Hades: Modern Descendants

by elda lore

  “Tripper?” I questioned, instead.

  “He was out inspecting the land.”

  As if on cue, he entered the room, followed by Veva and Swanson. Veva gasped when she saw me, and raced to the other side of my bed. Falling half over me, she embraced me. My arms hung too limp to return the hug.

  “Oh my God, I’ve missed you so much. We have so much to talk about.” Her green eyes roamed my face. She knew something, a secret, and her lips twitched to spill. My forehead furrowed but my head ached.

  “I’m thirsty,” I said.

  “Okay, everybody out.” Zeke’s booming voice filled the room. His white hair and close shaved beard gave him a grandfatherly appearance, but his voice dripped with command. My mother called it seductive.

  The room cleared, but my mother remained. She stared down at me with eyes that matched my own. Her chestnut hair pulled firmly back in a knot at her neck. Instead of looking matronly, my mother still appeared as young as the day she had me. Sixteen years apart, we could be sisters.

  “You must tell me everything.” Her eyes filled with concern and fear.

  “I don’t know what to tell.” She knew some of the truth. I’d been held at ransom for the land. There was a bargain made. Hades Sr. denied I could leave after he discovered I’d eaten the fruit.

  “Pomegranates?” I questioned. “You sent me pomegranates.”

  My mother looked away briefly. “He told you,” she muttered.

  “Edwin,” I whispered, as if saying the name aloud would bring forth the dead. She nodded like she understood. “Tell me all you know,” I softly commanded of her.

  “The story is too complicated to tell right now. I’m just so glad your home, safe. How did you escape?”

  “I didn’t.” He rescued me, I wanted to add. But how could I betray Hades? How could I explain him, even? I had no answers, but an empty promise.

  My mother’s puzzled face questioned me, but I had no words.

  “Did he finally accept the land?”

  She shook her head. “They denied the offer.”

  It was my turn to nod. I knew the rest of the story.

  “We’ll just need to take extra precautions with you,” she smiled weakly, stroking gently down my cheek. “Zeke handled the conditions, but Tripper is the hero.” I choked on the thought. He found me in a field; that didn’t make him my savior. My mother’s eyes gleamed with pride as she mentioned the son of a member in our farming co-op. Her look of approval worried me. My shaky hand rose to rub my forehead. The bangle bracelet dangled at my wrist.

  “That’s very interesting.” My mother’s hand reached for the charm. “We tried to remove this. “It’s rather tight, but we could cut it off, if you wish.”

  “No!” The simple word blurted out of me and I slipped my arm back under the sheet, as if it could protect the bracelet. Her eyes questioned mine. Her gaze too much, I had to look away. My lids drifted shut in hopes of finding darkness in the back of my mind.

  Hope

  [Persephone]

  A month had passed. I’d turned twenty-two without any fanfare. Spring arrived early; the heat following its arrival in full force. I wasn’t allowed anywhere alone, so Veva walked with me around the grounds. It took a few weeks to strengthen physically. Returning to my natural world seemed foreign at first. Food. Drink. Daylight. Despite the physical recovery, my mental state remained in the dark, literally. Thoughts of Hades fluttered in my head and the burden of keeping my memories tucked inside left me mentally fatigued. Quieter than my previous self, Veva and I sauntered slowly in awkward silence.

  “It’s so hot,” Veva complained, interrupting another moment of wayward thought. She lifted up her heavy chestnut hair. The world seemed too warm to me in general, yet I shivered. We continued onward, aimlessly following a dirt path carved between two green fields.

  “I wish we could swim,” she muttered.

  “Why can’t we?” I peeked to the side, over my shoulder at her.

  “Shit.” She sighed, squinting toward the end of the trail. “We aren’t allowed.”

  “Why?”

  Veva shrugged. “They said the river took you away.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  Veva stared off into the distance. “Many things are.” The cryptic tone from my lively friend surprised me.

  “What do you think?” I stopped her by placing a hand on her arm.

