Hades: Modern Descendants

by elda lore

  “I’ll say it one last time. Let. Her. Go.” With the swift breeze of my captor’s failed swat, the hoodie of my savior fell back, revealing midnight black hair, hanging down his neck and curling around it. Long bangs slashed over an iridescent blue face, but his eyes, the blue was as bright as the colored glass bottles my momma stood on the windowsill in the kitchen. Those cobalt vessels appearing like nothing special until the sunlight hit them, and they lit the pane and the area around in a wash of dancing blue light. Those eyes pierced mine before shifting back to my captor.

  My ankles released. My captor’s arm twisted, and as a unit, we spun. My back slapped against the bulging chest of the man who held me.

  “I warned you,” growled the voice over both our shoulders. A sickening crack sounded behind me only seconds before another strike of lightening and simultaneous snap of thunder collided. My body dropped, plunging me into the icy water up to my shoulders. I scrambled forward on hands and knees despite the frigid temperature. My hands disappeared under the inky water and cut against sharp river rocks hidden from sight. Despite the thump of something large and gelatinous sounding hitting earth, I didn’t turn back. My legs trembled, whether from the cold depth or the shock of danger, I could no longer distinguish. Hands gripped my waist and I screamed, the strangled sound drowned out by the heavens opening and the hard assault of rain. Long daggers of water struck, and jabbed, and stung my chilled skin. I could hardly see three inches let alone three feet, but I felt my savior’s presence everywhere. Still shaken by the experience, I attempted to run, my feet now bearing the brunt of the rocks below. A strangled whistle sounded behind me and the crashing noise of water followed. A horse’s whine filled the air. But I continued to run. My waist was encircled, and I was hoisted into the air. A great beast of a horse was at my side and I shifted my legs to straddle it out of instinct.

  “Let me go!” I demanded. Strong arms trapped me, pressing me tighter against him and ignoring my plea. He flicked his wrist, ordering this mighty black steed to gallop faster.

  We travelled straight down the middle of the shallow river, racing the rain that cut razor sharp. Any moment, I thought he’d turn us back as we sped in the opposite direction of my home.

  “Where are you taking me?” The rain drowned out my question. Although he saved me from whomever attacked me, I worried that I’d narrowly escaped one threat to encounter another.

  “Take me home,” I half-begged, half-cried, gulping in a mouthful of rain, and my body shifted in the saddle in attempts to face him and draw his attention. A firm hand came to my hip.

  “Be still.” His command only infuriated me.

  “Turn back!” I demanded. His arms tightened around me. We leapt up the river bank and sprinted under the trees, using them as broken umbrellas. The mighty steed groaned beneath us before I heard the crack of bones and we dropped several feet.

  “What the…” The overlarge stallion had morphed into a narrow dirt bike, agile and sleek for the narrow trails within the woods. I screamed in shock and horror, but the sound was swallowed by the steady whine of the dirt bike leading us deeper into the woods. The bike appeared too slim to hold both our weights and my body shifted left in opposition to the direction of the tires. My legs wobbled awkwardly off each side as I teetered on what I considered a thin seat of metal. The wheels sputtered and we fishtailed.

  “Brace your feet on mine.” Tender, torn feet landed on solid boots, my body trapped within the confines of his thighs and his arms. I held my breath in fear we would tumble over as he sped over bumpy roots and narrow gaps between solid oaks. Mud added to the torture of our race as it slapped me occasionally in our twists and turns. My head was gently pushed forward and his hand briefly held my neck before we jogged right. I couldn’t get any wetter, between the river and the rain. My skin raised with gooseflesh and my limbs shivered uncontrollably. I whimpered as my teeth chattered. Questions ran through my head.

  Was this a dream?

  What was this strange beast we rode?

  Who was this strange man behind me?

  Could this be happening? Was I destined for a fate worse than the creep at the river?

