“Follow me you bastard,” Ben whispered to himself. Just for good measure, he blared the vehicle’s horn again, spooking a couple of loose goats in the process. His tires found the sand again, leaving the road, following the worn footpath to the heart of the Tassili n’Ajjer National Park. If he could lose Anu inside the world heritage site, then maybe he’d have a chance. There would be minimal casualties within the confusing grid of rock arches and caves. The latter was what Ben was hoping to find before it was too late.

  He quickly activated his glasses’ video option and recorded the goings-on around him, focusing on the man within the storm as well. If he didn’t make it out of the Tassili mountain range alive, at least the rest of his team would know why.

  Plus, he thought, a wave of concern flowing through him, sounds like they have enough to deal with right now.

  * * *

  The Judge named Anu watched as the Jeep fled deeper into the park, curious as to why his mark would head farther away from civilization and possible help. He’d seen it countless times in his many years of life. His victims would go screaming through a crowded market, or a large building, crying that something was after them.

  His knowledge of this region was somewhat limited, but he knew Babel was a very unusual city during its time. It was an early metropolis in which everyone spoke the same unified language. The people that called it home were said to be descendants of Noah and his family.

  The ancient texts state that they eventually built an impossibly tall tower, upsetting their god. He believed man arrogant for trying to exist at his level in the heavens, and so through his vengeance, he cursed the people of the city, inserting a dizzying number of dialects within their culture. They then scattered, babbling incoherently to one another. The like-speaking clans migrated together, following those they could understand. Eventually, they settled, creating the oldest civilizations we know of today.

  That, Anu knew, was fact. It was something their master had seen with his own eyes…or that of the man he influenced at the time. One of those trendsetting societies was none other than An’tala itself. Its king wasn’t the only all-powerful being to begin his life within the reaches of Babel.

  But unlike the island’s ruler, the other never left the tower.

  That was the most interesting of all the tales he’d heard during the building of what would become the city’s beacon to God. Anu was told this side of the story by his master. He said that the knowledge of what actually happened would prove significant in the coming years and was worth hearing.

  A young man named Malecima discovered a fallen star after it crashed down from the heavens above. Without thought, the curious man set out into the surrounding desert to find out where it landed, not knowing what he’d discover.

  Was he in for a surprise, Anu thought.

  What could only be described as a fiery rock of gold impacted the terrain with an earth-rattling force, embedding itself deep within a previously undiscovered cave system. The man found a large crater after a day’s hike with only a small portion of drinking water, his robes, and a crude pair of slippers fashioned from animal hide.

  It was the most beautiful sight in the world, something he decided to greedily keep to himself. He would return several times over the next few weeks, covering the glowing stone with palms and dirt as he broke off chunk after chunk, experimenting on it. He’d tried to remove the rock itself once but found it much too large to do so.

  No, that’s not right… It didn’t ‘glow.’ The master said it swirled like the clouds above, pulsating, radiantly bright.

  Anu was impressed that someone of that time would have the wherewithal to even think to do such a thing. Most would have claimed it as an omen, or maybe even a damning curse, and stayed far away. Nevertheless, it wasn’t until the man—hell-bent on solving the stone’s mystery—consumed a small piece of it that things really started to get interesting. It happened almost immediately—the changes. Most were to his mind, but some did occur to him physically.

  An awakening of sorts.

  The reckless individual became bigger, stronger, and faster, being able to lift the heaviest of boulders. He kept a lot of the alterations to himself, however, including his shining, swirling eyes, for fear of ridicule. He covered them, pretending he’d been blinded by illness, all while being able to see just fine. He also had to hunch and dress in loose rags to conceal his increased stature.

  But the original sample of the fallen star was too much for his mind to handle. He tried to suppress his newly developed gifts, becoming a recluse. Rumors were he even turned mad. He would ramble on about a tower, seeing hallucinations of one in his dreams, and wanting to be a god. The people of the encampment understood him as wanting to be like God, or at the very least, near Him. The minds of men were easily manipulated during those times if pulled in the right direction. It was easy for them to do things of evil while praising the noble.

  As time passed and his mind began to piece back together, the transformed man convinced the others to walk a day to the south and build a tower to God directly over the covered impact crater. Only he knew it to hold a great source of power. He would impart the wisest of those around him with the ideal blueprints to follow, secretly directing things from the sidelines. He wasn’t sure how it was happening exactly, but he continued to whisper to those around him, stating it was God speaking to him.

  Not only had the changed man become powerful, but his hindered mind screamed for more. No one would be the wiser of the internal struggle the man in rags was fighting against, claiming he heard voices in his head. That was…until the fabled tower collapsed years later due to a godlike incident.

  A massive earthquake, originating from somewhere below, shattered the structure’s foundation. Many of those who lived in and around the tower died that day, and those who didn’t, couldn’t converse with each other, having their tongues tied by God. It’s what they believed anyway.

  It wasn’t God, though, Anu thought. It was something infinitely more dangerous than God.

  Angered at what transpired, the malformed man was done living in the shadows of the inferior, hiding his true form. He was especially done letting the unrighteous take the credit for his undertakings. He wanted to be the one making the official decisions. He wanted to rule.

