Primordial (Lilitu Trilogy Book 2)

  PRIMORDIAL

  The Lilitu Trilogy Book Two

  Toby Tate

  A PERMUTED PRESS BOOK

  Published at Smashwords

  ISBN: 978-1-61868-677-0

  ISBN (eBook): 978-1-61868-678-7

  PRIMORDIAL

  The Lilitu Trilogy Book 2

  © 2015 by Toby Tate

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover art by Christian Bentulan

  This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author and publisher.

  Permuted Press

  109 International Drive, Suite 300

  Franklin, TN 37067

  http://permutedpress.com

  Acknowledgements

  Immeasurable thanks and love to God, my wife, Laura, and daughter, Zoe, the lights of my life and my inspirations.

  Special thanks: Authors Douglas Preston and David M. Salkin; Dr. Karl W. Wegmann, Sean Gallen, and Dr. Curtis Runnels of North Carolina State University.

  Thanks especially to my first readers: Tina Beck, Shelley Milligan, Eric Escalera, Andi Hunt and Kimberly Waddell.

  As always, I want to thank my amazing literary agent, MacKenzie Fraser-Bub at Trident Media Group, for her guidance and encouragement; Michael Wilson, President of Permuted Press, for giving this unknown author a chance at superstardom; and Hannah Yancey, managing editor at Permuted Press and a fabulous human being, for making it all work somehow.

  “In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep.”—Genesis 1:1-2

  “There is no chance and anarchy in the universe. All is system and gradation. Every god is there sitting in his sphere.”—Ralph Waldo Emerson

  Contents

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  THIRTY-TWO

  THIRTY-THREE

  THIRTY-FOUR

  THIRTY-FIVE

  THIRTY-SIX

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  THIRTY-NINE

  FORTY

  FORTY-ONE

  FORTY-TWO

  FORTY-THREE

  FORTY-FOUR

  FORTY-FIVE

  FORTY-SIX

  FORTY-SEVEN

  FORTY-EIGHT

  FORTY-NINE

  FIFTY

  FIFTY-ONE

  FIFTY-TWO

  FIFTY-THREE

  FIFTY-FOUR

  FIFTY-FIVE

  FIFTY-SIX

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  FIFTY-EIGHT

  FIFTY-NINE

  SIXTY

  SIXTY-ONE

  SIXTY-TWO

  SIXTY-THREE

  SIXTY-FOUR

  SIXTY-FIVE

  SIXTY-SIX

  SIXTY-SEVEN

  SIXTY-EIGHT

  SIXTY-NINE

  SEVENTY

  SEVENTY-ONE

  SEVENTY-TWO

  SEVENTY-THREE

  SEVENTY-FOUR

  SEVENTY-FIVE

  SEVENTY-SIX

  SEVENTY-SEVEN

  SEVENTY-EIGHT

  SEVENTY-NINE

  EIGHTY

  EIGHTY-ONE

  EIGHTY-TWO

  EIGHTY-THREE

  EIGHTY-FOUR

  EIGHTY-FIVE

  EIGHTY-SIX

  EIGHTY-SEVEN

  EIGHTY-EIGHT

  EPILOGUE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  One

  The Island of Crete—1620 BCE

  Though he knew he could not escape, Pijasiros ran. It was all he could do to keep from falling on his face in the dark, driven forward by the sheer primal instinct to survive. His sandals were starting to come loose and his robe flapped around him like a loose second skin, but he managed to push onward, flying over the rocky terrain as if he was about to sprout wings. If only he could. The thing that pursued him grunted as each gigantic paw hit the ground with a thud. It seemed almost as if the beast was enjoying the chase, anticipating the warm, salty taste of human blood—his blood. But Pijasiros wasn’t about to give it the satisfaction; not if he had his say.

  In the distance, he heard rumbling, felt the earth shifting beneath his feet. He knew that soon, a volcano on one of the nearby islands would rain down fire from heaven. He and his people had seen the smoke rising like a pillar into the sky above, clouds of ash nearly blotting out the sun for the last few weeks and covering the ground like a grey blanket. That was surely a sign from the gods that they were angry—angry that his people had let this happen, allowed the stones to be discovered by them and used to bring this abomination upon the earth.

  But Pijasiros had crept in among them when they were unaware and stolen the stones back. He took the stones and hid them where they would never be found again. Now, he was leading one of the creatures on a chase, away from the town, away from his family, into the wilderness and onto the beach.

  Just like in his dream.

  A few nights before, he had foreseen this, and it was all happening just as the vision had said. He didn’t know if it was from his own imagination or from one of the gods, but in the dream everything had ended on the beach, so Pijasiros knew that was where he must go.

