.

  Though they seemed to be in some kind of basement, maybe even a cave, the large chamber was outfitted with all kinds of luxuries—the gigantic bed, an intricately carved table and several chairs, fur rugs on the ground, and torches that burned with a silvery-blue fire. Similarly, lanterns hung from
invisible strings from the rocky ceiling, also filled with the same pale light, though the colored patterns of the lampshades gave them different colors.

  It was quite chilly in the cavernous space, but Benji was warm. It was then that he noticed the strange vest he was wearing over his clothes.

  He smoothed his fingers down the front of it, marveling at the texture. It retained warmth, like a person’s skin, but seemed to be made out of scales.

  “Where am I?” he queried, getting off the bed and starting to wander the room.

  She didn’t stop him, and she didn’t move, simply sitting still on the bed and observing him.

  “In my lair, angel,” she replied.

  He slid an exasperated look her way.

  “Why do you keep calling me that?”

  “Isn’t that your name? D’Angelo?”

  “But that’s not why you call me angel,” he argued.

  He didn’t know how he knew, he just did.

  She tilted her head and gazed at him unblinkingly.

  From any other person, Benji might have found the stare unnerving, but from her… somehow, he didn’t. There was something so very familiar and even comforting about her. He had the strangest notion that she would never harm him.

  Perhaps because she’d already inflicted the most grievous hurt she possibly could.

  He frowned at that errant thought. Where had that come from?

  “You look like an angel,” she said in that melodious, oddly resonating voice.

  “Those golden curls would put Cupid’s to shame. And there’s a halo of light that surrounds you, protecting you from evil things that lurk in the dark. Surely, you must be more than a mere mortal if you venture into a monster’s den and do not feel afraid.”

  “Are you a monster, then, like your name connotes?” Benji asked.

  He was on the far side of the chamber now, next to a large sarcophagus-like object that sat heavily on the stone ground. It was completely sealed, so that he could not see whatever was inside, just the various colors of fluids that traveled through thick and thin tubes plugged into the object, connected to machines that surrounded it.

  “What do you think, angel? Am I a monster?”

  A long, forked tongue unfurled from her mouth as she said this, her black eyes narrowing into vertical slits, her pale, slender hands growing sharp, dagger-like claws where her fingertips used to be.

  Benji observed her transformation with mild curiosity, and then he shrugged. He’d seen a lot worse than that. And his imagination was far more grotesque and fantastical.

  “Monsters aren’t determined by what they look like but what they do,” he said.

  He patted the steel-encased coffin with a hand.

  “What’s in here?”

  “My creation,” she hissed. “My masterpiece.”

  Benji felt a fiery pang in his chest as his heart gave a frantic leap. He wanted desperately to see what was inside the sarcophagus. Absently, he smoothed his hand over the surface of the container, as if trying to soothe whatever it held inside.

  There was a faint heartbeat, but Benji felt it. It throbbed painfully beneath his fingertips and palm. Whatever was inside the thing was alive. It was alive and it wanted to be free.

  Whatever Lilith was, the fact that she held something prisoner against its will wasn’t good. It was very, very bad.

  Though he felt a familiar yet strange sense of comfort and nostalgia in her presence, Benji now felt the sharp edge of anger and betrayal. He didn’t understand it. These were not the sort of feelings he usually had. Even when he sometimes felt sadness, he couldn’t recall the last time he was ever so angry.

  He faced the she-demon with his small fists clenched at his sides and asked the question that had been waiting on the tip of his tongue.

  “Why did you bring me here?”

  “My darling boy,” she whispered as she rose from the bed, slinking closer to where he stood stalwartly, as if guarding the coffin behind him.

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  *** *** *** ***

  It was a good thing Immortals could hold their breath underwater much longer than the most aquatically inclined human.

  Even so, Dalair could feel his lungs burning from lack of oxygen as he finally found the lever in the rock facing of the underwater cavern that pried open the boulder blocking the entrance.

  The sliver was just wide enough to allow one person to swim through at a time. As the last of their group made it to the other side, the boulder slid shut again, trapping them in a water-filled tunnel.

  Or tomb, if they didn’t find their way out soon.

  Goddess, he needed air!

  At least they wouldn’t encounter many guards here, for only the Master’s successful snake-based experiments could thrive underwater. And to Dalair’s knowledge, barely any of those test subjects survived her machinations.

