Author's note:
Yo. I think I'm gonna aim for ~2500 + words per chapter, once a week from here out. Some people have favorited, followed, and reviewed this story. That's pretty rad for the first chapter of my first story—thanks folks.
Does anyone know how to get a beta reader? Lemmie know in the reviews. Thanks babes 3
On that note, let me know if you see any glaring errors, problems, formatting issues—Hell, lemmie know if you just wanna chat. Cool. See you on the other side.
-O.K.
Two
Bella dreamed of cotton trees and mountain streams, which makes for a fantastic setting when you've seen neither in person.
She wasn't entirely sure what cotton trees actually looked like, or whether cotton even grew on trees. She wanted to think they were puffy sticks spurting out into the sky like smoke stacks, releasing clouds as the winds blew through their puffy tops. A gem blue stream would circle around like a topaz snake, circling the thin roots.
Then the wind blew too hard, blasting a cloud right into her mouth and suddenly the entirety of her bones were too dry, and each time she reached for the water the tide pulled away from her hands. Fruit dropped from the branches, but rolled away as she reached for it.
She got frustrated, screaming at the water as it slipped back, but she chocked on her own dry breath before she managed to make a sound.
"Bella,"
She shook her head, the trees tilted in the wind.
"Bella."
She awoke.
She took a minute to gather herself, squeezing her eyes tightly as she licked her cracked lips.
Was she still dreaming? It felt like it. She was cushioned in possibly the most comfortable bed she'd ever laid on—not that she had much to compare to.
"Oh man," She moaned, stretching out her sore arms above her head and popping her shoulders. She felt like a child, making snow angels under these glorious fluffy blankets. Something, somewhere, told her she should probably open her eyes and take a look around. She told it to shut up.
"Fuck logic," She grumbled, "Five more minutes."
As she rolled over and tucked her fist full of blanket under her chin, something in the distance made a sound reminiscent of a low laugh.
This time, all she dreamed of was Alice. Screaming.
She jerked up hard enough to yank painfully on her lower back, one hand tightly gripping her own throat as she wildly looked around. Someone was still screaming—Alice. Where was she? She reached wildly on the wall behind her, palming for a light switch, anything to show the source of the screaming—before she realized it had stopped.
Oh. She had been the one screaming. Well then.
Where was she? Bella looked around, but the room was too dark to make anything out beyond the foot of the large bed. Was this a hospital? She'd been in one just once before with Alice following the fire accident, but the beds hadn't been this large.
Oh shit.
"Hello?!" She yelled, struggling to swing her legs out of the low set bed, "Hello? Anyone?"
If this was a hospital, the staff was useless.
"Well, this isn't creepy." She muttered, finally maneuvering out of the bed and taking a step forward—one hand sliding along the wall as a guide.
"Alice? Hello?"
This room was huge. The wall felt cold, almost wet—was that stone? Where the hell was she? She hadn't run into anything so far by sticking close to it, but half of her expected a bat to pop out of a crevice somewhere.
She remembered the drugs. The men. She winced—the guy at the store. Jasper. She'd fallen after running from there, her palms were still scraped from both tumbles. Then… Snow. Oh god, she'd fallen asleep in the snow. She'd laid down, even stripped off her boots, in below zero weather. She'd read about hypothermia, she always thought she'd be smarter than that, aware enough to remember not to fall asleep. One time she'd found an article online about Mount Everest and the bodies left there to be used as landmarks. Green Boots, that was the name that stuck out; just some poor idiot laying in the snow. It'd given her nightmares for days, now she was part of that nightmare.
"Good evening. It's a pleasure to see you awake."
She froze.
All at once, the lights flicked on. A sophisticated, open-floored apartment developed around her. Greyed wood flooring, deep earthy toned wooden chests with glass panels held different artifacts ranging from African looking masks to cracked leather books. A stone fireplace held glowing coals on the other side of the room, beside a small breakfast nook that sat beside the separation wall between the living space and the small kitchen. A leather couch and two leather chairs sat in front of the fireplace, aged and tanned.
It could have passed for an old, rich estate room, if it weren't for the fact the walls— dark, glossy cave walls that reached up into a tall dome over her head, dripping glassy green stalactites.
"I'm dead." She decided aloud.
"Not entirely." Came the voice again. Behind her. She whipped around and gasped, grabbing her shirt and swearing loudly out of reflex. It was like watching a monster slip out from under the bed.
"I apologize. I did not mean to frighten you." He said smoothly.
She backed away, arms crossed and hands gripping her hips, "Yeah, good job."
He looked familiar, the crazed mass of auburn hair and defined jaw leading up to dark, distinct eyes. Like looking into the darkness, thick and deep with the entirety of everything.
That same expectant, searching look appraised her as she stared at him. Volcanic.
"You," she said slowly, "You found me. In the snow. Oh my god, am I seriously dead?"