  The only thing keeping me from full-blown panic was when I recalled he had saved me, and the fact that his fingers were woven through my hair, as if trying to protect me from the rain. Suddenly bone tired, my eyes drifted shut in despair. My hands ached. My feet cut. My heart raced while the bike below me vibrated between my thighs. My stomach dipped as the bike catapulted toward the river. The front wheeled up and my captor yelled: “MORPH!” Metal tore apart as the head of the stallion reappeared. We hit the riverbed with a hardly thump, pitching us both forward as the rear of the horse returned. The result rose us up several feet. I lurched forward then sprang upward like a bobble-head toy. My head knocked his shoulder and an arm encircled my waist to steady my body. I was pressed back against a firm chest.

  “Where in hell are we going?” I yelled over the splashing hooves and thudding rain.

  “Exactly,” he shouted next to my ear.

  “What?”

  “Hell,” he barked. My neck twisted and it caught his nose. He sniffed my hair above my ear. I spun further, my brows pinching, my eyes questioning. Those cobalt gems remained forward, focused. His face was a mask, stone-looking and bluish. Glancing down at the hand flat against my stomach, his nails were black and pointed, almost like talons or claws. Sensing my appraisal, he clenched his fingers into a fist, but it caught my thin tank and scratched against my belly. I cried out. Instantly, his hand removed from me and I noted the now shredded appearance of my shirt. I quivered again in fear, convinced death awaited me. My shoulders hunched forward in reaction to the sharp scrape.

  “My apologies.” His formality sounded ancient and strange. My first glance would have placed him roughly the age of Tripper, but the cadence of his voice sounded years older. Thoughts of Tripper shifted to Swanson and Veva.

  “My friends are waiting for me.” The statement seemed weak. “They’ll call the police, but I won’t tell anyone what happened, if you just take me back. No one would believe all this anyway.” Doubt for my own sanity crept through my brain.

  “I cannot.” This man was clearly on a mission, and it was taking me in the opposite direction of home. While he’d been my savior in one instance, I suddenly realized he was a captor in another.

  Ready to protest, or plea for my life, my voice faltered as a large building loomed before us. The entire structure stood black, metallic and foreboding. Not a single light shown from its glassy windows. The rain subsiding, water trickled down its sleek sides, like snakes writhing in escape. We headed for a tunnel ahead arched in limestone block. What should have been white brick was dark and dank looking, wet from the sudden storm and encased in crushed mud. We slipped under the arch, my captor ducking his head. Chilly air surrounded us. His breath brushed over my cool skin, enhancing the sudden cold. It was as if he’d eaten ice cream, his mouth frozen and exhaling to tease me. His grim face and clenched jaw proved he wasn’t kidding. Our faces were so close we nearly rubbed cheeks. If he turned his head, he’d kiss my jaw. My mouth watered at the disturbing thought.

  The horse slowed, prancing wildly as his nostrils flared and his flanks spread from the excursion of a hard run.

  “Whoa, Killer,” my captor soothed. “Home, boy.”

  Home?

  “What is he?” I asked instead, staring down at the mane of the creature that evidently was more than a horse.

  “Up,” The horse’s master called out, ignoring my question. The gate rose, methodically slow, into the heavy stone above it. Sharp points on the ends accentuated the frightening structure that screamed stay away, danger lives behind here. I gripped the horse’s mane harder in my fists, finding no comfort in the coarse hair as I typically would in my own horse, Greece.

  What was this place? One moment I faced a modern skyscraper, but in this tunnel a heavy gate stood guard like you’d see as the barrier to a
castle dungeon or a hidden lair. My eyes scanned the moist cement walls, dripping with condensation. Gate barely risen, we ducked under the iron structure. It fell instantly with a clanking thud behind us. Echoing off the stone corridor, the sound solidified my imprisonment. I was trapped. Once the noise settled, a new one arose. We cantered up an incline, exiting the river enough that only a thin layer of water trickled over the stone flooring. A second sound echoed down the walls: a moan, a whimper, a sharp cry. What was that noise? I tilted my head as if I could distinguish it better. Its intensity grew as we pressed forward.

  A moan, a whimper, a sharp cry.

  “What is that?” I questioned. My voice, barely a whisper, trailed off. The sounds increased.

  A moan, a whimper, a sharp cry. Then a wail.

