Hades: Modern Descendants

by elda lore

“I let your voice travel. He heard you.” His finger paused. “I wanted him to know you were here. With me.”

  I stepped forward, my heart fluttering. “How would he know I was with you?”

  “He saw you. With me. Through the glass.”

  Blinking rapidly, I continued to stare. “But you said it was two-way. I could see out but he couldn’t see in.”

  “I lifted the sheen briefly.”

  “You…” How? I wanted to ask. Nothing made sense. “Why would you want him to see me, but not let me speak to him?” My voice lowered in question, not accusation. I truly did not understand Hades.

  “I wanted him to know you were mine.” The words should have upset me. My mind screamed to be irate and rebel. I belonged to no one. I was not a possession to own, and yet, the timbre of his voice, the ownership, the demand of belonging, filled me with something. An emotion I didn’t recognize. I should have been angered, but I remained calm.

  “I want you to pick something from the cases. Something that shows them all that you are mine,” he whispered. His eyes shifted to mine briefly, and then he sheepishly looked away. His finger resumed its sketching on the glass encasement.

  “I don’t want to pick something,” I replied quietly. Emotions inside me fought for understanding. Logic told me not to accept an apology bribe.

  His head rose sharply. His eyes stared. “Why not?” he countered.

  “Do you think if you give me things, I’ll forget where I am? What you’ve done? Fall to your will?”

  “Not my will, my father’s,” he corrected.

  “Is there a difference?” I snapped.

  “I’m nothing like him.” Hades straightened from the display where he leaned. A fist formed and rested on the case.

  “How are you different?” My question was both an inquiry and a jab.

  “I…” His mouth opened and then shut. His lips twisted.

  “That’s what I thought,” I muttered, turning back to the case to avoid his stare. My focus rested on a black onyx gem, surrounded by diamonds, attached to a silver band. The gem matched the butterfly at my wrist. Looking down at the dangling bead, the creature hung somber like me. His wings stilled and I realized his color was nothing like the stone on the ring. The ring shone cold and constricting. My beautiful charm was iridescent, innocent, and itching for independence.

  “Follow me,” Hades demanded, breaking into my comparison.

  Like a true prisoner, I obeyed his orders.

  Generosity

  [Hades]

  My thoughts crawled all over, colliding and cramping with how badly I messed things up. All I wanted to show her when I took her to the gambling hall was how I could give her everything. My father taught me that the way to apologize to a woman was through a piece of jewelry, so the shop was my next mistake. I could give her anything she desired: jewels, fine clothing. I could even make her win the slot machine and obtain endless money while it served no purpose here. She’d want for nothing while she was with me, but she was still unhappy. Silly humans risked everything for more: more money, more homes, more cars, yet she seemed unimpressed with all I could offer her. When I reflected on what my father gave my mother: diamonds, rubies, gold; it never made her happy, either. I had to show Persephone how I felt. I was sorry.

  She walked behind me with her head lowered. Her shoulders slumped in defeat. Seeing a glimpse of her friend had spiraled her back to prisoner mentality. It was cruel of me to let her voice travel to him, but her cries for his attention stabbed at my heartless heart. The gears wound tight and my air constricted. She longed for him in that whimpering sound and I didn’t like it. I didn’t want her to desire another man. Jealousy struck. She belonged to me, but I overreacted. I teased him with her voice, but it only hurt her in the end. What she most wanted, I could not give her: her friends and family. Then a thought hit me.

  When she questioned how I differed from my father, I didn’t have an immediate answer. Instinctively, I knew we were not the same, but when I thought of Persephone, and my growing desire to possess her, keep her here with me, I wondered if we were more similar than I assumed. My father intentionally kidnapped my mother, keeping her against her will for all of eternity. I suddenly had the same emotion of never wanting to let Persephone leave. Our kiss sealed the fate for me. I’d wanted to taste her for too long. I shouldn’t have grabbed her breast first, but the temptation teased too much. The risk within reach. Her firm globes filled my hand and my heart nearly burst with the thrill. Her breathy yes to my request to kiss her and I practically imploded with desire. Her mouth: ripe and tender, left me savoring more, knowing the flavor of her would linger on my lips for eternity.

