Descending (The Rising Series)

by Kelly, Holly

  A hefty, middle-aged man with a shiny, bare head stood as they walked in. Curly, grey fluff stuck out from his collar. Kyros was never so glad he didn’t have to worry about the effects of aging.

  “Good evening,” the human greeted.

  “Good evening,” Kyros answered. “I would like a room with two beds.”

  The man smiled. Kyros was taken aback at the gaping spaces between the man’s teeth. “Now why you be needing two beds with a girl as pretty as that one on your arm?” He gave an exaggerated wink.

  “Are you always this rude to your guests?” Kyros scowled.

  The man blinked back in surprise. “I, uh… No, sir. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  Gretchen ran her hand down Kyros’s arm and smiled at the uncouth human. “Don’t mind Kyros. He’s had a really bad night.”

  The man avoided Kyros’s gaze as he spoke to Gretchen. “Yeah, he needs to lighten up.”

  “Don’t I know it,” she said. “Listen, do you have a room with two beds? Or two adjoining rooms would be fine too.”

  “Yeah, I got adjoining rooms.” He kept his eyes on Gretchen. “You paying with card or cash?”

  It looked like this man didn’t want to deal with him anymore. “Cash,” Kyros said, forcing the man’s attention.

  The man looked at him briefly while completing the transaction. “Okay, sure. Follow me.”

  The rooms were much smaller than the rooms in Xanthus’s home, but they looked clean, well tended, and each had a wide window. Through the dark pane, he could see a few yellow flowers lighted by the glow from the room’s lamp.

  “This is perfect. Thank you,” Gretchen said.

  “Well, pretty lady, just dial 3 if you need anything.”

  Pretty lady? Kyros scowled. Finally, the human left. “Is that normal behavior?” Kyros asked.

  “What behavior?” Gretchen looked baffled.

  “Human men calling you nicknames when they don’t know you?”

  Gretchen shrugged and sank into the bed. “I guess. But not every man is that friendly.”

  “Friendly? That was friendly?” Kyros stood, too angry to sit.

  Gretchen smiled and nodded.

  “When would you say they’ve crossed the line?” he asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know.” She lay back on the bed and turned toward him on her side. “It depends on the culture.”

  Kyros raised his eyebrow.

  “Oh, all right.” She sat up. “I guess if he touches me too much, or in an inappropriate way. Or if he starts calling me baby, honey, or ‘ooh la la woman.’” Gretchen’s smile broadened as his frown deepened. “Or if he looks me over like he’s undressing me with his mind. And a guy looking at me like that while licking his lips…” She gave an exaggerated shudder. “Then there’s pinching my butt, grabbing my—”

  “I get it,” Kyros snapped, interrupting her. He had the insane urge to crush his fist through the human’s face.

  Gretchen smiled innocently, but the gleam in her eye told him she knew exactly what she was doing to him.

  “Okay,” Gretchen said, “so tell me again why you’re determined to lock me away in here while you leave and go talk to Xanthus.”

  Kyros paced the floor, his leg shooting daggers of pain with each step. “Drakōn can’t track you here. He’s the one that took me to your mother—”

  “Birth mother.”

  “Right. Anyway, I think it’s safe to assume he will kill you if he gets the chance.”

  “Probably. You know he’ll most likely kill you too.”

  “I’m much harder to kill than you are.”

  “I’m not a weakling.”

  “No, you’re not. But you are injured and exhausted.”

  “So are you.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  Kyros sighed and dropped onto the bed beside her. “All right. I give up. I’ll call Xanthus and have him meet us here.”

  “Sara too?”

  “Okay.”

  “We might want to wait ‘til morning,” she said. “It’s pretty late.”

  Kyros frowned and nodded. Lifting her chin, he examined her face. “You look worn out.”

  Gretchen cracked a smile. “Let’s see. What did I do today? I escaped from prison, took an early morning swim, played a game of tag with the sharks, hiked a mountain, explored caves, ran for my life while being chased down by a murdering lunatic, got choked near to death, stabbed in the hand, and yanked my own hand out from said knife.” He internally cringed at the memory, regret still fresh in his mind. “Can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings.”