She had decided on it, but the prospect of having it actually validated was something else entirely. Oh god, what was Alice going to do? She was going to be crushed by this—and James, she would be alone with James. She still had the drugs on her body—wait, had anyone found her body? Was she just going to be left there until spring, a Bella-sicle? No-Boots?
"Please, Bella, calm down. You are not deceased."
She looked back up at the man, who really couldn't have been much older than herself. He looked like he was in his mid-twenties, dressed in a blue button-down and slacks. He spoke like he was from the feudal era, however.
Cool. She wasn't dead. She was just in a fancy cave with quite possibly the most stiff, polite human being ever. Right.
"Please, sit down. You're looking pale." He gestured to the chair, moving to take her elbow.
She stepped away, "Of course I look pale, I just froze to death."
"Bella," He was a bit exasperated now, "As I just informed you, you are not deceased. Please, I have some food I can bring out, I will explain all as you eat."
She reluctantly sat down on the leather chair, keeping to the edge. She felt too dirty to be sitting on what looked like a really expensive piece of furniture. It almost seemed fantastical, someone spending so much on something to sit on.
He disappeared and reappeared disturbingly fast from the kitchen. Bella was feeling a bit frantic, though, so it didn't really bother her as much as it probably should have. She was definitely dead, or in limbo—whatever. Something. Hell, he could sprout wings and she probably wouldn't care at this point.
"Scrambled eggs." He said, passing the plate to her.
"Did you lay them yourself?" She asked.
"Excuse me?"
"Nothing." She balanced the plate on her lap. She hadn't realized how hungry she was. She couldn't help but shovel the bits into her mouth. She was half tempted to ditch the fork he'd given her and just go face-first, but death was no excuse for poor manners. That's what Alice would have said, at least.
"You were, indeed, freezing." He said, seating himself on the chair across from her. Bella reflexively reached her opposite around to shield her plate. He frowned.
"I found you in the street, as is my job. However, it is not your time to die." He paused, and she glanced up at him.
"What?" She grumbled around a mouthful of eggs.
He took a deep breath and rubbed his face, before leaning forward.
"Isabella, do you know who you are? Truly?"
She leaned back, what kind of question was that? "Am I dead or not?"
"Isabella," He said slowly, "You can't die."
"Well that's interesting seeing as I'm dead."
"You. Aren't. Dead." He said flatly, running a hand through his hair. It reminded her of the boy at the store.
"Okay. Who are you?" She finally had the presence of mind to ask a real question.
"I am known by many names."
"What a fantastic answer. Pick one." She said flatly. Who was this guy? The Prince of Wales? Fear and exhaustion was making her brave, and she was still mostly convinced this wasn't real.
He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. Her eyes flicked up to the curve of his collarbone under his shirt for a moment, muscles peeking out around it.
"Did you hear many stories as a child?"
"You're not very good at diversions."
"You are very stubborn." He replied shortly, "Please, just answer my inquiry."
"Your inquiry?" she snorted, "Yes. My sister read to me."
"You know the mythology of the Greeks?"
"Uhh, sure." She remembered back to some book she had read about a demigod, hadn't a movie come out about it at some point?
"I am Hades. Lord of the dead."
Oh.
Suddenly everything made sense.
She stood, setting the plate down on the chair and carefully edged towards the wall.
"Bella?" He stood up as well.
"Hold up man, it's cool- I believe you. I'm not dead. You're Hades. It's cool." You're just batshit insane, but no worries man. I'll just be on my way.
She smiled, or tried to, "Um, listen, thank you… Hades, for finding me and all, but my sister is probably looking for me so I'll just head out…" She saw the door now, to her left beyond him and the fireplace. She inched for it, desperately wishing she knew where he'd put her jacket and, consequently, her letter opener. But she'd awoken without it, and had to do this the weird way. She could feel the fear sneaking up into her gut a bit—she wasn't good at getting out of these situations. She never had been.
"Bella—" He moved towards her, and she dodged, running towards the door and gripping the large steel handle with both hands.
"Wait!"
He grabbed for her, but it was too late. She swung the door open and took two steps outside before freezing.
A cool, pleasant breeze brushed her hair. Waves of nearly translucent, golden grass shimmered and waved in front of her, each blade at least as high as her waist. They dipped and rose, pulling back and forth as one entity for as far as she could see, responding to the tides of some invisible moon. Above her, the sky was closer to looking into an LED light, blindingly bright and white.
A large, burly black furry head with a long drooling tongue and folded skin surrounding a massive, toothy mouth rose from the sea of flicking grass. Something like a Rottweiler mixed with a hound, its red eyes trained on her. She was frozen in her spot. Its tongue lolled out lazily, before it reared forward and let out one loud, resounding woof.
Then another head rose from the grass.
And another.
