Hades: Modern Descendants

by elda lore

  Level Four:

  Anger

  [Persephone]

  Halloween passed. He scoffed at the concept of souls roaming the earth on All Hallows Eve, but I admit that night felt restless. Noises hissed outside the heavy glass windows. Shapes snaked over the dark field. As with each night since the second violent lightning storm, Hades held me while we slept. He hadn’t tried to kiss me again, admitting he shouldn’t have taken advantage of me. And yet, his kindness and attentiveness to my needs endeared him to me, and I became curious about kissing him again. He grew more comfortable strutting bare-chested before me and I watched as the clock tattoo transformed each day, counting down the passing days. A new year slowly approached.

  Hades didn’t celebrate Thanksgiving, in the sense of being thankful for a bountiful harvest and family and health. There was no feast prepared. In fact, he hardly ate in front of me, knowing I couldn’t eat of his food or I’d remain here permanently. He didn’t miss that I had occasional tingling sensations within my extremities. My feet fell asleep, the feeling crawling up my calves. If I stretched my fingers, then rolled them closed, he’d inquire with concern if everything felt all right, and I lied while the tender prickles skated up my arms. He knew the truth. Without sustenance, my body would atrophy. The longer I stayed, I’d slowly die from the outside in. I could speed up the certain death, if I ate of their offerings. I questioned often why they didn’t kill me outright, and I’d learned two things: Death was a separate entity and Hades wanted me to live. Sometimes, I questioned why.

  We passed the days in a multitude of ways, but my favorite involved when we read Shakespeare or simply talked about life. I didn’t know what I wanted to do with mine. I attended college with hopes to get some general education classes out of the way. I majored in Agricultural Studies, but it wasn’t exactly what I wanted to do with my life. I loved the farm. I’d inherit the farm. But I wanted there to be something a little bit more. Some days I felt like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, wondering what was over the rainbow, and knowing it held some great secret for me. Other days, I’d remind myself I shouldn’t have wished for paradise beyond my own backyard. Instead, I’d found hell, or it found me.

  The underworld existed in perpetual darkness. I’d grown used to the shift in time, sleeping through the natural day, but the dimness of light took a greater adjustment. My eyes acclimated, but they weren’t perfect. So I blinked several times one night when Hades took me to a fight. I had to be dreaming when I thought I saw Tripper Grant.

  An underground circuit of illegal fights penetrated the barrier between real and realm. A fitting compliment to the gambling that prevailed among the guests who visited the other half of the resort: the alive side, the irony of the underground circuit - it didn’t matter which side of the river you lived on. Humans fought the dead. Hades explained the unparalleled strength of those passed could crush their opponent, but the challenge thrilled those alive. A mastery of skill proved perfection if one fought until the death; the other strategy was the dead didn’t kill his opponent.

  I shivered at the thought but sensed Hades needed something more exciting than reading with me. I’d encouraged him to go out with friends, if he had any. I’d noticed on more than one occasion a young looking woman with dull red hair and streaks of black admiring Hades from afar. When she’d catch me noticing her watching him, she’d look away, but not before a sneer of disgust met me. I didn’t understand the attraction myself. I didn’t look like anyone familiar to Hades. My skin had paled to a dull peach color from lack of sun. My hair hung limp and too long. My body thinned without real food. But Hades’ was attracted me. I read it in his attention to my every need. It was something more than kindness.

  He led me to the edge of the makeshift ring. In typical, barnyard-fight fashion, dried hay mixed with sand covered the floor. Clad only in jeans, two men were primed to spar. Bare feet worked the mixture below them, offering flexibility for those agile enough to fight with more than fists. Hands wrapped in tape provided minimal protection. Hades being the exception, dead men looked skin and bones, but their bodies were tough. Their strength unparalleled.

  Hades arm wrapped around me in possessive fashion. He was very forthcoming in his affection, with tender touches and careful caresses. His fingertips traced my body and his fingers laced with mine on many occasions, but he took it no further. His lips did not grace mine for a second taste. His hands never touched my breasts again. Other than the embrace while we slept, he kept a safe distance in matters of the body. Tonight, he tugged me a bit closer to his side.

