by Kelly, Holly
“Where is she?” he growled at her.
Xanthus fisted Kyros’s shirt in his hand. “Stop posturing toward my wife, soldier, or you’ll have a battle on your hands.”
Kyros snarled at Xanthus. “Bring it on.”
“Do you want to waste time?” Xanthus asked. “The more we fight amongst ourselves, the more time we lose. Now calm yourself or I’ll do it for you, and Sara and I will go after her without you.”
Kyros clenched his jaw and attempted to cool his fury. He took several breaths and turned to Sara. Her eyes were wide, her face white. “I’m sorry, Sara. I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you. Can you forgive me?”
“Of course. I’m just as upset as you are. I just… Kyros, you have to find her. She’s gone after Drakōn.”
“How does she even know where to look?” Kyros asked.
“She took your cell phone. She’s going to call him and tell him where to meet her. She thinks if she just sings and keeps singing, that he’ll hear her before he reaches her. And if he can’t hear her, she’s brought a gun to shoot him.”
“That’s not a bad plan,” Xanthus said. “If only she’d brought me with her to protect her.”
“If he puts a mark on her,” Kyros said. “I’ll kill him with my bare hands.”
Xanthus pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll call her. Perhaps she’ll be willing to tell us where she is if we agree to help her.”
“Gah!” Kyros roared. “I hate this. She was not supposed to be a part of this.”
“She’s already part of this,” Sara said.
“Yes, but she shouldn’t be at risk.”
Xanthus stood with the phone at his ear. “It’s gone to voice mail.” He waited a moment, and then spoke into the phone. “Gretchen, I know you’re upset. I’m sorry we didn’t listen to you. But I can help you with your plan. Just let me stay with you and protect you.”
Kyros hated that he couldn’t offer to go himself. He couldn’t listen to her siren’s voice without it affecting him. But Xanthus could. He knew he had no reason to be jealous, but Hades, he was. He hated being left out.
“Please call me back,” Xanthus said before ending the call.
“Now what do we do?” Sara challenged. Kyros looked up, surprised at her anger. He might have scared her into a corner, but she’d come back baring teeth.
“She didn’t tell you where she was going?” Xanthus asked.
She shook her head, frowning.
“Then there’s not much we can do, moro mou.”
“Actually, Sara,” Kyros said. “There might be something you can do. We were going to use Gretchen to tap into my forgotten memories. Do you think you could do it?”
“I can try.”
“I don’t think it’ll work. Gretchen’s voice is much more powerful than yours,” Xanthus said to her.
“Why, thank you for pointing that out, dear. And while you’re at it, I’m sure you’d like to point out how the extra five pounds I’ve put on since we’ve married disgusts you.”
“Sara, I have no idea what you’re talking about. And if you’ve put on five pounds, you probably needed to. You look more beautiful than ever.”
Her face lightened up. “Really?”
“Look,” Kyros said, “I hate to interrupt this pointless exchange, but I think it’s worth a try.”
Xanthus shrugged. “I don’t see how it could hurt.”
Sara sat Kyros down. He prepared to open his mind to her influence.
The song started low, uncertain, but it hit him hard. His heart rate spiked, and a smile spread across his face. All thoughts flew from his mind. Was there something he was supposed to do? He tried to search his thoughts, but the sweet melody had him mesmerized. He had to touch this angel. He looked into her eyes and saw the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen, since… Gretchen. This angel wasn’t as compelling as Gretchen was, but she was close, within reach. But then there was another angel. Where had that thought come from? Why should he care for that one when this one was close enough to touch, close enough to taste?
Steel arms like a vice clamped around him. A gruff voice growled in his ear, “Keep your hands off my wife.” Xanthus?
The third mermaid surfaced again in his mind. She too was beautiful, but chilling. Her eyes sparkled like diamonds—clear, lifeless, cruel. She wielded her voice like a caress, like a whip. She stood on the deck of a ship, her dress hugging her lush features. She had Drakōn and another man on her arms, worshipping her, stroking her.
