Descending (The Rising Series)

by Kelly, Holly

  Kyros sighed and staggered to lean against a tree. They’d made it out just in time. The fire rushed the perimeter of the house, devouring the gasoline and overgrown grass. It made trails of flames up the side of the home, curling paint and climbing the porch posts. Several dry bushes caught so quickly that they roared and crackled. Black smoke billowed to the sky, dimming the sun from view.

  His eyes searched for the only person who mattered—Gretchen. He wanted nothing more than to embrace her, to lose himself in her arms. He dreaded telling her they were unable to save her brother. Xanthus had tried to go back in after him, but a wall of flames blocked his path. There was no way in.

  Where was she? Through the roaring of the fire, he heard something that chilled him. A woman was screaming—from inside the house.

  Forgetting his injuries, Kyros raced over to Sara and Straton, who was treating Drakōn’s injuries.

  “Where’s Gretchen?”

  “I don’t know,” Sara said. “She disappeared while Straton was pouring the gas around the house.”

  “Could she…?” Kyros looked at the burning house.

  “She couldn’t be.” Sara shook her head, her eyes wide with fright. “She knew Straton was setting the fire.”

  He heard it, his name. Gretchen was screaming his name from inside the inferno.

  “Great gods, she’s still in the house,” Straton said as Kyros raced toward the flames.

  Just as he was about to reach them, Xanthus rushed him from the side, slamming into him. The pain of the impact against his injuries caused his legs to buckle.

  “Let go of me, Xanthus. I have to go in there.”

  “It’s suicide. There’s no way in.”

  Kyros pounded Xanthus’s chest, pushed him off, and scrambled toward the house.

  Xanthus pulled him back. “Kyros, if you want to save Gretchen, you can’t just run in there. You won’t be able to help her if you’re dead.”

  “How? How am I going to get in there?” Kyros looked up to the structure. It was completely engulfed in flames—except for the upstairs window above the porch roof. At that sight, hope lit his heart. “There, I’m going in there.”

  “How will you reach it? There’s fire burning below it.”

  Kyros looked around and saw just what he needed—a tall tree standing in front of the house. He immediately began to climb. “Xanthus, get the others. You’ll need their strength.”

  Xanthus looked from the tree to the house. “This plan is only slightly less crazy than rushing head on into the flames.”

  “Just hurry,” Kyros shouted.

  Kyros was just reaching the upper limbs when Xanthus came back with Amar and Pallas. Dagonians are much stronger than humans. But still, the trunk was more than a foot in diameter. Xanthus, being the tallest at nearly seven feet, pushed from above while Pallas was below him and Amar was on the bottom.

  “Okay, push!” Kyros shouted.

  At first, the tree didn’t seem to budge. The Dagonians were pushing so hard, their faces bloomed red and their muscles bulged. A crack pierced the air, and the tree swayed. Another crack and the tree toppled forward. Kyros felt as if he were free falling just before he crashed against the porch roof. It buckled under the weight, sinking about a foot down, but it held.

  Kyros scrambled onto the roof and dove through the window. He was met with a cloud of smoke. Breathing in, he coughed out, sputtering. He wouldn’t last long in this. Rushing forward, he made his way to the door. Outside the room was even worse. Over the crackling roar of the fire, he could hear a baby crying. If he knew Gretchen, she’d be with the baby.

  “Gretchen… I’m coming. Stay… where you are.” He spoke through coughs.

  He stepped forward, toward the burning stairs. He had to go down. He took his first step and the stair cracked beneath his foot, sending him stumbling down and landing with flames on his back. He jumped up as the heat burned him. He moved so fast, his open wounds flared in pain. He looked down. Blood soaked through the bandages, seeping down his legs.

  “Kyros, is that you?” He’d never heard a more beautiful sound. Gretchen called him through the black clouds billowing from the kitchen.

  “Yes baby, I’m coming.”

  He ran into the kitchen and slammed his knee into a chair. “Where are you?” he asked, and then hacked so hard he could barely take in a breath.