  “Get some sleep,” he said. “You need your rest. I’ll… I’ll keep watch until you fall asleep.”

  “You don’t need to. I’m sure I’ll be asleep as soon as my eyes close.”

  He sat, not moving. She was right. Obviously, she wasn’t afraid to be left alone. He should just go to bed himself. After all, he was honest enough to admit he was also dead on his feet.

  Pulling back the blankets, she slid under the sheets. She punched her pillow a few times, lay her head down, gingerly placed her injured hand across her chest, and closed her eyes. Still, he didn’t move. He looked to the door of the adjoining room. He should go to bed. But he didn’t. He just sat there, watching her—unwilling to leave her alone.

  “Are you just going sit there and stare at me all night?” She spoke without opening her eyes.

  Kyros grunted.

  She sat up and ran her fingers through her hair. “Look. If you’re scared—”

  “I’m not scared,” he snapped, angry at the mere suggestion.

  Gretchen cracked a smile. “I know.”

  He continued to glower at her. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he bring himself to do something as simple as go to bed? Because, in order to do that, he’d have to leave her alone in this room. That was just not something he could do right now. Gretchen had nearly died today. He came close to spilling her guts on the sand—the woman he loved!

  Drakōn had no such feelings stopping him. If Aella compelled him to, he would slice Gretchen to ribbons without a second thought.

  Gretchen scooted next to him. She looked deep in his eyes. “Why are you so angry?”

  “I came so close to killing you.” He dropped his head and closed his eyes, too ashamed to look at her. “And I wouldn’t blame you if you don’t believe me, but I love you, Gretchen. I truly do. I don’t know how it happened so quickly, but it did. I don’t deserve you. You have no idea how much I wanted to kill you, even while I loved you. I wanted to see you broken, bleeding, and dead.”

  “That wasn’t you, Kyros. That was her. I don’t blame you at all. And I’m the last one to judge you. You’re less of a murderer than I am.”

  Kyros jerked his head up, shocked at what she was implying. “What do you mean? It’s not your fault your mother killed that girl.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about.” There was a glimmer of a tear on her cheek.

  He tugged her to lean against him. “Tell me.”

  She took in a ragged breath. “It’s why I came here in the first place. I killed a man—back in Hawaii.”

  Kyros forced back his reaction. He needed to hear the whole story before making any judgments.

  “Who was he?”

  She looked down and took in another shaky breath. “He was the father of a client—a five-year-old girl he nearly beat to death. The state took her away from him and placed her with a good, loving family. They were trying to adopt her. But somehow, the father convinced the judge he’d changed. They gave him back his daughter. He almost killed her, and they gave her back to him! She was terrified. She didn’t want to go back. And I… I was angry. I wasn’t thinking straight. I walked straight up to him and told him if he ever hurt her again...” She couldn’t finish; she couldn’t say it. “I didn’t realize I’d used compulsion. I was just so angry.”

  “You compelled him without singing?” Kyros asked.

  She
nodded. “It’s not so much the song that holds power, it’s the emotion. Singing emits much more emotion than speaking, and it’s easier to control. But that day, I guess my voice was emotionally charged. Regretfully, it was enough to compel him to kill himself.”

  “You and I share a similar past, Gretchen, but at least you didn’t know what you were doing. I was fully aware of what I did.”

  “What happened?”

  “That’s a story for another time. You need your sleep.” He lay down, keeping her in his arms.

  “Isn’t this against your moral code? Sleeping with me in my bed?”

  “Not if all we do is sleep. And to tell you the truth, I’m too exhausted to do anything but sleep.”

  “Me too.” Her voice trailed off and within seconds, her breathing deepened. Minutes later, he joined her in his dreams.

  Aella paced back and forth across the deck. She picked up a chair and smashed it through the nearest window as she screamed. Glass shards flew everywhere. “I knew it! Why didn’t I listen to my doubts? I knew Ambrosia would give me trouble. Kyros should have delivered me her body by now.” She turned to Drakōn and snarled. “Why isn’t he here?”

