Hades’ Daughter (The War of Fate)

by Charlotte Carol

  “It’s at your new house. My number will be in it when you get there. Finally, don’t get into any trouble. The demons that I have allowed on Earth know not to disrupt you, but if you find any that are there illegally, send them back down. Also, try not to let anyone find out who or what you are. That means do not use any powers unless you’re in a situation where they will save you. Actually, even try and find something else to use then.”

  I give him an innocent smile. “Like I’m going to do that…”

  He gives me the look that I am used to getting from him. It’s the one that says that it’s not a joke.

  “Okay, okay.” I relent, putting my hands up in surrender. The look disappears as he stands up along with me. He walks around the desk and to where I am standing.

  “I’m going to miss you, even all the trouble you cause,” he tells me, pulling me in for a hug.

  “You too,” I mumble into his chest.

  My dad tries to hide the tears in his eyes as he pulls back. He hardly ever cries.

  “Everything packed?” he asks after clearing his throat.

  “Yep.” I confirm. “I’ll come and find you before I leave.”

  He gives me a grateful smile as he walks with me to the door, moving to the filing cabinet. I open the door and look at him when he’s not watching me. He may be annoying sometimes, but I’m going to miss that and him. I leave the office and see Tybalt at the end of the corridor. He raises his head and looks at me.

  “Come on, boy. Let’s go for a walk.” I walk past him and to the front door. This will be the last time I see the whole of Hell for a while.

  ***

  After a very bad night’s sleep and barely eating breakfast, I go to find my dad with all my bags in hand. I say goodbye to Tybalt who is none the wiser as I walk to the office. I enter his office to find my dad looking over some papers. I’ve never been able to get my head around why he has to do paperwork, but he does it when he’s not signing contracts or his other duties. I clear my throat to let him know that I am here.

  “I’m off now,” I tell him when he looks up.

  He immediately places the papers down on the desk and stands up, walking around the desk.

  “Be safe. I expect to see you in two months. If you are not here, I will be sending someone up to find you.”

  “Why? Why do I have to come back down?”

  “To check in. No matter what happens, I want you down here when we agree.”

  “Okay, what’s the address of my new house?” I ask, suddenly feeling nervous. I don’t know why; I’ve gone up before with my dad, but it’s never been just me.

  My dad reaches for a piece of paper, allowing me to visualize the address in my mind for the teleportation. Once I have read it and committed it to memory, my dad destroys it with fire from his hand and passes me the front door key.

  I say a final long goodbye to my dad and get ready to leave. I am just closing my eyes when we hear a loud bang outside. My eyes fly open, and I go to look out of the window to see what the commotion is, but my dad stops me.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll go and sort it out,” he promises me.

  I look at him hesitantly; I don’t want to leave if there is trouble.

  “Go on. You’ve wanted this for ages,” he says as he walks toward the door.

  The look on his face worries me as I close my eyes. I quickly push the thought of how he looks scared to the back of my mind and decide to leave with my own bang.

  “Goodbye, Hell! Don’t miss me too much!” I shout in my devil voice so everyone in Hell and by the lake can hear me before I disappear. My dad’s laughter is the last thing I hear.

  ***

  When I feel my feet hit the ground, I open my eyes to find myself standing in front of a large, modern-looking, white house. I am nearly blinded with the drastic change in brightness. Goosebumps erupt over my skin at the considerable difference in temperature even though the sun is out. I look around the deserted street of similar houses to see if anyone saw me pop out of nowhere.

  I’m safe. I take a deep breath before stepping onto the driveway of my house for the next year. I continue up the drive and pause and admire the bike and the car waiting for me before walking to the front door. I juggle the bags I am carrying so I can place the key in the lock. I twist it before pushing the door open.

