The Fall (The Siren Series)

by Higginson, Rachel

  That seemed fitting on a day like today.

  Especially with a night like tonight waiting for me.

  Chapter Eight

  The car pulled up to an extravagant estate outside of Omaha. Nix waited for the driver to open our door and I obviously wasn’t going to get out without him. Evaleen and Anaxandra were arriving separately, so this had been one super awkward trip with just the two of us sharing the backseat.

  I looked up at the opulent marble columns and handcrafted stone that made up the front façade of the house. We had parked at the apex of a circular drive with the house sprawling out along perfectly manicured lawns in either direction. The drive was filled with cars that were parked by valets or had driver’s sitting patiently inside. Every window of the house was lit with life and laughter.

  A party.

  Nix had brought me to a party.

  Without my mother.

  Pinpricks of fear slithered over my skin and my spine stiffened into a steel rod of nervous tension. The door opened and my anxiety only increased.

  The driver offered his hand and I took it out of habit, well, and I was wearing four inch stilettos with a razor-thin heel. I loathed Nix with every piece of my blackened heart, but that didn’t mean I wanted to fall on my ass just because I was stubborn.

  The summer heat settled over my skin as soon as the door to the car closed behind Nix. I felt the humidity sink into my hair and pull it into unruliness. My skin flushed from the ungodly temperature and my short, cocktail dress felt too clingy for the task ahead of me. The bouncy red skirt scratched my thighs with the layers of tulle underneath and the feathery black top dipped to a sweetheart neckline in the front and all the way to two inches above the waist of the red skirt in the back. The top stuck to my arms and chest with an annoying adhesiveness, thanks to the summer humidity. Little beads of sweat dampened the flouncy feathers until they were limp and plastered to my skin.

  Tea candles in decorative paper bags lit the way down a sandstone path, inviting guests to follow the trail. Nix held his elbow for me to take, which I did without argument. He pulled me along with him while he ate up the ground in authoritative steps. Everything about him, from the top of his expertly styled dark hair to his crisp tux and shiny designer shoes screamed wealthy aristocrat.

  Or Greek god allowing humanity to sample his magnificence.

  We walked without speaking, without acknowledging each other in any way other than the small contact of my hand pressed into the crook of his elbow.

  I didn’t know how I would make it through the night. I couldn’t imagine surviving whatever lay ahead of me. The events of earlier this evening had completely unsettled me and a feeling of such sincere dread curdled my stomach and boiled my blood.

  I pictured my mother at the end of his tyrannical fist and prayed for courage, whether for her or because I didn’t want to be in that same place at the end of this night, I wasn’t sure. But something gave me the resilience to take another step forward; some greater power leveled out my breathing and relaxed my shoulders.

  Something that belonged to a force outside of myself.

  This was a strength that I knew I was acutely not responsible for.

  We followed the lantern-lit path around the curve of the house and to the backyard that tumbled down for acres. I sucked in a shocked breath at the stunning detail that went into this lavish party.

  A huge white tent covered the lawn from one side of the house to the other. Tea candles now hung from old fashioned glass lanterns and converted mason jars and they dangled on both the outside of the tent and inside. A dance floor spaced out the middle of the floor and on one side of it a bluegrass band played sweet music highlighted by a banjo player. Tall tables with white tablecloths that reached the floor broke up the crush of people, while waiters with champagne or an assortment of hors d’oeuvres floated seamlessly in the gaps.

  Men wore crisp tuxes that suffocated them in the July heat. Some of their collars were already unbuttoned with their bowties or ties hanging loosely around their necks. Their smiles never faded though, their unnaturally white teeth flashed with predatory intent.

  Women of every age wore dresses that cost more than the town car we arrived in. They were frosted with diamonds and spray-tanned and face-lifted to perfection. Expensive perfumes and colognes mingled with the heady aroma of flowers and freshly cut grass and filled my nostrils until I wanted to sneeze.

