Descending (The Rising Series)

by Kelly, Holly

  At his name, Aella giggled. “Kyros is far from formidable. Would you like to see what I’ve done to him?”

  Kyros watched as a demon stepped through the shadowy mist. He towered above Aella, who walked at his side. His eyes sent a jolt of fear into Kyros’s bones. The demigod’s irises were silver ringed with black, and they glowed against his dark presence. This was Gretchen’s father? It looked like she got her looks from her mother. He looked from Kyros to Drakōn.

  “You did this to them?” he sneered.

  “Yeah, you’re not the only one who knows how to inflict pain.”

  “What did they do to warrant it?”

  “Haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve said?”

  He turned his glowing eyes on her. “You forget yourself, mermaid.”

  “I think you forget who I am. I am a daughter of Triton. I…” Her voice choked off, and she slapped her hands across her throat. Her mouth opened wide as she tried to draw in a breath.

  Thane leaned in, sneering at her. “Your father banished you and left you to die.”

  Thane released her, and she dropped to the floor. She gasped, trying to catch her breath.

  “Enlighten me,” he said. “What did they do to warrant this?”

  “They’ve been trying to kill me!”

  “If I recall, Dagonians have been trying to kill you for thousands of years. How did they find you?”

  “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “She’s lying,” Kyros’s voice came out in a forced whisper.

  Aella kicked Kyros in the head, making it snap back. The room went dark; he wasn’t sure if it was him losing consciousness again or the demigod’s mist.

  “I think you’ve caused this soldier enough pain,” Thane said. “Tell me what he…” Thane stopped speaking, and silence descended.

  “The Dagonians are here,” he hissed.

  “Oh gods, Thane, you have to stop them. You can’t let them hurt me.”

  “I care nothing for you or the Dagonians. My only concern is for my daughter.”

  “But how will your daughter feel if you let her mother die?”

  “Fine,” he snapped. “Just stay behind me.”

  “I know you’re there, Dagonian. Come out now, and you might survive.”

  “Who are you?”

  “My name is Thane, son of Thanatos.”

  “We have no quarrel with you. We’ve come for Aella. Her death has been ordered by Poseidon.”

  “And what of my daughter? What business do you have with her?”

  “Your daughter?”

  “Gretchen.”

  Kyros could almost feel Xanthus’s horror and confusion. He was confused himself as to why Aella brought Gretchen’s father here, knowing she was trying to kill the very daughter he might want to save.

  “I was not aware she was your daughter. We still have no quarrel with you. Gretchen is safe with us, but her mother seeks to kill her.”

  Thane whipped around and grabbed Aella by the throat. “Is this true?”

  “No,” her voice rasped. “He lies. You have to believe me.”

  “I don’t have to believe anything.” He threw Aella to the floor and turned toward Xanthus as he stepped into the room.

  “You will give me my daughter, or I will destroy each and every one of you.”

  “I have a solemn duty to protect her. I will not give her to someone I know nothing about.”

  “I am her father.”

  “So Aella says, but you do not seem the fatherly type. Gretchen has been through enough pain in her life. I will not turn her over to you until you prove worthy of her.”

  “Give me my daughter, Dagonian, or you will die.”

  “Gretchen stays with us.”

  “Then die.” Thane pulled a long, black sword from his cloak and sliced toward Xanthus’s head. Xanthus blocked the strike with his own sword, and sparks lit up the room. Xanthus sliced at Thane’s stomach, and he parried and struck back.

  “We do not need to fight,” Xanthus said as he blocked the blade. “I am not your enemy.”

  “When you come between me and my daughter, you become my enemy.”

  “Just because you are her father, doesn’t mean she is safe with you. Her own mother seeks her life.”

  “Lies! How could a mother want the death of her own child?”

  “Aella has killed many of her own children.”

  “And your lies continue to grow.”