  I spun into the rider behind me and ducked my head. Pressing my cheek firmly against my savior-captor, my fists rose and clenched his open hoodie, soaked through like me.

  A moan, a whimper, a sharp cry, a deepening wail.

  My eyes pinched shut and I pressed harder into his chest. The hand that had scraped me released the reins, then rubbed hesitantly up my back. I peeked up at him as his tender touch surprised me. His hair was swept back in our haste through the rain. His face illuminated in the darkness of this cavernous space, that bluish tint reflected from intermittent torches. A scar curled from his forehead to his jaw near his hairline. Another scar crossed his strangely dark blue lips: a perfect line from nose to chin cut both curves. His jaw clenched in concentration. The moan, whimper, and sharp cry murmured throughout the cavern, calling and responding from all sections in a dull volley, and pulled me away from my observation. The elongated sound of each vibrated almost sensually throughout the tunnel. A sharp cry caught my breath as we drew near the end of the tunnel. I sat up straighter and inhaled. The stench was a mix of saltwater, fish, and rot. The irony—this was Nebraska. I shifted to question my fellow rider and without a word escaping my lips, he answered.

  “Welcome to Hell.”

  Hell

  [Hades]

  “Welcome to Hell.” The words didn’t do justice to where we had arrived. The girl trembled against me, her grasp on my hoodie so tight I expected the zippered edges to snap in half. She sat with her tender cheek pressed against my chest, and her delicate fingers clenched in the fabric of my clothing like I was a lifeline instead of a monster who planned to steal her life.

  “I won’t let anything hurt you,” I whispered. I promised, hoping I could keep it. My large palm pressed stiffly against her curved backbone. I swiped it up then down, pausing at the base of her back. My face lowered and, without her permission, my lips brushed her hair with the faintest of kisses. To my surprise, she didn’t shy away from my touch, allowing me to slowly caress her back, soothing her, in order to calm her fears. The urge to comfort was foreign to me. I should feed off her fear, instead. It’s what I’ve been bred for: fear and death. Humans learned to be afraid of it. They shy away from experiences that could cause it. They cry out at the discovery of its nearness. They curse the inevitable potential of it.

  But this alluring girl took calming breaths in reaction to my touch, willing me to look at her as she stared up at my face. Her eyes pleaded with me to release her, but I could not let her go. I’d seen her before when I took nightly rides through the thick woods along the edge of the city’s growing property. Her blonde hair glowed in the darkness, especially under cascading moonlight. She reminded me of a firefly. Her spiraling giggles flittering through the sky as she jumped and swam in the river. That head of bright hair disappearing under the inky liquid only to pop-up with glistening droplets of water enhancing the color. She glowed with her fragile, pale skin, and tonight’s display of white bra and matching underwear only magnified the ethereal effects of her innocence.

  I’d been watching as she frolicked with her two friends, their laughter and their conversations echoing over the water, a natural carrier of sound. At one point, I sensed her eyes in my direction. It would have been impossible for her to see me in my daily uniform of dark jeans, black tee, and black hoodie, but a sensation prickled over me that she had noticed me. She recognized me in the dark shadows, and I stepped forward at first, attracted by her attention. When her focus broke, I pulled farther back into the trees. I don’t know why I waited for their trucks to leave. Mesmerized by the storm, I delayed my departure because of the brilliant display. That’s when I saw her return. She was obviously searching for something at the river’s edge, and then she slipped. I don’t know where he came from. I don’t know why I didn’t sense his presence. I’d been too absorbed in her beauty to notice his approach, and then his attack.

  I’d given my warning. I asked nicely. As politely as I could, considering my upbringing. He didn’t heed my command. When he refused to release her, the terror in her eyes spurred me to my baser instincts. Death. I didn’t want to kill him, but I might have. I didn’t stay to inspect him. My overwhelming concern was her, not protocol. The guards on patrol would discover him and bring him to the gate, if necessary.