  The first fight came and went. I trembled at the abusive behavior between opponents, all for money. The human contender was carried off by his friends while green bills and gold coins passed from hand to hand. A combination of sins seemed ripe in this section of the underworld. Greed for money. Pride to win. Aggression to fight. The combined factors repulsed me but I stayed to please Hades. The next fighter entered and I paused.

  Tripper, my mind screamed but my voice failed me. A warning whispered inside me to hold my tongue. I couldn’t draw attention to him, and yet I willed him to find me in the crowd. Near enough to the edge of the ring, he could easily spot me, if only his attention weren’t so focused on the large man before him. Standing six-foot-six, Tripper’s smaller frame and shorter inches did not compare. Solid from hard labor in the fields, the strength of the man before Tripper bulged with muscles the size of small tree trucks on both his arms and thighs. The first blow sent Tripper backward and my hand covered my mouth to hold the cry. The second strike forced blood to spray in an arch from his nose. The third placed him on the floor.

  Without thought, I charged the false arena, ready to help my friend’s older brother. Strong arms wrapped around my waist. I was hoisted into the air and returned to the side of the makeshift cage. Tripper stood again, poised and braced for more blows. He held his own in a dazed fog of mindless punches and aimless strikes. I struggled within the firm embrace of Hades, as I watched in horror.

  “Tripper,” I shouted. His head turned in my direction and the sound of bone crushing bone reverberated through the closed quarters. I screamed helplessly and squirmed free of Hades, running the short distance to kneel at Tripper’s side.

  “Tripper? Tripper, can you hear me?” My hand wiped his sweaty brow and brushed back his damp hair. Blood poured from his nose. My other hand hovered over the misshaped orifice, uncertain how to help my friend.

  “Do something!” I yelled to no one in particular as I stared down at the lifeless form. Tripper lay frozen, his chest hardly rising and falling.

  I turned on Hades, my eyes narrowing. “I’ll never forgive you, if he dies.” His face tight, his jaw clenched as he stared down at the body before me.

  “Persephone.” The croaked sound of my name from Tripper’s lips returned my attention to him. His taped hand cupped my cheek. “Persephone?” he questioned. “What are you doing here?” His head rolled back and forth, regaining his bearings.

  “You’ve been in a fight,” I told him, afraid he didn’t remember.

  “But you’re here,” his voice strained. “Your mother will be so happy you’re alive. But you’re here,” he repeated, his wonder a question of concern. His eyelids drifted shut. Two hands came under his armpits and lifted him. His head rolled and he fought to keep his eyes open while a taped hand reached for me.

  “Come with me.” He struggled to speak as he stood. A man I didn’t recognize wrapped Tripper’s arm over his neck, holding him upright, while Tripper held out his hand for me. I turned to Hades. His nostrils flared, rage written on his face. His fists clenched, opened briefly, and returned to hard balls beside him. My head flicked back and forth like a tennis match for a moment as I made my decision.

  Level Five:

  Envy

  [Hades]

  “I need to stay.” Her words surprised me, but anger still consumed me. The way he touched her face. His blood present on her cheek. The tender tone he used t
o call her name. The phrase: “Come with me.” It was all too much. I enjoyed the sport of fighting but bringing her to the ring was a mistake. Humans mixing with my kind was never a good combination and the risk outweighed the reward. I should have known better. Someone would recognize her, and it was evident this tall, dark-blond man was familiar with my Persephone.

  Black liquid boiled within me as I watched her head spin left, then right, and then back to me. The fact that she doubted where to stay or what to do spoke volumes. I’d been patient and kind. I didn’t attempt to kiss her again after that first bite. The memory lingered and the temptation bit, but I didn’t dare initiate another taste. My father warned me; I would be bewitched by her. Unaware of the ability she possessed, she ensnared me to worship her beauty and her kindness. Only, I wanted to be the sole man to pay homage to her, and her to return the devotion to me. Staring back at this hulking man, his hand out for her acceptance, enraged me. I struggled not to grab her and drag her with me to my sanctuary. Her words echoed back to me.

  “I need to stay.”