Three identical heads, rising from the field like a beast from the deep, all attached to the same, massive seven-or-so foot tall body that rippled with cord-like muscle. One long, slick tall whipped back and forth behind it, as thick as a tree trunk.
It started to pound forward toward her, lifting one massive paw and slamming it down on the grass. She broke out of her frozen state and screamed, wheeling back and running back inside, slamming the door shut behind her and dodging across the room into the kitchen, falling onto her butt and backing into the corner. The heavy oak door shock with the force of the beast knocking into it, whining loudly.
"Wha, what kind of, what was that?!" She heaved, gasping for breath.
Hades, or whatever he was, appeared in the room, kneeling in front of her.
"I told you to wait," He said, "The beast means no harm."
She laughed, aghast.
"Truly." He promised, black eyes peaked from behind a film of reddish fringe; "Please, will you listen now?"
"I just saw a three-headed werebeast," She laughed again, feeling a bit insane, "Oh god, yeah, yeah I'll listen." Suddenly, he didn't seem so crazy any more.
They moved to the breakfast nook. She held a mug between both hands, still trembling slightly. Hades had cracked the door open just enough to shout a command, which stopped the slobbery hell-demon from trying to break in and chill out. He'd poured them both tea, which struck her as so freakishly mundane considering the situation, and sat her down in the nook to calm for a bit.
"I am Hades." He said firmly.
"Yeah. I know."
"You believe?"
"I have to. Either all of this is real, or none of it." She believed him within the context of the situation, she just hadn't decided whether or not the context was real. It was a logistical loophole that allowed her to not fall into a psychological break. Maybe she was just stuck in a horror movie. Is that where people really went when they died?
"This is the underworld, so to say."
"Fantastic. Continue." She took a sip of her tea, her shaking hands betraying her.
He licked his lips, which she found strangely distracting, and suddenly his cold demeanor snapped- just for a second.
"Do you really remember nothing?" He asked, voice low.
"I don't know what you want me to remember." She watched him over her tea.
He frowned. "No. I suppose you don't."
"Listen, um," She rubbed her thumb against the rim of her mug, "Is there… Is there any way I can, I don't know, send a letter to my sister? Or… call her? I just want to let her know I'm not… Dead. I think."
"You wish to see her?"
She stared, hard. "Yeah, why wouldn't I?"
He frowned, but nodded.
"We may see her soon."
"Okay… Soon as in?.."
"When you have recovered."
She frowned, "I feel fine, though. Really, I just want to see her."
"Please," his eyes turned pleading, "Please, let me care for you."
The depths of his eyes reached out and wrapped her in their cool, comforting darkness. They blocked the rest of the apartment from her view, blotting it out as she tried to remember why this feeling was so familiar.
His eyes were lonely. She recognized the feeling.
"Of course," she whispered, "Of course." Because she was tired, she was scared, and his eyes felt more real than anything else she had seen in the past hour, and for some reason she found herself missing something she'd never seen before.
He let out a deep breath, leaning back and composing himself back into the cool mask; "Would you like me to continue? Or would you like to return to bed?"
"I… I don't know." She whispered.
"Let me take you to bed—" He began to rise and she reached out.
"Wait, no, I want to hear the rest. Please." Her palm was up, pleading. She didn't want to sleep here, not without hearing everything.
He slowly sank down, eyeing her carefully.
"This is the underworld." She prompted, "Does that mean there's a heaven, too?"
"In a sense." He confirmed.
"How vague."
His lip twitched.
"So why am I not dead, then?" She almost hesitated. She didn't want to make him change his mind on the off chance this was all legit.
"Bella…" He hesitated now, "Bella… May I hold your hand?"
"What?" She pulled her arms into her lap.
"I," He ran a hand through his hair, tugging on the strands, "Isabella—"
"Bella." She corrected shortly.
"Bella." He nodded, "We… knew each other. A long, very long time ago. I will tell you everything, but it has been a very, very long time. I'm aware you don't remember, but for me, to have you so close again after so long… I just wish to hold your hand. Just for a moment."
The look was back. The focused, intently searching look that pleaded with her own gaze.
She hated touch. She hated anyone but Alice coming into her space, circling their arms around her, restraining her.
Yet, her hand reached across the table, inching slowly against the glossy marble top.
He, to his benefit, showed fantastic restraint, and waited until her arm was fully extended before he gently, slowly, extended his own hand to meet hers.
Feather light but rock steady. That was his own calloused hand as it engulfed her tiny one, wrapping hers up so slowly as if he feared it would shatter, or she would pull it away.
But she didn't. She met his gaze, confused and conflicted meeting his unreadable deep.
"Thank you." He whispered, gruff voice suddenly impossibly soft, like speaking to a spooked deer.
That's me, she realized—I'm the wild animal.
She nodded stiffly.
"My name is Hades," He repeated, "This is the underworld. The Gods are real."