  We took the stairs, descending three flights before I spoke.

  “Where we are going is not safe for you. I shouldn’t be taking the risk to bring you here, but I want to give you something.”

  Her head shook in dismay as we paused before a steel door. I clarified.

  “I want to show you something.” The phrasing sounded better, more appropriate. She would understand my meaning soon enough.

  “I ask that you hold my hand, and don’t let go of me. Can you promise me that? I can’t protect you in here as well as I can when we wander the halls and visit the levels. They need to see that you are important to me.” I waved a free hand toward the closed door. She nodded as her wide eyes stared at me. I opened my palm and she peered at it.

  “You must promise or I can’t do this. I won’t risk you.” I lowered my head to meet her eyes, hoping she could read in them my sincerity. I would never risk her life where I lived. Even with her soul trapped in the hourglass, I would find the way to protect her.

  She hesitantly took my hand and I opened my fingers to allow hers to curl within my grasp. I needed her to hold onto me, not only for her protection but for mine. Thoughts of her reaction frightened me. Opening the heavy door, I led her through and her breath caught as we entered the large underground cavern. I tried to envision the space as she would. A huge cave with a permanent night sky of black ink. The ceiling sparkled with crystal reflections. In the center, a lively sounding island surrounded by a black water moat pulsed with jazzy beats. The ink-matching water flowed circularly around the mound where music played and laughter floated upward. Conversations collided with the rhythm of music. Elysium was as alive as it could be, but that was not our destination.

  I led her down a long wooden dock, extending over the deep water. I felt strangely nervous for the necessary boat ride. My cousin, Triton, was familiar with water, but I viewed it only as the path to enter the underworld. Helping her into the small wooden craft, the space was intimate. She sat opposite me on a bench while I pulled the throttle, and a quiet motor sputtered to life. We didn’t cross to Elysium but circled the lively island. She stared briefly at the fading entertainment as the music drifted behind us, then focused on the dark water surrounding us.

  “Don’t stare too long. It’s known to pull people under.” I warned her. The dangers in drowning in darkness, sucking her to a new level of hell, made me shiver. I longed to pull her to my bench, keeping her close to me like we’d been the night before. We rode in silence, the hum of the motor echoing off the watery caves as we puttered toward our destination. The darkness grew thick and her eyes sought mine for reassurance.

  “I’d never let anything hurt you.” It was my promise. I’d keep her safe, even from me. I thought back on our kiss. She hadn’t let me kiss her a second time, saying it shouldn’t have happened. Maybe she hadn’t liked it, but the desire in her eyes and the tug of her hands proved the opposite. When she let me hold her through the night, I hardly slept, afraid I’d wake to find it all a dream.

  Her silence unnerved me. She leaned back on her hands and her attention drew upward to the high, rock ceiling. Her head tilted back, her pale neck exposed. Her skin faded over the time spent underground. I swallowed hard on the desire to press my lips to her throat. My eyes followed her gaze. Crystalline sparkles high
lighted the cavernous covering, giving off the impression of stars overhead. Twinkling purple and blue in the faintest of hues, the dome shape glistened with magical light.

  “What are you thinking, Firefly?” I’d used the endearment before. It seemed appropriate. She reflected the light in my black surroundings, illuminating the darkness of my life. I hoped a question might provide her words.

  “It’s so beautiful.”

  I sighed in relief as I stared at her. “O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright,” Shakespeare said. She was beautiful, I thought. In the dim light of the cave, her pale-colored sweater and blonde hair illuminated. Her exposed shoulder tempted me to nip the juncture at her neck. Shimmers of the crystals in the granite bounced and beamed against her, giving her a glowing appearance. The luminescence floated around her like creatures found deep in the sea. A smile graced her face under the soft glow, and again I was reminded of a firefly. Brilliance personified, she lit my darkness, and I wished I could capture her light. She tipped forward and pursed her lips. I sensed the struggle within her. Did she not trust me? Had she hated our kiss? Did she not wish to have me as a friend, like her Swanson? Questions haunted me.