  I enter into a bright, small entrance room. In a bowl on the table beside the door, I place the key with two others, which I assume to be for the car and the bike on the drive. I drop my bags to the other side and step through the second door and into the house. My first thought is how bright it is. The light streaming into the big room is courtesy of the wall of glass, only broken by the sliding doors, looking out over the hot tub on the deck, the pool below it, and the beach at the bottom. Stairs connect every level. The resemblance to my dad’s office reassures and calms me slightly, bringing a fond smile to my face.

  The living room is massive, furnished with white couches, chairs, and a TV hanging on the opposite wall. Not having one at home, I would always hope whenever I came up with my dad that I would have the chance to watch one.

  I continue through the living room and see that the kitchen is only separated from the living room by a breakfast bar. I give the fridge a quick glance and see that it’s stocked full of everything that I may need. The breakfast bar holds a basket which is full of blood bags wrapped in a ribbon. A card is amongst them, so I pull it out and open it.

  Welcome to your new home.

  Enjoy your time on Earth.

  Dad.

  xxx

  My smile broadens at my dad’s playfulness. I walk back out into the main area and to the front door, picking up the bags before walking up the stairs to the side of the room. When I arrive on the landing of the second floor, I see five rooms. One of them is a bathroom with a big sunken tub similar to mine at home. Behind the tub is a wet room holding the shower.

  The three other rooms are all similarly furnished bedrooms. They are all modern and stylish. The last room that I enter has its own short corridor leading to it. I push the door open and see that this one is obviously the master. It faces the ocean, and the glass wall from downstairs carries on up. Also like downstairs, the wall has a pair of sliding doors; these ones lead out onto a balcony.

  I look back to the room and see a big bed covered in white sheets. A black rectangle sits in the middle. I rush toward it, place my bags on the bed, and pick it up.

  I wipe my thumb over the smooth glass screen. I turn it over in my hands, trying to find how to turn it on. I find a button on the side. I press it, and the glass lights up, showing me the time and date.

  Once I have followed the instructions on the screen which allows me to unlock it, I look at its different features. My eyes fall on a small square which says that it holds the contacts. I press it and see my dad’s name at the top. I didn’t expect anyone else’s.

  I fiddle with it a bit more, looking at the different apps, quickly understanding what everything does and how to use it. Once I am satisfied, I lock my phone again, putting it into my pants’ pocket.

  Noticing two other doors in the room, I walk to the closest and open it. I reach on the wall beside the door for the light switch, flicking it on. I let out a gasp when a spacious bathroom, not too dissimilar to the main one, greets me.

  Now even more eager to see what’s behind the second, I walk quickly over to it, pulling it open. I walk through the big door, entering a generous closet. I let out a low whistle as I walk back out into the main room.

  “You outdid yourself this time, Dad,” I announce out loud as I walk to the bags on my bed. I unzip them and take out the clothes I have packed, telling myself that at the closest possible time, I’ll go and buy more. I chuckle knowing that it’s exactly what my dad doesn’t want. Can you blame me? I haven’t gone shopping without a time and money restriction before. I finally have free rein, and I can buy anything that I want.

  I am just stashing the now empt
y bags in the back of the closet when I hear a two-tone electronic beep throughout the house. Looking cautiously around, I ponder what it can be. It sounds like it’s coming from downstairs. It beeps again. I walk out of the closet and my room, going to the top of the stairs.

  I see a middle age woman standing on the other side of the door. I realize then what the beeping is. It’s a doorbell; however, I don’t know why it’s called a bell because it doesn’t sound like one at all. Whenever we had to call at anyone’s house on Earth, we would always knock and ignore the button beside us. I had only heard an actual bell at home. “Knocking sounds more ominous, especially if you put some force behind it,” my dad explained to me when I asked why we knocked.

  I make my way down at a human pace, opening the door when I get there. The woman greets me with a cheery smile on her face, her gray eyes reflecting that. With one hand, she tucks a piece of her mousy hair behind her ear while the other is holding a container. The warm, chocolaty smell wafts toward me, letting me know that there are probably brownies hiding under the lid.

  “Hi, can I help you?” I ask, returning her smile with my warmest.