  She tried to run. I secretly applauded her effort. Her gut instinct told her to scramble, crawl, claw her way away from me. That reaction was natural, but if I didn’t protect her, the rain would mislead her or the river would swallow her. I didn’t want to risk either taking her from me. When I hoisted her up to sit before me, the most unnatural emotions crashed over me. Protect. Preserve. Cherish. Opposing emotions from the destroyer I was meant to be. Her warmth. Her beauty. Her grace. My body thrummed with an awareness of her and something else – something totally unrecognizable to me.

  We had raced the rain, but I hadn’t wanted it to end. I wanted an excuse to hold her. I didn’t want to lose the elusive feelings stirring inside me, and while the right decision would have been to return her to her friends, I rarely did the right thing. The wrong resolution involved bringing her to the place where I knew the rules, and that’s where we were. Hell. My father’s domain. The empire of sin.

  The distortion that shielded the underworld was difficult for humans to detect. A rare few ventured beyond the supernatural barriers. A rarer few survived the river, only to succumb to the madness. The noise proved to be the worst of the sensations experienced here. I’m told it is painful to hear: heartbreak personified. I didn’t know. I didn’t understand the concept of pain. It was an emotion I had never felt—a uniquely human trait.

  My palm curved, contouring to her back, then climbed to comb my fingers through her soaked hair. She sat up straighter at the sharp cry within the tunnel. Tugging back gently on her hair, her lids lowered at the sensation, distracting her from the haunting sound. When I abruptly pulled my fingers loose, her lids flipped open. I stared down at her and her breath caught as large, round, bark-colored eyes peered back at me. A cloudy mix of gray and brown, similar to the trunks of trees thick in the woods, swam before me. My hand repeated the caressing motion without thought. Base of back, up the spine, spread the fingers, comb her hair. Her lids involuntarily closed again.

  “Do you like that?” I spoke softly to her, keeping my tone low in hopes it would calm my own fear at what I’d done. Her only response was a startling soft purr of appreciation. My lips skimmed lightly over her forehead. A rare smile tugged at my scarred lips.

  “Who are you?” Her meek voice cracked something inside me.

  “I want to please you.” Murmuring the words, I didn’t think I’d said them loud enough for her to hear. She abruptly pulled back, her mouth popping open to ask me something, but we arrived at our first trial in my decision to bring her here. I sat straighter, my demeanor shifting. My hand slipped to the base of her back and she followed my gaze. The tunnel opened into a dark pit of moving shadows and vaguely outlined forms. Everything looked like it slithered and writhed, as if the walls were alive, breathing, pulsing in an erratic rhythm.

  “Where are we?” Her eyes roamed for something she wouldn’t exactly see: an explanation for the sound. Wanting to logically
understand what spurred the cries, she used another sense to justify it. Her eyesight searched the space; however, it could not capture the sound’s source. Afraid she wouldn’t be able to resist the noise, and survive until I crossed the cavern, I offered an explanation.

  “I need you to follow my instructions.” Her breath held.

  “First, breathe,” I whispered. Her body relaxed slightly as the air exhaled her perky nose and she took the necessary inhale.

  “That sound you hear? It will torture your human ears as we ride, messing with your mind. The only way to pass the cavern is to cross through it. I need you to cover your ears as best you can, however you see fit. Rid your mind of sound, if you have the power to do so.”

  Her slender body trembled against mine. Her skin was chilled from both the heavy rain, the tumble in the river, and the nearness of me. My body didn’t register the coolness of the cave, but I’d been told the air was cold. In opposition, humans were warm. Her doe-like eyes widened. With a simple nod, she acknowledged her understanding. My hand continued to caress her back while I spoke, from both a need to touch her and a desire to keep her calm. She pressed her left ear against my damp T-shirt; a sudden stethoscope to the sound of my unusual heart rate. Her arm slipped inside my hoodie and wrapped around my back. Her palm flattened against the base. I stiffened under her touch, sitting straighter, forcing myself upright.

  “Don’t look either, if you can avoid it.” Humans loved to stare at what scared them. I’d noticed this from my occasional observation of them. They searched for visual answers to the unknown. They witnessed horror while they shrieked away from it. It was a strange trait. Life must be a constant horror movie.