  “Down here. You need to get down. The smoke is thinner down low.”

  He dropped down and was met with clearer air. Looking up, he glanced across the floor. And there she was, holding a crying bundle in one arm and a sprayer hose in the other.

  “Oh gods, Gretchen.” He crawled forward and wrapped his arms around her. “I found you.”

  She threw her arms around him. His stomach lurched at the pain her embrace caused him, but it was so good to feel her. She felt so alive.

  “I’m so glad you’re alive,” she said.

  “I was thinking the same about you.”

  She pulled away, smiling. Then she looked at the inferno surrounding them. “Do you have any idea how we are going to get out?”

  “I don’t know how, I just know we are.” Kyros’s foot heated, burning him as he pulled it back. Gretchen turned the spray on the flames, and they retreated as steam rose and was immediately sucked up by the dry air.

  There was a crash from somewhere in the house, and it shook. This place was going to collapse around them. “We have to go,” he said.

  “There’s no way out.”

  “If we stay, we’ll die for sure. Let’s go.”

  Gretchen let go of the sprayer hose and crawled forward. Kyros took position over her and the baby as they crawled, blocking her from potential falling debris.

  The flames moved in, heating the air so hot that Kyros’s lungs burned.

  Another crack. Gretchen screamed as the upper floor landed in their path. Then more rumbling and the entire house shook.

  “Kyros, Gretchen… are you there?” Xanthus’s voice called from the right. The clouds in that direction were different, grey, not black. Kyros got sprayed with water. It felt so cool against his burned skin. As the grey clouds cleared, he could see Xanthus standing in a giant hole in the wall.

  “Oh, thank the gods, Xanthus. We need more water.”

  “I’m giving you as much as I can.”

  Kyros pulled Gretchen to her feet, and they raced toward Xanthus. Fresh, cool air hit him like a deep-sea current, cool, crisp and life giving. They continued to run until they were well away from the burning house.

  He looked back in time to see the entire structure fall down behind him. Then he collapsed to the ground.

  Gretchen dropped to her knee beside Kyros and cradled the babe to her chest.

  “Let me through,” Straton said.

  He dropped down on his knees at Kyros’s side. “He should have never gone in himself. He’ll be lucky to survive this.”

  Terror gripped her heart as Gretchen whipped around and said, “You will not let him die.”

  The baby in her arms coughed and cried some more. His cries were not right; he was hoarse. She lifted the blanket off his head and saw a tiny, soot-covered face. He coughed again.

  “He doesn’t sound right,” Sara said. Gretchen hadn’t even noticed she was there.

  “I know.” She looked down on the tiny boy. He seemed so much smaller than any other baby Gretchen had ever seen. He lifted his fisted hand to his face and sucked on it.

  “He needs to see a doctor.”

  She looked over at Straton, who was taking care of Kyros’s injuries. Worry gripped her heart in her chest. What would she ever do without Kyros? Tears sprung to her eyes. The baby coughed so hard he couldn’t seem to take in a breath. The blanket slid off him, and his pale, little, grey tail curled in the breeze.

  Pallas stepped forward, his eyes glued to the tiny child. “I’ve never seen a babe before. I didn’t know they started out this small.”

  “You may need to take him for a swim,�
�� Xanthus said. “It sounds like he’s got smoke in his lungs. He probably needs oxygen.”

  Kyros was once again coughing.

  “Kyros, you can’t be moving like that,” Straton said as he pushed him back. “You’re causing your wounds to bleed again.”

  “He doesn’t have gills,” Kyros said, his voice grating like sandpaper. He hacked again.

  Gretchen’s eyes widened. “No gills?” she breathed.

  “Good grief, what are you going to do?” Sara asked.

  “I don’t know.” Gretchen answered. “How do we even get him off this island? He can’t breathe underwater.”

  “I saw a boat,” Pallas said.

  “Where?” Gretchen asked.

  “In the trees. Over in that direction.” He nodded his head.

  “I’ll go with him and check it out,” Xanthus said.

  The baby squirmed and gnawed vigorously on his fist.

