Asphodel (10 page)

“None of that matters,” Hades says, changing the subject. “You’re not going anywhere.”

At the moment, I don’t feel like standing here bantering with the God of Dread. Yes, as Marisol once put it, the God of Dread. When I saw him in the field in my dream in the field he looked alive. With color in his cheeks and a sparkle in his blue-green eyes. Examining him now, his skin looks ashy and pale, like the sun hasn’t kissed his it in centuries. His hair is a dull shade of black licorice. But his eyes, they were the only thing that set him apart from looking dead all together. They were exquisite. Like sapphires and emeralds melted together.

As I peer into them, I feel like I’m looking through them. Like he’s translucent. An apparition. A spirit. I can see all of him. And there is a spark in his eyes. I can’t decide what kind of spark it is exactly, but there is a spark and that small spark gives me hope. Hope that maybe he isn’t the cold, despicable, and mysterious God he seems to be. Maybe he is capable of feeling. Capable of expressing emotion.

I inch closer, standing before him. Even though he towers over me in height, and his shadow covers my entire body, I’m determined to show no fear. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll take me back right now. You don’t want to piss off Zeus, do you?”

Hades scoffs, “I’m not afraid of Zeus.” He backs away from me and leans against the fireplace, staring into the whirling flames. “And if you thought that I would be, well, then you’re an idiot.”

My jaw drops. “How dare you?” I sneer at him and huff, “You might not be afraid of him now, but if you don’t return me you will regret saying what you just said.”

He shrugs and lets out an icy laugh. “I will never fear Zeus.  And in case your parents didn’t mention this; he’s the one who promised you to me in the first place.”

“He changed his mind,” I growl.

Hades stares at me. “I have no respect for God’s who go back on their word.”

None of my reverse psychology is working. I was hoping that maybe I could borrow a play from his book and use Zeus’s wrath in attempt to get him to return me, but it backfired. So I try a different approach. “Do you have children?”

He shifts his gaze to the floor and it softens. “No.” Then his gaze hardens as he looks back up at me. “What does that have to do with any of this?”

“If you don’t have children of your own then I’m sure you have no idea what it’s like for a parent when their child goes missing.”

“But you’re not missing. Your parents know exactly where you are.”

“That’s not the point!”

He circles me, staring, like he’s the madman and I’m his experiment gone awry. “Then what is the point, Persephone?” I try to come up with an answer, but as soon as I open my mouth to speak he cuts me off. “There’s no point in discussing this any further. You were meant to be mine. End of story.”

This is enrages me. I am not a prize a person covets. “I don’t belong to anybody! I belong to myself!”

Hades gives me an icy glare, and then walks out the door. I stand in my spot for a moment when it occurs to me that maybe I should be following him. Dashing out of the room, he’s so far in front of me he looks like a spec of black dust.

“Where are you going?” I shout after him.

“I’m showing you to your room!”

Sprinting, I close the distance between us. When I finally catch up to him, the rubber soles on my shoes slide against the black marble and I smack right into his back. Hades stumbles forward, catches his balance, then faces me with ferocity in his eyes and a sneer on his face. “Watch where you’re going,” he growls.

His hostile attitude hits a nerve and tears brim in my eyes. My chin quivers and I place my hand over my mouth to keep the hysterical cry stuck in my throat from spilling out. Finality hits me. I may never see my mom again. I might never feel the warm sun against my skin overheating every part of my body. I’m doomed—cursed to an eternity of the musty scent of fermented things and rotting mildew. I’ll live out my eternal life in a world filled with death and despair. I can’t. I can’t do it. So I hit my knees and exhaust my last option. “Hades, please,” I beg. “Please take me back.” An agonizing swirl of pain pumps through my heart and as I close my eyes tears spill down my cheeks. “Please,” I sob. “I’ll do anything you ask. Just take me back!”

Honestly, I don’t expect him to be sympathetic to my pleading, but I do expect him to show some sort of compassion at the sight of my tears and how much pain I’m in. He shows none. I wrap my arms around his leg, and shake uncontrollably, crying harder than I ever have before.

