Hades stepped into the sunlight. He walked the short distance to the diner, forcing himself not to think about the open wound that was his memory.
He had entered the florist’s shop in a good mood, pleased by his unexpected encounter with Apollo and Artemis. Now, it was as though a shadow had descended over everything. The world lost its color, and the lingering aroma of flowers became soured by the unpleasant odors of antiseptic solution, Epsom salt, and burnt cloves.
It’s not real. He stopped walking and stared upward, at a sky that became grayer by the moment. None of this is real anyway, is it?
As people bustled past on either side, a sense of profound isolation pressed down on him. He became possessed by the certainty that he wasn’t here, wasn’t alive like the rest of them.
If he reached out and grabbed someone, they wouldn’t be able to feel him. His voice would never be heard.
Alone. He was absolutely alone, and it was getting dark again.
Paralyzed by dread, he didn’t hear his name called until Elizabeth was standing right in front of him, having appeared as if from nowhere. As soon as he noticed her, the pressure on his diaphragm faded and he was able to breathe normally again. Even the sky seemed to grow brighter.
“Hello, Elizabeth,” he said softly, focusing on her face.
Even in the warm sunlight that dappled the sidewalk, her skin was as white as porcelain and seemed just as delicate. Her flaxen eyelashes cast shadows on her high cheekbones. She was like a bone-china doll that might shatter with the gentlest touch.
She smiled at him. “You were spacing out just now.”
“I was just looking at the sky.” He held out the bouquet. “These are for you, Elizabeth.”
Her eyes widened in surprise.
“How did you know?” she asked, taking the bouquet from his hand.
“Know what?”
“Forget-me-nots are my favorite.”
“I didn’t,” Hades said, still feeling a bit unsettled. Could this be a test of some kind, like the tests that Dimitri put him through? What was the intended response?
Elizabeth’s smile returned like the sun from behind clouds. “It was my perfume, wasn’t it?”
“Your perfume?”
“Don’t be coy.” She grinned at him. “You smelled it, didn’t you? I think you’re the first one who’s actually realized it. Very intuitive, Hades.”
He hid his remnant confusion behind a smile. Over the years, he had become skilled at faking emotions and forcing the real ones down deep, away from himself.
“Did you know that forget-me-nots only smell good at night?” she asked. “The rest of the time, they have no scent at all, so most people don’t even know what they smell like.”
A word suddenly came to him. “Vergissmeinnicht.”
“What?” She cocked her head.
“That’s the German name for them.”
“Are you German?”
“No, but someone told me that once.”
Hades couldn’t remember who had said it. Probably an instructor back at the Academy. Occasionally, he would randomly find himself speaking in a different language. Sometimes German and sometimes Russian. A few snippets of Mandarin or Arabic. He could still hold conversations in the first two languages, but there were huge gaps in his knowledge that grew larger with each day. He could no longer recall how to write in the Cyrillic alphabet, although he had been able to last year. Every so often, large swathes of words fell into the void, and he wondered if one day he would forget how to speak and write in English, left with no way to communicate.
Even worse was the idea that he might forget his training. Then he wouldn’t be able to defend himself, protect Elizabeth, or destroy others. He couldn’t tolerate the thought of being weak and helpless
Disturbed, he decided to change the subject.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“Starved!”
He took Elizabeth’s hand and led her inside the restaurant. Her fingers were soft and cool against his own. He released her only long enough to hold the door open for her. The moment their touch ended, he wanted to grab her again and hold her close. Never let go.
The building that the diner occupied couldn’t be much older than his own seventeen years, but when he entered, it was as if he had stepped back into the 1960s. Red vinyl stools and booths abounded, and a jukebox crooned from the corner. Even the waitresses were dressed for a bygone era, in blue gingham dresses with aproned skirts, as were the busboys in their pristine whites.
“We’d like a table in the back,” he said, and the waitress led them past the booths and the counter.
Many of the chairs were unoccupied, and Hades and Elizabeth had their pick of the tables. He selected one that offered him a clear view of the parking lot and entrance.
Before sitting down, he pulled out a chair for Elizabeth.
“You’re a real gentleman, aren’t you?” she said, laughing as she sat down.
“Only for you, Elizabeth,” he murmured, pushing her chair in. He walked around to the other side of the table. As he sat down, he looked around, calculating potential escape routes and barriers that could be used to gain a tactical advantage during a shootout.
It was a habit of his, just like the polite etiquette he couldn’t seem to shake. Always respect his superiors and always be prepared for violence. Of course, sometimes the latter habit trumped the former. He had a tendency to murder his superiors.
“Is there anything that I can get you two to drink?” the waitress asked, handing each of them a menu.
“Coffee,” he said.
The waitress rested her hands on the table and smiled at him. “I bet you like it with lots of sugar, huh?”
“Just cream is fine,” he said, regarding the menu.
“Water, please,” Elizabeth said.
As the waitress left to fill their order, Hades browsed the menu. He periodically glanced into the parking lot. When the bell on the door jingled, he would look in its direction. Twice, he slipped his hand to his waist out of habit, though he was not armed.