  Too soon, we pulled up to another wooden pier, outstretched over the black depths. A series of slips for water crafts lined the pier, but only one remained open. On the shore, an expansive hut-like structure stood like a Caribbean resort, complete with the thatched roof and elongated wooded porch like I’d seen in my studies. Several citizens mingled on the deck among the rocking chairs. Soft laughter and quiet chatter greeted us.

  “What is this place?” she questioned with a whisper, afraid to break the calm serenity surrounding us.

  “You’ll see,” I answered, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze as I assisted her out of the boat. As we drew closer to our destination, nerves raced with hope that she would like the gift. We walked hand-in-hand again, giving off the impression of being a couple. Several residents looked up at my presence, nodded, smiled politely, and returned to their conversations. Others stared in wonder as the human tightly gripped the hand of the prince of darkness. Silently, I willed her to continue holding onto me. These dead did not hunger for her like others underground would. They understood they had plenty of life and now it was over.

  We entered the resort-like retreat. Immediately inside stood a long table with several elderly-looking people dressed in white robes. They smiled and conversed with one another without a care to my entrance. The atmosphere subdued, peacefully quiet, and pleasant. A strange calm filled the air. Then slowly one by one they stopped talking. A small woman at the end of the table sat with her back to us. She turned cautiously, then rose.

  “Nana?” Persephone questioned. Her eyes travelled the length of the table. “Uncle Jonas? Aunt Rita?”

  She stepped forward, attempting to release me, but I gripped her fingers crossed with mine, reminding her of our agreement. She twisted to look at me. My eyes plead with hers. Don’t let me go, I cautioned. She nodded and then turned back to her grandmother.

  “Nana.” Her voice whimpered and the old lady’s eyes met mine over her grandchild. We exchanged an understanding without words. She stepped forward and I released Persephone. Enveloped in the outstretched arms of the older woman, Persephone stood a head taller. She bowed her head, tucking it against the woman’s frail cheek. Surprisingly, Persephone did not cry. She stood in awe. Tender strokes rubbed up and down her back as her nana soothed her. Persephone pulled back and gazed at her elder family member, their arms still interlocked within one another.

  “Am I dead?” She’d asked this question before. Death was another creature. I was not him and I would not let him have her.

  “No, honey. No, not yet.” It wasn’t a warning. It was simply a soothing statement. It was not Persephone’s time. She looked at her uncle and aunt seated next to one another at the table. They did not reach out for her, but smiled knowingly. Her grandmother released her and I slipped my hand into Persephone’s again.

  The elder nodded once at me, grinned reassuringly at her granddaughter and then turned away.

  “We need to go,” I whispered. Persephone did not resist me.

  “Love you, Nana,” she whispered. The woman did not respond. Our unspoken agreement gave her grandmother only a few minutes, nothing more. I didn’t need the elder dragging Persephone into the deep and her grandmother agreed. Persephone led me this time, guiding me down the long pier. We remained quiet until we reached our slip. She stopped me at the end of the dock with a squeeze of her fingers.

  “Thank you,” she said, pausing for words. “That was a very generous gift.” Her free hand came to my chest. She tipped up on her toes and pressed a soft kiss to my cheek, letting her lips linger.

  And I smiled to myself, pleased she liked my present.

  Interlude:

  Demi

  [Zeke]

  “She’s been missing for nearly two months,” Demi Fields cried. “She disappeared without a trace?” She scowled. Zeke Cronus knew this look. As the oldest brother of three men, Demi would demand he do something. The severity of her commands stemmed from the deep love for her daughter.

  “You know something, don’t you?” Her vibrant blue eyes glared at him, and he couldn’t resist her.

  “Fine. I’ve heard murmurs that she’s close by.” His eyes averted from hers.

  “She disappeared in the storm. The kids say they lost sight of her. Thought she fell in the river. When the storm hit they couldn’t see a thing. She was simply gone. But you’re telling me she’s close by?”