  “She has an intense fear of being alone, but she also fears discovery. She continues bearing children only to kill them. Gretchen told me this herself.” He spoke as they met blow after blow. Kyros could see neither Thane nor Xanthus was putting his heart into the battle. It was more like they were battling as an afterthought to the debate. “Aella has tried to have Gretchen shot, she attempted to compel Kyros, the Dagonian who loves her, to slice her open and spill her guts. She tried to force Gretchen to turn herself in by compelling others to kill themselves.”

  “And you expect me to believe that this mermaid is capable of that level of evil?”

  “I expect you to believe the truth. You know Aella. You know she lies. Who should you believe? Someone who has proven an honorable warrior willing to risk his life to protect an innocent mermaid? Willing to risk his life to protect your daughter? Or a being who has lied, deceived, and killed at every turn?”

  The blows stopped. Both warriors dropped their weapons. “I seek the answer from my own daughter’s lips. I promise you, I will not take her against her will.”

  A thunderous pop beat into Kyros’s ears. Thane’s mouth dropped open in surprise as blood seeped from his chest through his robe. He collapsed on the ground, groaning in pain.

  “All I asked for was a little help.” Aella stepped over to Thane—rifle in hand. “I asked you to protect me, to believe me. But no, you believed this murderer over me.”

  “You were going to kill me either way, weren’t you?” Thane coughed.

  Aella gave a dainty shrug and pointed the gun in Xanthus’s direction.

  Xanthus scowled at her.

  “Well, I guess I’ll have to take care of him myself.” She raised the gun to Xanthus’s head.

  Kyros knew he was about to see his friend die—the friend that had been by his side for the better part of eighty years. He had to do something to stop her. He pushed himself up and staggered to his feet. His body screamed at the effort. “You’re a coward, Aella.”

  Aella turned to him and snarled. “What did you say?”

  “I said you’re a coward. Oh, and you’re a pathetic, needy, sorry excuse for a daughter of Triton. I can see why he hasn’t helped you in all these years. He was ashamed of you.”

  “Kyros, what are you doing?” Xanthus asked.

  “I’m telling her the truth.” He turned back to Aella. “You’re plenty brave when you think you have the upper hand. But when you’re cornered, you cry for help. Just like a child.”

  “Shut up! I’ll kill you,” she screeched.

  “Go ahead,” Kyros said, “kill her.”

  “What?” She turned around just in time to see Xanthus’s hand fly toward her chest. He thrust so powerfully that his fist pounded a hole into her. Aella looked down in horror at Xanthus’s hand buried in her chest. She watched him yank his hand out. Her heart was beating in his fingers.

  Kyros stepped up behind her and grabbed her shoulders. “Give Hades my best.” She glanced back at him, in confusion. Her eyes rolled back as she collapsed. Kyros caught her and lowered her slowly to the ground.

  “I don’t know what I ever saw in that mermaid,” Thane said, his face pale as the moon.

  Kyros’s strength left him, and he dropped to his knees. Xanthus was at his side immediately. “Hades, Kyros. You look like death.”

  “He looks nothing like my father.” Thane coughed out a laugh.

  Xanthus shook his head. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked Thane.

  “I’ll survive,” he
answered. “It takes a lot to kill a demigod—especially the son of death. A shot to the chest isn’t enough to do it. But still, it hurts like Hades.”

  “Don’t worry about me, Xanthus,” Kyros said. “I’ve only been beaten to an inch of my life.”

  “I’m not worried about you. You’re too stubborn to die.”

  “I wish I were dead.” Drakōn spoke from across the room.

  Kyros looked around and smiled. “We are a sorry lot. Xanthus, it looks like you’re the only one that came out of this unscathed.”

  “Not for long if we don’t get out of this house. I ordered Straton to burn it down if I didn’t return.”

  “You did what?” Thane growled.

  “We couldn’t let the mermaid escape. Even at the cost of our own lives. She’s killed far too many innocents.”

  “Well, you three can get out through the front door. I have my own way out.”

  “What about Gretchen?” Kyros said. “I know she’ll want to meet you.”

  “We will meet. But I have a few things to straighten out before I’m fit to step in as her father. Until then, take care of her.”