Hades steps forward, walking through an open doorway with me still clinging to his leg. “This is your room,” he says flatly. The he lifts his leg giving it a forceful shimmy and I release it, curling up onto the floor. I’m hysterical. I scream. Wail. Howl out and pound my fist into the cold, black marble floor.

Then it occurs to me that I’m acting like a child. Only toddlers threw temper tantrums like this and as I lift my head, I notice that Hades is gone and the door to my room is closed. Where did he go? Why did he leave me in here?

I jump up quickly, sucking back my tears, and run to the door. I twist the knob several times. “Son of a—!” He locked me in. I’m a prisoner. His prisoner. Slamming my fists into the thick wood, I shriek, “Hades! Let me out!” I resort to kicking the door. “You hear me! Let me out!”

After pounding on the door for ten minutes straight and wasting half of my energy in the process, I slide down against the back of the door and wipe away the remaining wetness that lingers on my cheeks. I’m no longer angry. I am hurt. I’ve never met someone like Hades. I’ve never met someone so…cold. This bothers me. If I saw a person begging and pleading and hysterical, seeing them like that would snap the strings to my heart. I don’t think Hades has a heart. I think his organ is surrounded by a layer of ice. An extremely thick layer of ice.

Lifting my head, I take inventory in the contents of my prison. Standing up, my eyes drift around the extravagant room. The flooring is black marble of course as is most of the flooring in the underground palace, but the walls are a deep shade of violet. A chandelier, similar to the one from the dining hall hangs in the center of the ceiling and the crystals shimmer in the dim lighting. And the bed is more elaborate and expansive than any bed I’ve ever seen. With a black marble frame, a king sized mattress and sheer lavender and violet linens hanging off the canopy as curtains.

My eyes shift to the left side of the room and I stroll over to a vanity. Touching the velvet cushioned bench, I gaze at the assortments of bath oils, lotions, perfumes, and make-up organized neatly on top of the vanity table.

Mom believes in living modestly, another part of the blending process. “Think about it, Persephone,” she’d said. “If we drive into a new town with flashy, expensive cars, move into the biggest house, and dress up in the latest fashion trends the first thing the mortals will do is start asking questions. Who are they? What do they do? Where did they come from? How did they get all that money?”

Mom had a point. When we moved to Klamath Falls, we rolled up in a station wagon from the 1970’s, with our belongings tied to the roof. Wearing clothes from Target and no one asked any questions. To them we were just another ordinary family in a new place.

Because of my modest upbringing, the elaborate decorations in my room leave me awe-struck, spinning in a circle, taking everything in several times.

Walking over to the bed, I fall backwards onto the mattress that could sleep at least five people and roll over. I’m drained and exhausted. More than anything I’m depressed. “Damn you, Hades,” I mumble, letting out a yawn. Then I make a mental note. I can’t lie here and curse myself and Hades and keep on pouting about being here like a child. I won’t accomplish anything by doing that. I should be doing something about my entrapment, like trying to come up with a plan. I should be trying to figure out a way to get out of here on my own.

Tomorrow is a new day. Tomorrow, first thing, I am going to get out of this hell-hole. With that in mind, I drift off to sleep. Maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow and realize that everything that happened today was a nightmare. Maybe tomorrow, I’ll wake up in my own house and in my own bed. Somehow…I doubt it.

Demeter

T
hose who are not parents could never fully understand how much a parent loves their child. They wouldn’t understand the bond. Demeter knew that bond, she knew it well. But that bond seemed distant now, that bond seemed like it was about to disappear.

Demeter was certain that she was going crazy. Persephone had only been gone for hours, but to her it felt like days. For the longest time, after Hades had pulled her under, Demeter walked in a circle through her backyard calling out her child’s name. The Goddess convinced herself that she’d just imagined everything that went down. She’d convinced herself that Persephone had just wandered off. Maybe her child was just frolicking in the meadow behind their house. Maybe she was deep in the forest searching for wildflowers.

Even though Demeter knew neither one of those scenarios were real, she kept pretending they were because she knew that was the only she’d push through. Otherwise, she’d be an emotional zombie for decades. Maybe even centuries. She could not face the fact that the God of Death had taken her child and she might never be coming back.

