by Kelly, Holly
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Rising
Copyright © 2013 by: Holly Kelly
Edited by: Cynthia Shepp
Cover Design by: Marya Heiman
Typography by: Courtney Nuckels
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address:
Clean Teen Publishing
PO Box 561326
The Colony, TX 75056
www.CleanTeenPublishing.com
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My eternal thanks to my parents who told me I could be anything I wanted to be and to my husband and children who supported me enough to make it possible.
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
About the Author
Kim grimaced as she gulped down the last of her stale diet coke. The lukewarm fluid slid down her throat like sweet, caffeinated dishwater. She glanced up at the clock and smiled. Only ten minutes left on her shift. A gut-wrenching cry echoed off the walls of room 121. It sounded like Nicole Taylor was making progress—either that or she had a really low threshold for pain.
“Drugs!” Nicole shrieked. “I need drugs!” Kim stepped under the muted lights of the plush room. Well, it was plush for a hospital anyway.
Nicole lay in a hospital bed, writhing in pain. Kim approached her, frowning. “Now Nicole, we talked about this. We are perfectly willing to provide an epidural. But it’ll cost you more.”
“I don’t care if I have to sell my soul!” she snarled. “I need drugs, now!” Sweat dripped down her forehead. Her face contorted and scowled so deeply that even a girl as pretty as this one had lost her girlish appeal in the throes of pain.
“Well,” Kim said, “before we call the anesthesiologist, let’s see where you’re at.” She snapped on a pair of sterile gloves and checked to see how far Nicole was dilated.
“Nicole, sweetie,” Kim gave a sympathetic smile. “I have good news and bad news. The good news is your pain will soon be over. The bad news is we don’t have time to give you an epidural. Your baby’s coming now.”
“What? But I…” Whatever she was about to say was lost in another groan that quickly turned to a roar of pain.
The nurse stepped into the hall, picked up the phone receiver, and punched a series of numbers.
“Hello,” a warm male voice answered. “This is Dr. Bloomberg.”
“Doctor, this is Kim in maternity. I have a patient that’s fully dilated and ready to start pushing.”
“And you couldn’t have told me sooner?”
“I’m sorry, she progressed faster than we expected.”
He sighed heavily. “I’ve almost forgotten what hot food tastes like.”
“You and me both.”
His chuckle filled the phone. “Comes with the job, I suppose. I’ll be right there.”
Kim was about to walk back to the room when Amanda stepped off the elevator. “Anything interesting happen tonight?” she asked in way of a greeting.
Kim shrugged. “Oh, you know. The usual. Room 121 is where the action is right now. A nineteen-year-old patient is fully dilated and ready to push. Dr. Bloomberg is on his way and I was just about to go in, but if you don’t mind….”
“No problem.” Amanda smiled and hurried to assist the patient, who was once again screaming.
Kim stepped behind the nurse’s station and snatched her purse.
“Kim!”
Kim dropped her purse. “I’m coming.”
When Kim stepped through the door, she could see immediately what the issue was. The baby’s head bulged out—slick, shiny, and ready to pop into the world.
The patient growled, her face crimson red.
“No, no, don’t push yet,” Amanda screeched and then looked desperately toward Kim.
Kim sighed. “Relax, Amanda,”
“Where’s Dr. Bloomberg?” she whispered.
“He’s on his way, but until he gets here, we are it.”
“I’ve never actually delivered a baby before…”
“Hello ladies.” Dr. Bloomberg smiled as he lumbered through the door. He looked at the patient. “Well, well, you weren’t kidding when you said she was about to deliver.”
He quickly snapped on gloves, slipped on a gown, and approached the soon-to-be mother, who was huffing and puffing. “Hello Nicole, I’m Dr. Bloomberg.” He spoke as if he had all the time in the world. “I see you’ve already done most of the work. Now just relax until the next contraction starts, okay? Then you can push as hard as you can.”
Nicole nodded vigorously.
Kim used this opportunity to leave. With Dr. Bloomberg there, Nicole Smith was in good hands.
Kim gathered her purse, picked up a handheld mirror at the nurse’s station, and cringed at her reflection. She ran her fingers through her hair and pulled out her keys. A loud, audible gasp and noisy thump stopped her in her tracks. What in the world?
She was already sprinting toward the room when Dr. Bloomberg called, “Kim! We need you in here.”
Amanda lay in a heap on the floor. Kim rushed to her side, dropped to her knees, and felt for a pulse—strong and a little fast. “What was wrong with…?”
“She’s fine,” Dr. Bloomberg interrupted. “She just had a shock. Now, I don’t want you to panic either.” He turned toward her, holding a tiny, squirming bundle in his hands. The squeaky cries of a newborn came from under the blanket. “And I need you to do everything I say, exactly as I say it, okay?”
This was weird. “Okay,” she answered tentatively.
