Hades: Modern Descendants

by elda lore

  “Going somewhere, love?” A deep tenor voice ripe with an English accent spoke. The sound of his voice washed over me and held me firmly in place. His skin was so dark only the whites of his eyes gleamed down at me.

  “I…”

  “…belong to Hades,” he answered for me and gripped my upper arm. Dragging me behind him in the opposite direction of my intended destination, he forced me through a set of double doors and a cacophony of noise hit me. The clanking chaos of pots and pans, and the hissing order of a cook, were a ping-pong effect of sound, resounding rhythmically in the industrial sized kitchen.

  “Turn down that flame. Someone find the centipedes,” a deep baritone voice barked.

  “Centipedes?” I choked, swallowing back the taste of bile.

  Steam rose from pots, fires flamed under burners and creatures similar to Mina scrambled over the large space, flipping items and stirring stews. I stood amongst a mix of former humans in various shades of gray and skeletal shapes. Black eyes and yellow eyes stared at me, some hungrily licking their lips, as the rhythmic beats of clatter slowly dissipated. I suddenly worried I might be prepared for the next course.

  “What have you brought us, Cook?” A gravelly snarl of a voice sent chills over my sweaty skin.”

  “I’m…” I’m not for dinner, my brain screamed, but my mouth went dry. Several hollow sockets eyed me slowly, dawning expressed on their faces as they noticed I wasn’t one of them.

  “Dear gods,” my latest captor muttered under his breath as his eyes roamed me from tip to toes and back again.

  “Where did you come from?” He hissed as he rushed me away from the hungry eyes of his fellow workers. His large body blocked their stares. I hadn’t answered his question, still envisioning the creepy crawling legs of centipedes and licking lips longing for a bite of me, when the sleepy prickles attacked my hand again. I shook it vigorously.

  “What’s wrong with your hand, love?” His tender tone compared to the previous snarl surprised me. He smiled mischievously, displaying perfectly white teeth against his darker skin. His accent accentuated as he used the term of endearment. His brows pinched in concern. His questioning shifted my attention from thoughts of crawling creatures pinching one another to the pinching in my left hand, slowly climbing up my wrist like a centipede.

  “It’s been tingling on and off today, but it’s fallen completely asleep and I can’t wake it up.” I shook my hand for emphasis.

  “Any other symptoms?” The whites of his eyes widened against his dark skin. He knew something I didn’t understand, and my face must have questioned his.

  “Other aches or pains? Fevers?” He paused. I shook my head.

  “Tell me you haven’t eaten anything.” The concern in his English sounding voice surprised me. He stepped forward and wrapped two large meaty hands around my shoulders. His black orbs begged me to respond.

  “I haven’t. I’m…I’m not hungry.” My eyes shifted to a jar full of squirming, multi-legged creatures which looked like they would rather rip out my esophagus than be considered a treat. I swallowed hard at the thought of them clawing their way down my throat.

  The cook released me and stepped back like touching me singed him. “Five minutes,” he barked over his shoulder and the atmosphere of the kitchen jackknifed into a flurry of bowls filled and plates decorated. I looked away as one giant centipede was speared over a blackened piece of steak, like a garnish.

  The kitchen cleared after he clapped and then he wiped his hands on an apron. He tilted his head as instruction to follow him and I entered a smaller kitchen, one reminding me of my country farm house. I took a moment to admire the dark wood and large chopping block island. My stomach dropped at the thought of my mother in our kitchen, wondering where I was, or worse, wondering how they could rescue me without giving up the land.

  My thoughts were interrupted by the rush of the door behind me and the presence of a cold force. Hades’ mother.

  “Well, I see it didn’t take long for you to grow hungry?” Her slithering tone crept over my skin like the multi-legged creatures stuck in a jar. I held the block island before me for support, willing myself not to shiver, and give away my fear.

