Descending (The Rising Series) (13 page)

“Charles.”

“Well, Charles. Do you like racing cars?”

“My mom won’t let me drive.”

“She won’t?” Gretchen raised her eyebrows in mock surprise.

He shook his head.

“I have a game that lets you race cars. Do you want to play it?”

He nodded, cracking a smile.

She led him into the living room and hooked up the game system. They chose a two-player game, pitting themselves against each other. She’d make sure he won, but she’d be careful to not let on she was letting him.

They’d only been playing for a few minutes when she saw movement in her peripheral vision. She glanced over to see Pallas watching them in wonder. She smiled at him; he smiled back, his eyes darting over to the boy with the most p
eculiar, confused look—as if he’d never seen a child before. She looked back to the game to see she’d driven off a bridge into the ocean. Thank heavens the game was more forgiving than real life. A moment later, her car was dropped back onto the road. Pallas left as she was swerving to miss a banana.

Straton stopped in the doorway a few minutes later. He looked just as surprised by the presence of a child as Pallas had been. Gretchen did her best to ignore the strange men who stopped by one by one to gawk. Charles didn’t seem to notice, but chatted on about how well he was doing, and how his friend,
Stefano, had the same game. These men acted like a celebrity was in their presence. Even Amar—the man who never even looked at her, never even paused at her presence—stopped at the sight of this child.

Gretchen lost miserably, and she hadn’t even let Charles win on purpose. The men in this house had so thoroughly distracted her
that she was easy prey.

“Charles,” his mother called. “It’s time to go.” She stepped into the room.

“Perfect timing,” Gretchen said. “Your son just won the game.”

“Thank you,” his mother said, smiling. “I appreciate you taking time to play with
him.”

“It was my pleasure,” Gretchen answered. “He’s a nice boy. You should be proud.”

“I am,” she said, but her eyes kept looking around.

“They’re a strange bunch, aren’t they?” Gretchen whispered.

The woman gave a sigh of relief. “Yes. They watched me like I was a criminal. I promise you I’ve never stolen anything in my life.”

“I’m sure you haven’t. These men are an odd lot, but I assure you, they mean you no harm.”

“I didn’t feel threatened. They just seemed… suspicious.”

“I know what you mean
.” Gretchen frowned. “How often do you come here to clean?”

“This is my first time, but the owner, Mr. Dimitriou, wants me to come in once a week. I must be honest, I’m not sure I’ll be back.”

“Oh now, don’t let them worry you. They are actually quite nice once you get to know them. And I’d love an excuse to play video games with your son. I’ve been going out of my mind with boredom since my best friend was admitted to the hospital.”

“Oh no. What happened?”

“Um, well, she was… shot.”

The color drained from the woman’s face as she looked back into the hall. “I… I’ve got to be going.” She scooped her son into her arms and rushed to the front door.

“I didn’t mean to alarm you.” Gretchen rushed to follow her.

The woman ignored her and continued on. “Tell Mr. Dimitriou he can send me my check.” She said the last words just before she pulled the door shut behind her.

Pallas, Straton, and Kyros trickled into the hallway.

“I’ve a feeling we won’t be seeing them again,” Gretchen said.

“Why not?” Pallas asked. “We didn’t threaten her.”

“No, you only did your prison warden thing on her.”

“Prison warden?” Pallas asked.

“Yeah, you made her feel like a criminal.”

Pallas looked appalled. “I didn’t mean to treat her like a criminal.”

“Yeah, well, you did. And it unnerved her.”

“I guess we could have been friendlier,” Straton said.

Gretchen rolled her eyes and returned to play more of the game.

Gretchen stomped up to the front door with the annoying giant on her heels.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not just going to sit around the house hiding.” Gretchen stopped at the front door and turned to glare up at Kyros. He was returning her glare and then some.

“Gretchen,” he growled, bracing his hand against the door. “Until we find the man trying to kill you, you shouldn’t be putting yourself out there.”

“And what if we never find him? What then?”

“I think you should give it more time before you assume we’re never going to find him.”

“I don’t want to give that creep even one more moment of my life. Listen, I’m sorry if you don’t like it, but I
have
to see Sara. If you want to come with me, I’d like that. But either way, I’m going with or without you.”

“You would die to see your friend?”

“I would die rather than give up my freedom,” Gretchen clarified. “Now, let me pass.”

She could feel his emotions simmering, the heat of them radiating off his skin. She narrowed her eyes and stared him down.

After a long couple of minutes, his shoulders loosened. “Okay, you can go. But not until you do a few things.”

He dragged her to a chair and sat her down. “Wait here.”

The minutes ticked by. Where in the world did he go? Finally, she could hear him stomping down the stairs. He appeared with an armful of stuff. There was a blonde wig, a wide-brimmed hat, dark sunglasses, a bulky sweater, and various scarves.

“You’ve got to be kidding me
.” She chuckled.

Kyros frowned, obviously not appreciating her
laughter.

“Oh fine. Give me those,” she
said, gathering the bundle in her arms and tromping down the hallway to the bathroom.

A few minutes
later, she emerged—a wannabe spy. Or maybe she was a bag lady. It was hard to tell which look she’d achieved.

