Like Cracked Steel
Hey guys,
This one is all Bella and Hades. See you on the other side.
-O.K.
Six
Hades stood in front of Bella but refused to meet her eyes.
He had spent years fighting for her, grief and determination consuming his mind until it was riddled with holes by the memories that haunted him—bullets, assaulting from all mental corners. Every second he spent awaiting the snipers that hid in every little thing—the hairbrush tucked in his nightstand, the soft tunics buried in the back of his closets—every little thing loaded with images of the absolute only and supreme love of his life, her ghost dragging him along.
Only now, after the battle and been said and done, finally won, Hades had emerged on the wrong side.
At least he had the decency to look ashamed.
Bella knew this. She guessed this from the way he so carefully acted, the soft, purposeful intention behind every gesture and word. She understood now, after hours of discussion with Morpheus, just the potential expanse of Hades's fury and sadness.
She understood. She almost felt bad.
"I suppose you have summoned me in order to ask to be returned home," he began slowly, "but, I must remind you, this is impossible and ill-advised."
"Can you stop assuming what I'm going to say?" She stopped herself and took a breath. They needed to start over. This situation was complex enough; she couldn't afford to alienate him. They had to try something else.
That was why she had called for him. That was why she was back in that kitchen that contrasted so brilliantly with the entirety of this whole new, alien landscape. The familiar breakfast nook now discomforted her, resting heavily in an almost uncanny valley within her gut. There was something eerie about finding something familiar and unassuming so out of place in this suspicious new land; it felt staged.
Everything was staged, though. Staged for her, for her "homecoming."
"Then why" Hades stopped midsentence as Bella dropped the heavy sketchbook onto the ground. The thunk echoed off the lofty ceiling.
She sat down cross-legged on the floor, refusing to meet his suddenly keen gaze as she flipped the book open. The first image was of a delicate flower.
She looked up at Hades. He looked confused. So, he hadn't seen the sketchbook before after all. Morpheus had said that he'd never shown Hades—he was afraid of triggering another one of his "moods"—but Bella wasn't sure if she'd believed him.
She flipped to the next page, to a picture of Hades sitting beside Persephone, their arms interlaced.
She looked back to Hades, noting the light in his eyes, quickly replaced by conflict.
"Where did you get that?" His voice was volcanic, dragged from the roots of his toes as it gushed from his mouth like dark smoke.
"Morpheus," she said slowly, eyes pinned to the picture, "I want you to tell me about them."
"He refused to?" He was carefully composed, each word carefully plucked and dropped on the ground at Bella's feet like a sacrifice.
"No, I wanted to ask you. Will you tell me about them?"
"Bella," he took a step forward, suddenly open in expression and tone as he pressed toward her, "Persephone, please, I must apologize for my behavior—"
She cut him off quickly. "I just want to hear about these, please."
There was a moment of silence. Was he hesitating?
With a distinctly ethereal elegance, Hades lowered himself onto the floor across from Bella. She tried to suppress the tremors that spread up her knees and elbows; if he noticed, he didn't let his reaction show.
"If I am entirely honest," he started, "I cannot remember which night that picture depicts."
This surprised Bella. He had counted the seconds for four hundred years while she was gone and now he couldn't remember the context surrounding a photo? In general, that wouldn't be so concerning—but he had acted so obsessively… Did he feel guilty? Had he neglected Persephone for the entirety of their marriage, only regretting his actions when she was gone?
Hades glanced at her expression and quickly explained himself, "We had an evening tradition of sitting in the courtyard together. This exact scene is one of thousands exactly like it."
Bella glanced up at him.
"Each night was as special as the last," he insisted.
She snorted. His desperate attempts to keep her happy were starting to irritate her. The constant apologizing set her on edge. "Right, super special—that's why you remember each one."
Hades stared at her. She kept her eyes trained on the page, refusing to meet his gaze.
A large hand hovered over her own, eclipsing her pale skin as his dark fingers crackled with electricity.
He gestured loosely, "May I, please?"
She shrugged.
Hades took the book gently into his hands, cradling it like a religious text as he gently flipped one page after the other—carefully isolating his contact with the parchment to the upper corners. He made Bella feel like a savage after she had practically tossed the book onto the floor.
