Descending (The Rising Series)

by Kelly, Holly

  “I agree.”

  They swam on, hoping beyond hope that their reasoning would pay off. Kyros wanted nothing more than to destroy the greatest threat to Gretchen’s life.

  “Kyros,” Drakōn whispered. “Look.”

  He glanced behind Drakōn and found the same lemon shark following them. He shook his head. “Great, now we have a pet.”

  “I knew you shouldn’t have fed it.”

  Kyros stopped to turn around and shush it away, but it kept going, nearly touching them as it passed by. Kyros frowned. “Don’t tell me we’re going the same direction?”

  The shark circled back and stopped for a moment before he continued on the same path.

  “Does he want us to follow him?” Drakōn asked, stunned.

  Kyros shook his head. “Sharks aren’t intelligent enough to act like this.”

  “Actually,” Drakōn said, “they were pretty well organized when Sara brought them up from the depths to the Dagonian city. Could this one be under the influence of a mermaid?”

  Kyros and Drakōn drew their swords.

  They followed the creature, searching for an ambush—any kind of a threat. The water brightened, growing shallower. He looked ahead and found the ground rose in the distance. It rose so high that it disappeared above the surface. It was an island.

  He wondered if the shark meant them to leave the water. But the shark turned. He was circling around the island. They followed.

  The far side of the island was rocky, barren. The shark continued its way around the shore. And they were back where they started. And the shark kept going, circling the island again.

  “This is pointless. He must mean for us to go to the island.” Kyros swam forward and surfaced. Drakōn followed closely behind.

  They kept moving forward as the waves battered their backs. Kyros pulled himself forward, dragging himself onto the beach and waiting for the change. Each time his body went through it, it seemed to hurt less. It still hurt like Hades, but not as much as the first time. Drakōn roared as his own body made the change. They pulled a pair of shorts out of their belts and slipped them on.

  They trudged up the beach and looked at the island. It was small with towering palm trees and thick shrubbery. He walked down a path.

  “I don’t know why we followed a stupid shark,” Drakōn said. “Why would a mermaid choose to live on land?”

  Kyros raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know. Perhaps to escape the sea creatures that wanted to kill her?”

  Drakōn cracked a smile and shrugged.

  They walked along the path and entered a tropical forest. They were just cresting the first hill when they saw it—an old, wooden mansion in the distance.

  “I thought she lived in a cave?” Drakōn said.

  “Gretchen lived in the cave. Her mother was rarely there with her. Perhaps this is her second home.”

  “I don’t think we should approach the house in the open in broad daylight,” Drakōn said.

  “You’re right,” Kyros said. “She’s sure to see us coming.”

  “She’s probably not home,” Drakōn said. “I bet she’s sinking an ocean liner even as we speak.”

  “Or compelling a man to kill his brother,” Kyros said. “Speaking of which, is Robert still with her?”

  “No. He split while I was there.”

  “He split? Do you mean…?”

  “Don’t ask. I’d rather not think of what she had me do to him. Speaking of which, let’s get in the earplugs before she has me do to you what I did to Robert. Believe me; you are not worth the splitting headache it takes to resist.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  From then on out, they had to rely on hand signals. They couldn’t chance speaking loud enough to be heard.

  When darkness fell, it was time to go in.

  “They should be back by now.” Gretchen stepped over to the window and looked out—again.

  Xanthus patted her shoulder. “These things take time.”

  “They probably found her,” Pallas said. “Otherwise, they would have come back to sleep and resumed the search tomorrow.”

  “We need to help him,” Gretchen shouted.

  “It’s nightfall,” Xanthus said. “Searching at night would not be effective. We’ll find them at daybreak.”

  “I should have gone with them to begin with,” Gretchen said. “Why did I let you talk me into staying behind? I should be there. I’m immune to her.”

  “With the wax, Kyros and Drakōn are immune too.”

  “Yeah, until she traps them and removes it. Gah! I’m going. I have to help them.” She stomped toward the door, stopping when Pallas and Straton stepped between her and the exit.

