by elda lore
“Something like that,” he answered. “You’re on the other side.” His eyes drifted away from me and he gazed at the heavy darkening shades.
“What do you mean ‘the other side’?” We seemed to be trading questions without direct answers.
“A side you can’t return from.” His hands clasped and unclasped while his eyes focused on them. Those black talon-like fingernails intrigued me. They appeared thick, potentially dangerous, yet with the worried kneading of his fingers, I wasn’t frightened.
“I don’t understand.” My weakened voice hardly reached his ears. His eyes looked up at the windows again, narrowing at the glass. I sprang from the bed, my hands sliding up and down the windows, searching for a way to open the shades. Something clicked behind me and the blinds retracted between the panes. From my position, I could see the expanse of a darkened city to my right and left. In the distance before me laid fields and fields of harvested wheat. Without a clear visual, I knew that soil would soon be barren and brown, ready to be tilled and prepped for the next year’s rotation. My hands came up to the cool glass and my forehead leaned forward. I rolled it back and forth in complete confusion.
“Maybe my father can explain things better,” he said behind me.
“Hades? That’s your name. And your father’s name is Hades.” My brows pinched while I stole a glance at him on the edge of the bed. I could see his reflection in the glass. “Isn’t he the god of the dead, ruler of…”
Hell, whispered in my head. He’d told me when we arrived we were in hell.
“Do you expect me to believe that I’ve entered The Underworld? With the Hades of mythology? And you’re his son? And this is hell? And I’m…” My voice rose an octave with each panicked question.
“Am I dead?” I spun on him. I squeaked as my hand came to mouth and my back flattened against the window pane. The coolness hit the backs of my bare knees and I visibly shivered.
“No.” His head rose, his tone one of surprise. “No, you are not dead.” His head adamantly shook side to side, adding emphasis to the conviction.
With that comment his eyes roamed over my bare features, starting with my toes, the nails painted a dark purple. His eye brows pinched and his head tilted as his eyes scanned upward, assessing my bare calves, knees and thighs. His T-shirt hit just below the tops of my legs, but I felt exposed despite the covering. He didn’t let the clothing be a barrier to his assessment, as bright blue beams continued over my abdomen, climbing my breasts and resting on my throat. I swallowed hard and he blinked. My chest rose and fell heavy. His eyes jumped to mine. The expression on his face was pure wonder.
“You are very much alive,” he whispered. The sound of his voice, combined with the words he said, were a call to him. My body fought the draw to his. My heart raced and my hands stretched for purchase against the smooth glass behind me. The need to grip something, to hold myself back from stepping toward him, consumed me. I didn’t trust myself. I’d either kiss him or slap him. The struggle warred within me. My mouth salivated. I licked my lips, and my hands twitched. I wanted to hurt him for keeping me here without understanding why I was a prisoner. Then something occurred to me.
“My name is Persephone,” I whispered but not directly to him. If he was Hades, and I was Persephone, then…I had definitely hit my head, fallen into a coma, and lived a nightmare. This could not be real, I argued once again. Ignoring my strangled statement, he spoke.
“Perhaps you should dress and I’ll take you to my father. He can explain it better.”
He stood and left the room, returning before I’d even moved from the glass with something folded and white, and a woman behind him who looked like the walking dead. A scream caught in my throat as sympathetic eyes glanced up then quickly skipped away from me.
“This is Mina. She will help you dress until we find you better clothes.” Mina’s hands hung, skeletal thin, at her sides. Her eyes were hollow and deeper gray than her skin. Her hair lay dank upon her shoulders. Her clothing nearly blended with her skin color. She stood dressed like an ancient Greek, complete with toga, belt, and strappy sandals of dull silver.
Hades left the room and Mina approached me slowly, like a friendly captor to a frightened animal. She held the material out to me, waiting while I assessed it. Not intending to appear ungrateful, I couldn’t prevent the shaking of my hand as I removed the material quickly from her grasp, with the intention of not touching her. Unfolding the white gauzy fabric, I found it was square, similar to a sheet.