An elderly couple entered, then a young girl with her parents. While Hades doubted the granny would pull a submachine gun out from under her sweater, he waited until each group had found its table before looking down again. It annoyed him that the family chose the table beside him when they could have easily sat at the front of the restaurant. He didn’t like having his back to people. Even children could be threats.
The waitress returned with a glass of water, an empty mug, a pot of steaming coffee, and a small pitcher of cream. As she placed the saucer next to him, her hand brushed against his.
In the corner of his eye, he saw Elizabeth stiffen.
“Ready to order?” the waitress asked.
“You go first,” he told Elizabeth.
“I’ll have the turkey burger with the Caesar salad for a side.”
“Didn’t you want something a little more substantial?” he teased. “Weren’t your exact words a ‘big, greasy, artery-clogging hamburger’?”
“I thought you had a bad memory.”
“Not when I’m with you,” Hades said. He could remember every single detail of their conversation. He couldn’t get her out of his mind.
“What about you, sugar?” the waitress asked, turning to him. As he told her his selection, her smile became amused.
A bacon cheeseburger, French fries, onion rings, and cheesecake.
“Sounds like you have a big appetite,” the waitress said and winked at him as she gathered the menus.
As the waitress returned to the kitchen, Hades poured himself a cup of coffee, adding a generous dash of cream. Then he looked at Elizabeth and saw her frowning.
“What?” he asked.
“It’s nothing,” she said, blushing.
Hades smirked, realizing that the waitress’s comment had bothered her. He leaned over the table.
“Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Elizabeth,” he purred, watching her squir
m.
Her blush only deepened, and the way she nibbled on her lip was irresistible.
“I do have a big appetite,” he said, and it was true.
He wanted her more than anything else in the world, and he didn’t know why.
Maybe she was a part of his evolution. Maybe he needed her, and that was why he felt so attached to her. She could be his destiny.
Deep in thought, he took a sip of coffee. The cream cut some of the bitterness and thickened it, just the way he liked it.
“I hate coffee,” Elizabeth said, resting her chin in her hand. Her finger stroked her cheek, so close to her rosy lips. “It tastes like dirt to me.”
“I don’t drink it for the taste. I drink it to stay awake.”
“Did you stay up all night or something?” she asked, laughing. She had a beautiful laugh. Normally, the sound of laughter was as abrasive as sandpaper to him, making him hyperaware of how hollow he felt inside. Not with her. He could listen to her voice for hours and not grow sick of it.
She filled the void.
“I have nightmares and insomnia,” he said, surprising himself with his honesty. Why would he tell her that when he didn’t even tell Dimitri about his night terrors?
Her smile faded. “Oh. I’m sorry.”
What he didn’t say was the nightmares were only half of it. Even worse than waking up trembling and gasping for breath was the feeling that came after the initial panic faded. The certainty he had lost another part of himself to the darkness and would never regain it.
“Try lavender,” she said. “It’s supposed to calm you. You can put some essential oil on your pillow at night to help you sleep better.”
He smiled, wondering what she would think if he told her that when he wasn’t sleeping in his bed, he was sleeping in a sensory deprivation tank.
“I might need to try that,” Hades said. “Thank you for the suggestion, Elizabeth.”
“Of course.”
As she rolled a loose petal between her thumb and index fingers, he stared at her hands. She had graceful hands, with long, slim fingers. She kept her nails neatly manicured but unpainted. He wanted to press those fingers against his lips and kiss them.
“Here we are,” the waitress said, arranging the plates on the table. “Just give me a holler if you need anything else.”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth said.
Between bites of his cheeseburger, he watched her eat.
She started off by nibbling at her turkey burger like a timid doe grazing on meadow grass. When she wasn’t blotting her lips with her napkin, she spread the square of paper across her lap to catch any fallen crumbs.
“So, who taught you how to eat?” Hades asked, offering her a pleasant smile.
She choked on her food and, as expected, pressed her napkin against her lips until she had regained her breath. A blush touched her cheeks, and with downcast eyes, she said, “My parents made me take etiquette classes a couple years ago. Is it really that obvious?”
“Very.” He transferred half his French fries to her plate, next to the depressing salad she had ordered. “Now, eat like you’re actually enjoying it.”
She sighed and picked up a fry, dipped it in the Caesar dressing from her salad, and ate it. Then she took another one from the pile.
“Okay, these are really good,” she said, then paused. “By the way, there’s a Halloween dance at my school on the twenty-ninth. We’re allowed to take dates from other schools, so even if you don’t enroll in time, you’ll still be able to go. So, what do you say? Do you want to be my date?”
Pleasure radiated through him at her offer. Of all the people in the world, she had chosen to invite him. He meant something to her. She could see him.
“How could I say no?” he asked and cherished the sight of her excited smile.
Once they had finished with their burgers and side dishes, he moved the dirty plates out of the way and pushed his slice of cheesecake in front of her.
“No,” Elizabeth groaned, pressing a hand against her stomach. “I’m stuffed. How can you even think about eating more? Do you have a black hole for a stomach?”