  “I found her wandering the halls,” the cook offered, betraying me. Despite his large stature, his head lowered submissively to her small female frame. Her powerful role as head of this world filled the space and choked me. I swallowed hard, my mouth watering for the first time in days. Her piercing eyes narrowed on mine, casting a spell of desire for taste. I closed my eyes to block her stare.

  “You petulant child,” she sneered. “You’ll suffer like me. One way or another, hunger will strike. Thirst will take over. You’ll give in.”

  “You’ll never claim me,” I snapped, my knuckles turning white as I clasped the table before me. My left hand restored to life with my death grip of the wood. She stepped toward me and placed a chilled fingertip under my chin. I fought the flinch and held her steely gaze.

  “You wait, little girl. This world will be yours, like the rest of us lost souls. It’s only a matter of time.” With those words she departed as swiftly as she entered and a trail of cool air followed her out the doors. I released a breath and stared in shame at my dark captor. His solid size blossomed to its original stature at her exit.

  “You’re afraid of her,” I barked, forcing away my own fear.

  “She’s the queen. And what the queen wants, she gets.”

  “They can’t keep me here!” I threatened again, but my plea fell on deaf ears. This man was just as frightened as me. Keeping me was exactly what the family of Hades intended to do.

  “Where were you running off to, love?” A dark brow rose in question while his eyes shifted back to the floor.

  “I want to go home.” My reply stated to the chopping block, the tender whine of my voice surprised even me. I sounded like a belligerent child.

  “We all have wanted that, love. But it isn’t possible. Once you go forth, you can’t go back.” The wisdom in his statement I’d heard before. While I’d miraculously come into this realm, there didn’t seem to be a way out. But Hades had escorted me through the resort and I saw the doors that lead outside. I didn’t need to pass through the Cave again.

  “Think you’re going to just walk back out the front door?” He’d nearly read my mind. “It don’t happen that way. You open those doors and try to step into the light after being in here, and you’ll drift away instantly like the sands of a beach.” His large dark fingers flittered upward and then floated off to the side of his massive body. The emphasis clarified. I’d disappear the second I stepped into the light of life after being trapped in the darkness of death.

  Soul

  [Hades]

  Dinner was served. My mother and father sat opposite one another at the rectangular table laden with food while I sat to the right of my father. My head remained bowed, straining under the weight of tension between my parents. My mother’s return was mandatory. Her management of Hades Emporium inevitable. Her capable skills in production and growth helped our profitable resort blossom into a world-renown escape from reality. A luxurious stay included a plush hotel room, unlimited food and liquor, and an abundance of nefarious activities to wash away the stress of real life. Once a guest arrived, the temptation to remain prevailed. My father offered a welcome to overstay. Departure times left open-ended in the sick hope of a never-ending visit. In opposition, my mother prayed the reality escape would revive the human spirt and a guest might appreciate the life he had in reality after witnessing the sins of our haven. A little sin is good for the soul was actually a slogan of the resort.

  “Why would you allow this?” my mother snipped from her end of the table, her plate empty of food despite the dining setting.

  “I didn’t know he did it.” My father beheaded the centipede wiggling over his charred steak. The indistinguishable appendage tumbled to the side of the plate but the body continued to squirm under the prong holding it in p
lace. He speared a chunk of centipede along with a sliver of steak and placed it in his mouth. My mother closed her eyes. I stared down at my own plate. The centipede’s hundred legs flared in all directions, scrambling hopelessly for escape from certain death.

  “You assured me this would never happen again.” My mother’s tone was curt. Their argument was as old as time. My father refused to let her go because he loved her. My mother remained bound forever to never leave. I didn’t understand this kind of love. Keeping someone trapped seemed…barbaric. I thought of Persephone: Were we doing the same thing to her? Thoughts of our afternoon tumbled through my head. The curve of her grin. The scent of her skin. The brush of her thigh against mine. My blue skin heated and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

  “Have you heard from her family?” I asked.

  “What?” My mother’s head shot up and she glared at me.