  “I swear it,” Kyros answered.

  He wouldn’t wait another minute. As much as Gretchen pleaded, Straton was determined to follow Xanthus’s order.

  “It has to be done,” Straton said. “I’ve already given them five extra minutes.”

  “Fine, you do what you need to do, and I’ll do what I need to do.”

  She sprinted off towards the house as Straton called, “Gretchen, I’ll give you five more minutes, then I’m setting the fire.

  She crept up behind a bush at the back door. The wooden steps up to the door were old and broken. Aella probably had someone watching it, or some kind of trap set. Gretchen skirted the house, peering into windows. And that was when she saw heard it—a baby crying. She looked up to see an open window on the second floor. To the side of the window was a rickety lattice with an old, dead rosebush laced through it.

  She glanced at her watch, noting she only had three minutes left. She needed to climb in, grab the baby, find Kyros, and get them out.

  It would take a miracle.

  She grabbed a hold of the thin lattice and took her first step up. The wood cracked and splintered, her foot dropping down. How in the world am I going to make it all the way to the top? She took a deep breath and tried a different spot. That time the wood creaked, but held. Another step. Crack, break. Darn it. “It’s okay, Gretchen, just try another,” she whispered.

  She took another step, and it held. The thorns from the rosebush were prickly and sharp as needles. She did her best to avoid them, but still got more scratches with every handhold. Her injured hand had healed incredibly fast, but with the pressure she was putting on it, she could feel the new, tender skin split apart and blood trailed down her hand.

  When she was about halfway up, she felt as if she’d reached a milestone. She twisted her arm around and looked at her watch—one minute left. It had taken her two minutes to get this high. At that rate, Straton would set the fire while she was on the dry, dead-leafed lattice. She’d never seen anything that looked more flammable.

  The baby increased his volume as if he could sense her doubt. Scowling, Gretchen made her way up, cracking slats and scraping skin along the way. Finally, the windowsill was within reach. She pulled herself up and breathed a sigh of relief just before the face of an old woman appeared in the window.

  The woman thrust Gretchen backwards. Gretchen tried to keep hold of the sill, but her fingers slipped as she fell. She clawed at the branches, attempting to stop her freefall. She caught a branch and grabbed it like a lifeline, squeezing so hard thorns pierced her hands. Ignoring the blood dripping down her wrists, she pulled herself back up.

  The old woman was there again, with murder in her eyes.

  Gretchen opened her mouth to sing. Her voice was weak, and her throat dry. The lady looked confused as she pushed Gretchen back and tried to peel her hands off the windowsill. Darn. Her throat felt as if she’d swallowed dry sand.

  The grey-haired woman pushed Gretchen’s forehead and back she went again, this time catching herself on the lattice. And the baby continued to cry. How could she possibly get in with the woman trying to push her out?

  Another slat broke, and she scrambled to get on another. “Please, let me in.” Gretchen knew reasoning with the woman was pointless, but still she tried. “That’s my brother. I need to save my brother.”

  Doubt crossed the woman’s face before she screamed and collapsed to the floor. Gretchen didn’t waste a moment as she flung herself through the window.

  “No,” the grandmotherly woman snarled as she threw herself at Gretchen. For a little old woman, that lady sure could body slam. Gretchen was sandwiched against the wall. She pushed, and the old woman fell back.

  “Lady, I don’t want to hurt you. I just want my brother.”

  “You can’t have him. I can’t allow it.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  The woman picked up a picture off the dresser and swung it at Gretchen’s head.

  Gretchen jerked back; the heavy, wooden frame grazed her cheek.

  “I won’t let you have him. He’s my grandson. I won’t let him go.”

  “You’ll let him go when Aella tells you to.”

  The old lady stopped fighting and opened her mouth to speak. Once again, she shrieked.

  “Aella will never let you keep him forever,” Gretchen said. “Do you know what she does to her babies?”

  The woman’s tear-streaked face looked up at her. “What do you mean?”