  “I think something scary and wonderful happened to you. Magical, maybe. And someday, you’ll tell me.” Her weak smile attempted to reassure me. I wanted to tell her. She was my best friend, more like a sister. We shared everything, and yet I didn’t want to share Hades. If it was a dream, it was my nightmare, haunting me each night without him and each day that ticked over his hollow chest. I started walking again. We climbed a small hill, walked into a copse of trees, more like overgrown bushes, and stood behind the neck high brambles. The river flowed in the distance somewhere. I stared up into a bright, steamy sky, letting my eyes drift closed, and absorb the warmth of sun on my fragile skin. The smallest hint of breeze rustled the greenery before us. A slight flittering sound rippled through the bushes.

  “What the heck?” Veva giggled, nervously. The fluttering increased as if a strong wind blew over the land, but there was no draft. The rippling noise grew louder, and the branches shook. Veva stepped back, her hand gripping me.

  “Come on, Persephone.” She tugged, but I couldn’t move. The greenness grew alive and a black cloud rose upward. I remained frozen, only vaguely hearing Veva call my name, as if we were separated by a great distance. The dark swarm floated up before shifting to surround me, the sound of hundreds of subtle wings flapping filled my ears. My eyes remained open to the wondrous sight of blue-black wings flying around me, hovering over me. I stretched out my arms and the butterflies tickled my exposed skin. The bead at my wrist leapt to life, beating excitedly at my pulse point. I closed my eyes, feeling the caress of wings coat my outstretched arms. I couldn’t help the slow-growing smile. Tender kisses covered my skin.

  “Hades,” I breathed.

  --

  Time passed and the warmth of summer raged, although the solstice hadn’t officially passed. June beat fast and the heat rose. We’d had a few changes to our co-op. Migrant workers made their way to us for the first cut of hay. I’d seen many new faces, but my mind blurred them together. I had trouble focusing. I wasn’t fully restored to eating and my farm chores remained difficult.

  “Maybe she should talk to someone? A psychologist or something?” I overheard my mother suggest one night.

  “What would she say?” Zeke replied. I was thankful he agreed. There were things my mother knew and refused to explain to me. Telling someone outside the family that I was taken to an underworld would make me sound crazy. Trying to describe how a portion of the Hades Emporium Casino and Resort existed parallel to humans seemed ludicrous. I didn’t wish to be locked up for insanity — it was better to keep my experience locked inside me.

  I grew accustomed to their hushed tones. Zeke and my mother kept a secret. I’d gathered that Hades Sr. and Zeke were somehow linked together with another man named Idon, hinting they were brothers, but I’d never heard Zeke mention Hades before, and Zeke was practically family to us. Knowing him practically all my life, Zeke led a mysterious existence I had only heard hints of, but never encountered. He had a multitude of children, too great for us to keep straight, but had no wife. I questioned where his heart laid, knowing as much as I fantasized he could be my father, his gazes upon Hera made him more likely a candidate as Veva’s father.

  I’d gathered there was a deep connection between the possible three brothers, and my mother and her two sisters: Hera and Hestia. Life-long friends, the unquestioning loyalty to one another proved deep family history and strong roots. Even my grandfather Titus and his wife Rhea had connection to Zeke.

  “I suppose you’re right,” Mother whispered back to Zeke. Zeke certainly was correct. No shrink could help me
understand where I’d been or what I’d seen. Certainly, no doctor could prescribe a cure for the ache in my heart and the pain in my side, as if I missed a part of me. That’s what ailed me. I missed Hades daily. I missed sleeping next to the coolness of his skin. I missed the tender touches he bestowed on me. I missed his kiss, which curled my toes.

  Oh Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo? I cursed Shakespeare in my head. Those young lovers died in the end. Death brought them together. Life would keep Hades and I apart. I wasn’t stupid enough to consider something foolish. I wished to live, but I selfishly wanted Hades to be here with me.

  “Perhaps it’s time to tell her the truth?” Zeke suggested and I envisioned the horror on my mother’s face without seeing it.

  “Tell her what? That she’s part of some ancient curse that repeated despite our best efforts? That her mother’s a freak and her father’s unknown? It’s too much. She’s too fragile at the moment.”

  “You aren’t giving her enough credit,” Zeke soothed. “She survived the underworld and returned to you. She’s stronger than you think.”