  “Hi, I’m Rosie. I live a couple of houses down across the street,” she says, motioning to her house. “I just wanted to come over and welcome you to the neighborhood. I hope you like brownies. My welcome gift to you.” She thrusts the tub into my hands.

  “Um…thank you,” I tell her, placing them on the table by the door. “I’m Scar.”

  “What an unusual name.”

  “Yes, my full name is Scarlett, but my dad liked the idea of Scar,” I tell her honestly with a fond smile. My mom wanted a real name for me, as she was once human before my dad changed her, but my dad thought that it wasn’t scary enough, so they compromised.

  “Are they in?” she asks, looking into the house behind me.

  I move so I’m blocking her sight of the kitchen. It would be hard to explain why there are blood bags on my counter.

  “No. I live by myself,” I tell her.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” I don’t bother correcting her; she doesn’t need to know. “When did you move in? I didn’t see you arrive.” She fires another question at me. What’s with all the questions? Are all humans like this when they meet each other?

  “I arrived early this morning, and I’m just unpacking,” I answer, hoping she’ll get the message to leave me to it.

  “It was nice to meet you, Scar,” she tells me brightly.

  “You too,” I respond, matching her tone, closing the door behind her once she has left.

  For the remainder of the day, I sit beside the pool, my feet dipped in it, until the sun goes down. As I turn the light off in my room, I let out a contented sound. I hope all my days on Earth are like this.

  Chapter 4

  Slut #1

  The next morning, I wake disgruntled to my mobile ringing shrilly.

  “Hi, Dad,” I say sleepily, knowing it can only be one person, as I try and adjust my blurry sight to look at the clock on the bedside table.

  “Can you hear me?” my dad asks.

  “Yes, coming through crystal clear,” I answer, resting my head back down on the pillow.

  “Great, it works. Remember your first day of school is today, and I expect you to be on time,” he reminds me.

  I groan. I don’t need a wake-up call.

  “I won’t. It’s only 6:20, and school doesn’t start for about an hour.”

  “Enjoy your day, but not so much that you get into trouble,” my dad tells me, ignoring my comment completely before hanging up.

  I chuckle at him.

  “Bye,” I say into the silent phone with a sigh before returning it to my bedside table. I roll onto my other side. I’ll just close my eyes for a second. I have plenty of time to get ready.

  I blink away the sleep in my eyes as I sit up. I yawn, stretching before I look at the clock on the bedside table. Shit! I overslept. It’s 7:23. School starts in seven minutes. I fling the covers back and tumble out of bed, trying to stay on my feet. I run to my closet and pick out a pair of shorts and vest. While I’m there, I also grab a bag, filling it with pens and notebooks (what I think I may need).

  I rush through my morning routine before I go flying down the stairs. I grab a bag of blood from the stock in my kitchen. I forgot to eat last night, but today, I know I will need it. I won’t be able to sit around humans with fresh blood running through their veins for eight hours.

  I grab an apple as well as I quickly walk to the door. I hop around, trying to put my boots on with the apple in my mouth. Once I have stopped jumping around, I grab the car keys from the bowl.

  I will drink the blood and eat the apple on the way. I pull open the door, turning to lock it when I realize that I left my bag. With a groan, I reopen the door, reaching in for my bag on the floor before closing and locking it.

  I run down to my car and slide into it. I push the key in before setting the GPS to the school. It says that it will take twenty-five minutes. I look at the clock on the dashboard and see that school has just started. Proud of myself for getting ready in seven minutes, I press down on the accelerator. My dad should just be happy that I’m going; does it matter if I arrive twenty-five minutes late?

  Once I am on the main road, I have finished the apple, throwing the core out of the window. I reach for the blood bag, tearing it open with my teeth. I take gulps of the nectar in intervals, aware that people may be able to see into the car. I squeeze the last of the liquid out of the bag and into my mouth as I turn into the school parking lot.

