Descending (The Rising Series)

by Kelly, Holly

  “Do you have any questions for me?”

  “No.”

  “Well then, you are free to leave,” she said in a normal voice.

  He stood for a moment, in a daze. Then he shook himself. “What in Hades am I doing here?”

  “You were just leaving,” she said, surprised at how quickly he returned to himself.

  “I came here for answers.” He stepped toward her and stared her down.

  Aella narrowed her eyes. “No.” She unleashed her voice, long and shrill. “You are leaving.”

  He stiffened—immediately overcome, and proceeded to leave without another word.

  As he got into his skiff and headed back to shore, Aella wondered if her plan could yet have a flaw. Drakōn was a little too hard to control. She hoped the one called Kyros would give her no trouble.

  Gretchen lay across the sofa and flipped through the channels. There was absolutely nothing worth watching on. Maybe if she were interested in screeching idiots fighting over who was the father of whose baby, or perhaps if she cared about how to clean up spills with no residue, but barring those things, there was nothing on TV.

  Kyros stepped into the doorframe. He took one look at her, turned around, and strode away. He hadn’t said two words to her in the last two days—ever since they’d shared that kiss. Gretchen sat up to adjust the pillow. On a whim, she punched it. But once she got started, she couldn’t seem to stop. An image of Kyros’s face flashed in her mind—his handsome, rugged, face with the stupid scowl. “Idiot, jerk, butt wipe…” She punched with each insult, each one getting progressively fouler, until she finally ran out of names to call him.

  Kicking her feet up on the couch, she slammed her head back onto the pummeled pillow and glared at the ceiling. Maybe she should check Facebook. Perhaps she could squeeze some enjoyment from social media.

  She turned on her phone and opened the app. It looks like Carrie—her old high school cheerleading captain—just had her second kid. Whoopee for her. Oh and Hal… *click* unfriend. Who cared who—oh, excuse me—what Hal was doing? Her brother, Matt, just pulled the biggest prank of the century. He put bras and tutus on Tim Tebow, Danny Wuerffel, and Steve Spurrier—well, on their Heisman statues at Griffin Stadium at least. He even gave them wigs and a makeover. He posted pictures to prove it—and got fined two hundred dollars. If he hadn’t posted the evidence on Facebook, he might have gotten away with it. If he called, she wouldn’t answer. He just hit her up for a hundred bucks two weeks ago. There was no way she’d spot him two hundred for stupidity.

  Gretchen stood and turned off her phone. Stepping toward the window, she wanted nothing more than to pull up the blinds and look out. Pallas caught her last time she’d done that and gave her a thirty-minute lecture about safety. She frowned, considering whether or not it was worth another reprimand.

  Gretchen seriously needed to get out of this funk. Cabin fever had never agreed with her. She was a free spirit, a social being. She was not meant to be kept cooped up in a house for days at a time.

  If only she had some work she could do, but losing your job meant no work.

  The doorbell rang.

  Pausing in surprise for just a moment, she sprinted for the door. She had every intention of beating her jailers to it before they could hide her away from the threat of an Avon lady.

  “Gretchen,” Kyros shouted from down the hall. “Get away from that door.” He strode toward her, his expression livid.

  She glared right back. “I was going to look through peephole before answering. I’m not stupid, Kyros.”

  “Go back and watch TV. I’ll handle this.”

  “Listen, I don’t know what kind of backward culture you come from, but no one gives me orders. I’m getting sick—”

  “Do you have a death hope?”

  “A what?”

  “Do you want to die?”

  “Oh, you mean death wish. And yes, I’m on the verge right now, I’ll have you know. One more day cooped up in this house, and I’ll shoot myself and save the gunman the trouble.”

  Kyros frowned at her.

  The doorbell rang again.

  Gretchen stepped past Kyros and looked through the lens. A short, dark woman stood on the doorstep. A small child squirmed in her arms. Gretchen pulled the door open. Kyros yanked her back and pushed her behind him.

  “I, uh… am here to clean,” the woman said, her eyes darting between Gretchen and Kyros. “Do you want me to come back later?”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  They answered simultaneously.