“What’s this?” I barked, suddenly losing my patience and my composure. I didn’t understand anything. Where I was? Why I was here? Why was he blue or she was gray? I still held up the material while my mind wandered. Mina approached closer.
“Let me help you.” The sound of someone who’d smoked a pack of cigarettes met my ears. I giggled from nerves and fell back against the glass. This had to be a dream, I cursed.
“I…” I wanted to argue I could dress myself, but I didn’t know what to do with this sheet material. Suddenly, feeling bold and uninhibited, I stepped forward and whipped off the black T-shirt I slept in. The woodsy scent filled my nose as the material dragged over my head and once free from the confines of his shirt, I missed the fragrance. I argued internally I could stand naked before this stranger, if I pretended I removed my clothes for skinny dipping. Had it only been hours ago that I was in the river with Veva and Swanson? Should I be worried that something has happened to them? My boldness crumbled and I abruptly sat hunched over myself on the bed, not looking at my waiting maid.
“Here,” she said, holding up the sheet, spreading the material wide. “Stand and turn around.”
Defeated, I did as she directed, and within minutes found myself wrapped in the white gauze. She spun me when complete and I noted my reflection in the window. I looked like an ancient Greek female, similar to Mina, toga and all.
“What’s this?” I snipped, flaring my hands outward, dragging the sides of my dress with me. Mina caught one wrist in her hand and stared at the cuts across my palm.
“He did not care for you last night,” she accused, shaking her head with a tsking sound. Her cigarette tone sounded more like a cough than an admonishment.
“Sit,” she commanded.
“My feet, too.” One foot lifted to show her the cuts gouged into the pad. Continuing to shake her head, she went into the bathroom and then returned empty handed.
“We have no need of wound repair here. I don’t know how to help you, child.” The endearment brought liquid to my eyes.
“But you could help me?” I stood, rushing over to her. My hands reached for hers, then retracted back to my sides in repulsion and fear to touch her. “You could tell me what’s happened to me? Why I’m here? How do I leave?” My voice rose higher with each question.
“I can tell you no such thing. I follow Hades’ orders and his command was only to help you dress. Don’t fear, child. He’s a good boy. He’ll take care of you.” Her eyes roved my body. “Though why he brought you here in this state is beyond me.”
“What state is that?” I asked, my tone lowering in my defeatist state.
“Alive.”
Ransom
[Hades]
I’d waited long enough in the hallway, my ear pressed to the door while Mina assisted Persephone.
Persephone, such a beautiful name for a gorgeous creature. And what are the chances? Her name matched my mother’s, the cold queen. This Persephone was anything but cold. She radiated warmth. Her body sparked fire, her voice a flame. I longed to learn more about the heat that emitted from her. She had so many questions for me, though, and I wasn’t particularly eloquent in explaining.
I wasn’t used to conversational matters with women. Those present in hell had completed life. Full of questions upon arrival, their fate sealed the second they crossed the river. Over time a new life began, a different life. One full of freedoms without consequence and question, and those were the women I knew. I hadn
’t been alone in my long existence, but I had been lonely at times. Missing something. A piece of me, possibly not yet born. A part of me, possibly not yet dead. Could Persephone be the puzzle solver? Was her destiny mine? I didn’t believe it any more than I believed my parents loved me. They certainly did not love one another, and it was a complete mystery that I was created from them.
When I heard Mina breathe the word, “Alive,” I entered the room, walking away from idle hope that Persephone would fit me. I risked catching Persephone in a state of undress. Her pale legs and purple toenails intrigued me. Her skin not so pale in reality, after her hot shower and some sleep. Tan. That was the word I’d heard to describe skin colored by the sun. Persephone was not undressed, however, and my breath caught as before me stood a woman who rivaled Greek goddesses of old. Her blonde hair fell in golden waves down her back and the white toga Mina mastered over her slender form accentuated her breasts and narrow hips, where her hands rested in consternation at the moment.