  Nix led me into the tent and immediately the temperature rose ten degrees. Body heat swarmed around me in a cloud of uncomfortable warmth. I felt like holding my breath to keep my lungs from inhaling the cloying air.

  People parted for Nix, recognizing him immediately. Eyes fell to me next and surveyed me hungrily. I kept my expression decidedly neutral so they wouldn’t see the repulsion lining my eyes or the disgusted wrinkle in my nose.

  I didn’t recognize a single person. There was a current in the air, and underlying buzz of power and otherworldliness.

  If I had to bet, I would lay all my money down that these were all Greeks. Nix must have had them shipped in from all of the different circles that still made up the Olympus culture. Everyone looked human so it was impossible to tell what anyone was or where they belonged. I couldn’t even differentiate from a god to demigod when they were basically clones of each other.

  We walked around the dance floor and found a tall table near a floor fan. It blew across my shins, graciously bringing my body temperature down. I walked toward the circulating air and momentarily forgot everything else while the forced breeze cooled the droplets of sweat on my sticky skin.

  Two other men stood at the table and greeted Nix with an aloof charm that sent alarm bells ringing in my head. I recognized their detached arrogance and snobbish standoffishness. These were the gods.

  Before, when I said I couldn’t tell the difference… that was wrong. As soon as I was presented with them, it was very obvious.

  Nix spoke with the other two men for a long time while I stood prettily at his side. I watched the room as my attention strayed from their inane conversation. These people were fascinating if I didn’t have to engage with them. The wealth and power they were accustomed to, created a subculture of humanity that came out tainted and toxic. They weren’t just ungodly rich; they were also extremely powerful and came from a background of even more powerful predecessors. These people actually believed they came from gods and goddesses. They actually believed they shaped history and decided the fate of humanity.

  They weren’t just delusional; they had the means to act out their delusions, which meant they were deadly.

  And supposedly, I was the center of it all.

  Me. A seventeen year old girl, acting as arm candy for a man whose age I couldn’t even comprehend.

  My mother’s words rolled around in my head and I wanted to vomit. There are worse things than what he can do to you.

  When Nix had my attention and, I managed a plastic smile pasted across my face, he began his introductions. “Ivy, I’d like you to meet two very important men. This is Crete Haden.” I extended my hand to an even darker man than Nix. His skin was so tanned I would have given him a Spanish heritage instead of Greek. His black hair seemed almost purple from its deep color. His eyes were black holes of emptiness and his cold touch sent chills racing up my spine.

  Nix’s age seemed unidentifiable to me. I knew that he was old. I knew that he could possibly be ancient. But his true age had never been disclosed. All of the “true” gods and goddesses were like that. There were different theories among the circles, but the truth was, nobody really knew. What we did know was the myth and legend surrounding each present day god. Those facts and history lessons were taught to us as children. We also learned why they chose their present day names.

  Nix, who was actually Poseidon, took his modern-day name from Norse mythology. The Nix was said to have seduced his victims and then drowned them in the river. You could see why Poseidon chose that name for himself.

&nb
sp; Despite his unknown age, Nix managed to appear enigmatic and worldly while his face appeared fresh and youthful. Crete on the other hand was obviously aged. His dark skin crinkled in thin lines around his eyes that stretched all the way to his hairline. His soulless eyes held a weariness about them that physically oppressed me. His hands were a bit arthritic and his skin felt papery thin.

  Crete Haden. As in Crete Hades. As in Hades, the god of the underworld.

  Lovely.

  Nix continued, “And this is Ky Aries.” I tugged my hand from Haden’s tight grip and stilled every escape-instinct in my body to accept Ky’s greeting. Ky, possibly the opposite of Crete if that were possible, seemed eerily similar. There was a hardness to his very soul that terrified me. His light blonde hair could have been gray in a different light. His body was packed muscle that bulked in his tailored jacket and pushed into every neighboring space. His light silver eyes were the color of steel, or a blade. They glinted in the yellow light as dangerous as the tip of a knife. His smile turned up wickedly in the corners and his bronzed skin was leathered from exposure and years and years in the sun… or battlefield.

