…Again.
She'd had the dream yet again.
Blinking the hot almost-tears away, she wiped her face with an angry hand. Snapping open, deep, aqua-blue eyes stared sullenly at the ceiling; a marine shimmer glowed in her gaze, and if her irises looked like the surface of the sea, they carried the many depths as well.
A slow, deliberate curse left her. Yet again, her mind had thought it fit to relive that hellish nightmare of a memory. Of all her memories—and she had a lot of memories—she despised that one the fucking most, and it was also the one that kept reappearing in her dreams. It had been that single damned instant that had changed her entire life. Three centuries of an innocence as natural to her as breathing had instantly been tarnished; in that single instance, she had learned the meaning of three words: pain, anger, and hate.
Her beloved theíes had explained everything to her after she had stopped screaming for what felt like hours. They had told her everything about her and her Mitéra's past—especially about who Adamantia's sire was.
Fucking Poseidon—a name that felt like more like a damn curse than a damn blessing, especially as she finally found what he had done to her beautiful Mitéra.
A sudden growl ripped her throat as she kicked her blankets off before getting out of her tempting king-sized bed. Groaning as she dragged her hands over her face, she shook her head to get rid of thoughts of the past, trying to focus on the day ahead of her.
Grumbling under her breath darkly, she marched for her bathroom, stripping off her clothing as she went. Instead of heading for her large tub as she normally would, she slipped into her shower and turned the hot water on blast, needing to wash away those fucking memories. She had way too much shit to get done today to sit and stew over the past. The important things to get done today were to check on the orphanage, the shelter, and the clinic. After a couple of thousand years to cool her temper, she had vowed that she would never allow anyone of any age or gender to be shamed like her mother just because they had been defiled or left at the mercy of others. Bitterly, she knew that even today, society hadn't changed all that much; every time someone was assaulted or exploited, someone else was sitting over their shoulder, arguing they could have prevented it.
Oh, but you provoked that attack! They would say. You were too beautiful to act like that, or Look how you dressed, or You're a man, you should have been able to protect yourself!
A dark look clouded her face as disgust briefly filled her. Over the years she had been alive, she had learned to heal, fight, and even kill. For centuries, she had offered a safe haven to those that were in need of it…to those that were vulnerable and could not protect themselves. Several lives not worth recounting had been lost by her hand because they had dared to challenge the sanctity of innocence, not knowing that she was the witness and vengeance of the voiceless. She remembered the look of confused horror in their eyes as they realized, often for the first time, what it felt like to be helpless as they watched their life trickle away before them.
Then the heat of the water washed over her face, and a sigh of pleasure slipped from her. The phantasms of the past shimmered and disappeared like a heat-haze; leaving her past to the past, she deeply inhaled the steam as it filled the air.
***
"Somebody's broody today!"
Adamantia sighed through her nose as she heard Sophia. She rolled her eyes and refrained from saying a word as she walked past her. From the corner of her eye, she saw Sophia grin, and fought back the urge to toss the damnable dryad into the ocean. But, then again, she had no wish or desire to piss that prick Pan off; the Satyr-God tended to get pissy when someone touched someone that belonged to his ass. And Sophia? She was his most favored of all dryads. Only a fool would go toe to toe with Pan—and she knew from experience. She'd accidentally destroyed his favorite tree once, only to get immediately impaled on a branch…which was how she had met Sophia.
Sophia paused from saying something smart as she noticed something about her old friend. "Dreams again? That makes it the fifth time in a month," she frowned. The dryad was one of the very few people that knew who exactly she was and what her history was. "Well… I say, let's put those horrible memories where they belong for now, little Hebe[1]: in the past. We have a lot to get done today."
Adamantia nodded, thankful despite herself.
"Did you call ahead to the orphanage?" she asked absently as she pulled her boots on. They were solid-looking and black, and it occurred to Sophia that getting kicked by them would hurt.
"About that," Sophia began, knowing this wouldn't go well. "Micah is here."
Adamantia paused; her eyes flashed as she looked up.
"Sophia?"
"Yes?"
"Are you shitting me?" Adamantia hissed. "I told you what I'd do to that ungrateful little shit the next time I saw him."
"And I'm sure he knows," Sophia said drily. "He's probably here to make amends."
"Amends," Adamantia pursed her lips. "Okay, this should be good. Show him in."
Sighing, Sophia did as instructed.
***
A few moments later, she found herself outside the penthouse elevator; there was a ding, and a scrawny looking figure emerged from the shimmering bronze of the art-deco sliding doors. He was pale and would have been passably handsome if not for the wispy goatee trying to die on his chin. Patchy scales covered his forearms and cheeks, and greasy blonde hair stuck to his perspiring forehead. Taking off his 2$ shades, he revealed anxious, snake-like eyes.
"Is she, like, mad?" Micah whispered, wincing at the look on Sophia's face. "R-i-ight, so she's mad. How mad, though? Like, like still-on-speaking-terms mad? Or…?"
Rolling her eyes, Sophia led Micah through the penthouse. The gangly man took it all in as he shuffled after her; the place was a complex blend of order and chaos, and the old and new; on one hand, display cases held strange, green-hued weapons from ages long past, while on the other hand, a fur-collared coat was flung unceremoniously over a pinball machine.
Sophia caught his eye. "Don't you dare touch that—it was a gift."
Micah nodded and hurriedly followed. Figured; somehow, he couldn't imagine Adamantia Hisapi playing pinball. Or anything, for that matter; she was a mystery wrapped in an enigma wrapped in at least a few centuries of anger-issues. He had no idea how old she was, but he knew she was old; every Naga in the country knew Adamantia. Hell, even some of the Nagas back in Asia knew her—she'd been sheltering the community for ages now. No one in their community knew her real age, or even what she was for that matter. There was speculation that she was a gorgon or a descendent from the rare basilisk clan—or even a god—but no one really knew. All that was important was that she was always there, thankfully on their side.