  So, he went away for a week, regretting what had happened. As soon as he accepted the remorse, believing in his heart that he would change and do good, he felt a weight lift off his shoulders and even his mind. It was like a blinding, rage-filled presence had been erased from his thoughts like something else had been whispering commands to him like he did to those around him.

  Knowing what he needed to do to pay back his sins, he returned looking like a new man, calling himself by a false name. It was one that would be remembered and revered for all time, one that would be responsible for a new kingdom built atop a beautiful island. It would appear almost overnight, having little to no record of its construction.

  Malecima, the faux vagrant, was no more.

  Thoth was born, his memories forgotten. Events that not even the future king of An’tala would be able to recall if asked. There was only one being who knew what really transpired the day Babel was demolished and he still resides in its ruins, waiting for his chosen vessel to come. Only…he didn’t plan on waiting as long as he had.

  Well, technically he wasn’t the only resident of the tower ruins. The other survivors within it grew restless. They also wanted out.

  11

  South Beach, Miami, Florida

  Well, Ocean Drive is now appropriately named. Let me clarify, it’s not really an ocean, but it is flooded, becoming more like a kid’s theme park splash pad. Nicole and I are sloshing through the ankle-deep water, heading north along the usually busy street. It’s technically still busy, but the only things moving are the screaming people—not the cars. Between accidents and stalled engines, on foot is the only way to move.

  “Who is that guy?” Nicole asks, holding my hand. While the water level is manageable, my current state isn’t. I used a lot of juice when I burned up the incoming wave, and it sapped me of most of my strength for the time being. As the minutes go by, I’ll gain some of it back, but any more of this and I’ll need a long nap to fully recover.

  Not bloody likely, I think, glancing behind us.

  Susanoo calmly emerges around the corner of what used to be the park attached to our hotel. I continue to watch him as he carefully moves forward. He steps into the road and is lifted off the ground. It’s only a couple of inches above the pavement, but he rides the artificial current with practiced ease.

  His self-made current.

  As smug as ever, he just crosses his arms and stands tall, barely having to adjust his hoverboard-like movements. I quickly do the math and figure out that he’s going to catch us soon, having an unlimited amount of fuel around him.

  “We need to stop and fight,” I croak, squeezing Nicole’s hand harder. My mouth is dry, and I feel massively dehydrated. While it’s a cute idea to stand our ground, I also realize it’s easier said than done. Susanoo—eh, screw it, I’m calling him Susan, whatever… At this point, I might as well do whatever I can to make myself feel better. He won’t stop, and therefore, we’re screwed unless we beat him to the punch.

  Not literally, though. Nicole already proved that sucker punching the guy again won’t work.

  “How?” she asks, motioning to her bikini-clad form. “It’s not like we have any weapons other than your abilities. And like you said, you used a lot of your energy already.”

  I shrug and turn, stepping in front of Nicole. I look back over my shoulder and grin. “Looks like you’re carrying me when I pass out.”

  She rolls her eyes. “You and your Baywatch fantasies.”

  “You mean every man’s fantasy,” I correct, turning back towards Susan. “Pam Anderson was a cultural icon when I was a kid.”

  “Just shut up and fight, will you?” She shoves me forward. “The quicker you faint, the quicker you’ll stop talking.”

  She then softly smiles at me when I glance back to her. She then steps away, ushering me to continue with my asinine idea.

  Fire versus water. This isn’t going to be easy.

  While the hottest of flames can evaporate water, a massive deluge of the stuff can all but snuff out the hottest flame. We could literally finish at a stalemate. The only problem with a tie is that we lose. I have a feeling Susan won’t tire.

  I look down at my hands and clench them tightly. While they are bare, my wrists aren’t. Each is adorned with a simple copper-colored bracelet. They resemble what a golfer would use to fend off arthritis—if you believe in that sort of thing.

  Only, they aren’t copper. They’re orichalcum. My sword, Elvis, had a decorative Egyptian ankh attached to the base of its hilt—had being the operative word. We decided to remove it and reform the metal into these two simple pieces of jewelry. Now, I can call upon the fires of An’tala whenever I please, like I did with the sword when fighting Coaxoch. Before then, I couldn’t do so. I didn’t possess any Atlantean relics at the time, but now I have the sword and Nicole’s coin—the one we collected from Frost’s Georgia home.

  Would be nice to have Elvis right about now. I look past Susan and see the front edge of our hotel’s parking garage. My sword is in the hidden compartment of our tricked-out SUV. The trunk’s floor also houses a bevy of other weapons, including two shotguns, multiple more handguns with plenty of spare ammo, and Nicole’s newest additions. Kane finally convinced her to upgrade from the light-weight, softer-hitting Rugers.

  We had to use some fancy laser to cut the ankh off and then I used my own fire to melt it down, pouring it into matching molds. I even went as far as applying them before they were totally solid again. Now, they’re permanent. The only way to get them off would be for me to lose my hands or for me to will them to melt again, neither of which I plan on happening. As far as I can tell, since they are physically touching me, they become a part of me. My connection to the strange Atlantean metal is on a sub-atomic level, and we really don’t understand it. All I know is that the stuff is coursing through my blood and ever since then I can do what I do.

