Avenging (The Rising Series Book 3) (21 page)

Brian ran to his desk and pushed a button. “Tink, tell Michelle’s crew to come into my office. Now!”

Seconds later, a short, skinny Goth woman with a clipboard came running into the room followed by several others. She skidded to a stop as her jaw dropped, along with her clipboard.

“Michelle,” Brian said as the flustered woman picked up her papers, “gather every available body. This one’s going to be big. I want pictures in studio, and I want pictures on site. We’re going to take this from mermaid washes up on the beach to mermaid integrates into human life.”

He turned back to Nicole and said, “I’ll need you to sign some paperwork. I know I told you it would only be an hour or two, but after seeing your daughter, I think it best if we take the whole day, including doing some outdoor shots. I’m perfectly willing to financially compensate you for the extra time it’ll take.”

Thoughts swirled in Nicole’s head, like what kinds of things she could spend the extra money on, all the things they had gone without. She could even get Sara a wheelchair. That would sure take a load off her back and at the same time give Sara some freedom. This was a good thing. Finally, she could give Sara the things she deserved. “Okay,” she answered.

“Superb,” he bellowed with a wide grin and turned to a man with purple hair. “Cleary, you’ve got a good eye. Why don’t you take the first round of shots?”

Nicole had to fight back the urge to shove people off as they took Sara and whisked her away. She followed Sara as she was caught up in a whirlwind of activity: chattering voices and flashing cameras. Everyone who saw Sara gaped in shock. Nicole repeatedly had to swallow the guilt that rose in her throat. They would blur her face in the pictures, they promised her they would. And they would change her name. She kept repeating those words in her mind.

Sara looked like a deer caught in headlights. She kept darting looks at Nicole with accusing eyes. The photographer took picture after picture, pose after pose, some with props, and some without. They even took her to a beach and had her pose in the surf—with Sara shivering in the cold air. Nicole kept telling herself that this was for Sara’s own good.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they finished with her baby. Sara was sound asleep when Nicole carried her back to the car. The day had completely exhausted her. A seven thousand dollar check was warm in Nicole’s back pocket. She should be excited about the money. That money would mean security for them—a warm place to live, food to eat, and freedom for Sara. But she couldn’t be excited, not with the worry that was squeezing the breath out of her lungs. The thought that she’d just made the worst mistake of her life plagued her mind.

Let’s fast-forward two weeks.

Nicole didn’t argue with the voice; her mind was filled with the heartbreaking event she witnessed. She tried to deny that these were her memories, but as she passed through them, she knew they were true. These things really happened.

The scene changed. Nicole found herself in a grocery store, browsing the shelves as she pushed Sara in a wheelchair. Her daughter bounced and chatted excitedly at a new doll clutched in her hands. It was a cheap thing, just five dollars, but to Sara, it was the greatest treasure in the universe.

“How would you like some TV dinners?” she asked Sara.

“Can I get chicken nuggets?”

“Absolutely, baby,” she said as she pulled several dinners out of the freezer and placed them on Sara’s lap. Happiness swelled in her chest. There were no outstanding bills, no back rent,
and
she had money to spend on food.

A middle-aged man who looked like he’d spent too much time eating supersized meals at McDonalds gave her a shy smile. “Keep dreaming, buddy,” she said. The man immediately flushed red and turned away. Nicole knew that people thought she was full of herself. But truly, she tried being nice to men like that, and it always turned into a mess—telling them she wasn’t interested, attempting to let them down easy, it was all so exhausting. She found it best to squelch it from the start by being rude.

“Hey, it’s the mermaid girl from the cover of
The Shocker
!” someone shouted. Nicole looked up to see a group of teenagers staring at her daughter. After a stunned moment, they came up to them, their eyes wide as they darted looks back and forth between her and Sara. A tall, gangly boy seemed to be the leader of the group. “Is she really a mermaid?” he asked, looking at Sara.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nicole growled as she pushed Sara toward the checkout.

“It
is
her!” The group was all talking excitedly and followed her.

“Hey! Check it out—there she is!” a girl shouted to another girl, pointing to the newspaper on the checkout.

Nicole followed the pointing finger. There, in full color glory, was Sara, lying in the surf—looking every bit the mermaid the magazine said she was. Sara’s eyes had been red from crying in that picture. Her crystal-clear face looked into the camera with angry, accusing eyes.