  “No,” my father answered and my mother’s eyes shifted to him. They were a beautiful shade of blue, reminiscent of emotions like innocence and purity at one time. I’m told I inherited her eyes. The strange color of my skin was a combination of the two joining. Other than that, I had nothing from either of them. I would never be one or the other. I would just be me, Mina told me, when I questioned why I was different. I stopped asking centuries ago, though.

  “Her name is Persephone Fields,” my father stated, as if that clarified everything.

  “You didn’t,” Mother hissed.

  “When they give me the land, I promised to let the girl go. No harm,” he said, shrugging, ignoring the warning in my mother’s tone.

  “No harm?” Mother hand-slapped the table. “Did you kidnap her?” Her question directed at me, implying I’d followed in my father’s footsteps.

  “Not exactly. She was attacked and I…”

  “You attacked her?” Mother stood, her white knuckles turning whiter as her fingers pressed on the dining table. An incredulous expression rested on her face. Either she didn’t believe I had the strength to attack someone or she was aghast that I would attack someone.

  “No, someone else did. I saved her.”

  It was rare my mother showed compassion. I’ve heard tales of her grace and peace above ground, but below, she retained a brisk coldness and unfeeling sympathy. Her eyes softened only slightly, allowing me seconds of praise before they filled to icy pools.

  “Return her.”

  “I can’t.” My argument sounded weak. It was no longer just the land or the fact I could not go backward without risk of harming her. I didn’t want her to leave. Fondly, I thought back on our day once again. The intention to replicate a teenage day of sluggishness turned into an amazing day of banter and playfulness, and discovering she enjoyed something I liked. We had fun, a strange word for this place, but truthful and refreshing.

  “You care for her.” My mother sat with a thump in her seat. Her fingers reaching for her temples. Something in my expression must have tipped off my feelings. My lips curved of their own accord into a goofy grin, twitching as I fought them to remain somber. My mouth fell instantly. Then I remembered what Persephone said. She liked when I laughed. It lightened up my face, she said. I bit the inside of my cheek, forcing my lips to remain steadfast and straight.

  “That’s my boy,” my father muttered, shoveling another bite into his eager mouth, but I lacked camaraderie with him. I hadn’t intended to keep Persephone like we were doing. I also no longer intended to let her leave.

  My mother stood abruptly, exited, and returned almost as quickly. She slammed an apparatus on the walnut-colored table. Sand slowly dripped from the bulbous, top glass through a small funnel to the empty space below. An ancient hourglass.

  “You have until the sands run out,” my mother gloated. “Her soul will fill with sand and she will remain. If you want her, she stays. Forever.” The evil in that final word chilled even me. My mother didn’t intend for Persephone to have an option. There would be no arrangement like my father and her. Either I return her or she stayed permanently, which meant death. While the solution seemed simple, killing Persephone was not the plan.

  A piercing cry filled the dining room. My father’s head shot up.

  “Must you be so dramatic, dear?” His hoarse rocker voice choked on the words as he stared at my mother.

  “What was that?” Fear filled me and the pressure on my stilled fork forced it to bend in on itself. I stared into the cavernous glass slowly filling with one grain of sand at a time.

  My mother’s mischievous smile burned as she spoke: “Her soul to keep.”

  --

  As I returned to my room, I was bone weary. I’d been awake nearly twenty-four hours, and the drama of my mother drained me. I couldn’t think clearly. I needed rest. Mina exited the servant elevator on my parent’s floor.

  “Where’s Persephone?”

  Mina pursed her black lips and looked away.

  “Mina…” My fists clenched at my sides and my head rose in emphasis of my position.

  “I didn’t think you’d approve if I took her to the stables. I had an emergency and I left her on level three.”

  “You didn’t?” The question was rhetorical. She’d just told me she left her unattended, which meant…

  “Did she escape?” I pounded the down button, willing it to arrive.

  “I didn’t…I mean I don’t…I doubt…”

  “Well?” I snapped.

  “I don’t believe she’d do that.” Mina held her head higher, but her petite structure only reached my chest. A new fear took hold of me.