  “Maybe the river washed her away.” The words were harsh and Zeke didn’t mean to be so severe toward one of his oldest friends. He knew the disappearance of her daughter, the most important person in her life, broke her heart. His obligation to each of his brothers tore at his.

  Once upon a time, there had been three beautiful sisters, and as family friends, three brothers who wanted each of them.

  “You and I both know that’s highly unlikely. She can swim, for one, and Idon wouldn’t let that happen to her.” Demi’s fists came to her hips as her foot stomped to the side. She glared at Zeke, and he understood her frustration. She was correct. His brother, Idon, wouldn’t have allowed Persephone to drown. That was not her destiny, and Zeke knew this. He had been searching for the girl himself, praying it wouldn’t come to what it had. Damn his younger brother and his jealousy. Zeke removed the hourglass from his bag.

  “Hades has her.”

  Demi gasped, her hand covering her mouth in horror. This could only mean one thing. The Underworld.

  “You promised this would never happen again.”

  “I could make no such promise.”

  “Zeke!” She shrieked in frustration, her foot clearly stomping this time with the added emphasis of each fist pounding downward. Her eyes widened in horror at the sand slowly leaking into the lower glass ball. “You must get her back.”

  “He wants the land.”

  “Oh, not this again.” Demi’s hands flew into the air and she spun her back to him. Her chestnut hair blew out in waves as she twisted, and he swallowed hard at the fiery display of beauty. Hades had loved her once upon a time. So had Zeke. But Zeke had loved many women. He’d fallen hardest for Hera, Demi’s second sister. Torn between the two as a teenager, Zeke took Hera to bed one night, thus ruining any chance of Demi coming to him. Devoted to her sister, Demi refused to give Zeke a second glance. He remained loyal to Hera in his heart, though his promiscuous ways led him astray too often. His mind wandered back to the feisty woman before him.

  Hades had loved her, but her rejection forced him to take another. Interestingly, he loved his wife, calling Demi a whim of lust. It was hard to understand the relationship between Hades and his wife. Some rumors believed their love stood timeless despite the strange arrangement. Others told tales, calling her an ice queen despite Hades’ efforts to please her. Disappointment ran deep at the unrequited love and Hades’ attempts t
o host the grand casino for his wife’s pleasure appeared an epic fail. Threatening Demi, demanding her land, and kidnapping her daughter, certainly fell into a questionable category of revenge against Demi, despite loving his wife. Or possibly because his wife did not love him in return.

  A letter accompanied the hourglass. Demi snatched the parchment from his thick, tanned hands. She read it hastily and shook her head. Her shoulders fell slowly, like a wilting flower.

  “What’s this about his son?”

  “Apparently, he rescued her. Death did not take her, so Hades believes you owe him. The girl in exchange for your western property.”

  “Or what?” she scoffed, fully knowing full Hades’ intentions. He’d keep the daughter to spite her. Wanting to expand his empire of corruption was a continuous ploy. She spun away from Zeke again and covered her forehead with shaky fingers.

  “Demi. DeeDee,” he said softly, using her childhood nickname while his hand fell into her hair, combing it soothingly. “She’s strong. She’s willing to stay, refusing to make you give in to him.”

  “By gods, I despise him sometimes,” she muttered and Zeke covered her shoulders with thick hands.

  “You don’t mean that,” he replied. Her shoulders fell. Demi warred with what happened between herself and Hades Sr. all those years ago.

  “I don’t care about the land.” She spoke to the wind outside the window. Fall filtered in fiercely. The harvests complete, the ground lay brittle and brown. “I want my daughter back.”

  “What if she refuses to come home?”

  “She won’t do that,” Demi turned on him, their chests mere inches away from one another. His thick fingertips brushed down her face and she leaned into it momentarily.

  “How do you know?”

  “I know my daughter. She loves this land. She’d want to come home.”

  “Sometimes there’s a temptation to love something else more,” he suggested. “Or someone.”