  Zeke’s blatant address of the underworld realm acknowledged any question of secrets. They both knew more than they shared with me. But why?

  --

  One particularly hot day, I worked in the barn, mucking out a stall for my beautiful white filly, Greece. I’d gone up into the loft to throw down more hay when I heard my grandfather below, in discussion with someone.

  “I saw the sign for help,” a voice responded, and my spine straightened. The pitchfork clattered against the loft floor before I realized I’d dropped it.

  “Well, we could always use another hand or two around here. Got any experience?” My grandfather’s rumbling voice carried up to me and I crept to the edge of the loft. From where I stood, I saw my grandfather’s back. He talked out through the open barn door. Whoever stood outside, the sunlight shone too bright and cast him in a glaring shadow.

  “Not much, truthfully. But I promise to work hard. I’m a fast learner and I’m strong.” That voice, it called to me, and I climbed down the ladder of the loft, forgetting Greece and the hay. I stood toward the back of the barn.

  “Come into the shade and let me get a better look at ya,” Grandfather drawled. He rested a hand on the open door frame, addressing his interviewee. The hidden man stepped up to the edge of the dark opening and stopped. I’d already taken steps forward and saw his booted toes edged the dividing line between bright sunlight and shaded barn.

  “Well?” Grandfather’s tone turned frustrated as the man paused. I’d crossed several more feet toward the entrance.

  “This is far enough,” the smooth voice countered, implying a teasing distrust to enter a closed space. My hand rose to shield my eyes in hopes of getting a better view.

  “What’s your name, son?”

  “Hades,” I breathed, seeing the outline of a man dressed all in black. Black, shaggy hair to his neck, dark jeans, a black tee and heavy boots. A tattoo ran up his arm. A flock of butterflies shifting into fireflies.

  “Name’s Harris. Harris Black, sir.”

  I stopped. Had I been wrong? Of course, I had to be. Hades could not stand out in the sunlight. His body could not withstand the heat. He’d told me once his cousin Solis was the opposite of him. Solis loved the bright light and warm air. Hades lived confined to darkness and cool caverns.

  I closed the final gap between my grandfather and me, and stood directly behind him, staring as the firm hand of Harris shook with Titus Fields. My grandfather’s arm tensed and he instantly dropped the outstretched connection.

  “Do I know you?” Grandfather asked, cautiously.

  “We’ve never met, sir. But I’ve met Mrs. Fields, your wife, before. She was a beautifully kind woman.” The mention of my nana melted my heart, and I blinked back the moisture in my eyes. A nod from my grandfather indicated this stranger’s words pleased him.

  “You can start tomorrow. There’s an extra bunk in the caboose.” He tipped his head in the direction of an old train car on the property we used to house single male workers. Spinning, my grandfather’s weathered face flinched when he saw me.

  “By gods, honey. It’s like you’re a ghost lately. This here is Harris Black.” He pointed over his shoulder then turned back to our new farm hand.

  “Meet my granddaughter, Persephone Fields. She can show you the way.”

  The uncanny similarity to Hades shook the ground I hustled across as I led our newest field hand toward the caboose.

  “Who are you?” I hissed, rounding on him once we cornered the house and stood out of sight from the barn. He slammed into me with my abrupt halt. Stepping back with hands raised in surrender, his eyes shifted rapidly left and right. Startled at the harshness of my tone, his lip curled slowly on one side.

  “I told you. Harris Black.”

  My eyes narrowed. There was something untrustworthy in this response. The twitch of his lip. The color of his eyes. But it was the shade of his skin that kept me questioning my imagination. He was no longer blue, but a deep fleshy color, with a hint of brown, as if he’d been exposed to the sun. His teasing tone told me I was a fool for thinking this man could possibly be Hades, reincarnated as a human male. I crossed my arms and scowled at him.

  “Do you know me?” My hand shook, threatening to slap over my own mouth. I sounded ridiculous. How could this stranger recognize me? Yet the knowledge that we knew one another vibrated between us. My heart galloped with the need to touch him, feel his skin, and trace his lips.