“Are you going to kill me?”
The question halted me.
“What did you say to her?” I accused Mina.
“Hey,” Persephone interjected. “Don’t speak to her like that.” Two sets of hollowed eyes stared back at her: Mina’s, whose lids could not blink, and mine that did. Her pinched face and stern voice made my lips twist. I wanted to smile at the expression on her face, but I didn’t dare. We already balanced on a fragile line.
“I apologize, Mina. Persephone, why would you ask such a thing?”
“There seems to be some surprise that I am here alive,” she spat, the word emphasized as if it tasted dirty in her mouth. Her eyes widened in surprise.
“I will explain everything shortly. You must meet my father first.” Dismissing Mina, I stepped closer to Persephone. My eyes skimmed her face. So pleasing to look at, so refreshing in brightness, her skin shone a subtle tone of sunshine. I traveled over her cheeks, down her neck, taking note when she swallowed. My eyes rested on dark spots speckling her shoulders. I took another step closer for inspection.
“What happened here?” The imperfection to her skin baffled me.
“They’re freckles.” The shoulder I stared at shrugged and my lips nearly trembled with desire to press over those dots, my tongue eager to connect them, and then travel up her slender throat. “I got a bad sunburn when I was younger and the skin scarred.”
I stepped within her space. A shaky hand came up to her shoulder and hovered.
“Solis burned you.” I growled in displeasure. My cousin, Solis, had the power to be cruel, as did I. While I tamed my compulsions, sometimes my cousin could not contain his anger. Persephone’s brow scrunched in that manner she had.
“I was sunburned,” she clarified.
“I’m sorry he did that,” I whispered. I looked up at her face. Her lips mere inches away from me, and I swallowed the watery temptation to take them with mine. The closeness provided a better examination and her skin had a series of paler dots over her nose and scattered on her cheeks.
“More sunburn?” I questioned low, gulping silently at the strong desire to taste those paler freckles.
“No,” her breath caught, “just more freckles. Born with those marks, I guess.” Her breath expelled warmly on me and my lids grew heavy, drugged on drinking her in. I fought the desire. My eyes met hers. The black of her center nearly blended with the bark brown. Her chest rose and fell as it had earlier. Could she? It couldn’t be? Could she be attracted to me? The thought frightened me, and I stepped back instantly. It couldn’t be possible that someone so beautiful would find me attractive. Familiar with my own appearance, it wasn’t what drew females to me. Seduced by my voice, they felt the pull to surrender. My status inflated their desire. One day, I would inherit a mighty kingdom I had no interest in ruling. A prince among the doomed.
“Let me escort you to my father,” I offered, returning to some semblance of distance and formality. If she was my guest, I needed to treat her as such and strengthen my resolve to protect her from the king of the underworld.
Stepping outside of my room, she paused. Laying across the threshold rested my pet.
“Is that…does that dog have…there are three heads on that…” The tumble of her words made me smile. It was her awe, not insult. From the creatures I’d seen outside my home, having three heads would appear strange to her.
“This is Cerberus, but I call him Curby, for short.”
Her eyes flipped up to mine, those deep dark eyes nearly round. Her mouth fell open without sound and I wanted to explore inside where her tongue lay still and sound struggled to form. My mouth watered at the thought. When her eyes broke from mine, I shook my head as if coming out of a daze. She mesmerized me. I followed the line of her vision to my three-headed hound. Jet black and lazy, he lay there looking up at me with those three sets of puppy-dog eyes. His English mastiff faces rested over his two front paws.
“I’ve gone mad,” Persephone muttered, and shaky fingers came to her brow, pinching at the skin. One set of eyes from Curby glanced at Persephone. This alerted the other two and all three heads swung to look at her. The irregular dog jumped to all fours, growling.
“Curby,” I snapped. “Down.” I stepped before Persephone, blocking my salivating friend. His gnashing teeth, yellow and sharp, snipped in the direction of Persephone behind me.
