Descending (The Rising Series) (12 page)

“Wo
uld he be willing to do that?”

“I’ve no doubt he would, but I can’t get a hold of him. No one seems to know where he is.
Until he comes, we’ll just have to deal with the situation as it is.”

“
Good luck. Oh, and could you give a message to Sara from me?”

Xanthus raised his eyebrows. “Sure.”

“Tell her I’m sorry… about what I said.”

Xanthus furrowed his brows and nodded.

Aella awoke to male voices coming from the deck. “She’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

Lying in the
soft, king-sized bed, she stretched her limbs and sat up. She got up and stepped over the blanket lying on the hardwood floor—the human soldier’s temporary bed.

A loud
crash was followed by angry words. “If I don’t get some real answers, I swear I’ll separate your head from your body and feed them both to the sharks.”

Aella stepped out on the deck to see a monster of a man holding
Robert by the throat, his feet dangling a foot above the floor. “Ooo, sounds like a tasty option—for the sharks. Personally, I prefer seafood.” She used just the right amount of lyrical voice to capture the stranger’s full attention.

He dropped
Robert and staggered around to face her. She sauntered up to the big man and smiled seductively. Danger radiated from him like heat radiated from fire. Closing her eyes, she dragged his scent through her nostrils. Recognition hit her immediately. She opened her eyes, and her smile widened. “I know what you are, Dagonian.”

His eyes widened. “What is your name?”

“My name is Aella.”

H
is eyes widened. He tensed, ready to attack, but her voice caused him to pause.

“What is yours?” She
amplified the tenor of her voice to increase her control—careful not to overdo it. She needed him able to answer a few questions. He still knew who and what she was. And from his reaction, he’d also heard of her. Her spirits lightened knowing her reputation was still intact, even after two thousand years of hiding.

“My name is Drakōn.”

“Drakōn, I have a question. Why would a Dagonian guard a mermaid?”

“We either guard the mermaid, or we return to prison.”

“And who would send you back to prison if you didn’t do this?”

“Xanthus Dimitriou.”

“Who is Xanthus?”

“He is the mermaid’s husband.”

“A merman?” She could hear the surprise in her voice.

“No, a Dagonian.”

Her laughter pealed, causing him to jump. “That
is
surprising. But it makes things easier for me.”

She circled him, tracing her fingers over his impressive muscles. “So who is the girl in the wheelchair?”

He looked confused. “The mermaid, of course.”

Aella was caught off guard for a moment. They hadn’t been talking about the same girl. “And who is the
other
girl. The one the mermaid was with.”

“She is the mermaid’s human friend.”

“A
human
friend, huh?” This situation was better than she’d thought. “Does this human know her friend is a mermaid?”

“Of course not.”

“I’m assuming all the men surrounding the mermaid are Dagonians. Am I right?”

“Yes.”

“And who is this human to each of you? Do you know her well?”

“She’s nothing to me.”

“What about the others…?”

“The others feel the same, except…”

“Except who?”

“I’m not sure, but Kyros seems to be taking an interest in the human. He’s
extremely protective of her.”

She smiled. A plan began forming in her head. She could rectify this situation easily
and
teach the mermaid a lesson. Aella unleashed the full power of her voice to give her next instructions. “When you leave me, you’ll remember nothing of me, this conversation, or the directions I give you. Regardless of that, you will follow my instructions exactly. I want you to return to your Dagonian friends. You will bring Kyros to me. Make sure no one else accompanies you. Make sure no one else follows. Kyros and the others must suspect nothing. Once you bring Kyros to me, I may let you follow through on your threat to separate Robert’s head from his body and feed him to the sharks.” She smiled and smirked at the human who stood, swaying on his feet. Drool dripped from the side of his mouth—disgusting.

She turned back to the Dagonian. “I’ll be waiting here for you to return. If for any reason, you cannot complete this mission, you will kill the mermaid
and her human friend immediately, and then kill yourself. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have any questions for me?”

“No.”

“Well then, you are free to leave,” she said in a normal voice.

He stood for a moment, in a daze. Then he shook himself. “What in Hades am I doing here?”

“You were just leaving,” she said, surprised at how quickly he returned to himself.

“I came here for answers
.” He stepped toward her and stared her down.

Aella narrowed her eyes
. “No.” She unleashed her voice, long and shrill. “You are leaving.”

He stiffened
—immediately overcome, and proceeded to leave without another word.

As he got into his skiff and headed back to shore, Aella wondered if her plan could yet have a flaw.
Drakōn was a little too hard to control. She hoped the one called Kyros would give her no trouble.