When the urge to kill became uncontrollable and there were no targets to remove, Hades would eat large quantities of food. To offset the caloric overload from his binge sessions, to kill time, and to quench his rage and frustration, he worked out obsessively for hours each day, turning his body into a finely tuned weapon.
But she must never find out about his urges or his anger. She must be kept innocent.
He grinned at her. “Like I said before, I have a big appetite.”
“Well, I don’t,” she said, pushing the plate toward him. “If I eat another bite, I’m going to explode.”
“Just one bite.” He picked up a clean spoon, scooped out a chunk of cheesecake, and held it out to her. “Say ‘ah.’”
“You’re a sadist.” Elizabeth rolled her eyes and opened her lovely mouth. “Ah.”
He maneuvered the spoon past her parted lips and smiled as she ate. A bit of chocolate syrup got trapped in one corner of her mouth. He wanted to kiss her, but he would settle for eating from the same utensil that had touched her tongue.
As he lowered the spoon, a rough voice tore his attention away from her. “Hey, girlie, I’ve got something better you can swallow.”
Glancing away from her, Hades spotted the source of the obnoxious distraction. The voice belonged to a man sitting at a table across from them. Greasy and sunburned, this pathetic specimen of humanity wore a stained souvenir T-shirt emblazoned with an American flag.
Elizabeth’s face went red, and her lips drew into a colorless line. She glowered at her lap, refusing to acknowledge the man’s catcall.
Hades felt his body grow rigid. His jaw clenched, and a low growl escaped him before he could restrain himself.
“Ignore it,” Hades heard himself say but felt detached from the words. It wasn’t his voice anymore. It was the mask speaking.
The real him was howling for blood, deep inside his core.
He must not let her see what he was evolving into.
“Have another bite,” he said, handing her the spoon. “You’re cute when you eat.”
“Are you trying to fatten me up?” Elizabeth’s smile returned, but he could tell she was still annoyed about the man’s obscene comment.
“I like to see you enjoying yourself. It makes me happy.” Hades waved over the waitress. “I’d like the check now, please.”
There must have been something in his voice or expression, because this time the waitress did not try to flirt with him. She nodded. “I’ll get it right away.”
“By the way, you have a little chocolate on your face,” he told Elizabeth, turning back to her.
She blushed, looking mortified. “Really? Where?”
Hades picked up his napkin and leaned over the table, dabbing at the splotch of syrup on the corner of her mouth. As his finger brushed against her lips, her blush deepened.
He wanted to see how flustered he could get her and eventually break down this bureaucratic facade her parents had forced upon her. But he sensed that the bolder his advances became, the more careful he would need to be to not drive her away.
After cleaning off the chocolate, he sat down again, twisting the napkin between his fingers. In the corner of his eye, he watched the man finish his beer and slam the glass down beside another empty mug before swaggering off toward the bathroom.
“At least eat some, too,” Elizabeth said, and he glanced back to find her holding the spoon out to him. “Your turn.”
Hades tolerated her feeding him, even though it conjured a vague, unsettling memory of being strapped to a chair, with his jaws forced open and a tube pushed down his throat. As soon as the spoon slipped from his lips, he stood.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” he said and took out his wallet. He threw two twenties onto the table. “This should be enough. Just wait for me outside, please.”
“Listen, I can
pay for my own food,” Elizabeth said, but by then he was already halfway across the room.
Hades entered the men’s restroom. The taste of chocolate cheesecake became cloying and bloodlike on his tongue. When he licked his lips absently, he could no longer detect sweetness.
The two urinals were unoccupied. As he stared at the door of the single stall, he removed his motorcycle gloves from his jacket pocket. They were made of thin, supple deerskin. He pulled them on and flexed his fingers, savoring the firm resistance of the leather against his knuckles.
A low grunt came from the stall. Soon constipation would be the least of the man’s worries.
As Hades heard the flush of a toilet, he stepped closer. The chirr of a closing zipper, shuffling, a weary sigh—those were the sounds of an unwary target.
He licked his lips a second time, contemplating what he would do once the man left the stall. Murder was a bit excessive in this case, but there was no doubt in his mind the scumbag deserved to be taught a lesson. Nobody spoke to Elizabeth like that and got away with it.
The man stepped out of the stall, and upon noticing Hades, regarded him with dull, piggish eyes.
“What are you looking at?” The man sneered, revealing teeth like rotten corn kernels. He was a stocky man with a moldy cheese complexion and a week’s worth of stubble. His thinning blond hair hung lankly over his brow—then, suddenly, it did not.
Although there was no apparent difference in height, clothing, or weight, in the time it took to blink, the man had transformed. His hair had become prematurely white, his face had firmed and paled, and his eyes had paled also. His eyelashes were like veins of frost.
Hades’s blood went cold, and he began trembling uncontrollably.
“Get out of my way, kid.” The man’s sinewy lips curled back, and this time the teeth he exposed were as pristinely white as his complexion. They were so white and so straight that they appeared to be false. “Hey, are you stupid? Why are you staring at me like that?”
I hate you. I hate you. I wish you were dead. Dizzying thoughts rushed through his head like automatic gunfire. They were just as devastating as well, shredding his confidence and leaving gaping holes in exit. And you—it’s all your fault, Nine.
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