  Ky was shortened from Kydoimos, which meant “the spirit of battle.” Kydoimos Aries, otherwise known as Ares, the god of war.

  I gulped.

  “What a magnificent creature you are,” Ky grinned at me.

  Nix’s arm went around my shoulder and pulled me back into the curve of his body. His fingers trailed down my bare arm before settling on the dip of my waist. “Isn’t she?” he asked in a taunting tone.

  “Ah,” Crete said knowingly. “This is the one, then? Our Siren?”

  “My Siren,” Nix corrected.

  “The rumors have not done you justice.” Ky’s lecherous gaze roamed over my body. He took in every inch of me like I was on display for only him.

  Nix’s grip tightened on my hip and I abhorred myself in that moment because he felt safer than the two men across the table from me. I couldn’t even claim that Nix was the “lesser” evil, he was simply the more familiar.

  My mind wandered to Ryder while Nix rattled off some of my finer qualities as if I was a prize racehorse he was convincing them to bet on. A pang of guilt hit me when I realized I hadn’t texted to tell Ryder I wasn’t going to make practice tonight. I hadn’t even looked at my phone since Ana called earlier today. He was probably worried about me.

  I closed my eyes and sucked in a steadying breath. That thought calmed me. The idea of Ryder caring about me, thinking about me while I stood in the pits and held conversations with snakes soothed my aching soul.

  He was waiting for me.

  He wouldn’t let anything happen to me.

  He would keep me safe.

  “Ah, here they are,” Nix announced.

  Anaxandra and Evaleen sidled up to the table looking like supermodels straight off the runway. Ana’s long blonde hair floated around her shoulders and glistened in the candlelight. Her canary, silk dress dipped to her bellybutton in the front and her lower back. The wide sleeves made the dress blousy even while it left very little to the imagination. The short skirt showed off her mile-long legs and perfected the trophy-wife image. Eva had gone for a more basic look with a strapless purple number that had a high-cinched waist. Her dark brown hair was in an elaborate side braid that hung over her shoulder. Her porcelain skin tone stood out in the room where everyone else was bronzed from good genetics or spray-tanned to within an inch of their lives. But it was a good way to stand out. Her skin tone was flawless.

  Crete and Ky perked up with obvious interest. I might be a beautiful, new trinket, but I was out of reach for them. These girls however… I was beginning to see the point of this “job.”

  Virginities for sale, anyone?

  Nix made the customary introductions and the girls behaved with a perfect mixture of shy ambivalence and sexy charm. They were groomed for this exact moment and they did not disappoint.

  “Quite the crop you have, Nixy,” Crete crooned. “Haven’t seen them this appealing in a long time.”

  Nix smiled as if he were personally responsible for our pretty faces. “It’s a good omen, is it not?” His fingers traced a circle on my hip bone and I pressed my lips together until my teeth dug into the sensitive flesh and I tasted blood.

  “So they say,” Ky had sobered some, taking me in again with a little bit less of the creep-factor. “There is a whisper that the Fates came to see her. They spoke words of her future.”

  Nix made a small nod but didn’t verbally confirm or deny this accusation.

  “So it is true.” The black holes in Crete’s face, also known as eyes, narrowed and he sat back perceptively. “Obviously you will make a power play.”

  Nix broke into a devilish grin. “Over one small prophecy? That would be foolish.”

  Ky grunted something foul. “Or brilliant. Zeus and Hera have been too long on the mountaintop. They have forgotten what it was like to feel power, to feel the weight of man be crushed beneath our feet. They are drunk on ambrosia and complacency.” He gestured to the other two men at the table, completely forgetting us poor women. “The mountain is in need of real gods to rule. They need men like us. Men who are not men, but gods among men.”

  Crete’s soulless eyes lit with a fire that could burn this world to the ground just because he was bored and wanted something to entertain him. Nix’s body thrummed with an energy I had never felt from him before. This was greed at its finest. This was evil ambition and an insatiable hunger for power.