They promised they wouldn’t show her face! They lied to me!

Nicole looked down at her daughter in her shiny, new wheelchair. She was curled up in a ball, sobbing. The TV trays lay spilled on the floor along with her precious doll.

“Let’s see her!” a boy yelled, coming toward them.

“Just leave us alone,” Nicole snapped as she picked up the groceries and the toy from off the floor and placed them on the checkout counter. When the grocery store employees started whispering and pointing at
The Shocker
, she gave up and left her groceries as she pushed Sara out the door. She could hear the footfalls of the group behind her. She hurried toward the direction of their apartment. When the group continued to follow and the excited chatter built, she ran.              

Arms from behind grabbed her. Nicole shouted as the wheelchair handles slipped from her grip. They had been on a downward slope. Nicole struggled in the grasp of her assailant as Sara’s chair picked up speed, racing toward a brick wall. The chair hit the wall first, but Sara’s little body soon followed. Her head cracked into the bricks, and her body slammed to the ground. The mob was on her instantly, ripping the blanket off.

Nicole slammed her head back into the nose of her attacker. He shouted as he loosened his grip, and she took off in a sprint toward Sara.

“Get your filthy hands off my baby,” she shouted as she shoved her way through the crowd. In the center, several teens knelt beside Sara. A click and a flash told her someone had taken her picture. Sara was sobbing. The blanket covering her body had been ripped away. She sat exposed, weeping on the cold pavement, with blood dripping down the side of her face.

A boy who looked about seventeen turned toward the crowd and said, “I can’t believe it. It has to be a mermaid.”

“It? You’re talking about my baby!”
Nicole shouted and continued to rant at him, using foul words. Words she never imagined she would use. They spewed uncontrollably from her mouth. Even then, the words were too mild for the heartless teen. When the boy looked back at her, Nicole’s fist flew, connecting with his jaw. She was about to swing again, when hands pulled her back. The boy’s head turned toward her. He was livid as he cursed. Raising his own fist, he struck Nicole across her temple. Dots swam in her vision as shouts erupted. Someone said something about the police, and she heard footfalls, some coming, but most going.

“Are you alright, miss?” a warm, male voice asked.

Nicole didn’t pay him any attention as she crawled over to her little girl. She picked up the blanket, wrapped Sara in it, and pulled her into her arms. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry…” she repeated over and over as she knelt on the sidewalk, cradled her child in her arms, and sobbed.

A fading voice said, “We need an ambulance at 3203 Hickory Way.”

Nicole was trembling when her tiny kitchen once again came into view. “I remember…” she whispered, sinking to the floor. She tried to recall other memories. There were flashes, images, but as fast as they came, they flew from her mind. “I remember you… You’re Sara.”

Yes, Mom
.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, baby.”

It’s okay. It was a long time ago. And you were doing the best you could.

Nicole continued to sob at the memories. “Who am I?”

I can’t tell you now. He’s coming. Be careful, Mom. You’re not safe.

“What’s going on?” Aaron stood over her, taking in the sight of burning spaghetti sauce, and boiling, mushy noodles.

“I… I’m sorry, honey. I don’t feel so well,” Nicole said honestly. Her entire world was falling apart. Her life was a lie, a deception. Who was she? Who was Aaron? Was he part of it? Was he deceiving her?

“I’m going to lie down,” she said.

“What about dinner?”

“I’m sorry, honey,” she answered. “There are cold cuts in the fridge and chips in the pantry.”

Despite the fact her back was to him, she could feel his eyes narrow as his gaze bored into her back.

Ares stood dumbfounded as Nicole stepped out of the kitchen. He turned the knobs on the stove to off and ran water into the scorched pan. She truly looked upset, stunned, confused, and… ill? Nicole had not been sick a day in her long life, yet she did not look well. Could he have caused it somehow? He’d been so careful choosing this location, choosing the people they’d replace. He’d altered memories thousands of times without a problem.

Still, there
was
a flaw. Nicole’s fragile state and expression of illness tonight made it obvious. It
must
be the fact her power was now intact. Without her siphon, she was unpredictable.

The big question now was who removed her siphon? It took the power of a god to do such a thing… or perhaps a demigod. Maybe Nicole’s child was not so weak after all. Ares was led to believe that because Nicole conceived and gave birth with no god powers, that her child would have none. That she would be essentially as human as the man who fathered her. But perhaps he was wrong. He might have to look for this child of Nicole’s and find out for certain. He couldn’t have an unknown element foil his plan.