“I have to take care of the mother, so I’ll need you to take the baby. Now listen to me closely.” He narrowed his eyes, looking very serious—intent. “Go to the nursery, put the baby in a bassinet, and then, once she’s safely lying down, you can open the blanket to care for her. Is that clear?”
Kim’s heart sank. There was something seriously wrong with this infant. She nodded, looked at the tiny, squirming bundle, and took it in her arms. When the baby was safely cradled against her chest, she looked up at the doctor, desperate for reassurance. His back was already to her as he worked on the mother. As she left the room, she could hear the mother sobbing.
Kim looked down at the bundle. She could do this. She’d been a nurse for ten years. There wasn’t much she hadn’t seen. Her heart pounded as she neared the nursery. She wondered what she’d find under the blue and pink folds. Well, whatever the problem was, it must not be life threatening or the doctor wouldn’t have told her to take it to the nursery.
She stepped into the ro
om; the braying cries of other newborns surrounded her. The nearest empty bassinet was pink. Was this baby a boy or girl? Did the doctor say? She couldn’t remember.
She lay the bundle in the bed and let the baby squirm as she worked up the nerve to open the blanket. Would the baby have a severely deformed face? She’d seen a baby born with no facial features, only holes for a nose and mouth. That’d been pretty shocking.
Perhaps this was something she’d never seen. Maybe this was an oddly conjoined twin—like one head with two faces. Good grief, her imagination was running away from her. This baby couldn’t be as bad as that.
She gently pulled the blanket so it slid away from the baby’s face. A pudgy cheek immerged followed by two beautiful blue eyes and shaggy black hair. A perfect little face looked up at her. She sighed in relief. Okay, this was the face of a normal little baby. The problem must be with the body.
Perhaps the babe was born with sirenomelia—legs fused together. That would be shocking to see.
This time Kim decided to just pull the blanket away quickly—get it over with. She tugged the blanket back, expecting to be surprised. Instead, she sighed in relief.
Thank heavens.
She smiled—proud she’d predicted the problem. This baby was born with sirenomelia. What were the odds in guessing that right? Maybe she should take a trip to Vegas.
Her eyes popped open wide and her heart stopped when the baby once again squirmed. Dots swam in her vision as she sank to the floor. She had to be seeing things. It couldn’t be.
She took two deep breaths and steeled herself. She was a nurse. She was not allowed to get woozy at an unusual malformation. It was, wasn’t it? She looked again and doubt filled her mind. This was not simply two legs fused together. Legs, fused or not, do not move like that. But it had to be a deformity. Of that, she was certain. One fact blared in her mind, proving her right. And that fact was this… There are no such things as mermaids.
~Deep in the Mediterranean Sea—Twenty Years Later~
Xanthus could taste the blood of a human in the seawater. He clenched his fists and swam faster, determined to reach his destination in time. His powerful tailfin drove him forward as he speared a path through the water.
Beams of sunlight danced over the ancient, stone road—the glow slightly dimmer than moments before. Nightfall approached. The high walls of deep ravine towered above and lined the path. Darkness seeped from the jagged rocks in the cliff walls, filling crevasses with blackness as shadows stretched across the highway. The stones on the path peaked from under the sand and silt, showing Xanthus the way to Atlantis.
Atlantis was the road’s destination, not his.
The gorge widened, opening into a clearing as the rocky walls disappeared into the darkness. Silt swirled, clouding the seawater. The sharp, mineral taste of human blood washed over his tongue—stronger and thicker. A hum of voices signaled he’d reached his destination. As he moved forward, the voices rose in volume. A roar of outrage ignited other angry voices churning in the water. Through the haze, a mob came into view.
A snarling voice pierced the sea. “Gut the human and let it watch as we feed its entrails to the sharks!”
Xanthus headed straight into the crowd, shoving his way through a sea of grey tailfins and muscled arms.
Another voice raged. “Tear it apart, piece by piece. We all deserve a souvenir. I want its scalp.”
From a distance, another voice said, “I want its heart.”
Xanthus pushed two fellow Dagonians apart and came face to face with one of the most fearsome and deadliest soldiers in the sea—Kyros Dionysius.
“Xanthus, thank the gods you’re here,” Kyros said. “Your brother’s crossed the line this time.”
“Gael? What did Gael do?”
“He pulled a human off a dock. It wasn’t even in the water!”
“I’d heard rumors...” Xanthus shook his head. “I didn’t want to believe them.”
Xanthus looked at the crowd. His older brother knew the punishment for this act—imprisonment. At least it used to be. In reality, Xanthus doubted his brother would ever see the inside of a prison cell. After the recent slaughter of Dagonians in the South Pacific, Gael would likely be hailed as a hero for this act. It didn’t matter to the Dagonians that the humans didn’t know what they’d done. The humans had no idea they even existed.