  His eyebrow arched. “Should I?” He teased again, his lip slowly curling deeper. I stared in wonder and then blinked. Was that a hint of a scar across those lips? My mind had to be projecting my desire. As my stare lingered, he licked his lips, pinking them, and my breath hitched. I wanted this Harris Black to be Hades with every fiber of my being. I wanted to lunge for him, in both exasperation and desperation.

  “You remind me of someone. A friend.” I let the suggestion fall between us.

  He blinked in surprise and the smile grew. “Always the friends,” he muttered. I stood straighter.

  “What did you say?”

  “I said, I’d never forget you if we had been friends.” He winked playfully at me, and somehow I questioned further my sanity. Hades was never teasing like this man. Harris Black was practically giddy.

  “Don’t do this,” I whispered.

  “Do what?” he said through smiling, clenched teeth. His teasing turned serious, his tone holding a sharp edge. Was my imagination getting the best of me? Was I personifying my hope into this stranger? I stepped toward him. He stepped back. His blue eyes opened wide in fear then snapped shut momentarily. He turned toward the distance; his eyes slits as he avoided me.

  “Don’t flirt with me,” I snapped, anger rising, as realization surfaced. Hades standing in front of me couldn’t be any more real than my living underground for months, and yet I longed for that reality.

  “I wasn’t.” His eyes scanned the field. “But I think I might like to.” Temptation raked my body and struck a flame suppressed since my return. Desire washed over me and I shuddered, but uncertainty reared its head again.

  “I don’t sleep with the help.”

  “I didn’t mention sleep.” His mouth widened and the white of a scar highlighted his lip. Licking them quickly, the image disappeared, but I reached for his face, wanting to see the side of his cheek. He leaned away from my touch. His eyes caught sight of my bracelet, and then flicked back to mine.

  “This is interesting. Did a friend give it to you?” His tone bit. Could it be him? Was he upset at the term? Did he want me to call our relationship something more? My confidence waned and I no longer had the strength to confront this man. He looked like Hades in so many ways, but he couldn’t be. Hades couldn’t come into the sun, and he wouldn’t have returned for me. If Hades loved me, he wouldn’t have left me alone in the dirt. My hope faded to discomfort as I recalled the painful sensation of
abandonment in the days following my return. The sleepless nights. The haunting dreams. The hunger for him. My shoulders sagged. My eyes drifted to his finger narrowly missing my wrist as it poked at my bracelet. He touched the purple-black stone-shaped butterfly and my breath caught in anticipation. A response. Anything. But nothing happened.

  “That’s an interesting tattoo you have.” My lips twisted as my eyes roamed up his arm, noting the shift in ink from butterflies to fireflies.

  “I like fireflies.” He shrugged noncommittally. His eyes avoided mine.

  “Why are you here?” I snapped, emitting my irritation at the lost hope of this stranger being someone he was not.

  “Like I said, I want to learn.”

  His finger lowered without touching my skin. We stood close enough to the caboose; he could make his way from here. Tears welled with my disappointment, and I needed to step away before I made a greater fool of myself. Pointing in the direction of the caboose, I flicked my wrist.

  “There’s bedding and pillows on the empty bed. If you’re a quick study, you can figure out which one is the available one.”

  He harrumphed. “Not what I expected my first lesson to be,” he muttered as he spun away from me.

  “What did you say?” I stood straighter, letting my fists clutch at my sides.

  “Nothing,” he spat over his shoulder, and walked toward the old, repurposed train car. As I watched him stalk away, my wrist tickled with the tender brush of winged kisses and the butterfly charm flitted to life.

  Curses

  [Persephone]

  “He certainly is cute,” Veva murmured, admiring our newest farm hand from afar. She sucked hard on the straw sticking out of her lemonade. “He’s as cool as this glass of sweetness.” Her teasing tone ticked me off.

  “Stop ogling the help,” I burst before slapping my lips around my own straw and sucking deep the refreshing drink. Pure bliss was my mother’s homemade lemonade on such a hot day. Pure seduction was the man with a sweaty T-shirt, working at hoisting bales of hay. The flex of his arm forced those butterflies on his forearm to flutter and flap toward the unobtainable fireflies gracing his bicep, flying and floating in their own right with each pump of his arm.