“I have to think about this.” Pushing the girl of my dreams away from me was one of the hardest things I’d ever tried to do, especially when my hand brushed against one of her breasts.
Melissa glared at me. “Don’t take too long, Sean. The thing inside you isn’t known for its patience.”
Ignoring her threat, I rose from the bed and left the room. I needed air; I needed to be away from her and my so-called family.
The summer air caressed my body as I walked down the hill toward the waterfront. This time I bypassed the benches and kept going. When I reached the piers, I climbed down the sagging, dirty steps to the small stretch of rough beach. During the day it was an unpleasant place to go; the stink from the fishing boats and lobster trawlers settled there, a miasma of dead seafood and diesel that only the ever-present seagulls seemed able to put up with.
But at this hour of the morning, with the sun still waking from its own sleep and the fishing boats resting silent in their berths, the air was pure and unsullied, washed clean by the ocean breezes. At times like this, the beach became a haven of quiet solitude for me, and many were the nights—or mornings—when I’d go there just to think.
I sat down on the damp, gravelly beach, my head spinning from all that I’d learned, while another part of me, the part Melissa had woken with her sensual touch, cried out for further attention.
I dug my fingers through the coarse sand as I considered the conflicting choices that lay before me. As much as I considered myself an outcast, I still identified with humanity at some level. My intellect and my gift for science set me apart from most other teenagers as surely as my lack of desire to play organized sports or spend my nights swilling beer behind someone’s house.
For as long as I could remember, I’d yearned not to be a part of the crowd—because, after all, the “crowd” was basically nothing more than the lowest common denominator when it came to intelligence—but something apart from the crowd yet still able to interact with it. I accepted my differences. What I wanted was for the people around me to accept them, to recognize that what I had inside my head was every bit as valuable and important as athletic ability or movie-star looks. The fact that pretty much anyone under the age of fifty considered me a freak—dork, geek, brainiac, nerd, take your pick of insult—was what infuriated me.
So the idea of becoming a vessel of infinite power, filled with thousands of years of arcane knowledge gathered from multiple dimensions, held more than a little appeal. Much more. Even now, with the images and words of distant Leng still racing through my head like dragonflies on speed, I could already access formulae and picture intricate machines whose purposes were unfathomable but blatantly menacing. I knew that if I gave in, conceded my humanity, all the combined scientific knowledge of the Elders—and all the power that went with it—would be mine, and I would become as a god myself when compared to ordinary humans. The very idea was intoxicating; why struggle for years in the hope of discovering something new, of making a difference, when with just one simple act of surrender I could surpass the combined knowledge of the entire human race?
Your race, that other part of my mind, the human part, reminded me. Yes, my race. Did I really want to be the Destroyer, be responsible for wiping out or enslaving all of mankind? I’d never had much use for religion, but surely whatever god existed had a special place reserved in Hell for someone who’d practice genocide on such a grand scale.
Then again, how did I know there even was such a god? Maybe the Elder Gods were the only true gods.
My hand came in contact with a round rock, its surface worn smooth by eons of waves polishing it. I picked it up and tossed it as far out into the ocean as I could, trying to transfer my frustration, confusion, fear and lust into physical release so that I could consider my problem with a clear head.
A moment after the rock landed in the water, a second noise reached my ears.
I stopped breathing. Another sound, farther away. A dark, menacing sound.
The ocean isn’t quiet; even a deserted beach is filled with sounds: the shushing of waves rolling in and out, the splish-splunk of the occasional fish breaking the surface, the rattle of crab claws against stone.
What I’d heard was none of those.
My pulse pounded in my ears and my lungs started reminding me that it was time to breathe again, but I continued to wait.
Five seconds.
Ten.
There. I heard it again. A wet grunting, like someone talking with a mouthful of water.
“Ree-aighht.”
I got up and walked to the edge of the water.
The words were clearer. Closer.
“Eee aaiighht.”
Something moved atop the surface, twenty or so yards away. I squinted my eyes. Was that a round shape, like the top of a head? All I could see was a black silhouette against the nearly black sky.
“What do you want?” I whispered.
“Eeee wait.”
We wait?
“Wait for what? What do you want?” This time I shouted it.
My only answer was the shush-sliding of the waves. It was all I needed; I knew the answer.
The creatures beneath the waves were biding their time, waiting for one thing, and one thing only. Me. Only I had the power to set them free, let their evil loose upon the world. Or keep them locked away for another century.
I considered this. Took a deep breath.
And made my choice.