  Gretchen stepped around Kyros. “Come on in.” She pulled the woman inside and smiled at the little boy who was attempting to wriggle free.

  “Hello there, little guy,” Gretchen greeted.

  He stopped squirming and shoved his thumb in his mouth. His brown eyes searched Gretchen’s face. “Do you have any toys?”

  “No, they don’t have toys,” the woman answered. “You’ll have to color in the coloring books you brought.”

  Gretchen thought about how this house must look to a five-year-old boy. Pretty darn boring. Except for the pool, that is. But there was no way she could take him swimming. Still, she knew exactly what little boys liked to do these days. She stooped down to speak to him.

  “Do you want to play video games?”

  His eyes widened as a smile of anticipation spread across his face. His head bobbed up and down in a nod.

  Gretchen looked up to the mother’s relieved face. “Is it okay with you?”

  The woman nodded. “Nothing violent.”

  “Of course not,” Gretchen answered, taking the boy’s hand in hers.

  She straightened up, and her eyes met Kyros. He was frowning—of course. He was always frowning. He turned on his heels and left to go down the hallway.

  “I’ll get started,” the woman said. “Let me know if he gives you any trouble.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be a perfect angel,” Gretchen said as she led him to the living room.

  “So, little man,” Gretchen said, “what’s your name?”

  “Charles.”

  “Well, Charles. Do you like racing cars?”

  “My mom won’t let me drive.”

  “She won’t?” Gretchen raised her eyebrows in mock surprise.

  He shook his head.

  “I have a game that lets you race cars. Do you want to play it?”

  He nodded, cracking a smile.

  She led him into the living room and hooked up the game system. They chose a two-player game, pitting themselves against each other. She’d make sure he won, but she’d be careful to not let on she was letting him.

  They’d only been playing for a few minutes when she saw movement in her peripheral vision. She glanced over to see Pallas watching them in wonder. She smiled at him; he smiled back, his eyes darting over to the boy with the most peculiar, confused look—as if he’d never seen a child before. She looked back to the game to see she’d driven off a bridge into the ocean. Thank heavens the game was more forgiving than real life. A moment later, her car was dropped back onto the road. Pallas left as she was swerving to miss a banana.

  Straton stopped in the doorway a few minutes later. He looked just as surprised by the presence of a child as Pallas had been. Gretchen did her best to ignore the strange men who stopped by one by one to gawk. Charles didn’t seem to notice, but chatted on about how well he was doing, and how his friend, Stefano, had the same game. These men acted like a celebrity was in their presence. Even Amar—the man who never even looked at her, never even paused at her presence—stopped at the sight of this child.

  Gretchen lost miserably, and she hadn’t even let Charles win on purpose. The men in this house had so thoroughly distracted her that she was easy prey.

  “Charles,” his mother called. “It’s time to go.” She stepped into the room.

  “Perfect timing,” Gretchen said. “Your son just won the game.”

  “Thank you,” hi
s mother said, smiling. “I appreciate you taking time to play with him.”

  “It was my pleasure,” Gretchen answered. “He’s a nice boy. You should be proud.”

  “I am,” she said, but her eyes kept looking around.

  “They’re a strange bunch, aren’t they?” Gretchen whispered.

  The woman gave a sigh of relief. “Yes. They watched me like I was a criminal. I promise you I’ve never stolen anything in my life.”

  “I’m sure you haven’t. These men are an odd lot, but I assure you, they mean you no harm.”

  “I didn’t feel threatened. They just seemed… suspicious.”

  “I know what you mean.” Gretchen frowned. “How often do you come here to clean?”

  “This is my first time, but the owner, Mr. Dimitriou, wants me to come in once a week. I must be honest, I’m not sure I’ll be back.”

  “Oh now, don’t let them worry you. They are actually quite nice once you get to know them. And I’d love an excuse to play video games with your son. I’ve been going out of my mind with boredom since my best friend was admitted to the hospital.”

  “Oh no. What happened?”

  “Um, well, she was… shot.”