  “She kills them. I’ve seen them. Their skeletons. Hundreds of them. Tiny babies, little toddlers, and young children.”

  “You lie!” The woman collapsed forward, screaming.

  Gretchen heard a whoosh and looked out the window. Orange flames licked the sky and spread up and over the window. Straton had given her more time, but it still wasn’t long enough. The house was surrounded by flames.

  “I’m telling the truth. This baby and I are the only ones left of her children. She’s been trying to kill me too.”

  “You’re not Aella’s.” The woman was rocking back and forth on her knees, sobbing.

  “I am.” The flames were now licking the walls.

  “What is your name?” The old woman clutched her head so hard that her fingernails pierced her skin. Blood dripped down her face.

  “Gretchen.”

  “Aella never had a child named Gretchen.”

  “I changed my name. It used to be Ambrosia.”

  “Ambrosia?” Her pained eyes held a spark of remembrance.

  “Do I know you?”

  “I took care of you until she took you away.”

  “I don’t remember you.”

  “You were just a baby, but you were mine.”

  Gretchen nodded. Could this woman have been like a mother to her?

  The old lady pulled herself off the floor and swayed as she moaned. If only Gretchen could take the pain away, but her throat was getting drier by the moment. The last of the moisture in the air was sucked up by the approaching flames.

  The woman moaned, pressing her hands against her head until Gretchen thought she might crush her own skull. “Will you take care of little Nikias? Don’t let Aella have him.”

  Gretchen’s heart beat into her throat as the woman inched toward the window. She seemed to be waiting for Gretchen’s answer. “I will.”

  With that, the old woman rushed into the flames, shrieking as she threw herself out the window. Gretchen gasped.

  She was gone. Dead.

  The flames thickened and crawled through the window, licking across a nearby rug. The heat became unbearable. Gretchen rushed to the crib and grabbed the crying infant. Taking a blanket, she draped it over the child’s head. The baby seemed so tiny—too tiny. The flames were on her heels as she ran out the bedroom door.

  She flew down the stairs, looking for Kyros
and the others. As she leapt to the floor, she looked around. To her right was a living area, with blood smeared all over the floor. Aella lay at her feet. Her were eyes glassy, and her chest had a gaping hole in it. And her heart lay still, several feet away. Sadness tugged at her. This woman was the first face she’d ever laid eyes on. She’d laughed with her and bore her mother’s tears of loneliness. She remembered wanting more than anything for her to love her. True, Aella was a monster, but she was also her mother. And that kind of bond left a mark on one’s soul.

  Gretchen blinked away her tears and looked back to where she’d come. The fire was making its way down the stairs. She heard a crack just before a chunk of the ceiling collapsed behind her. The baby whimpered.

  “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you.”

  Gretchen raced to the front door and reached for the doorknob. It singed her fingertips, and she jerked her hand back. She went to the nearest window. Flames danced on the other side of the pane. Smoke billowed in the room. She dropped to her knees, coughing and sputtering.

  “Kyros,” she yelled. “Xanthus… anyone!”

  Crawling on her knees, she made her way to the back of the house. There was a door. She didn’t even try that one. The smoke billowed through the cracks. She looked up at the window. Through the smoke, she could see the flames. Fire completely surrounded the house. A few orange flames began to crawl their way through the crack in the door.

  Gretchen coughed as she looked for a fire extinguisher. The baby began to cough through the blanket. There was no extinguisher, but there was a sink with a sprayer hose. She crawled over to the counter and placed the baby on the floor as she stood, grabbed the hose, and turned on the water. She sprayed the fire as she sank back to the floor, picked up the brother she never got a chance to know, and pulled him against her chest.

  This was how she would die—in a fire. At least she could take some solace in the fact that everyone else made it out. She wondered for a moment how she’d actually go. Would she succumb to the smoke? Would the house collapse on her? She didn’t even want to consider being burned alive.

  She leaned down and kissed the lump under the blanket as tears poured from her eyes. “I’m sorry, baby. I tried to save you. I’m so sorry.”