  He sprinted between rocky outcroppings and olive trees, pumping his legs as fast as they would move, his lungs nearly bursting with every breath that he sucked in, his muscles burning and bones aching with the effort. He began to descend down the side of the hill, lost his footing, and tumbled head over feet, then somehow righted himself again and continued on. He stole a quick glance behind him and in the darkness saw a monstrous silhouette that galloped after him like a charging bison. Except this bison had claws and teeth like a wildcat, a demon ready to rend and shred his soft flesh to ribbons.

  In the distance he saw the water of the Aegean Sea, the smoke from the volcano illuminated by the glowing lava, drifting high above it like the fist of an angry god. Soon, he could run no farther, and stopped to stare at the water lapping the shoreline like the angel of death, waiting to claim his body. He slowly turned and saw what he already knew was there. The beast was tall enough to look down at Pijasiros, even as it stood on all four legs. It didn’t move, but simply waited for something—an answer perhaps. Pijasiros already had one, and the answer was no.

  “Do what you want with me, beast, I will not give you the stones and you shall never find them—that I promise you. You and your kind will soon be finished.” To emphasize this, Pijasiros pointed across the water at the red, glowing smoke. “Soon, Rhea, goddess of the Earth, will take back what is rightfully hers.”

  Behind him, the beast roared in defiance. Pijasiros winced and cupped his hands over his ears to block the deafening noise.

  Suddenly, a huge paw swiped the side of
his head and sent him sprawling across the ash-covered sand, and then the beast was standing over him like a dark monolith. He could just make out the snowy white fur that covered its enormous body, as its eyes glowed like the fires of Hell and its breath stank of rotten carrion, making Pijasiros’s stomach heave involuntarily. It placed one paw on his mid-section, pinning him to the ground and forcing the breath from his lungs. The beast placed an extended claw the size of a dagger at the top of one shoulder and drew it down slowly across his robe, splitting open the flesh beneath like the belly of a fish.

  Pijasiros screamed as he felt hot blood begin to run down the side of his arm. Was this how it would end, with the creature torturing him to death right here on the beach? He suddenly thought of his wife and son, at home high up in the hills, safe from the coming catastrophe, and took some comfort in that. At least he had a son to carry on his name and a wife who would remember him as a hero.

  He tried to squirm out from under the monster, but it was like trying to move a boulder. The creature extended his claw once again and was about to slice through the other shoulder, when the ground shook so violently the beast could not maintain its balance, and fell over on its side. Pijasiros looked out across the water just as the sky lit up like daylight and a wave of heat smacked him in the face, followed by a sound louder than anything he had ever heard or could have imagined—it literally punctured his eardrums, immediately deafening him. But he didn’t need to hear to know what was happening—Rhea would finally have her revenge.

  The beast stirred beside him and quickly stood upright, staring out across the water at the fireball covering the night sky.

  As he lay in the sand watching the spectacle play out, Pijasiros noticed the water on the beach recede further and further until he could no longer see it.

  What’s happening?

  But in a matter of minutes he had his answer as he felt a roar begin to rattle his bones, becoming more and more intense, and then saw what appeared to be a mountain range bearing down on him from across the empty sea bed. He knew instantly what it was—a wall of water higher than he could even judge, moving at a speed only the gods could attain. He glanced over in time to see the beast turn and begin to retreat across the sand to the hills above, but it was already too late.

  Just before the wall crashed down on them, Pijasiros smiled.

  Two

  A small island off the coast of Crete—Modern Day

  It was said that in 1883 the eruption of Krakatoa near Indonesia destroyed a third of the island and created a monstrous tsunami at least one hundred feet high, drowning nearly forty thousand people under the violently churning seawater. The eruption of Santorin, almost four thousand years earlier, had been ten times bigger, creating a pyroclastic surge of steam and molten rock that incinerated everything as far as the Cretan mainland. Anyone who hadn’t been cooked was drowned, unless they had foresight enough to flee to the mountains, or the far side of the island. If they happened to be living inside one of the many caves within the Greek islands, they had likely died under tons of ash and crumbling rock that fell from the ceiling during the resulting earthquake. Explorers and spelunkers often found bones like those buried during the eruption of Vesuvius, perfectly preserved in the limestone floor.

  David Lawrence was inspecting the inside of one of those huge caverns on the island he had just purchased. The real estate agent, a plump, jovial man named Daniel, had explained with wildly animated hand gestures that the cave was very similar to Alepotrypa, a cave in southern Greece that was supposed to be the inspiration for the mythic Greek underworld of Hades. The reddish-orange hue created by deposits of iron oxide in the cavern walls gave it a definite Dante’s Inferno look. Lawrence thought the idea to be quite ironic, considering what it would be used for.