  “Let me pass.”

  “I’m sorry, Gretchen.” Pallas said. “We can’t.”

  She narrowed her eyes. If only Xanthus wasn’t immune to her voice. She wouldn’t be able to go unless she could restrain him. There was exactly zero chance in that happening.

  “Gretchen, we just have to be patient,” Xanthus said calmly. “We’ll go after them in the morning.”

  “By morning, they could both be dead,” she said. “Please Xanthus, I have to go.”

  He sighed, resigned. “And you will go—in the morning.”

  “Fine.” She turned on her heel and stomped to her room. Tears were burning in her eyes. Entering, she slammed the door. She pressed her ear against the door. If she had to, she’d go alone. She saw the maps, the area they were searching. She could find her way there.

  “Pallas, you take watch outside her window.” She heard Xanthus giving orders through the door. “Straton, you watch her door. I wouldn’t put it past her to go alone. You’ll have to stop your ears in case she tries to sing.”

  Oh great. Xanthus was a mind reader.

  She threw herself on the bed. Kyros’s scent surrounded her. The morning had started off so well—with laughter, kisses, and a marriage proposal—but now she might be a widow even before she got married. Tears came unbidden to her eyes and spilled onto Kyros’s pillow.

  He’d better not die on her.

  Kyros led point as Drakōn took up the rear. Infiltration on land was much less complicated than in the sea. In the sea, you had to be aware of your surroundings above, below, and all around. On land, you just had to search the area surrounding you.

  Kyros pushed the wax deeper in his ears. He might have difficulty getting them out, but that would be better than hearing the song of a mermaid—especially Aella. The view of the home was obstructed for a while, but when it came back into view, there were lights on in the house.

  Kyros signaled Drakōn to proceed with caution. They slinked up to the house and peered through a window. The house was furnished, clean, and looked more well kept than it seemed from the outside. He could see no sign of Aella… but wait. A shadow crossed the door, and a woman stepped into the room. Kyros knew at once it was not Aella. This woman was thick, white haired, and she was dancing or rather, shuffling, around the room.

  Drakōn pulled on Kyros’s arm. He shook his head and frowned. Kyros understood how Drakōn was feeling. This was not what they were looking for. Drakōn pulled out his earplugs, and Kyros followed suit.

  “This cannot be the right place,” Drakōn whispered.

  “This doesn’t seem to fit Aella. Still, I think we should question the old woman.”

  Drakōn nodded. “I’ll do it.”

  Kyros looked over the muscle-bound, scar-faced Dagonian and shook his head. “No, I’d better go in first. We don’t want her to die of fright. She’s human, and she’s old. Her heart may be weak.”

  “All right, you go in. I’ll watch from out here.”

  Kyros nodded and stepped up to the door.

  He pressed the doorbell, and the sound of tinkling chimes rang out. He waited for several minutes before the woman cracked the door open. The first thing he noticed was the light spilling through the crack, the small chain keeping the door from being opened all the way, an
d the rifle pointed at his stomach.

  “What are you doing here? This is a private island.”

  Kyros’s mind raced for a believable story. “Our boat broke down on the water. We were lucky enough to find your island. Can I please come in so I can call my wife? She’s got to be worried sick.”

  “We? You’re not alone?”

  “Um, no. A friend came with me. He’s staying with the boat.”

  “Okay, you can come in. But I’m keeping my Winchester close. If you’re thinking to rob me, you’d better think again. I’m a crack shot.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “The phone’s in the kitchen. You’re welcome to it.”

  Kyros stepped inside the door and pulled it closed. “I do have to ask. There was a woman with us. I’m worried she might be lost at sea.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What woman?”

  “She’s got dark hair, striking blue eyes, beautiful...”

  The old woman shook her head, but her tight curls didn’t move a bit. “No. I haven’t seen anyone who looks like that. Course I don’t ever see anyone. We don’t get visitors here.” She led the way into the foyer.