Welcome to hell.
"Four hundred years ago, someone very dear to me was lost." He continued, "She… was stolen from me, by someone we both trusted, and kept away for a very long time."
"I'm sorry." Bella said. She remembered, dimly, a story about Hades and his wife. Per-something, but she thought it had been him whom stole her.
"Do not feel sorry," He squeezed her hand, gently, almost imperceptibly—"Do not be saddened. I have found her."
Bella froze; "Wait, wait a second,"
"Isabella," he said slowly.
"You can't seriously be saying,"
"I am."
"No."
"It is true."
"You're wrong."
"Persephone,"
"No." She pulled her hand away, pushing away from the nook to pace back away, smacking her hand on the marble counter. "No, no way."
He stood, "Listen, please."
"You can't be serious."
"Bella, sit, please."
She slumped, mind reeling.
"You were taken from me," He whispered, "I searched, for so long I spent my nights lurking in the corners of the universe, I searched for you."
"How do you know?" She whispered hoarsely, "How are you sure?"
"When you died, were dying, whatever locked you up broke. Your truth, the true entity within you, it called me."
"No."
"Bella." He reached forward again, taking her hand gingerly, "Has nothing… Unexplainable happened in your life? Nothing during times of extreme duress?"
Hot, heavy breath lurking over her brain. Yellow, glaring, lusting eyes glaring into her own. The feeling of fingers, hot and thick curled over her mouth.
The feeling of spinning the knob to a faucet, slowly, the steady flow of life slowing into a trickle, a drop, until it faltered off.
The feeling of a hot, quickly cooling body slump onto her own.
The wide, bloodshot, dead look.
Alice, stumbling in, screaming.
"It was a heart attack," she whispered desperately, "It was a heart attack. From all the drugs. That's what they said."
"Bella."
The firm voice pulled her head up, cool hands gently cradling her face, eyes firmly locking with her own, "Bella, you must breathe." His own voice was well masked, but pain leaked through. He was nervous.
She let out a shaky breath.
"Tell me everything."
"I will," He promised, eyes deep with concern, "I give my word. But you need rest first."
"Okay." She agreed. Okay. Because, truth be told, her head was crackling like lightning, her knees felt like goo, and she was scared. Impossibly scared.
She just wasn't quite sure of what, yet.
He watched her as she slept, watching her restlessly toss her body from one edge of the giant bed to the next, legs corded together by the blankets.
They'd tried to disguise her, giving her a human image superimposed over her own. After only a few hours in his, their, domain her true image had begun to shine back through. Light, brown hair slowly shifting to a deep glossy chestnut, jaw line sharpening just slightly.
She was back, and yet she had not truly returned.
Truly, he had a feeling his Persephone—the sweet, quiet girl that found such enjoyment with the simplest things—was gone.
He knew little of the new woman in front of him, and yet he knew more about her than she did herself. The past years had changed her. She had sworn. Repeatedly. Used words that would have made her former self blush redder than a pomegranate. She was flighty, hesitant, and lacked confidence—though she had developed a decent way of hiding it.
"She sleeps, but does not rest." Came a soft, sullen voice from behind.
Hades pursed his lips, "I know not how to comfort her. She accepts my touch, but finds no peace in it as she once did."
"She is different, Hades." The soft steps of a barefoot child padded to his side, the girl brushing her white-blonde hair behind her ear as she leaned over the bed to take a look. The glow of her pale skin cast a soft light on Bella's stressed brows.
"I could call for Morpheus." Hades mused.
"He would have no power here," the girl said sadly, brushing her small fingers over Bella's forehead, pressing away the tenseness; "He can only send dreams and appear in them; he cannot send a dream when one has already begun, and he cannot appear to comfort her if we do not know what she finds comforting."
Bella's face relaxed for a moment, then tensed again as she grumbled something under her breath.
"Alice?" The girl repeated, turning to look at Hades questioningly.
"She mentions her often. I believe she is a connection she made, some sort of guardian."
Blonde hair flittered with the girl's relieved sigh; "So perhaps she was not alone all this time after all."
"Perhaps." Hades said, frowning. "Hecate,"
She glanced up.
"Please, find Emmet. Tell him he can stop lounging and spending his days chasing shades, I want him to go above and find out where she spent her time while she was away. I wish for him to start with this 'Alice.'"
Hecate bowed her head, standing back from the bed. "I shall." She agreed. It would be good for Emmet to go above, staying in the underworld for so long had a poor effect on full gods—demigods had it even worse. Depression and insanity roamed freely here. Though Emmet had lasted long with his upbeat, cheerful attitude, lately he had been showing signs of laziness and a lack of desire for anything other than sleep.
As she faded, she met Hades's gaze.
"Hades," She said pointedly, "Be patient with her. Do not constrict her."
"I would never." He promised, but the words felt wrong on his tongue.