  The color drained from the woman’s face as she looked back into the hall. “I… I’ve got to be going.” She scooped her son into her arms and rushed to the front door.

  “I didn’t mean to alarm you.” Gretchen rushed to follow her.

  The woman ignored her and continued on. “Tell Mr. Dimitriou he can send me my check.” She said the last words just before she pulled the door shut behind her.

  Pallas, Straton, and Kyros trickled into the hallway.

  “I’ve a feeling we won’t be seeing them again,” Gretchen said.

  “Why not?” Pallas asked. “We didn’t threaten her.”

  “No, you only did your prison warden thing on her.”

  “Prison warden?” Pallas asked.

  “Yeah, you made her feel like a criminal.”

  Pallas looked appalled. “I didn’t mean to treat her like a criminal.”

  “Yeah, well, you did. And it unnerved her.”

  “I guess we could have been friendlier,” Straton said.

  Gretchen rolled her eyes and returned to play more of the game.

  Gretchen stomped up to the front door with the annoying giant on her heels.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m not just going to sit around the house hiding.” Gretchen stopped at the front door and turned to glare up at Kyros. He was returning her glare and then some.

  “Gretchen,” he growled, bracing his hand against the door. “Until we find the man trying to kill you, you shouldn’t be putting yourself out there.”

  “And what if we never find him? What then?”

  “I think you should give it more time before you assume we’re never going to find him.”

  “I don’t want to give that creep even one more moment of my life. Listen, I’m sorry if you don’t like it, but I have to see Sara. If you want to come with me, I’d like that. But either way, I’m going with or without you.”

  “You would die to see your friend?”

  “I would die rather than give up my freedom,” Gretchen clarified. “Now, let me pass.”

  She could feel his emotions simmering, the heat of them radiating off his skin. She narrowed her eyes and stared him down.

  After a long couple of minutes, his shoulders loosened. “Okay, you can go. But not until you do a few things.”

  He dragged her to a chair and sat her down. “Wait here.”

  The minutes ticked by. Where in the world did he go? Finally, she could hear him stomping down the stairs. He appeared with an armful of stuff. There was a blonde wig, a wide-brimmed hat, dark sunglasses, a bulky sweater, and various scarves.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” She chuckled.

  Kyros frowned, obviously not appreciating her laughter.

  “Oh fine. Give me those,” she said, gathering the bundle in her arms and tromping down the hallway to the bathroom.

  A few minutes later, she emerged—a wannabe spy. Or maybe she was a bag lady. It was hard to tell which look she’d achieved.

  “There,” Kyros said, satisfied. “Now no one could possibly recognize you.”

  “Oh yeah, and no one could possibly suspect I’m wearing a disguise either.”

  Kyros’s brows pinched together. “Is that sarcasm?”

  “Oh no. Not at all.”

  He frowned at her, looking her up and down. “Let’s get this over with.”

  They only had to walk from the parking lot, through the hospital, and up the elevator to the third floor. And truly, there were not many people about, but with everyone gawking, it felt like a thousand eyes were on her.

  “Why is everyone looking at you?” Kyros whispered.

  “Because I’m dressed like an idiot,” she whispered back harshly.

  As they approached room 391, they were headed off by a hefty nurse. “Can I help you?”

  “Is Xanthus here?” Kyros asked. “I’d like to talk to him for a moment.”

  The woman’s eyes kept darting to Gretchen. She could understand why. Who would be wearing a getup like hers?

  “Let me see if he’s available.” The nurse slipped through the door, closing it behind her. A moment later, she returned with Xanthus. His face was drawn with concern. Then he saw her. His eyes widened in surprise. Oh yeah, even he could see how ridiculous she looked. The corners of his mouth pinched down, suppressing a smile.

  “Hello, Kyros,” he said. “Who is that with you?”

  “See,” Kyros whispered to Gretchen. “I told you the disguise would work.”

  This man needed to learn how to recognize sarcasm. Especially when it was so obvious that it practically slapped you in the face.

  “This is Gretchen,” Kyros answered. “I thought it best if she were to disguise herself.”

  “Good thinking. But I’m sorry; your timing is terrible. Sara has been taken to the lab.”