  She knew he wouldn’t answer her. Being entranced—he didn’t embrace a conscious thought. “Come here, Drakōn.” He responded at once and strode over to her.

  She softened her voice, allowing him to speak. “What do you think happened with Kyros?”

  His eyes lightened. “I think he defied your commands.”

  “Impossible!” Aella glowered at him. “How could he?”

  “He loves her.”

  “I only told him to say he loved her. I didn’t compel him to actually feel anything for her. Besides, love’s a myth.”

  She waited for him to contradict her, but he remained silent. “Do you believe in love?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you ever felt love?” She circled him as she spoke.

  “Yes.”

  “Can you give me more than a one-word answer?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well…” She stopped to face him “Tell me more. Who do you love?”

  “My…” He collapsed to the floor, writhing in pain.

  Aella frowned at his resistance. “Your wife?”

  Still thrashing around, he growled.

  “Your son?”

  He slammed his fist into the deck, cracking the floor.

  “Your daughter?”

  At those words, he bellowed out a roar and snarled, “Leave me alone, witch!”

  “Ah ha! You have a daughter.”

  “I’ll kill you. I swear I will.” He slammed his head against the deck, breaking the wood. Blood dripped down his forehead.

  “Stop hurting yourself. You don’t want to damage that handsome face.”

  “Release me!” he shouted.

  “I’ll release you under one condition.”

  “What?” he growled.

  “Kiss me.”

  He pushed up from the deck, taking labored breaths, still recovering from the pain.

  “Kiss me like you want me,” she said. “Kiss me like you… love me.”

  He staggered to his feet as the fire of passion lit in his eyes.

  Aella had learned a lot about this Dagonian. Drakōn was a killer, an assassin. He could end a life without a second thought. What she didn’t know surprised her—surprised a woman who had lived four thousand years. A woman who’d witnessed countless men rise and fall over the ages. This killer’s heart had tenderness in it. His touch was gentle, his caresses like silk. And for a brief time, she pretended he loved her. For a brief moment, she pretended she loved him in return.

  But love was a fallacy. It was a lie. Hours later, cradled in the arms of her fantasy, Aella awoke to reality. She’d been weak. She’d made her heart vulnerable. She’d entertained a dangerous fantasy—the dream that someone could ever learn to love her. That she could ever learn to love him in return. And with that realization, her indignation began to rise. She was above this. Love was weakness; love was pathetic. And she needed a healthy dose of reality to atone for her momentary lapse.

  “Drakōn, wake up,” she snapped. His eyes immediately opened. They were more glazed than usual. He looked exhausted. She pushed his arms away and stood.

  She was power.

  She was control.

  And she was curious about how enamored her love slave had become. Most men gave easy adoration after making love to her. Robert no longer needed a siren’s song to compel him. He gave his devotion willingly.

  She eliminated the tenor in her voice, testing the Dagonian who had touched her so gently, who spoke so tenderly in the night. “I need a champion. Will you fight for me?”

  He staggered to his feet and growled, anger surfacing as hot, molten lava. “I’ll fight you, witch!” She recognized her mistake immediately and rang out a powerful, “Stop,” just as he leapt at her. With his momentum springing forward, he wasn’t able to obey. He plowed her over, knocking her to the floor and cracking her head against the baseboard. His body went limp in reaction to her command. She gasped for breath and pushed with all her might. “Get off me,” she ordered, remembering to put a generous amount of power behind her voice. He rolled off, and she whooped in a breath. That Dagonian weighed as much as a whale did.

  Anger boiled in her. He didn’t love her. They never did.

  “This is how I fight, Dagonian,” she sang. “Hit yourself in the groin as hard as you can.”

  He snarled, clutched his head, and collapsed to the ground. “Go to Tartarus!”

  “Do it,” she said, despite knowing she didn’t need to repeat herself. Her voice would continue to inflict pain as long as he defied her. Drakōn finally fisted his hand and slammed it into his groin. He grunted, but seemed relieved not to feel the agony in his head.

  “That was disappointing,” she said.