  Her foot stepped behind her in my direction, her back aimed at me. Her eyes didn’t leave his. Recognizing him immediately, I kept quiet until Persephone called his name. Tripper Grant. I knew his name. I knew his face. I knew the feel of his knife against my skin. My body quaked with anger, and a need to pounce and destroy him. This time, he was in my domain and I had the protection and support of those like me here. Persephone took another step back and another until she stood inches from me. My arm circled her waist and tugged her the remaining distance, holding her flush against me. My eyes narrowed over her shoulder in the direction of the fighter. His swollen eyes couldn’t open wide enough. I kissed her neck, never letting my eyes leave his. The display marked her. Mine.

  Her warm hand rested over my cool one, then gripped it to remove the stronghold. I refused. Tripper was forced back by the two men supporting him.

  “Let me go.” She struggled in my hold, kicking back at me with no affect. I could ignore the sting to my shin and my heart. Fighter boy twisted his head, hoping to keep his eyes connected with her, but I spun her as if we were one and removed her from the fight ring.

  “What was that?” she yelled, pushing off me once we stood outside the confines of the fight arena. I didn’t answer her but continued to walk to the bank of elevators.

  “Was that some kind of claiming? Were you making a statement to him?” she barked, pushing at my shoulder while I stood stoically against the back wall of the elevator. “I’m talking to you,” she snapped, but I chose to remain quiet. The anger inside me still fumed, as did another emotion. Jealousy.

  “This is ridiculous. You don’t own me. I may be a prisoner, but you don’t have the right to me.” She stepped into my space as I spun to face her. Irritation emitted from her body as we rose in the lift.

  “I could violate you in any number of ways, Firefly. And you would beg me to return the favor again and again once I had you in that manner. I’d break you into submission and you’d want me to possess you.” The words seethed from my lips. The boiling inside rose anew. We stood nose to nose.

  “I’m not a virgin.” Her words flung at me like a jab from the fight. My wide eyes betrayed my surprise. “And I’m far from fragile.”

  Instantly, I pressed her against the elevator wall.

  “Was it him?” I’d crush him whole if he were the first man to touch her.

  “No.” In relief, my chest rose and fell against hers, tickled by the touch of her breasts, nipples erect and dragging against my tight T-shirt. Her hands were imprisoned over her head. My forehead pressed against hers. Our breaths mingled and my mouth watered. I wanted to take her against the wall in the most primeval way. A way I wouldn’t forgive myself for, but I’d enjoy every second of burying myself inside her like I nightly dreamed.

  “Persephone, I want you like I’ve wanted no other.”

  “Then take me.” While the words whispered over my lips, they rippled down my body to a part that ached.

  “You don’t mean that,” I choked, catching the thought with hope.

  “I do.”

  The phrase forced me back, pressing off her hands and releasing her. She remained plastered against the wall, her chest heaving with each breath, matching the rapid ticking of my heart. I wiped a hand through my thick hair.

  “I can’t do that to you. With you.”

  “Why not?” She stepped forward with her questioning plea, filling my space. Her tone begged me to contradict myself. If I took her, she’d belong to me and I’d never let her leave. Land or no land, she would be the only earth I’d need. I’d never give her up. On that thought, the elevator doors pinged open. I spun her, gently nudging her out through the open space. I needed to clear my head and re-cage my heart before I did something stupid, like admit I loved her and wanted to show her how much. I let the elevator doors close her off from me, descending deeper into my own personal hell.

  Consumed

  [Persephone]

  He was gone for two nights. Two days I wandered the invisible side of the resort with no sign of Hades and no answers from Mina. Faithful to her prince, she shared nothing with me. Curby disappeared as well. Ray remained, stoic and watchful, perched on her beam. Unprotected, an opportunity presented itself to discover more about the underground empire, and potentially plan an escape. The idea no longer tempted me, and I wandered freely. The cool crystalline walls guided me as I explored. I risked the bridge that joined solid land with the lively clubs amidst the island.

  There I met Rhad.

  “You must be Persephone,” he said, not offering me a drink. He looked like a zombified surfer, and I imagined in another life, he’d been a handsome man.