  “Is it anything serious?” Gretchen ripped off the sunglasses.

  Xanthus sighed. “No. Just routine tests.”

  Gretchen nodded—her stomach like lead in her gut. “Will you tell her I came? And let her know I miss her, and I want to see her again.”

  “Sure. I know she misses you too. I’m sorry this had to happen on your visit. You are welcome to stay as long as you’d like. Just let Kyros know if you need anything. I’m sure he’ll be happy to help you.” Xanthus turned to Kyros. “Won’t you?”

  “Oh yeah,” Kyros grumbled.

  “I do have a favor to ask.” Gretchen kept her eyes on Xanthus.

  “Oh?” Xanthus said.

  “I’d like nothing better than to go get some lunch, like in a restaurant, in public.”

  “There is this quiet, out-of-the-way sushi place I found recently,” Xanthus said.

  Gretchen smirked. “You and your sushi.”

  “We Mediterranean men love fresh fish. How about I walk you out and give you directions?”

  Kyros was glowering as they stepped outside. The three of them were quite a draw for curious eyes—a short, skinny “bag lady”, walking between two nearly seven-foot-tall, muscular men. Minds were spinning.

  “Have you heard from Drakōn?” Kyros asked.

  “Not yet,” Xanthus said. “He’ll let us know if there’s any news.”

  Xanthus turned to Gretchen. “Have you thought of anything else that might be helpful? Did you think of anyone who might want you dead?”

  These men knew nothing about being subtle. “Um, not anyone recently.”

  “Recently?” Kyros stopped walking and whipped around to face her.

  She tugged him across the parking lot crosswalk before the elderly man approaching in the large sedan ran them over.

  “What do you mean, recently?” Kyros asked.

  “My birth mother was not exactly happy when I left her. She had a bit of a temper, hurt a lot of peopl
e. But it’s been ages since I’ve seen her.”

  “How long?”

  “About fifteen years.”

  “How old were you when you left her?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “No. The social worker thought I looked to be about eight years old.”

  “And this mother wanted to kill you?”

  “She threatened me.”

  “What exactly did she say?”

  Gretchen frowned and took a deep breath. “She said if I ever left her, she’d hunt me down and rip my heart out.”

  Xanthus and Kyros seemed to share a ‘look.’

  “What?” she asked.

  Kyros shook his head. “It’s nothing. You left her anyway,” Kyros continued, “regardless of her threat to your life. Did you not believe her?”

  “Oh no, I believed her. I left because I knew she was capable of that and more.”

  “Where did all this take place?” Xanthus asked. “In Hawaii?”

  “No, um, it was Florida… Miami.”

  “Isn’t Miami nearby?” Kyros asked Xanthus.

  “It’s about a thousand miles away—southwest of here.”

  Kyros nodded.

  Squealing tires marked a car coming at them fast. Kyros pushed Gretchen back out of the path just as the car braked, stopping inches from them.

  Drakōn rose from the rumbling car. “Kyros, I need you to come with me.”

  “What’s wrong with you, Drakōn?” Xanthus growled. “Are you trying to run us down?”

  “I need Kyros to come with me,” Drakōn repeated as he turned to Xanthus. “And you’ll need to take the girl back to the house. I’ve found the would-be killer.”

  Xanthus narrowed his eyes. He looked suspicious. Kyros turned to her. “Go with Xanthus.”

  “What?” Gretchen squeaked. “You’re not going with him. We need to call the police. Now is no time to play hero.”

  “I have to go.”

  “No, you don’t have to go. You can just pull out your phone and dial 9-1-1 or whatever number they use here to call the police.”

  “Gretchen, I’m not debating this right now.”

  She pulled Kyros toward her. “I need to talk to you.”

  “But we’re already…”

  “In private,” she snapped and turned to lead the way. She heard him sigh at her back as they walked. They passed a couple of cars and ended up standing behind a minivan. Gretchen stopped and turned toward him. She tried to ignore how close he was standing, or how much she wanted to reach out to him. The way he’d been acting since their kiss, he’d probably just push her away.