The memories of her words rose in his mind. “Kyros, make Gretchen love you, sweep her off her feet, declare your love for her, and then I want you to gut her like a bloated fish…”
“She told me I have to kill Gretchen,” he growled—his own voice like sandpaper against the silkiness of the other. His heart pounded, his anger rising. One angel wanted him to kill another. Sweet, comforting words caressed his ears. The voice said he didn’t have to kill her.
Like a waterfall gone dry, the voice dropped away, trickling into nothingness. Kyros awoke to find Xanthus sitting on his chest, his hands pinning Kyros’s wrists against the floor. “What are you doing?” Kyros growled, barely able to take a breath.
“Saving your life.”
“Why? Who threatened me?”
“I did. If you had made one more grab for my wife, I would have ripped your head off.”
“What? I tried to touch Sara?”
“You tried to grope her, kiss her. You know there are easier ways to commit suicide.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know what I was doing.”
“Obviously.”
“Did it work?” Kyros asked.
“You expect me to know?” Xanthus asked. “You’re the one with the memories.”
“I…” The memories were there—filling his mind, sickening his stomach. Two days of torture, bliss, and everything in between. “I remember. I remember it all.” Red filled his vision. Aella was worse than they had all imagined. Kyros wished more than anything he could be the one to rip out her heart—if she had one.
Gretchen sat on a bolder with her back pressed against the rocky wall of a crevasse. There was only one way in and one way out of here. Drakōn would not be sneaking up on her. If she could not save him, she’d have to kill him.
The phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out. Xanthus. She briefly considered answering. There was still time to ask him to help her. No. He’d made it perfectly clear she was not equipped to handle a soldier like Drakōn. Well, she could and she would.
She hit the call reject button and scrolled to find Drakōn’s number. She pushed dial, before she could lose her nerve. The phone rang several times before it picked up.
“Hello?” Gretchen’s knees nearly buckled. The voice speaking in her ear was one that used to be more familiar than her own. It was the one she remembered longing to hear after days left alone.
It was her mother.
She straightened her shoulders, determined not to give her birth mom the satisfaction of frightening her. “Hello, Mother.” Gretchen’s voice was smooth, confident, and reflected none of the anxiety that twisted her insides like the tangled tentacles of a dead octopus.
“Ambrosia, my dear. How good of you to call.” Her voice sounded sweet, affectionate… like any other mother would sound to their daughter. The only difference was, this woman wanted to murder her daughter.
“You know how it is,” Gretchen said, playing along. “I’ve been busy with school and all. I’d love to come home for dinner. Maybe we could catch a movie, make cookies together, and have a nice chitchat...You know, reminisce the old days. Oh, and I met a boy. I simply have to tell you all about him.”
“Oh yes, Kyros. I’ve met him, dear. Quite the catch, isn’t he? Although, I heard he could be quite dangerous. You know, the love ‘em and kill ‘em type.”
“Oh, no. He’s been a perfect gentleman. I don’t know where you could have heard such a rumor.”
“Well, the love
‘em part, I experienced firsthand.”
Gretchen could feel her temperature rise. “If there’s one thing you excel at, it’s getting men who couldn’t care less about you to think they do.”
“Oh, that’s a low blow, child. They care. They just might need some coaxing at first, but once they’ve had me, they’re like putty in my hands.”
“That didn’t work out so well with Kyros, did it? He didn’t kill me, after all.”
“Nobody’s perfect—although the situation was. The man you love spills your guts on the—”
“You are one sick woman,” Gretchen interrupted.
“Mermaid, dear. Or have you forgotten? You’ve been living among slime for so long, you’re slick with it.”
“I’m through talking with you. Put Drakōn on.”
“Oh, you mean my newest—”
Gretchen pounded her fist against the stone wall and shouted, “Just put him on!”
“Fine,” her mother huffed.
Gretchen had to wait several minutes before she heard his voice. “Gretchen.”
“Drakōn? Are you all right?” She knew it was pointless, but she just had to ask.
“You’d better run, mermaid.” His voice was forced and thick with effort.
“I can help you.”