Gretchen lay across the sofa and flipped through the channels. There was absolutely nothing
worth watching on. Maybe if she were interested in screeching idiots fighting over who was the father of whose baby, or perhaps if she cared about how to clean up spills with no residue, but barring those things, there was nothing on TV.

Kyros stepped into the
doorframe. He took one look at her, turned around, and strode away. He hadn’t said two words to her in the last two days—ever since they’d shared that kiss. Gretchen sat up to adjust the pillow. On a whim, she punched it. But once she got started, she couldn’t seem to stop. An image of Kyros’s face flashed in her mind—his handsome, rugged, face with the stupid scowl. “Idiot, jerk, butt wipe…” She punched with each insult, each one getting progressively fouler, until she finally ran out of names to call him.

Kicking her feet up on the couch
, she slammed her head back onto the pummeled pillow and glared at the ceiling. Maybe she should check Facebook. Perhaps she could squeeze some enjoyment from social media.

She turned on her phone and opened the app.
It looks like Carrie—her old high school cheerleading captain—just had her second kid. Whoopee for her. Oh and Hal… *click* unfriend. Who cared who—
oh, excuse me
—what Hal was doing? Her brother, Matt, just pulled the biggest prank of the century. He put bras and tutus on
Tim Tebow,
Danny Wuerffel
,
and
Steve Spurrier—well, on their Heisman statues at Griffin Stadium at least. He even gave them wigs and a makeover. He posted pictures to prove it—and got fined two hundred dollars. If he hadn’t posted the evidence on Facebook, he might have gotten away with it. If he called, she wouldn’t answer. He just hit her up for a hundred bucks two weeks ago. There was no way she’d spot him two hundred for stupidity.

Gretchen stood and turned off her phone.
Stepping toward the window, she wanted nothing more than to pull up the blinds and look out. Pallas caught her last time she’d done that and gave her a thirty-minute lecture about safety. She frowned, considering whether or not it was worth another reprimand.

Gretchen seriously needed to get out of
this funk. Cabin fever had never agreed with her. She was a free spirit, a social being. She was not meant to be kept cooped up in a house for days at a time.

If only she had some work she could do
, but losing your job meant no work.

The doorbell rang
.

Pausing
in surprise for just a moment, she sprinted for the door. She had every intention of beating her jailers to it before they could hide her away from the threat of an Avon lady.

“Gretchen,” Kyros shouted from down the hall. “Get away from that door.” He strode toward her, his expression livid.

She glared right back. “I was going to look through peephole before answering. I’m not stupid, Kyros.”

“Go back and watch TV. I’ll handle this.”

“Listen, I don’t know what kind of backward culture you come from, but no one gives me orders. I’m getting sick—”

“Do you have a death hope?”

“A what?”

“Do you want to die?”

“Oh, you mean death wish. And yes, I’m on the verge right now, I’ll have you know. One more day cooped up in this house, and I’ll shoot myself and save the gunman the trouble.”

Kyros frowned at her.

The doorbell rang again.

Gretchen stepped past Kyros and looked through the lens. A short, dark woman stood on the doorstep. A small child squirmed in her arms. Gretchen pulled the door open
. Kyros yanked her back and pushed her behind him.

“I
, uh… am here to clean,” the woman said, her eyes darting between Gretchen and Kyros. “Do you want me to come back later?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

They answered simultaneously.

Gretchen stepped around Kyros. “Come on in.” She pulled the woman inside and smiled at the little boy who was attempting to wriggle free.

“Hello there, little guy
,” Gretchen greeted.

He stopped squirming and shoved his thumb in his mouth. His brown eyes searched Gretchen’s face. “D
o you have any toys?”

“No, they don’t have toys,” the woman answered. “You’ll have to
color in the coloring books you brought.”

Gretchen thought about how this house must look to a five-year-old
boy. Pretty darn boring. Except for the pool, that is. But there was no way she could take him swimming. Still, she knew exactly what little boys liked to do these days. She stooped down to speak to him.

“Do you want to play video games?”

His eyes widened as a smile of anticipation spread across his face. His head bobbed up and down in a nod.

Gretchen looked up to the mother
’s relieved face. “Is it okay with you?”

The woman nodded. “Nothing violent.”

“Of course not,” Gretchen answered, taking the boy’s hand in hers.

She straightened
up, and her eyes met Kyros. He was frowning—of course. He was
always
frowning. He turned on his heels and left to go down the hallway.

“I’ll get started
,” the woman said. “Let me know if he gives you any trouble.”

“I’m sure he’ll be a perfect angel,” Gretchen said as she led him to the living room.

“So, little man,” Gretchen said, “what’s your name?”