  “Who’s the we?” Kyros asked.

  The old woman turned and answered. “Me and my grandchildren.”

  “How many grandchildren live here?” He glanced around, looking for any signs an infant was there.

  “It’s just me and my grandson.” Her eyes darted around. The woman seemed distressed. Still, Kyros kept up the questions.

  “But you said, ‘grandchildren.’”

  “Yes. I’ve had other grandchildren live here. They always leave too soon.”

  “They don’t visit long enough?”

  “No, Aelle—” She breathed out an exaggerated huff. “And now I’ve said too much. My old, addled brain will be the death of me.”

  A thunderous boom exploded in Kyros’s belly. He doubled over in pain and sank to his knees just as Drakōn burst inside. Another boom, and Drakōn slammed back against the wall and slid to the floor—crimson blood streaked across flowered wallpaper.

  Somewhere in the house, a baby began to cry.

  “You should have made your phone call and left.” The old woman shook her head. “Now, you’re probably going to die.”

  She opened a closet and pulled out a rope. “This rope is most likely overkill. Your shots are fatal without treatment. But I don’t want to take any chances, though. You both look as strong as an ox.”

  She crept forward carefully with the rope dangling from her fingers. “If you try anything, I won’t help you.”

  “Help me how?”

  “Dress your wounds, of course.”

  “You shot me, but you’re going to treat my wounds?”

  “What do you take me for, a monster?”

  “I take you for someone who shoots innocent, unarmed men.”

  “Well, that was something that couldn’t be helped. You asked too many questions.”

  This woman was either crazy, or she was compelled. Given the situation, he was guessing compelled. He gave a desperate look to Drakōn and shoved wax deep in his ears. Drakōn did the same.

  Kyros looked down at his belly. His blood flowed from his wound. If he were to survive this, he would need the old woman’s help. He put his bloody wrists together and offered the woman his hands to tie. Moments later, both he and Drakōn were tied up—the woman sure knew a thing or two about knots. He hoped she knew as much about treating injuries. The way she shoved wads of red, herb-soaked cloths into his wound gave him serious doubts. The stuff she gave them to drink burned like Hades, but he drank obediently. It was either trust her, or die.

  She looked down on them tied up like pretzels on the hardwood floor and frowned. “I wish you would stop bleeding on my floor,” she said, as if they had the power to obey her. “Blood is impossible to get out of this porous wood. Well, I guess it can’t be helped. Neither of you look like you could take a single step. And I sure as certain am not strong enough to drag you into the kitchen.

  “I’ve got to go and soothe my grandson. You stay right here and don’t try anything funny, or next time my bullets will be in your heads.”

  The woman lumbered up the stairs.

  Well, this was just perfect. They went looking for the most-wanted criminal in the sea and ended up getting shot and captured by a decrepit, little old woman. Kyros’ ego was going to suffer terribly from this… if he survived. The room began to fade in and out—probably from loss of blood. He looked over at Drakōn. He looked to have fallen asleep with a snarl on his lips.

  Kyros tried to squeeze his hands out of the knots. They only seemed to tighten with his effort. Blackness seeped into his vision as his stomach took a lurch. Come on, Kyros. You’ve battled Krakens, Leviathans, Keteas… you can’t be defeated by an old woman.

  Kyros awoke to the peal of laughter. Pain exploded in his gut, and he curled forward, trying to protect his injury. He looked up to see Aella standing above him. Did she just kick me?

  “Kyros… So good to see you again.” The voice seemed to come from far away. He must still have wax in his ears. “I see you’ve met Rhonda. She joined me a short time ago. Well, it’s short for me anyhow. Sixty years goes by like that.” She snapped her fingers. “Especially when you’re almost four thousand years old.”

  “The old woman… She’s the one that cares for your children. That is, until you decide to slaughter them.”

  “There’s no need for such harsh words. I don’t slaughter my children; I just send them off to the Fields of Asphodel or Seas of Elysium—depending on whether they have legs or a fin. I’m sure they’re perfectly happy there.”