“Help yourself.” His cry nearly blew out her eardrum.
“Drakōn,” she yelled, hoping he could hear her. “I’m at the Witch’s Cove. Take the trail into the hills and turn left at the second turnoff. I’ll be waiting. Have your ears open to me. However you can do it, open your ears and I can help you.”
The phone clicked off. She sat looking at it for several minutes. She had no idea if he actually heard her. All she could do was wait. She placed her pistol on her lap and began to sing.
Two hours later, her voice wavered. Maybe he hadn’t heard her, maybe he wasn’t coming. Another hour after that, she was almost sure he wasn’t. Her voice cracked. She stopped singing to take a sip of water. She tried to sing again, but her throat was swollen, making her hoarse. This won’t do. She couldn’t compel anyone with a scratchy voice. Her plan wasn’t going anything like she thought it would. Perhaps she was wrong for trying to go about this on her own. She pulled out the phone and dialed Xanthus’s number.
“Gretchen?” Kyros answered.
“Kyros.” She breathed his name.
“Thank the gods you called. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Drakōn didn’t show.”
“Thank the gods,” Kyros said. “Listen, I’m sorry. I was wrong to dismiss you like I did.”
She sighed, unable to hold the anger that had gripped her heart before. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have tried taking him on all by myself. I was just so angry.”
“Where are you?”
After giving him directions, she ended the call and sipped her water. It was warm, but it soothed her dry throat. After several minutes, she stood to walk back to the car. It would be safer waiting there.
She heard something. Rustling. Coming from above.
She looked up to the top of the rocky cliff wall in time to see a figure drop down. The body slammed to the ground in front of her. His face was chalky white and smeared with blood—the face of a stranger. Gretchen screamed, scrambling away from him and dropping the gun in the process. She turned to see a rock tumbling down, bouncing over boulders. No, not a rock—a head. The long, blonde hair of a woman trailed behind as it bumped down the cliff and landed with a thud. Oh, please no! Gretchen’s mind screamed the denial. This cannot be happening. She turned to run, but stopped as a headless body landed in her path. Her mother’s laughter rang out.
“You thought you could outsmart me?” Her mother’s voice seemed to surround her as Gretchen’s legs threatened to collapse underneath her. “I’ve been playing these games for four thousand years!”
Gretchen flinched away as a long, narrow knife speared toward her, impaling itself into the ground at her feet. “You may as well just slit your own throat, daughter. Here’s a knife to do it. Just get it over with, and no one else has to die.”
“No,” Gretchen shrieked. She dropped to her knees, slammed her hands over her ears, and squeezed her eyes shut. She tried to block out the nightmare unfolding in front of her. How could she have been such a fool? She should have known her mother wouldn’t allow her pet to leave without a fight. Tears poured down Gretchen’s cheeks as a sob shook her chest.
“It’s up to you.” Her mother’s siren voice penetrated through her hands, driving like a knife into her mind. Gretchen felt, more than heard the thumping of bodies hitting the ground. “The blood of thousands will be on your hands if you don’t do it. You know me well enough to know I speak the truth. Look around, Ambrosia. See the destruction? Watch your precious humans die, and you can decide. Is it them, or is it you?”
Gretchen’s heart iced over. Her mother was right. Aella didn’t care who she hurt, how many people suffered, or who died. But she knew Gretchen did. Aella had all the power here. Gretchen had to get out of there. If she left, Aella would stop. Her mother needed an audience.
Gretchen opened her eyes, and bile rose in her throat. Bodies were piled up around her. Most of the people had died on impact, but some were still groaning, moving… The man nearest her had a broken neck. His head lay against his back at an unnatural angle. Gretchen leaned forward and slapped her hand over her mouth as she willed her stomach not to heave.
Another body came down. She dove away as it nearly hit her, brushing her leg. She scrambled onto her feet and raced toward the exit.
“Gretchen!” It was Kyros’s voice coming from down the path.
“Kyros! Oh, please help me,” she sobbed.