Xanthus caught sight of the air-filled sphere holding the prisoner. It rocked back and forth by the chaotic movements of the Dagonians swimming around it. Six strong soldiers held on to the ropes tethering it down and about twenty other soldiers kept the crowd at bay.
The sphere was smaller than Xanthus had expected. Dirt and blood smeared the inside, making it difficult to see in. As he moved closer, his stomach sickened when he got a look at the human. A small woman cowered in the center of her prison; tear-smeared dirt caked her battered face.
One Dagonian rushed between the solders, bared his teeth, and roared. The soldiers pulled him back as the woman screamed and scrambled against the far side of the chamber. To say she was frightened would be a gross understatement. A Dagonian mother seeing her only child in the jaws of a kraken couldn’t have been more terrified.
“Ah ha, the Nightmare of the Deep has arrived.” Gael smiled as he approached Xanthus. “So glad you could join us. Are you ready to live up to your name, brother?”
Xanthus pounded his fists against Gael’s chest, shoving him back. “What are you doing?”
“What do you think I’m doing?” Gael snarled and pushed back. “I’m dealing out justice.”
“Justice? Why? What did this human do?”
“You dare ask that question while the flesh of three thousand Dagonians rot in the South Pacific?”
“Yes, I dare.”
Gael looked at Xanthus, disgust oozing off him. “The humans are a plague. They’ve overrun the planet. They’ve poisoned our seas. We can no longer stay down here and pretend they don’t exist.”
“There are better ways to handle this. Torturing and killing this woman will accomplish nothing.”
“Wrong!” Gael shouted. “This is the best preparation I can give my men for the war to come. I can’t have them hesitate to kill any human—man, woman, or child. I chose this human because she’s a female, she’s beautiful, and she made the mistake of throwing her trash into our sea. And that’s what every human has done—you can’t deny it. They’ve dumped so much garbage down here they’ve poisoned our homes. We are forced to swim in their filth. She’s as guilty as the rest and she’s going to suffer sorely for her transgression.” Gael neared the sphere and sneered. “There’ll be no quick and easy death for this wretched creature.”
Xanthus continued to scowl at his brother, saying nothing.
Gael turned back to Xanthus. “So what do you think I should do? Petition the gods?”
“That’s exactly what I’ve done,” Xanthus said. “I sent a message to the Guardian. I have every intention of ending this war before it begins.”
Gael laughed. “Triton? What a waste. He hates us. Even if he does answer you, it will mean your death. You’re such a fool.” Gael turned from his brother, raised his fists to the crowd, and shouted out as the mob cheered him.
Xanthus looked back on the woman with pity. She was not supposed to die. Only humans who presented a threat for Dagonian discovery were marked for imprisonment or execution. Xanthus had captured and executed many humans himself over the years. Those kills had been justified—this death was not. At least it hadn’t been. This woman just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. But now that she was here, Xanthus could do nothing for her.
Her eyes locked on his. “Please help me,” she said. “Don’t let them hurt me.”
This human seemed smart enough to recognize pity. Xanthus didn’t answer her. For him to nurture hope would be futile. He could give her no hope.
“This has to be a nightmare,” she said. “Mermaids are supposed to sing songs, sit on rocks, and com
b their hair. You’re all just monsters.”
Thank the gods the Dagonians surrounding her didn’t understand her language. Xanthus was one of only a few Dagonians in the sea that could. It was a good thing for this human. If there was anything a Dagonian hated more than a human, it was a Mer.
“Don’t kill her,” a voice shouted. “Make her suffer. Make her suffer until she begs for death, and then make her suffer more.”
“Yes! Make her suffer,” they all echoed.
Gael shouted, “She will suffer! I will see to it she suffers a much as any being can without causing death. Once she’s given us all the satisfaction her misery can bring, then and only then, we will kill her. And her death will be the first of many.”
“Death to the humans!” a voice called out. A wave of voices caught the wake of that plea—the whole crowd shouting and shaking their fists. “Death to the humans, death to the humans, death to the humans…”
Xanthus’s jaw clenched and his lips curled in disgust. They were acting like monsters. He looked back to the woman. She sat, wrapped her arms around herself, and sobbed.
As Xanthus approached her, she crawled up onto her knees and pressed her bloodied hands against the sphere. With desperation dripping from her quivering lips, she mouthed the words, “Help me, please.”
And so he did.
He released her. The sphere shattered and dissolved into the sea. The incoming seawater slammed into her body, the incredible force crushing her. She died instantly—her eyes forever open, forever pleading, and now forever void of life.
Xanthus turned away as the mob rushed in toward her.
“They’re not going to like what you just did,” Kyros said, coming up from behind him. “We need to get you out of here.”
“Just where do you think you’re going?” Gael shouted.
Xanthus turned and drew his sword. Gael and his soldiers were at Xanthus’s back, their weapons drawn.
“You have no right to detain us, Gael. We’re not the ones who committed a crime here,” Xanthus said.