Unable to sleep, Demeter strolled along the sidewalk in her neighborhood, calling out her child’s name. “Persephone! Persephone!” She couldn’t understand why she was doing this. She knew where Persephone was, but in the back of her mind she still hoped—no—prayed that maybe everything that just happened was an illusion.

Demeter stopped in front of her driveway and stared painfully at her house. A vision of Persephone popped into her head and a faint smile curled on her lips. Persephone was walking down the driveway on her way to school and she was standing the doorway waving goodbye to her. During that moment, as she reminisced of that fond memory, it took everything inside of Demeter to stay standing and not collapse on the pavement.

She heard a voice behind her. “Mrs. Jones?” The voice belonged to the neighbor boy, Adonis. The one Persephone walked to school with every morning.

At first Demeter said nothing to the boy. She was in a trance-like state, staring blankly at the smooth concrete on the sidewalk in front of her. Then she took notice in him, staring at his perfect features and she could have sworn that she knew him from somewhere. She could have sworn that she’d seen him before. She shrugged off the thought. She was blinded by grief and her mind was playing tricks on her.

But the boy didn’t just leave when she didn’t answer him. “Mrs. Jones, are you okay?” Still, Demeter remained silent. The boy walked around in front of her. “Is Persephone ready?” he probed. “We’re supposed to walk to school together.”

She blanched at hearing the sound of her daughter’s name. And the only words she could manage were, “Uh uh. No.”

Adonis scrunched his eyebrows together. “Is she sick?”

“Yes,” Demeter lied. It wasn’t that she planned on being dishonest. It was that she was overwhelmed with grief and the boy kept on reminding her of Persephone and how she might never see her again.

“Oh,” Adonis said. “Well, tell her I hope she feels better.”

“I will.” The she turned to walk up her driveway.

Back in the kitchen, Demeter sat at the kitchen table and laid her head flat against the wood. She wasn’t physically capable of doing anything. She could not eat. She could not sleep. She didn’t even think she was capable of using the restroom if she had to.

More than anything she blamed herself for Persephone’s disappearance. Why hadn’t she been able to see past Hades trick? In the past she had always been able to see past his tricks, why not now? All of a sudden a loud bang echoed from the front door, but Demeter remained in her chair with her head down. She didn’t feel like seeing anyone else today.

Seconds later loud heavy footsteps paraded down the hallway and a presence lingered in the doorway. “Demeter,” Zeus said. “I came as soon as you called.

She had completely forgotten about calling Zeus.

“He took her,” she whispered.

Zeus inched closer and Demeter lifted her head slowly. Tears brimmed in her eyes and Zeus took her head in his hands. “Don’t worry,” he said thoughtfully. “I’ve set a plan in motion. We are going to get her back. We
will
get her back.”

Persephone

I
’m not dreaming. The sad reality sets in when I wake up hours later in the same bed I had fallen asleep in. But, during my slumber a dream did come to me. And in that dream was a message. A message that showed me how to escape.

I remembered talking with mom about Charon, the ferryman. The minion of Hades who ferried the souls of the dead across the Styx from the land of the living. Aside from Hades, he is the only other immortal who can cross both realms. He could take me back. I haven’t eaten anything since I’ve been here, so there’s nothing to bind me to this world. A grin sweeps across my lips. Maybe today is going to be a good day after all.

Much to my surprise, Hades must have decided that while I slept I was worthy of having my door unlocked. This is a blessing, well; a blessing to me, but it will be a disaster for Hades. I wonder what he’ll do when he discovers that I’m gone. Flinging the door open, I glance down the hall warily. It’s abandoned and the silence fills my ears. Turning, I close the door to my room quietly, and then creep out into the hall. The rubber on my tennis shoes squeaks against the marble flooring. I wince glancing over my shoulder. I’m making too much noise. So I remove my shoes, tuck them under my armpit and continue walking.

Once I reach the end of the hall, I stop in front an open door. Peaking inside, the room appears to be some kind of control room with glowing buttons, gleaming chrome, and televisions everywhere. Spread across, below the wall of televisions, is a massive keyboard with various buttons and gadgets.