  “How many have you killed?”

  She frowned. “Oh, now, that’s not something I keep track of.”

  Kyros looked over to his friend. Drakōn was stripped and beaten. Blood pooled around him, and his face was as white as silt. Kyros couldn’t tell if he were dead or alive.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry about Drakōn. He was your friend, right?”

  “You killed him?” Kyros snarled, his anger rising.

  “Oh no, he’s not dead. I’m sorry. Did I give you that impression?” She giggled.

  Kyros scowled. She knew exactly what impression she’d given. You couldn’t believe a word the mermaid said.

  “No. I’m not going to kill Drakōn—yet. I have special plans for him. Although, perhaps I might consider you. You are just as good a prospect.”

  “Prospect for what?”

  “To father my next child.”

  “Your next…? But what about the baby upstairs?”

  She barked out a laugh. “Oh that one, he’s worthless. True, he has a perfectly wonderful fin, but the child has no gills. He’s a merman who can’t breathe underwater. Have you ever heard of anything so ridiculous? That’s what I get for breeding with a human. You never know what you’re going to get.” She flipped her hair in exasperation. “I’ll be getting rid of him as soon as I get pregnant.”

  “You never cease to amaze me.”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “How can a woman so beautiful be so revolting?”

  “Oh really.” She stepped over to him and kicked him across the face. He heard, more than felt, his nose break. Blood filled his mouth.

  He spat it out onto her feet.

  “Oh, now, that’s just gross. And you call me revolting. You Dagonians are so uncivilized.”

  He shook his head. “Are you serious? You are calling us uncivilized?”

  “Absolutely. I have no idea what Ambrosia sees in you. She could do so much better.”

  “Her name is Gretchen.”

  “Such a crude name. The name I chose for her was much better. You know, she was my most-perfect creation. She had all my greatest gifts, and she also wielded the power given by her father.”

  “I thought her father was a pathetic human.”

  Aella smiled slyly. “Oh, you can’t believe everything you hear.”


  “Who was her father?”

  Her smile widened. “You think when you get out of here you can go and tell Gretchen, and she’ll have a nice reunion with her daddy?”

  Kyros narrowed his eyes.

  “Well, you might want to rethink that. Anyone who walks with him, walks the path of death. Her daddy is a dangerous demigod. There are few in the land of the humans who equal his power. Why else would I keep a child alive as long as Ambrosia? The trouble was that I couldn’t find someone as appealing as her father. And then, what were the chances I could bring forth another child as powerful as his baby? I waited a full year before having another one after she left. A year!”

  “Who is her father?” Kyros repeated.

  “Why, he is the son of death himself.”

  “Hades?”

  “Oh great gods, doesn’t anyone pay attention in school these days? Hades is the god of the Underworld. Thanatos is death himself.”

  “So Gretchen’s father’s name is…”

  “Thane.”

  “That’s anticlimactic. He sounds like a weakling.”

  She smiled. “I’m sure you’ll be thinking that as he sucks your soul from your body and thrusts you down to the Underworld.”

  She pulled her hair back into a ponytail. “I think we’ve had enough chitchat. It’s your turn now.” She turned her head toward the stairs. “Rhonda!”

  “My turn?” Kyros asked.

  Rhonda shuffled in, carrying a long, leather whip with shards of glass embedded in the strap. Aella took the whip and gave a flick of the wrist. It snapped against the wall, leaving deep gouges.

  “I’ve had my fun with Drakōn; now it’s your turn.”

  This was not going to be pretty.

  The morning sun took its time getting there, but as soon as Gretchen could see a glow through the window, she shot out of bed. She threw on some clothes, yanked a brush through her hair, brushed her teeth, and raced out the bedroom door in less than one minute.

  She was relieved to see Xanthus was already waiting to speak to her. “I need you to understand how things are going to work. You will stay close to Pallas and follow every order given you.”