  “What if something happened to her? What if someone found her?” All manner of horrific images crossed my mind. Criminals had the freedom to roam down here. Some not repentant enough for what they’d done in life. The elevator opened and I stepped inside, my leg bouncing with the need for speed. Opening on my floor, I raced to my room. The door nearly slammed opened, but I caught it before it banged against the wall. A form in my bed shifted.

  “Persephone.” I breathed out her name. The room was dark as it often was. She rolled away from me once she saw me. Walking the remainder of the distance into the room, I headed for the bathroom. I took my time to shower, letting the warm water relieve the tension of my parents and the fear of Persephone’s escape. I wasn’t used to sleeping on my couch or in my clothes. In fact, I slept naked, but out of respect I stayed covered and kept my distance from Persephone. Tonight, I decided on a pair of loose fitting sweats and no shirt. I re-entered the room and stared down at her shapely form under my blankets.

  “Where were you?” she mumbled, her face to the shuttered window.

  “Dinner.”

  “Well, at least you washed off the scent tonight.”

  My head tilted in wonder, and my lip curved. “What scent?”

  “Stale perfume and whiskey.”

  My smile faded. “What?”

  “The other night. You smelled like cheap perfume and alcohol.” Her body language barred me from seeing her face. Her tone hung dull and heavy, like she didn’t care, but her words contradicted the expression.

  “I…I wasn’t with someone the other night. I wasn’t with someone tonight. I had dinner with my parents.”

  She rolled to face me, but the dim lighting around the circular ceiling was not enough to catch her expression.

  “But you’ve been with girls before, haven’t you?”

  My mouth fell open then quickly shut. Of course, I had but I didn’t wish to share the details with her. I’d never been with someone like her before, someone special and unique. Was she, could she be jealous? The evilness of her jealousy filled me with pride. It was wrong to feel this way, but I liked the sensation. Could she want me to not be with other women? She rolled away from me when I took too long to answer.

  “Persephone,” I started, placing one knee on the bed. The depression of the mattress startled her and she twisted to face me again. She stared up at me before her eyes dipped. They roamed my naked chest, pausing to count the ripp
les of my abs, then widened slightly at the dark hair leading below the hip slung waistband. Her gaze was not alarming, but exciting. If she looked hard enough, she’d see the outline of another body part, anxious to be near her. My mouth curled slowly in appreciation of the way her eyes lapped over me.

  “Your tattoo,” she said. “It moved.”

  My hand covered the ancient time piece, but her curiosity forced her upward. She pressed up to her knees and crawled to me. The movement increased my breathing. Oxygen struggled to enter my body as my heart ticked and my lower region strained upright with need. Her hand shook as it reached out for the time piece inked over my left pec.

  “It says nine twenty-three today.”

  I didn’t respond, but watched her face as she eyed the tattoo. Her warm hand brushed my cool skin and I trembled. Hesitant fingers traced delicately over the hands of time. The soft tip traced outward to the nine then drew back and dipped down to the marker for twenty-three. “Yesterday it said twenty-two.”

  Quivering, her palm flattened and covered the time piece. She tilted her head, as if listening. My eyes closed as the sensation of warmth radiated outward from her touch.

  “That’s right,” I said, implying her unasked thoughts. My heart beat like a metronome with a dull tick-tock, not the human thumping of a drum. My shaky hand reached out for her chest and rested above her left breast. Her heart beat wickedly fast, like a drummer pounding out a solo.

  “We’re different,” I whispered. We remained each pressing a hand over the other’s heart. Both our chests rose and fell. My hand twitched. Fingers itched and I slowly let the palm fall, brushing tenderly over a firm breast and circling around a peaked nipple, ripe and hard, poking at the T-shirt she wore to sleep in. My fingers continued the descent, pressing index and thumb together to pinch her briefly taut nub before I released her. My dick leapt, the skin tight in its hardened form. Her free hand circled my wrist and directed my hand to return upward, repeating the slow drag of pleasure and enforcing a firmer grip to cover her. She let out a sweet sigh and her lids closed.