***

Nicole lay in bed. Thoughts swirled in her head, making her dizzy. Her stomach lurched.

“Sara?” she whispered.

I’m here, Mom.

“What’s wrong with me?”

Your transplanted memories are warring with the real memories I’ve stirred in your mind. Until they’re completely restored, you probably won’t feel too good.

“Transplanted? Do you mean nothing I remember is real?”

Nicole could feel Sara sigh.
No, they’re real. But they’re the memories of another.

“Who?”

I don’t think you’re ready for that answer yet. I’ve got more to show you. This may be a long night for you. The memories with the most negative emotion are the best ones to help you remember. Are you up for it?

“Is this the only way to bring my memories back?”

I’m afraid so. This time, I’m going to show you something recent. Brace yourself. This memory is not pretty.

“The last one you showed wasn’t pretty either.”

Yes, but the last one was emotionally difficult. This one is physically painful.

“How painful?”

You’ll see soon enough.
At those words, Nicole found herself in a rocky tunnel.

***

Triton stood over Sara. She looked as if she were sleeping. But she wasn’t—she was visiting her mother. Xanthus wiped the sweat from Sara’s forehead with a damp rag as she moaned. She looked to be having a disturbing dream.

Triton desperately wanted to awaken her. How did it work? With Pele, she’d been swept up in a vision that was completely out of her control. She experienced all that Pele did and suffered tremendously because of it. This time, Sara traveled deliberately. Apparently, her powers continued to grow—along with the knowledge and control needed to use them. Triton couldn’t pretend to understand, but he felt he needed to trust his daughter.

Still, he was honest enough to admit to himself that this whole thing terrified him. Was Sara experiencing all that Nicole was? Or was she merely a spectator? She certainly didn’t look like a spectator. She looked to be actively participating in whatever was going on.

Triton wanted desperately to follow her, find Nicole, and bring her back. But Sara insisted she must do this alone. The conviction in her voice told him she had no doubts to her course of action. This had to be a manifestation of her growing god powers. With her birthday just two days away, her powers were expanding daily. She could see and communicate with others at great distances. She could also see the past, as well as the present, and had the ability to show others what she saw. None of those were uncommon among the gods, but the other power she’d manifested was very rare. She seemed to have glimpses of the future.

Sara cried out. Her face contorted in pain.

“We have to stop her. We need to bring her back to us,” Xanthus shouted in desperation.

“We can’t. She told us under no circumstance were we to try to bring her back. She will come back when she’s ready.”

“Listen, I couldn’t care less about her mother. Sara is in pain—”

“Which may increase if we interfere,” Triton interrupted. “The power she’s wielding is beyond me. This is a power similar to the Moirai.”

“The goddesses of fate?”

“Yes. What Sara is doing goes a step beyond what the Moirai do. They never actively participate in shaping one’s fate. They simply declare it.”

“But I thought the Moirai were more powerful than Zeus.”

“They’re not really more powerful—they are out of his scope. They answer to no one but fate. They see all—the past, present, and future of all, including Zeus. But they have no power to control fate.”

“Do they not try to control fate because they can’t, or because it would be a dangerous thing to do?”

Triton pressed his lips into a fine line as his mind reasoned. “I don’t know,” he finally answered. This was one of a few times in his life when he was uncertain about his decision. Should he try to pull Sara out of this? She knew more than he did about what was happening. And she was adamant when telling them not to interfere.

No. He would trust her to save her mother and herself. Although
Xanthus
couldn’t care less about Nicole, Triton cared deeply. Her fate was now wrapped around his. If he lost her again…? He shook his head, unwilling to contemplate the answer to that question. “We need to trust Sara,” he said.

Xanthus frowned, but he nodded his head. He curled up alongside his wife on the bed, pressed his lips against the top of her head, and whispered. “Sara, I’m here, and I love you more than life. Don’t take unnecessary risks, my love. I would not be able to survive losing you.”

Xanthus’ words were obviously not meant for Triton’s ears. But he heard them regardless. They were personal enough that he should probably leave them alone. Still, he didn’t move. He wasn’t about to leave his daughter in a situation this precarious. If she needed him, he would be right there.