“I’ve absolutely lost my mind,” she continued to talk to herself behind me in a hushed tone. The smack of skin on skin told me she slapped her own forehead.
“No.” I barked out to my pet, who continued to growl. One head stood at attention. The second slow to follow the command. The third still eager to attack.
“The nightmare isn’t ending.” Her words whispered against the nape of my neck, her presence close at my back. One mouth of Curby gnashed his teeth.
“No.” A gentle roar filled the corridor and the creature stopped, lowered its head one at a time and whimpered. He lay back down. Feeling guilty at my aggressive tone, I hunched down to pet each head, finding the contact soothing as my mind raced in dismay at Persephone’s internal struggle to understand her surroundings.
“Good boy,” I muttered. “She is not for you to eat. You protect her,” I demanded gently looking into the middle set of ice-blue eyes. Persephone’s sweet gasp behind me, made me twist at the waist.
“I’m kidding. He wouldn’t eat you.” I lied. I continued petting one head, possibly a bit forcefully in hopes to instill in the creature she was not a treat for them.
“Here, let him catch your scent.” I reached out for her hand. Hesitantly, she set hers in mine. The contrast between us was apparent; the light coloring of her skin so unusual to the blue-gray of my own. I ran my thumb gently over the back of her hand, noticing her short nails painted purple to match her toes. Holding her hand, I tugged her hesitant arm closer to the middle head of Curby. He sniffed and backed away, repelled. The second head tilted in, confused, took a whiff and let his tongue lap at her knuckles. The third snipped, and I withdrew her hand before he had a bite. My poor pet warred with itself, just like me: confused and dazed by her, repelled and intrigued in equal measure.
--
We entered my father’s private office. His back turned to us as he sat in his chair staring out the floor to ceiling windows. A large black desk nearly covered the length of the wall opposite the door. The décor minimal, the wall of glass a focal point despite our opposition to daylight. He addressed me over his shoulder in his typical graveled tone.
“Hades, what’s this I hear about you bringing someone into the realm?” He spun to face me, glass in hand, and startled at the realization that the “guest” he referenced stood beside me. My father’s eyes glowered a bile shade of yellow and then narrowed in question as he assessed Persephone. I stepped closer to her, as if magnetically pulled toward her, in order to protect her.
“I didn’t realize…” My father’s voice faltered. An odd expression of surprise graced his angular face momentar
ily, and then he drew a mask. In his attire, black leather pants and a shirt open too low at the chest, gold chains and rings adorned him. His long, graying hair painted with streaks of white reminded me of the lead singer of Aerosmith. He set his concentration on Persephone, as he rocked back, giving off a relaxed appearance. He further inspected her; the mask a ruse. There was something curious about her to him, but I couldn’t get a read on what intrigued him. Other than she was human. Beautiful. And still alive.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done, son?” He spoke through fingers covering his mouth, rubbing over his lips in thought.
Persephone shifted next to me and her eyes flicked to me, but I refused to look back, afraid to take my eyes off my father. We had a strange relationship, him and me. We didn’t spend much time together, although we’d had centuries to do so. He was kind but distant. His affection consisted of more than tolerating me, but less than loving me. He’d say I was the one good thing that came from a poor decision: kidnapping my mother. She was an ice queen. Her lack of love toward me remained unquestionable. She hated what I represented: her eternal bond to my father and this place.
“I…” I didn’t want to say I’d made a grave mistake. Bringing her here, I knew the risks, but I couldn’t leave her out in the storm, not after she’d been attacked, almost kidnapped, which undoubtedly would lead to her rape and possibly death. I shuddered at the thought of someone touching her so brutally.
“I did what I thought best, sir.”
He nodded once at me.
“You must have a lot of questions, young lady.” My father’s smooth voice soothed despite the graveled tone. He didn’t wish to frighten her, though he could be a devilish being when he wanted to be.