  “I think he’s hungry,” Gretchen said.

  “I think you’re right,” Sara said.

  Xanthus and Pallas came back with a small rowboat.

  “Oh shoot,” Gretchen said. “I was hoping it had a motor.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Xanthus said. “You don’t need a motor. We can push it.”

  “What about Kyros and Drakōn? Should they ride too?”

  “No, they’re better off in the water. Straton and Amar can care for them.”

  “Are they going to stay here?”

  “No, once Straton has them stable, he and Amar can bring them.”

  Xanthus and Pallas carried the boat to the water and Gretchen climbed in, holding the baby. Sara followed.

  Gretchen and Sara didn’t talk much on the journey. They just sat, with the wind in their faces, listening to the infant cough.

  “I’m worried,” Gretchen finally said.

  “About the baby?” Sara asked.

  “About them both. What if Kyros—?”

  “Don’t even go there, Gretchen. We just need to take things one at a time. Don’t borrow trouble.”

  Gretchen nodded.

  “Life sure is different than I thought it would be,” Sara said.

  “Tell me about it. I thought I’d be a power attorney in Honolulu—saving children.”

  Sara smiled. “You are saving children. Only this one is your own brother.”

  Gretchen had a ghost of a smile.

  “Are you going to go back to do another internship?”

  Gretchen shrugged. “Probably not. I have Kyros and this baby to think about. My life isn’t my own anymore.” And the fact that the world would be destroyed if they couldn’t decipher the oracle’s message weighed heavily on her mind. An internship seemed insignificant in comparison.

  “Does that make you sad?” Sara asked.

  Gretchen shook her head. “No.” Tears welled in her eyes. “I love Kyros and my brother more than anything. I just want them to be okay.”

  She looked down into the tiny face of her little brother. He’d fallen asleep. He looked like an angel—a skinny, wrinkled angel.

  “He needs a name,” Gretchen said.

  “Did Aella give him one?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I don’t want him to have anything she gave him. She doesn’t deserve that.”

  “Have you thought of any names for him?”

  “Are you kidding? When have I had time to think of baby names?”

  “Sorry I asked.”

  “I was thinking Donovan.”

  Sara smiled. “You have thought of it.”

  Gretchen smiled back. “Yes, I have. Donovan would fit him. It means strong survivor.”

  “That does fit him. Who came up with your name?”

  “That’s a long story, but my name fits me too. Gretchen means pearl. Life gave me a piece of dirt, but I’m making it beautiful, one layer at a time.”

  “That’s profound.”

  The baby coughed again, and Gretchen looked down on his little, frail body. “I don’t think Aella fed him well.”

  “Undoubtedly. A baby this small is supposed to eat a lot more than twice a day.”

  “He needs me. He needs a family.” Gretchen brushed her finger over his little tail.

  “Life will be difficult for him if he stays like he is. I know from personal experience. It was hard living as a freak.”

  “You weren’t a freak.”

  Sara raised an eyebrow.

  “Well, I wouldn’t have called you a freak,” Gretchen said. “Do you think your dad might help him?”

  “Of course he will,” Sara said. “If he can. I must confess, I’m worried about him.”

  “Your dad?”

  “Yes.”

  “He still won’t answer you?”

  Sara shook her head. “I hope he’s okay. What if something terrible has happened to him?”

  “Gretchen, he’s a god. They can’t die, can they?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

  Gretchen looked up, and the island of Bermuda was coming into view. “Xanthus and Pallas sure can swim fast.”

  “Yes, they can,” Sara said.

  “Well,” Gretchen said. “We’d better figure out a story to tell the doctors and police.”

  “Police?”

  “They’ll undoubtedly be called when the doctors see Donovan’s condition. I have no idea how to explain his tail.”

  “Gretchen. You can make the doctors believe anything you want.”

  Gretchen smiled. “I keep forgetting that.”