"Please, this image here,"—Hades turned the book toward her, keeping it propped up in his arms—"you had just arrived for the first time into our realm. You caught Morpheus sketching and you begged him to let you pose for a portrait until he agreed just to silence your pleas, though you couldn't keep from laughing. The man is a good artist, for all his faults; see there, he caught your smile," Hades carried on, but Bella had barely looked at the soft drawing of her mirrored image. Instead, she was watching Hades as he carried on, his dark eyes squinting slightly as he gazed in admiration down at the book in his hands. He was entirely lost in the moment, not at all realizing Bella had long since stopped listening.
"Hades," she said, softly.
He slowly raised his eyes to look at her.
She sat up on her knees so their eyes could be level.
"It's nice to meet you," she said softly, decisively, "but I don't know this woman. I'm still very confused, but, if you can, I'd like to learn about this. I want to understand."
Hades slowly slid the book onto his lap, reaching out to grasp Bella's hand with both of his own. They swallowed hers, though she was simultaneously struck by how graceful they appeared. Not quite dainty, but elegant. She could feel his smooth fingertips brush along her wrist as he bowed his head deeply.
She thought back to that first night when he had asked to do the same when he had asked to hold her hand across the table. Then, she had felt nothing. Now, she felt a soft chime of fear pressed down to her toes as she tried not to think of the library. The thought of finding comfort in his hands was outrageous.
"Bella," he murmured, "I would love nothing more."
It was a start. A truce; Bella was willing to forgive this man for a moment, though she desperately wanted to rip her hand from his. She was in an alien landscape—that much was clear. Without his help, she would never find her sister.
Besides Alice, Bella had been haunted by images of fire and fury every time she closed her eyes. She had been unable to wipe Hecate and her horrible powers from her mind. That night had proven this world was full of dark things currently beyond her control—things she would never understand on her own.
Hades carefully tucked the sketchbook under his arm after gingerly pressing it closed. Though his expression remained cool and his posture stayed stiff, the affection he felt for his wife and the damage he had suffered was clear in the way he handled a simple drawn image of the woman he had lost.
And he had lost her. Bella understood that; she was no goddess. At best, she was Persephone's echo, bouncing off the walls in a scattered cacophony.
Hades stood, holding out his arm as she rose beside him. She ignored him and crossed her arms over her chest. His expression remained neutral as he tucked his elbow back into place and turned. "Please, come."
She followed him out of the kitchen stiffly.
They made their way back through the hallways that seemed to map the passage of time, past the giant vases and exquisite mosaics. She kept her eyes carefully on the heels of his sandaled feet, carefully avoiding the massive library doors that stared them down. But he led her past them, and she watched as the walls gradually turned into a soft white marble and columns dotted their sides. That same synthetic sunlight she had seen the first and only time she'd ventured outside now lit rows of light across the floor—Bella couldn't help but compare them to prison bars.
The walls on either side of them eventually became more column that solid surface before they eventually parted into a bright entryway.
Bella hesitated.
"Cerberus has no access to this courtyard," Hades guessed the source of her discomfort, "though he would be devastated to know you feared him as such."
"I mean, he had three heads." Bella brushed past him and shuffled slowly into the courtyard.
She was shocked by the slate floor under her feet. For some reason, she had always believed a courtyard was just a small garden, or what real estate agents tried to call back-alley to make it sound less sketchy.
But this was, she assumed, an actual courtyard. One from storybooks and rich homes, where trees sit in precisely placed planters and bushes line the perimeter, vines crawling up to form a spider web of flowers that dripped down to brush her cheeks with soft petals.
She still didn't expect the ground to be slate.
A sudden cold seeped up into her toes. She jerked, looking down to realize her sneakers had been soaked through by a steady stream of water that flowed over the stones.
"You liked to be in water as much as possible." Hades stepped forward. Each movement seemed straight from the uncanny valley; if it weren't for the presence of his deep voice, Bella would have easily mistaken him for one of the curved statues hidden among the vines. His olive skin glowed, his dark hair showing strands of copper for the first time.
"It's freezing." Bella took a step back, perching cautiously on a bench. She couldn't help but notice it was the perfect size for her—most benches were too tall.
"Morpheus would joke that you were a nymph in disguise. You found it amusing, somehow." He sniffed.