  “I’d offer you some sweet libations, but I don’t need the wrath of Hades on me.” He laughed. “I’m already dead.” He shrugged a shoulder at his humor. I smiled in return.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve seen him.” The question sounded needy and weak.

  “Seen, yes.” My eyebrows rose with hope.

  “And?” I prompted.

  “Don’t be fishing, girl.” His smile warmed me despite the warning. He wasn’t going to answer easily. “Hooks hurt.”

  “Was he here?”

  “He was.”

  I waited. Rhad rubbed at a non-existent spot on the wooden bar. His non-committal answer spoke volumes. My heart sunk to my stomach. If Hades had been here, he’d probably been with that girl. I wanted to ask. I wanted to know, but I feared the answer. A bulky man, the size of Tripper, wondered up to the stool next to me.

  “Who do we have here?” The twang of his accent hinted at a Southern Californian surfer. He smiled, exposing a few missing teeth.

  “Cade,” Rhad greeted coldly.

  “Rhad,” he replied, his eyes tracing my figure while he brought a bottle to his large lips.

  “She’s Hades’,” Rhad warned. I was about to protest, that I belonged to no one. It certainly felt true. My family hadn’t claimed me. Hades had disappeared, refusing my offer to take me.

  “That what he’d like to think.” The cold female voice washed over me like a jump in the river on the edge of my property. I shivered involuntarily. My eyes flipped up to Rhad, who must have sensed my fear.

  “You’ve wandered farther than you’re warranted,” Hades’ mother stepped between myself and Cade, attempting to block him from visibility. “We can’t have you roaming free. Unattended. Perhaps Cade should escort you back to your holding cell.”

  “I’ll take her,” Rhad interjected, certainly concerned at the suggestion.

  “You’re working.”

  “I can find my own way.” I faced my namesake with strength I didn’t think I possessed. Defeated with Hades’ absence, his mother was the last thing I needed.

  “I think Cade would like to take care of you,” she suggested, and behind her the burly creature licked his lips. I suppressed a second quiver, holding firm that I could escort myself back to Had
es’ rooms.

  “I’ll take care of everything, my queen.” Mina’s strong smoky voice surprised me and I spun in relief. She nodded at the cold regent and offered a hand to me. All the times I’d refused to touch her, I gladly took her palm with mine and left the bar.

  I didn’t dare venture down to the water again. I had actually hoped I could discover Nana’s resting place, but I didn’t trust my memory of the caverns we travelled to get to her place. I wanted answers about my fate and I hoped she could satisfy my questions. Risking such a search would only displease Hades, though. He admitted he feared Nana would hold me too long, dragging me to the other side. He protected me from that type of transformation happening, assuring me often he wanted me to live. I recalled such a conversation as I stared out the window of his room, watching night brush away the day.

  “I wouldn’t let you die,” he whispered in my ear. “Not here. Not yet.”

  “Isn’t that what you want? To keep me here forever.”

  “Yes,” he exhaled into my hair as he lay behind me. “No.”

  “No, you don’t want forever.” I twisted as best I could to see him over my shoulder. He kept his head buried in the nape of my neck.

  “Forever is a long time, and it will be waiting for you. For now, I want you to live.”

  “What life do I have if I stay here?” I appreciated that while he held me, we could speak candidly of my entrapment. His silence answered me. I had nothing if I stayed. Work. Love. Marriage. These things awaited me, outside this realm.

  What would that work be? Who would give me love? When would I marry? For months, I’d pondered these things. I had hardly started my studies, yet it seemed farm life would not be destiny. I didn’t know what I wanted to do, but the world seemed larger than our land. As for love and marriage, the conflict in my heart was real. Hades was like no other. While I was a prisoner, in many rights he treated me like a queen. He continually presented me with gifts. He attended to every look, word, and step, worshipping my movements as if he lived and breathed by them. His touch tantalized tortuously, yet while he teased me, he made me feel more alive than anything I’d experienced. He’d draw images over my skin with his fingertips and nibble on my neck. He’d combed back my hair, twisting it for better leverage to blow on tender skin. His fingers wrote words upon my back, and while I struggled to read them, the communication was clear. He cared for me.