  Like now.

  God, I’m glad I’ve been practicing, I think as I lift my fists and call upon the power of An’tala.

  “Let’s do this.”

  My hands ignite, the cracking electric-green flames stopping at my bracelets. I’ve come to the conclusion that this is where the legend of Greek fire came from. The three Atlantean priests used it as well, and when Atlantis was utterly destroyed, the stories of the green fire lived on.

  Susan stops, his eyes growing wide. He lowers himself to the ground, standing as still as stone. The analogy quickly ends up being a bad one once Nicole speaks up from behind.

  “Hank,” she says, her eyes flicking back-and-forth as she runs through a cluster of messages in her glasses. I can’t see them, but I can see her eyes dancing around, darting left-to-right as she reads. “Everyone—not just Kane and Olivia are under attack by more of them.” She points to Susan. “Lincoln’s statue came after Todd, and Ben is currently trying to outrun a record-setting tornado near Site A.

  Just great…

  “Well,” I say, looking at my opponent, “looks like we’re going to have to end this sooner rather than later.”

  “I agree,” he says.

  “I wasn’t actually talking to you, Susan,” I say, accentuating his incorrect name.

  He doesn’t answer me, his eyes just narrow into slits, and he attacks. The water around me rises up but is instantly turned to a puff of steam as I quickly superheat it. Susan sneers and tries something different.

  “Hank!”

  I turn and see the same thing happen to Nicole. I rush to her side, but I’m hit from behind by a bus-sized column of water. It shoots me forward, through Nicole’s enlarging funnel of water and out the other side. I slam to the asphalt and in one painful motion, end up sitting upright, smacking the back of my head against a stalled car.

  Coughing gets my attention when I look down at my lap. Nicole lays in my arms, looking at me with a nauseated expression. She probably ingested a bunch of—then she vomits seawater all over my chest, some of which splashes upward sticking to my chin.

  I’m covered in my girlfriend’s puke… That’s a first.

  But I don’t get to be grossed out for long. Susan sends another jet stream of water sailing towards us. I grab Nicole and roll right, just as it impacts the Honda I hit, rolling the small coupe like an empty beer can.

  Damn, he’s getting stronger.

  We land in a puddle of stinging saltwater, and I let go of Nicole, setting her down while she gets her breath back. She’s horribly vulnerable right now. She needs to leave now.

  “Get up and run,” I say, again blocking her from the water wielding attacker. I keep a sharper eye on her this time. I don’t need another distraction.

  “How?” she asks, her voice raspy from the vomit.

  “Wait for the right moment.”

  “And when would that be?”

  “Now!”

  I rush Susan and ignite the street around me, incinerating everything in my path. The road itself starts to bubble as I move, getting a look of surprise out of my foe. He reels back, the water carrying him away from me.

  The water?

  While my idea is sure to work, I need Nicole to get clear when I act upon it. She’s currently skirting the battlefield while I keep Susan’s attention off her and on me.

  “Are you from An’tala?” I ask, curious and again trying to distract him.

  It works.

  “Yes.”

  Now it’s my time to look surprised. While I know that thousands of Atlanteans successfully made it off the island before it was devastated, we have no knowledge of what happened to those people. Did they survive, or did they eventually die off, not having any of the life-extending fruit?

  Rahji-itza, the first elder, told me of the magical properties the fruit-bearing trees gave the people living there. While the residents weren’t immortal in the same sense as the priests—and obviously Susan here—they were resilient enough to keep their minds and bodies young for long periods of time. They would eventually die, but it could take hundreds of years to do so—maybe even thousands of years.

  “Why are you trying to kill us?” I ask still trying to delay him, but also out of genuine interest. I like to know why people are trying to kill me.

  He shrugs indifferently. “It was requested by my lord.”

  “Your lord?” I’m confused. “But Nannot and Coaxoch are dead, how could they—”

  “You assume much.”

  “Assume?”

  “Yes,” he replies, “you assume they were my teachers. I may have served them at one point, but they weren’t my masters.”

  Well, now I’m even more confused. What does he—

  “No…”

  He smiles at my disbelief.

  “You’re one of the children?”

  He bows, pleased at my recognition.

  “One of four Judges, yes.”

  “Judges?” I ask.

  “Of humanity.”

  “Oh…”

  I release my inferno and step forward, not worrying about the molten asphalt beneath my feet. This was a recent development. Apparently, no heat of any kind can physically harm me. My clothes maybe, but not my body. But as I take that step, my leg gives out, and I drop to one knee. My head swims as I look back up and see Susan laughing.

  “You’re weak, Mr. Boyd,” he says smiling wide. “If only you knew your true potential.”

  Huh?

  My eyes flick right as I see Nicole sprinting back down Ocean Drive. She’s clear of us and hauling ass back to the hotel.

  Please go to the car, I think, willing her to turn left and continue up the ramp.