  This cavern was smaller than the Greek one, but still sizeable, around thirty meters high and fifty meters wide. It reached back into the hill nearly seven hundred meters, with a natural lake near its opening, its blue water shimmering in the sunlight like a pool full of sapphires. Stalactites hung from the ceiling like upside down cathedral spires, and the floor was smooth and even. He couldn’t have asked for a better location.

  The sixty-eight-hundred square-foot Mediterranean-style house he had built further up the hill was a masterpiece in itself, rivaling the grandeur of the cave.

  Lawrence couldn’t believe how far he had come in such a short time, thanks to his superior intellect and his many financial investments over the past few months. They had all paid off beyond his wildest dreams. Of course, he had a little inside help…or more accurately, outside help.

  As he stood there gazing around at the natural wonder, a bald, burly man named Henry stepped up behind him and waited in silence. An average human would not have even noted Henry’s presence—the man could become a ghost when the situation required—but then, David Lawrence wasn’t exactly human.

  “Yes, Henry, what is it?”

  “They’ve all been alerted sir. They should be arriving within days.”

  “Excellent. Have they located the stones?”

  “Not yet, sir, but any time now. When they do, we’ll be ready.”

  “I have no doubt you will. Thank you, Henry.”

  The man said nothing as he turned and strode out of the cavern.

  Things were moving along nicely. Soon, he would hold in his hands a power more awesome than anything ever created by man. Then, he would be reunited with her. In spite of the way she had treated him, Lawrence understood that it had been a momentary fit of rage. When it was time, she would be released once again, and together, they and their kind would begin their race anew.

  Lawrence knelt and picked up a rock off the limestone floor, tossed it in the lake and watched as the ripples spiraled out from the center. He glanced down at the reflection of himself in the water and saw two silver eyes staring back up at him. He smiled and headed for the mouth of the cave then up the hill toward home.

  Three

  Plum Island, Connecticut

  Plum Island Animal Disease Center

  Lilith was a goddess. There was nowhere she could not go, nothing she could not do. Yet they had trapped her, caged her like some wild animal. The beast that had once been human was far removed from her former self, far above the weaklings that inhabited the earth, that other self nearly forgotten.

  Dreams of another life, a time long ago, when the earth was void and without form, filled her sleeping existence, and she could sense that there were others like her, a million strong. Now, their chromosomes were hidden within the shells of humanity, lying dormant until they could be reawakened. Lilith had been among the first to do so, to connect with the past, discover who she truly was, and it had been glorious. If only there was a way to break free of this prison. But it was all she could do to even stay awake for any length of time. She sighed, a deep, guttural sound that shook the bars of her cage. A woman in a lab coat and goggles glanced over at her and smiled. “Feeling a little forlorn, are we? Don’t worry, your baby is safe.” The weakling turned back to her lab specimens. They would all pay, and pay dearly. But for now, the tubes that were connected to her huge body were pumping her full of a powerful sedative, while other tubes filled her with nourishment.

  But the nourishment wasn’t enough. She craved blood−human blood−and soon, she would have it. Then, she and her young would be far gone from this place, from this hell they called a research facility. But for now, she slept.

  * * *

  She was a small girl of seven, walking through the park with her brother, John. They always went everywhere together, and even though John was ten years older and complained about having to watch after his little sister, she knew he secretly liked it. They went to the movies, to get candy, to play in the park. John had always been there for her, protective and watchful. Lilith was a sensitive child, and didn’t have many friends. She found other people, some even in her own immediate family, to be an annoyance. They always asked too many questions
: “How was school today?”

  “Why don’t you have any friends?”

  “Are you feeling okay?”

  But John understood her, and that was why she loved him. He knew that she had certain differences, that she wasn’t like other kids, that she was…special.

  Today, they were on their way to get a new bike at the bike shop down the street from their home in Indianapolis. Lilith was feeling happy for a change, her platinum blonde pigtails hanging like loose ropes in the summer sun as her flip flops slapped out a steady rhythm against her feet. Birdsong from the nearby trees filled the air as a car honked somewhere on a distant street.

  “What kind of bike do you think I should get?” she asked as they walked across the park grass.

  John shrugged. “I dunno. Whatever kind you want. A Schwinn, maybe. They’re pretty good.”

  “That’s cool. I’ll probably get one of those.”

  Fifty yards away, a couple of labs, one black and one yellow, gleefully ran after a Frisbee tossed by a man in a pair of khaki shorts and sunglasses. Lilith smiled—she thought the dogs looked as if they would do anything to please their master, no matter how silly it made them look. Dogs loved unconditionally—unlike humans, she thought. Unlike the two bullies that were even now making their way across the grass toward her and John. She glanced over at them and saw a teenager who looked like he had probably eaten one too many donuts, and a tall, skinny kid with an acne-scarred face and a permanent sneer. They both wore white t-shirts and blue jeans and had attitudes that radiated off of them like locker room stench.