  Gretchen laid sleeping Donovan in the bassinet. She marveled at his tiny face, his little, round head covered in white/blond fuzz, and his adorable tail, which flapped when he was upset. He looked healthier than he had three days ago, when she rescued him. His cheeks were fuller, his skin was pinker, and he ate constantly.

  Gretchen scratched at the seaweed wrapped around her palm. She peeked under the seaweed wrap and cringed. If only she hadn’t reopened the wound and then got it all cut up on the rosebush. She’d be lucky if it didn’t scar.

  Gretchen strolled into the living area of Xanthus’s home and hesitated.

  Sara and Xanthus were wrapped in each other’s arms, kissing on the couch.

  “You guys do realize you have a bedroom here, right?”

  Sara jumped and rushed to untangle herself from Xanthus. He locked his arms around her and held her tight as he smiled.

  “Um, yeah,” Sara answered.

  “Listen, I’m going to see Kyros. Donovan is asleep. He’ll probably be asleep for about an hour.”

  “Don’t worry about him. We’ve got things covered. Your baby is in good hands.”

  Gretchen tried to smile, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. Her heart wasn’t in the mood for pretenses, so she answered with a nod.

  She hiked out to the cave and dove into the water. Kyros and Straton were on the bottom, about twenty feet down.

  Kyros was cradled in a sleeping harness—his face still shockingly pale.

  “Any change?”

  Straton shook his head.

  “But he’s been out for three days. Drakōn’s been up and around for more than a day.”

  “Well, Kyros’s injuries were more severe than Drakōn’s.

  “What will I do if he doesn’t come back to me?” Gretchen was tired and weak with exhaustion. She hadn’t gotten more than a few minutes of sleep at a time. Between caring for a baby recovering from smoke inhalation and malnutrition and worrying about Kyros, she just couldn’t sleep.

  “He’s healing nicely, Gretchen,” Straton answered. “He’ll be fine. His body just needs him to rest. Give it more time.”

  “How’s your injury?” Straton asked.

  Kyros’s eyes opened. Gretchen shrieked—her heart racing. He looked pale, close to death, but he was looking at her. “Kyros, oh my gosh, you’re awake!”

  Kyros looked her up and down, and his eyes landed on her hand wrapped in seaweed. He narrowed his eyes.

  “What
’s wrong?” she asked. “Are you hurting? Do you need me to get you something?”

  He shook his head and raised her hand up.

  “What? You’re worried about this?”

  He pursed his lips and gave her a hard stare.

  “It’s nothing. I don’t know why Straton is fussing over it. I just got some scrapes when I climbed up a valance with a rosebush.”

  “She reopened the wound in her hand,” Straton said, earning a glare from her.

  “But it’s almost all healed now,” she said, stretching the truth a bit.

  “How are you feeling?” Straton asked Kyros. “How’s your throat?”

  At those words, Kyros’s eyes widened.

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Straton said. “You’ll be getting your voice back soon. Your windpipe was burned. It’s a good thing you have your gills. When your trachea closed up and your lungs filled with fluid, you would have died without them.”

  Kyros reached out to Gretchen and pulled her forward, wrapping his arms around her.

  Straton cleared his throat. “I’ve got some errands to run. I’ll be back soon to check on you.”

  Gretchen broke down in his embrace, sobbing as she held onto him. She never wanted to let him go again.

  He held her, absorbed her pain, and kissed her head, her forehead, and each of her cheeks, before his lips settled on hers, kissing her gently.

  This kiss was different from all the other kisses they’d shared. There was no desperation, no burning passion, only love and comfort. Gretchen felt as if he were caressing her soul. As he broke off the kiss, she settled her head in the crook of his neck.

  “I love you, Kyros.”

  “Love… you…” he said with great effort.

  “Straton said for you not to talk.”

  He shook off the order. “Marry… me… now.”

  “What? Now? Don’t you want to wait to heal?”

  “Now…”

  “You’ve just awoken from a coma. Besides, I don’t even have a dress.”

  “Don’t… need…”

  “Okay, I will. Just stop talking. You need to save your voice.”

  He grinned and relaxed. “Baby… needs… a family.”