Sara kept her eyes closed as she reached out and grabbed onto Xanthus’ arm draped across her chest, pulling it tighter against her. She seemed to take comfort in the fact that her husband was there.

Their union was a good match. Triton had every confidence in Xanthus’ noble intentions. This Dagonian had a virtue and courage that was unmatched. When Triton had realized Xanthus loved his daughter and she loved him in return, he was eager to tie Xanthus to Sara in marriage. Xanthus would always put Sara’s needs before his own, even at the expense of his own life. She couldn’t be safer with any other being—god or demigod.

Sara gasped as her arms flew out and pressed against the mattress. Her eyes opened and she looked around, startled at her surroundings. As soon as she could see where she was and who she was with, she relaxed. “It’s done; her memories are her own now. But…”

“What is it?” Xanthus asked.

“I don’t feel so good.” Her skin glowed, and her eyes closed.

Triton decided to remain in the room. If her dream traveling was damaging her, he wanted to know sooner rather than later. The illumination markedly increased. She was growing brighter. Triton could feel power coming off her, building in strength.

“Dad,” she said, curling up into a ball. “What’s happening to me?”

“Oh, gods, it’s happening,” Triton said, yanking Xanthus off the bed. “Get behind me!”

Xanthus hesitated for a moment before following his direction. “What’s happening?” he asked.

“Her birthday is not for another two days, but it’s happening.”

“Now?”

“Yes, by gods. Now!”

“What will—?” Xanthus’ voice cut out when an explosion of light radiated from Sara like a supernova. Xanthus raised his hands to cover his eyes as Triton threw out a shield to protect the Dagonian. Without the added protection, Xanthus would have burned to dust at the incredible power coming off her. Even Triton had to squint against the radiance. He’d never witnessed such a brilliant transformation.

Seconds later, the light dimmed, and Sara lay motionless on the bed. Her hair fanned out as it draped off the bed, longer than it had been a moment before. But that wasn’t the most striking thing about it. Her hair, once black, was now as white as newly fallen snow.

Sara moaned and lifted her hand to her face.

“Sara?” Xanthus said, hesitant to approach her. He turned to Triton.

“It’s safe,” Triton said.

Xanthus sank onto the bed and reached to brush Sara’s hair away from her face. “Moro mou, gods,” he breathed. “Please tell me you’re okay.”

She moaned and opened her eyes. “I… I think so.”

“Your eyes…” Xanthus said.

Triton could see immediately what the Dagonian was talking about. Her eyes, once blue, were now the most striking emerald green.

Sara sat up with a start. “What’s wrong with my eyes?” She turned her head and froze at her reflection in the dresser mirror. “What happened to my hair?”

No one answered.

“Dad?” she turned to Triton.

“You’re fine, baby. We knew this was coming.”

“You didn’t tell me I’d get grey hair!”

“Your hair isn’t grey—it’s white.”

“White, grey… I look like an old lady!”

“Moro mou, you look nothing like an old lady.” Xanthus swallowed, his eyes inspecting his wife, a look of wonder in his eyes. “You look like a goddess.”

“I do?”

“Yes,” Xanthus said. “You look… stunning.”

The concern faded from her face as a smile lit her emerald eyes. “You’re not just saying that, are you?”

He shook his head and smiled. “I’ve never seen a more beautiful creature.”

Sara grinned at the honesty in his voice, and her face literally glowed.

“And your voice…” he began.

“Yes?”

“That’s different too,” he said “Like…” He couldn’t seem to find the words.

“It’s the power you hear in her voice,” Triton said, “like a thousand symphonies played on each word she speaks.”

“Wow,” answered Xanthus. “That’s beautiful, and it fits surprisingly well.”

“I know all about power that can be wielded through the voice,” Triton said.

“Right,” Xanthus said. “The fathers of Sirens…”

Triton nodded. “Okay. Now with the danger of your transformation over and done with, it should be safe for me to leave you. Don’t try to do anything until I get back. We still don’t know the extent of your powers. But I simply cannot wait one more minute. I need to get Nicole.” Triton attempted to transport.

He didn’t move. Someone blocked him.

Sara’s eyes were closed.
Did she stop him?

She sat for several long minutes. Her body was tense, her fingers gripping the bedspread so tightly that they whitened under her skin. She finally opened her eyes. “You can’t go yet, Dad. If you do, you’ll end up torn into pieces deep in the pit of Tartarus.”