  I put the car in park, shove the empty bag into the glove compartment, and check myself over in the rearview mirror. It will be a bad first impression if I enter with blood-stained teeth and cheeks. Satisfied that I am clean, I reach for my bag as I exit the car.

  I stroll leisurely until I find the main office, needing to get my timetable. I push open one of the doors and find a small space. A desk sits in front of a corridor, facing the doors I am entering through. I turn to see chairs to the side of the room where a couple of students are sitting. I turn back to the desk where a woman is waiting with a warm smile on her face.

  “Can I help you, dear?” she asks.

  I inwardly cringe at the endearment as I walk closer.

  “I don’t know. Can you, Miss—” I look down to her name tag “—Williams? I’m new, and I need my schedule.”

  She looks at me, her jaw going slack.

  “Name?” she asks in a daze.

  “Scarlett Hades,” I say.

  She looks at me weirdly for a moment before she shakes it off and begins to type into her computer. I just give her a smile, tapping my fingernails on the desktop.

  I’m used to getting weird looks. It’s either for my last name or my actions. Humans can also sense demons. They don’t know what the feeling means, or why they have it, but it’s a result of what we are—predators who are higher in the food chain. When you see a wild, predatory animal, your body reacts by getting ready to flee or fight.

  The sound of paper passing through a printer starts, and the woman turns her back on me to collect the papers. I see her shoulders relax, but as soon as she turns around, her shoulders tighten again. Some people are more susceptible to us than others. She passes the papers to me, and I notice her hand is as far away from mine as possible.

  “Here is your locker assignment and combination and schedule. I hope you enjoy your time here at Aspen Valley High School.”

  I take them from her.

  “Thanks, but I doubt it,” I quickly say before I turn and leave. I pause and look down at the schedule.

  Homeroom – Room 212 – Mr. Matthews

  AP World History – Room 124 – Mr. Ward

  AP English – Room 139 – Mrs. Hale

  Gym – Gymnasium – Coach Karmen

  Algebra – Room 106 – Mrs. Smith

  Lunch

  AP Psychology – Room 217 – Mr. Jeff

  French – Room 230 – M.
Francis

  Physics – Room 226 – Mrs. Jackson

  I sigh. Eight classes! What has my dad got me into? What’s the point of coming to Earth if I’m going to be stuck in the same building each day? I force myself to make my way to room 124 and World History, which I am five minutes late to.

  I eventually find the correct room, pushing the door open. As soon as I step into the class, a pair of watery, beady, blue eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses move to look at me. The owner is a balding, slightly overweight, older man. I look from them to the students to my left. They are all watching me curiously. I flash them a smile before looking back to the teacher.

  “May I help you?” he asks, his voice grating.

  “I should hope so. My name is Scarlett. I’m new.”

  “Ah, yes, Scarlett Hades, correct?” He checks, looking down at his papers.

  “Yep, that’s me.”

  “What a unique name…” he comments, his eyes meeting mine, his thin lips pulling up into an uncomfortable smile.

  “Thanks. It runs in the family.”

  A few students chuckle.

  “Well, you joined us at the right time, Ms. Hades, as today we will be learning about your namesake. Take a seat.”

  I move through the tables until I get to an empty one near the back. Mr. Ward turns to the board and writes two words:Ancient Greeks. I groan.

  “To get us started, can anyone tell me any facts about the Ancient Greeks and their beliefs?” he asks the class, turning back to look at us.

  “They believed in myths which included gods,” a boy from the front shouts out. I want to shout at him, ‘Do I look like a myth to you?’ but I shut my mouth knowing my dad won’t be happy if I were found out on the first day of my time here.

  “Correct. Can anyone name any of their gods?”

  “Hades,” a girl answers, shooting a quick glance at me.

  I roll my eyes when a few of the other students also take a quick look at me. I shift in my seat when I feel Mr. Ward’s gaze also falling on me. The moment passes, however, as students continue to call out some names of my more well-known family members and family friends. I haven’t seen any of them recently, except for Jack. Do they know that I’m down here?