Chapter 2. Thief
I inhale and hold it while the cold, night air surrounds me like a familiar blanket. After I exhale, the sides of my mouth rise in satisfaction and triumph.
My first breath of freedom is delicious. Just as I imagined it might be. I feel more alive than I have in a millennia.
Leaving the underworld has been on my deceitful mind forever and a day. For the past thousand years or so, actually committing the action has proven to be more difficult than it sounds. It's a bit akin to what humans might view as a caged bird. They aren't exactly happy with their circumstances but given the chance to fly, they rarely take flight.
Tonight, I flew.
And once I made the painstaking decision to indeed leave, everything else seemed quite easy.
Arranging for a replacement, check.
Walking past the idiotic rivermen to exit my domain unaccounted for, Check.
Deciding what I want to do first and foremost, pretty much check.
Perhaps spending an eternity in the dark has groomed me to gravitate to a similar environment upon my arrival above ground. The difference? The bodies here are full of life and they seem quite happy.
I've ended up outside of a plain, three-story tall, brick building. Bright, colorful lights flash through the windows and loud music pulses from the inside. From where I stand, I can hear screams of delight from the people inside and it makes me impatient to enter and see what has them so energized.
I hesitate to go in just yet. Being shunned and stereotyped practically my whole life has me wondering if there will be a lull in the celebrations once the humans see who's joined them.
I close my eyes and attempt to decide what my next steps should be.
Just a few minutes into my contemplation. an interruption of the serendipitous kind emerges.
"Long night?" a low, even voice somewhere behind me asks. My senses are on alert immediately and I'm curious as to why a man, alone, in the middle of the night, in this neighborhood, would choose to attempt casual conversation with the likes of me.
I open my eyes to see a tall, clean cut, well dressed man closing the door to an overtly expensive vehicle. He pulls a cigarette out from the pack in his jacket pocket and lights it, then offers one to me.
"No, thanks," I reply cautiously as I size him up.
At first glance, he looks like he fits right in, here. Upon a closer look, you can see that even with his fine clothing and gelled hair, he's trying too hard. Not like someone who's out to relax and have a few drinks. He's a little too stiff for that as he pulls at his cuffs nervously and appears to be reminding himself to blink.
Why should he care so much?
Who is he trying to impress, specifically?
His physique tells me he takes care of himself, cancer inducing habits aside. And his car tells me he's made of money.
Plenty of money.
These things are naturally impressive to most people.
"Are you lost?" I ask out of sheer habit. I've inquired the same of millions of souls who end up in my world, not understanding why they're there until I ask them that one simple question.
It's almost as though he knows this when he smiles a crooked smile at me and shakes his head. "This is my bar," he answers arrogantly, giving a small nod to the building we're standing in front of. "One of them, anyway."
A cool, smooth, almost evil charm emits from him. I can't quite put my finger on what it is that's off about him. And then I realize who he is and why he's here. Surprisingly, he seems to be struggling with the decision he has to make tonight.
My interest is piqued, and an idea of some sort is beginning to form.
"You have many of these establishments?" I make small talk as I debate my options.
"Enough," he answers with a huff of a slight laugh, amused with himself.
I shouldn't care what he does with any of the humans on this earth; all it means for me is more souls to take care of in the underworld. Including his, some day. However, once you cross the threshold of millions upon millions, it's really all the same.
He may be providing me an opportunity of convenience here, though. "Are you here to observe, or engage?" It's a tad straightforward, but I need more information. Just to make sure.
Perhaps I'm wrong about him.
"I hear there are some interesting patrons this evening," he tells me. And I know his meaning, despite his attempt to disguise it. Perhaps he senses who I am as well and feels he can confide in me.
I'm not a confidant, however. I'm a competitor.
When he practically licks his lips while measuring the building before us, I know the answer to my previous question.
For a moment, I wonder who his man (or woman) servant is inside, giving him the heads-up about the interesting ones. And what is the makeup of such a human?
"All this way for one patron?" Even though he purposefully used the word patrons, something about the way he says it - I understand he's here for a specific individual. "Surely they aren't worth the effort you've put in this evening."
He doesn't flinch at the fact that I've insinuated the singularity of his intentions. He knows, I know, we're moving past that already.
"She's worth it," he insists, unthinkingly, before taking a long, thoughtful intake of air, then letting it out slowly.
"You're set in your decision, then?" He plans not only to engage, but destroy something or someone. It causes an unrest inside of me that's unexpected, that he would put an end to the very things I've come here to observe and appreciate.
Does he not know what he deprives them of?
Does he even care?
No. He doesn't.
He also doesn't have to answer me at this point, but he does. "I haven't had a good… experience, in a few weeks."
He's chosen his words wisely.
Not wisely enough.
My decision about what to do regarding my own situation is an easy one tonight, after all. And there's no need to put off the inevitable.
"You'll be waiting a while longer, I'm afraid," I tell him matter-of-factly. Before he can question what I mean, with an indiscreet snap of my fingers, he's gone.
Don't worry. He's not dead.
Not really, anyway. That would be cheating. I don't cheat.
He's just… somewhere in between. Indefinitely.
In his abrupt departure, by design, the keys to his car have fallen to the ground, and I happily pick them up. I push a button to unlock the sleek, black 2-door BMW 428i then slide into the driver's seat, taking a moment to fully appreciate the comfort of this man's taste.
"Nice."
I look around a bit then pull open the middle compartment to find his wallet. I open it up to see whose persona I will be taking for a while.
I read the name with disdain.
"Edward Cullen."
Then I shrug, it's as good a name as any, I suppose. I slip the wallet into my pocket and lock his car up again before heading into the bar I apparently own to see what sort of fun awaits me.
"Nice to meet you, Edward," I say to the night air. "I'm Hades."
PSA: Thanks for reading (if you're still here). Thanks Sue, thanks Chrisann. Thank you, Ellipses god. Need some music for this guy? Try Seven Nation Army by The White Stripes for this chapter (maybe The Sounds of Silence by Disturbed for the last one).