  She sauntered up to him and spoke, her voice syrupy sweet. “You will fight for me. I want you and Robert to fight to the death. Not only that, but I want you to tear him limb from limb with your bare hands. Will you do this for me?”

  “Yes,” he answered clearly, all hints of venom gone. He’d given in completely.

  “And then I want you to return to Kyros and Gretchen and kill them both in the most painful way possible. Do you understand?”

  Pain flashed in his eyes, and then he relaxed again. “Yes,” he answered.

  Aella led Drakōn down to the lower deck. Opening a door, she found Robert inside a storage room.

  “Aella,” Robert said with tears in his eyes. “I thought you’d never come back! I thought you were tossing me aside, now that you have him.” He glared at Drakōn. Drakōn stood indifferent.

  “You can have me,” Aella said, caressing the side of Robert’s face, “if you want me.”

  “Oh, I do.” He turned to her and took her hand.

  “Are you ready to fight for me?” she asked him.

  “Yes,” he answered.

  “Okay.” She looked from Robert to Drakōn. “Whichever of you survives gets to have me.” She was about to explain to Robert the part about ripping limbs apart, but it wasn’t worth her breath. This man might be a mighty warrior among humans, but he was no match for this Dagonian.

  “I only ask that neither of you brings the fight close to me. You wouldn’t want me to get hurt, would you?”

  “Oh no. Baby, I would never let you get hurt,” Robert exclaimed vehemently. Aella frowned at Drakōn’s lack of response and rubbed the throbbing lump on the back of her head.

  “All right, let the fight begin,” she said. Drakōn leapt forward and snapped Robert’s neck in less time than it took her to blink. Aella looked down at Robert’s broken body. He died with an adoring expression on his face. The fool must have been looking at her instead of his opponent.

  “When you’re done, clean up the mess,” she ordered as she opened the door to leave. “Oh, and make sure you shower and put on clean clothing before returni
ng to bed. You can have all of Robert’s clothes. He sure won’t need them.”

  She turned and left without a backward glance.

  Gretchen awoke with her back pressed against Kyros’s stomach. His arms wrapped around her. She’d never felt so loved, so protected… Wait a minute. Someone was knocking.

  Gretchen sat up. “Did you call Xanthus?”

  “Yeah, about half an hour ago.”

  “Kyros, it’s me, Xanthus. I’m here with Sara.” Xanthus’s voice came from outside.

  Kyros stood and stepped to the door.

  Gretchen’s heart pounded. Darn it. She hadn’t had time to run through what she was going to say to Sara—how she’d break the news to her. Not only that, but she was probably a mess. Her hair, most mornings, looked like hedgehog had parked himself on her head.

  “Are you alone?” Kyros asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve got to go shower first,” she whispered at Kyros and ran for the bathroom. “I’ll just be a minute.”

  She’d just shut the door when she heard talking in the next room. Turning on the shower, she began to collect her thoughts. Needing to cleanse her mind as well as body, she ran the water cool. It was probably a mermaid thing, but she preferred a nice cool shower to a hot one.

  She washed out the salt, applied conditioner, and scrubbed her body. Luckily, she didn’t have to shave. Her favorite mermaid perk—no leg hair. She was careful to keep her injured hand out of the stream of water. Still, she was in and out in five minutes. She did have one problem though; she had nothing to wear. Hopefully, the motel had laundry service.

  She heard a soft knock on the door. “Gretchen, I brought you some clothes from the house.” It was Sara.

  Gretchen cracked the door and snatched the bag. “Thanks, sweetie.”

  Minutes later, Gretchen had fresh clothes on and her hair combed out. She stepped out of the bathroom and found Kyros, Xanthus, and Sara all sitting at a table, talking.

  Sara immediately stood. Gretchen’s heart skipped a beat at the sight. The only other time she’d seen her on her feet was the day she was shot. Should she be walking around?

  Gretchen didn’t know what to say. Sara looked to be feeling about the same. They both stood, not moving. Gretchen decided she needed to make the first move. She stepped across the room and wrapped her arms around her best friend. “You’re walking. I still can’t believe it.”