Even when he was a little Snakeling, Micah remembered seeing the fury-eyed woman striding through debris of the old Naga Enclave, advancing upon the hunters that had attacked them. A wide-eyed Micah had looked on from behind the rubble as the strange woman in the shimmering cloak had torn her way through the hunters, leaving nothing behind but dark forms bleeding on the cold stone.
Micah gulped at the memory.
Oh, gods. I fucked up.
As if on cue a dark shape emerged from the room before them, and he felt the lump in his throat as he saw her. Her beautifully shimmering, golden-wheat hair was half-tied, half free, and those mesmerizing eyes of mediterranean blue were dark now—so very dark, like a storm on the horizon. Her gaze narrowed dangerously as she looked at Micah; her entire form was coiled up, as though ready to lash out.
"Yeah, she doesn't do well with betrayal," Sophia commented nonchalantly as she delicately stepped away from between them. Micah fidgeted, deeply uncomfortable—not to mention terrified.
"Really, Micah?" Adamantia finally said, slowly biting each word. "Of all the fucking. Impossibly. Stupid. Shit, you could do—" Micah flinched at each break. "—You steal from us. Really. Micah?"
"I, I," he stammered. He'd always been a smooth talker, but something had gone a little wrong with how his forked tongue felt in his mouth—not to mention how clammy his hands were. "Well, I… just needed the money, you see, and—"
"You needed money," Adamantia echoed, and let the statement hang there. "So, instead of asking for money, or getting a fucking loan like a sane being… you steal. This is not the fucking medieval times, you dumbass. You can borrow money without being sold into serfdom; and you know I'd have helped. But it wasn't about help, was it?" she growled at the Naga, and he flinched back from her anger.
Alright, Micah thought quickly, Time for the apologetics. With careful, planned precision, his head drooped with childlike remorse, the barest hint of a tear at the corner of his eye as he folded his arms vulnerably.
"I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have, I…" he began, his voice catching.
It was a performance that would have made an entire audience cry; the moment he did it, he knew it was perfect. Then he saw Sophia in the corner of his vision. She was wincing.
Bad move, he realized as his eyes crept up to meet the venom dripping from her eyes. He froze and a bead of sweat made its way down his neck—a fact that mildly horrified him, considering that Nagas didn't even sweat.
Swallowing hard, he went to open his mouth—only, he ended up choking and gurgling for air as a hand clamped down around his throat in an unforgiving grip. His hands clamped down around her wrist as he was lifted off his feet and was pulled towards the furious woman as terror-filled, pale green snake-eyes met the cold, dark glare of the woman.
"You don't fuck with me," she hissed, between clenched teeth, trying to with her entire being to not bare her fangs. "I don't care why you took the money—what matters is that you took it. You're lucky I'm fond of your mother, little Naga, or I would be ending your life right now."
Sophia shifted on her feet. "Tia." She tried as she knew her old friend had every right in tearing this thief apart. But she also knew that Adamantia held great respect and care for the Naga's mother. "I know how you feel, but anything but killing this time, okay?" She knew the woman would have no regret in killing the boy but would have regret in the pain it would cause his mother.
Adamantia narrowed her eyes before with a flick of her wrist and not even using half of her strength, she sent the little bastard flying in a wall, denting the surface. "For the respect and care that I have for your mother, I will spare your worthless thieving fucking worm of a life. But let me tell you this: that is where my mercy fucking ends," she spoke in a low, dark hiss as her eyes flashed dangerously.
Micah scrambled to his feet, wild-eyed and confused as he made a break for the elevator. His usually cool heart was beating madly as he smacked the elevator's buttons desperately, glancing back with exasperated fear as Sophia sauntered over.
"You idiot," she said flatly. "You gambled the money, didn't you?"
He stared wide-eyed, looking behind her, as if waiting for Adamantia to appear and tear his throat out.
"She knows already," Sophia laughed. "Did you really think she wouldn't find out? You got off lucky."
Micah paused, as if to say something or justify, but just then, the elevator dinged open and he disappeared within. He looked at Sophia one last time with guilty eyes, and then the doors shut.
Sophia sighed, and went back to look for Adamantia. She found her sitting in front of the TV, arms crossed, her expression still dark.
"He's an idiot for coming back here," she grumbled. "And I shouldn't have let him live. They'll think anyone can get away with anything—and that's not happening."
"He's an idiot," Sophia agreed, "But not a deserves-to-die kind of idiot."
Adamantia rolled her eyes. Then there was a sudden crackle and a news bulletin popped up on the television.
"In today's news: a temple dedicated to the Greek God Zeus, has been demolished. According to sources, it was demolished last night; according to expert in mythology, Dr. Herbert Dean, this site is where Zeus's infamous lightning bolt once hit the earth…"
"Tia?" frowned Sophia as Adamantia now stood up in front of the TV, grimacing as she listened. She frowned heavily, as she eyed the screen and settled back onto the couch. "What's wrong?" Sophia murmured, concerned now. She knew nothing good ever came from that particular god's temple being touched.
Adamantia frowned as she tilted her head. "I'm not certain. Something about this feels off to me…unless I'm wrong and mortals or a natural disaster did this. But I don't know who of the immortals or monsters would be foolish enough to take out that god's temple…he's worse than Aphrodite when it comes to vanity," muttered Adamantia. She suddenly felt cold. "Do me a favor, will you, Sophia? Go to Pan later and ask him if knows anything…because something isn't right. I think something is going to happen," she said, biting her bottom lip.
They sat there in the cold glow of the television screen, as if frozen. They could feel the change in the air—and it sure did not feel as if it was going to be a pleasant change either.
[1] Snake