  He’d landed the helicopter as close to the tree line as possible, in case battle-induced eruptions from the lake flooded the surrounding banks. The distance would make their getaway ride farther to reach, but that was better than the alternative if a Hydra-sized tsunami swept the aircraft away entirely. From there, he led the other warriors deep beneath the lake, tuning his hyper senses to pinpoint the exact location of the Hydra’s lair.

  Presently, Dalair swam toward a faint fluttering of light some distance over his head, as the tunnel curved upwards.

  Just a few more strokes, he told himself, his head dizzy from suffocation, his lungs struggling to function, his heart tightening with pressure.

  In the process of defending Sophia and the boy in the forest, he’d sustained quite a few new injuries. Nothing his amped up body couldn’t power through, but now that his mind was his own again, he couldn’t ignore the pain as effectively as he used to.

  Briefly, he considered doffing the half-moon blades from his back holster. They added at least twenty pounds of weight. But he immediately dismissed the notion. If enemies met him on the other side, he’d be a lot less equipped to dispatch them without his weapons. He’d only be delaying death, in that case.

  And he had zero intention of dying this day.

  Sophia needed him. The boy who meant so much to her needed him.

  He’d never felt such intense determination to live. For himself and for her.

  He kicked his powerful legs one more time toward the light, propelling him the last few feet to break the surface of the water in a violent surge.

  Uncaring of his loud gulp of breath and coughing fit, Dalair sucked in all the air he could, as the others did the same.

  Grimly, they swam toward the stone bank of the pool and heaved themselves on shore with heavy, trembling limbs.

  “Bloody hell, that was close,” Rhys said as he flopped onto his back, chest heaving, breath wheezing.

  “I live for the skies. Deep sea diving is definitely not my forte. Somebody should have warned me.”

  But before Dalair could empathize, Tal rolled to his feet in one smooth motion, unsheathing a short sword and dagger strapped to his back and thigh.

  “Take heed,” he growled low. “We have company.”

  The Hydra’s welcoming committee had arrived.

  *** *** *** ***

  There was something about this surprising little boy that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

  Lilith tracked the boy’s movements with slitted eyes as he casually explored his surroundings—her private chamber in the manmade catacomb of underwater caverns.

  The benefit of living thousands of years and having access to unlimited funds was the ability to make any long, long range plans she could ever imagine come to fruition. She’d commissioned the construction of this particular lair over fifty years ago.

  It was one of many, and a good thing too. For she had been forced to abandon her last lair after the Pure Ones discovered it through Medusa’s lures. Though they didn’t know precisely where it was underwater, she didn’t linger long. Only enough to bide her
time and regroup. Once she had the Creature secure and snug in his armored test tube, she moved house.

  Most of her hidey holes were within a few hours distance of New York City. She couldn’t afford to go too far out of range from the epicenter of power. The deeper waters of the Bay would have been perfect for another lair, but there was simply too much traffic, too many aircrafts, boats and cars traveling into and out of the city.

  And if she moved too far out to sea, it would be difficult to amass and maintain the requisite guards to defend her lair, for the piping of oxygen would have been extremely tricky. Her mindless soldiers, no matter their strength, still needed to breathe in order to function.

  If only her snake experiments yielded more fruit. This was why she had persuaded Medusa to go after the Snake King to recruit him to their army. Lilith was certain that she could have used his venom, blood and other genetic materials to stabilize her experiments involving aquatic creatures—reptiles, amphibians, marine mammals, even fish.

  Unfortunately, they were unable to capture the Snake King and bring him back alive. He fought to the death after they killed his Mate.

  That was the trouble with Mates. When one passed, the other tended to lose the will to live.

  Without the Snake King’s biological samples, Lilith was back to trial and error with her experiments. If only Medusa had tended towards an earth dragon like the Zmey Gorynych from Slavic mythology. Also multi-headed, spat fire, but had wings and lived in mountains. Much easier to deal with than underwater environs.

  But really, Lilith had no one to blame but herself.

  She was the one who fed Medusa a steady diet of snake venom over the millennia, after all. And it just so happened that her subject absorbed the poisons from water snakes better than the rest.

  “So, tell me why I’m here,” the boy looked her straight in the eyes as he issued the imperious command.

  Strange, unnatural child, Lilith thought. Why wasn’t he afraid of her?

  He seemed rather bright for his age. Surely, he understood the danger he was in, even if he didn’t know the particulars? Surely, he had enough sense to shrink with fear from monsters like her?