  Crete’s attention shifted to me where he watched me carefully. “You will use her, of course. She will take you back to the mountain. She will restore your godhood.”

  “Are you looking to hitch a ride?” Nix asked ambiguously.

  Crete shrugged a narrow shoulder and reached for Evaleen’s hand. He brought her delicate fingers to his lips and pressed a cold kiss to her open palm. “The spoils of your victory seem exponentially agreeable.”

  Ky barked out a delighted laugh and beckoned for Ana to join him at his side.

  Crete had a sinister slyness that reminded me of a rodent. I hated the way he watched the world around him. I hated the way he possessed whatever he was looking at as if he could have their soul in his hands with snap of his fingers. He was death and life after death and I felt the bone-deep coldness of a corpse when he was near.

  But Ky somehow managed to be worse than that. He was barely restrained aggression. He was bloodlust and cruelty and thousands and thousands of years of war packaged into a being that wasn’t allowed to wage war the way they used to, that wasn’t allowed to wage war at all because nobody considered the god of war these days. He was outdated software, something forgotten and extinct. He was a boiling volcano that would destroy whatever dared cross his path.

  My skin crawled for Eva, but my spirit trembled for Anaxandra. Ky had set his sights on her and I knew that she was in terrible danger.

  Nix must have sensed my discomfort because he pulled me to his front and wrapped his arms around me in an embrace. I stood there without pulling away; I just let the numbness wash over me as I became his puppet.

  “Be good, Ivy,” he murmured into my ear. “And I’ll take you home before the orgy starts.”

  My breath caught in my throat and I jerked in his arms. He shushed me, making soothing noises in my ear. I took the opportunity to look around the tent and knew within seconds that he was not bluffing. The people milling about had grown wild with the unending alcohol and general feeling of mayhem and mischief. Besides that, all it would take was a few Nymphs to set an atmosphere of lust for the party to drown in sensation and desire.

  “I’ll be good,” I promised Nix.

  “Mmm,” he approved. “I’m pleased that you learned from my lesson earlier. You obedience is worth rewarding. Remember that.”

  I nodded, deciding now it was better to keep my mouth shut.

  Nothing I had to say would come out sounding like obedience. Trust. Me.

  T
he rest of the evening passed with the men talking politics and getting drunk. I learned all kinds of interesting facts, while I stood there in my torturous high heels, putting my feet through hell and sipping the same glass of champagne the entire night.

  The longer the night dragged on, the handsier the men grew. Even Nix had moved me in front of his body so that his arms could wrap around my waist and he could hug me against his chest. I couldn’t complain though, not with what Ana and Eva were going through. Crete was downright perverted and poor Evaleen seemed about ready to cry. She might have been prepared for this her whole life, but I could see how shaken she felt tonight now that she was thrown into the middle. And my anxiety for Anaxandra just continued to deepen. Ky wasn’t so much lewd in the way he touched her, just rough. I cringed every time he grabbed a new part of her body. He was bruising with his touch and whenever he grasped a new part of her he would shake her until she somehow fit exactly like he wanted her to. She already had purple fingerprints blooming across her arms and shoulders. He either didn’t understand his own strength or was using it like this with her on purpose. But with each new shake and twist of her skin a new tear would slip from the corners of her eyes and her makeup would smudge just a bit more.

  And the whole time Nix said nothing.

  Did nothing.

  Just let it happen.

  I had somehow become a beacon of strength for these girls that not hours ago I wanted nothing more to do with. They had betrayed me, yet now they looked to me with pleading, desperate expressions that I couldn’t ignore.

  I would meet each of their hysterical gazes and hold it for as long as I could. I would nod in solidarity and smile when I could force myself to. I would flag down the waitress for another glass of champagne to numb some of their discomfort. I would squeeze a hand when I could reach them. I would stop fighting my own tears when I became as overwhelmed as they were.