She stumbled and fell, landing on a lifeless woman. Strong arms lifted her up, pulled her off the poor woman, and into his arms. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” Kyros spoke in her ear. She tried to run, but as fast as Kyros was moving, her feet barely brushed the ground.
Gretchen could see Xanthus scaling the rocks, to reach the top. Sara ran to her, intercepting them at the mouth of the cavern. “Oh Gretchen, are you hurt?” Sara took her hand. Gretchen was too stunned to answer. The horrific images consumed her mind. “Let’s get her out of here.” She heard Sara say. “She’s in shock.”
A voice like a tsunami rang out, filling the air as loud and full as a Roman Cathedral’s church bells. Kyros dropped to his knees, spilling Gretchen onto the hard ground. “Oh gods, no,” he gasped. The impact of hitting the ground seemed to knock some sense into Gretchen. She looked up and saw Kyros on his knees writhing in agony. Please, not again! There was only so much pain one man could take. She crawled forward and reached for him, grasping his arm. She looked up at Sara. “You need to sing.”
“I’m no match for that,” Sara said, blinking.
“Then we’ll sing together,” Gretchen said.
“Okay, together.”
Sara’s voice was soft, sweet, and pure as a summer’s rain. It was not as loud or as strong as Aella’s, but it was filled with power. Gretchen opened her mouth to join her, but her voice came out crackled, dry. She was not much help.
Gretchen looked up at her best friend. Sara was singing words of comfort. Her face brightened, glowing. Then her voice swelled, in volume and in power.
The harsh clash of steel reverberated off the rocks above. A battle was ensuing. “Sara, you need to sing louder—so Drakōn can hear. You don’t want Xanthus to have to kill him.”
Sara’s voice rose like the crest of a wave. Gretchen swallowed and strained to raise her own weary voice to match Sara’s. Power exploded as their voices combined—pure, clear, with a strength born of the gods. The song they sang was not one Gretchen had heard before, yet she knew every word. And it filled her with power, bringing healing to her battered throat and peace to her heart. She could feel Kyros’s arms wrap around her, and her heart filled with love for him.
Gretchen wasn’t sure if the battle continued. Everything was drowned
out by their song. The melody calmed and drifted away. The silence descended with deafening stillness.
The magic was broken when Sara’s phone jingled.
Sara answered. “Xanthus. Are you all right? Oh no. How are you going to get him down here?
“Okay. We’ll be right there.”
Sara turned to Kyros and Gretchen. “Drakōn is hurt. There’s a picnic area above. He said we should be able to find a road going in.”
Gretchen stood, pulling Kyros up with her. When they reached the car, Gretchen pulled open the driver’s side door.
“Are you sure you’re fit to drive?” Kyros asked.
“I’m fine. Besides, I’m probably the only one here who’s had more than a month of driving experience.” She got in behind the wheel.
“You’re probably right,” Sara said.
They tore out onto the road and searched for a turn off. It was only about a hundred yards away. An old, wooden sign with faded lettering read Cauldron Cove Park.
Xanthus stood with Drakōn propped against him, blood dripped down his forehead. Looked like Xanthus had to knock some sense into the Dagonian. And from the looks of the wound, he’d hit him with the pommel—better that than the blade.
“Where’s Aella?” Kyros asked.
“She fled like a coward,” Xanthus answered.
“What about the people in the park?” Gretchen whispered—her voice weak and shaky.
He shook his head.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gretchen asked.
“There are no more people in the park.”
Gretchen looked around at the parking lot. There were a dozen cars parked there.
“They’re all…”
“Dead,” Xanthus said, solemn.
Kyros caught Gretchen around the waist when her knees gave out. She turned her head just in time to miss vomiting all over him. He gently pulled her hair back as she lost the entire contents of her stomach. “It’s okay, baby,” he whispered.
No, it’s not, and it never will be again. These people are dead, and once again it’s all her fault.
Kyros was both fascinated and disgusted by the human reaction to the carnage. Every local channel broadcasted the story, interrupting their regular shows. Even international stations descended on the island. Every station replayed the scenes from the ravine over and over.