“There,” Kyros
said, satisfied. “Now no one could possibly recognize you.”

“Oh yeah, and no one could possibly suspect I’m wearing a disguise
either.”

Kyros’s brows pinched together. “Is that sarcasm?”

“Oh no. Not at all.”

He frowned at her, looking her up and down. “Let’s get this over with
.”

They only had to walk from the parking lot, through the hospital, and up the elevator to the third floor. And truly, there were not many people about
, but with everyone gawking, it felt like a thousand eyes were on her.

“Why is everyone looking at you?” Kyros whispered.

“Because I’m dressed like an idiot,” she whispered back harshly.

As they approached room 391, they were headed off by a hefty nurse. “Can I help you?”

“Is Xanthus here?” Kyros asked. “I’d like to talk to him for a moment.”

The woman’s eyes kept darting to Gretchen.
She could understand why. Who would be wearing a getup like hers?

“Let me see if he’s available.”
The nurse slipped through the door, closing it behind her. A moment later, she returned with Xanthus. His face was drawn with concern. Then he saw her. His eyes widened in surprise. Oh yeah, even
he
could see how ridiculous she looked. The corners of his mouth pinched down, suppressing a smile.

“Hello
, Kyros,” he said. “Who is that with you?”

“See,” Kyros whispered to Gretchen. “I told you the disguise would work.”

This man needed to learn how to recognize sarcasm. Especially when it was so obvious that it practically slapped you in the face.

“This is Gretchen
,” Kyros answered. “I thought it best if she were to disguise herself.”

“Good thinking. But I’m sorry
; your timing is terrible. Sara has been taken to the lab.”

“Is it anything serious?” Gretchen ripped off the sunglasses.

Xanthus sighed. “No. Just routine tests.”

Gretchen nodded—her stomach like lead in her gut. “Will you tell her I came? And let her know I miss
her, and I want to see her again.”

“Sure. I know she misses you too. I’m sorry this had to happen on your visit. You are welcome to stay as long as you’d like. Just let Kyros know if you need anything. I’m sure he’ll be happy to help you.” Xanthus turned to Kyros. “Won’t you?”

“Oh yeah,” Kyros grumbled.

“I do have a favor to ask.” Gretchen kept her eyes on Xanthus.

“Oh?” Xanthus said.

“I’d like nothing better than to go get some lunch, lik
e in a restaurant, in public.”

“There is this quiet,
out-of-the-way sushi place I found recently,” Xanthus said.

Gretchen smirked. “You and your sushi.”

“We Mediterranean men love fresh fish. How about I walk you out and give you directions?”

Kyros was glowering as they stepped outside. The three of them were quite a draw for curious eyes—a short, skinny “
bag lady”, walking between two nearly seven-foot-tall, muscular men. Minds were spinning.

“
Have you heard from Drakōn?” Kyros asked.

“Not yet
,” Xanthus said. “He’ll let us know if there’s any news.”

Xanthus turned to Gretchen. “Have you thought of anything else that might be helpful? Did you think of anyone who might want you dead?”

These men knew nothing about being subtle. “Um, not anyone
recently
.”

“Recently?” Kyros stopped walking and whipped around to face her.

She tugged him across the parking lot crosswalk before the elderly man approaching in the large sedan ran them over.

“What do you mean, recently?” Kyros asked.

“My birth mother was not exactly happy when I left her. She had a bit of a temper, hurt a lot of people. But it’s been
ages
since I’ve seen her.”

“How long?”

“About fifteen years.”

“
How old were you when you left her?”

“I’m not sure.”

“You don’t know?”

“No. The social worker thought I looked to be about eight years old.”

“And this mother wanted to kill you?”

“She threatened me.”

“What exactly did she say?”

Gretchen frowned and took a deep breath. “She said if I ever l
eft her, she’d hunt me down and rip my heart out.”

Xanthus and Kyros seemed to share a ‘look
.’

“What?” she asked.

Kyros shook his head. “It’s nothing. You left her anyway,” Kyros continued, “regardless of her threat to your life. Did you not believe her?”

“Oh no, I believed her. I left because I knew she was capable of that and more.”

“Where did all this take place?” Xanthus asked. “In Hawaii?”

“No, um
, it was Florida… Miami.”

“Isn’t
Miami nearby?” Kyros asked Xanthus.

“It’s about a thousand miles away—southwest of here.”

Kyros nodded.

Squealing tires marked a car coming at them fast. Kyros pushed Gretchen back out of the path just as the car braked, stopping inches from them.

Drakōn rose from the rumbling car. “Kyros, I need you to come with me.”

“What’s wrong with
you, Drakōn?” Xanthus growled. “Are you trying to run us down?”

“I need Kyros to come with me
,” Drakōn repeated as he turned to Xanthus. “And you’ll need to take the girl back to the house. I’ve found the would-be killer.”

Xanthus narrowed his eyes. He looked suspicious. Kyros turned to her. “Go with Xanthus.”

“What?” Gretchen squeaked. “You’re not going with him. We need to call the police. Now is no time to play hero.”