"At least Morpheus—" she stopped and pursed her lips.
"At least Morpheus is kind," Hades replied evenly. He moved to sit beside her, laying his hands on his lap as he dipped his chin toward the sun. "This isn't the courtyard we would spend time in. Truthfully, before you were taken from me, I had only been in this courtyard a few times following its construction. You insisted on having space to yourself, somewhere similar to where you spent your childhood."
Taken from him. He always insisted on that, she wondered whether it was really true. Persephone seemed in love in the pictures Bella had seen, but pictures—especially drawings—could be deceiving.
"After you were gone… I started spending my days here. Beside our apartments, it was the closest I could feel to you."
"Hades…" Bella tucked up her knees, laying her chin on her hands.
Somewhere along the line she realized, she had begun to believe this. She had accepted this as a reality, and she had begun to believe in him as a person—though, she still wasn't sure his version of the story was accurate.
"I understand you do not remember me," he said quietly, "but, please,"
"Hades"—she interrupted him, her feet dropping to the ground—"Hades, I don't remember you, I don't know you. I'm not this woman. I never will be, please—you have to understand that. This is insane. I understand it, but please, I'm not who you think I am. I can't be who you want me to be."
He said nothing, turning his gaze down to her.
Bella met it.
"I expected things to be easy," he said finally, "I expected you to awaken the moment you returned, but you've lived a lifetime… without me." His lips spread into a thin line, his hands tense on his lap.
Bella's eyes widened as she noticed the glassy tint to his gaze. The grief that threatened to snap through his careful façade peeked out at her, warping the cool, statuesque god down to her size.
He almost looked human. Just a lost boy on a bench, his knees too tall and his eyes too old. She thought about her own days waiting for Alice, sitting curled on a porch step as haunting noises filtered through the doorway. The soft look that comes from wanting to cry, but lacking the tears to do so—fresh out on the energy required to feel sorrow.
She knew that look.
Her hand inched across her knees, cautiously wrapping around his.
"Bella,"—he turned on the bench, facing her—"I was wrong. I understand this will be difficult. You cannot return to your life as it once was, for reasons far beyond me. Should you…should you desire to go on without me, however, and live apart, I will… I will help you do so. I will find you and your sister a safe haven, I will protect you from afar. You will never see me, should you wish it."
What a development. There was her freedom, in some shape or form, laid in front of her—but would it truly be that easy? Going somewhere far away, distant from Hades, from three-headed dogs, from even James?
She wondered how hard it must have been for Hades to offer that. How long had he been planning on giving her a chance out? Was it a last-minute offer, or had he been planning on this since the day in the library?
Was he being honest? Or was he testing the extent of her desperation to get out?
She couldn't tell, as he had turned his face back to the sky. His eyes were squeezed shut.
There was a slight pressure as he softly squeezed her hand, unable to help himself.
Bella blew a sigh out between her lips. "No, I… let me think, please."
She could see Hades' shoulders drop in relief. True, she hadn't turned down the offer, but she hadn't jumped at the chance to escape either.
"Please, take all the time you desire."
She bobbed her head, leaning back to rest in the sunlight.
Alice's eyes glared at her from the backs of her eyelids. Bella pushed the image away, focusing on the gurgling water rushing below her feet. She hadn't abandoned Alice—or, if she had, it was for good reason. What else was she supposed to do? Agree to let them be locked up god-knows-where when gods were supposedly after them?
She still wasn't sure Hades was telling the truth. But he had shrunk before her eyes today, scaling down to her level until she could meet his eyes without fear. He was a man—a powerful, dangerous, angry man, but still, only a man grieving his lost wife.
He was lost in the maze of his own past, desperately trying to find the exit by designing a future. He had thought that finding her would free him from the cage of fury and injustice that ate away at his soul—instead, he had found himself right plunk center of the labyrinth.
And she was his minotaur.
The sound of water slowly swallowed her brain, lulling her to sleep under a blanket of sunlight and speckled leaves. Hades turned to glance at her, admiring the curve of her nose and the curtain of lashes that kissed her cheeks as she dozed.
He forced himself to look away, shutting his own eyes as his pain was eased.
Together, they dozed in Persephone's courtyard—hands clasped.
Oh, Hades. Poor guy just can't come to terms with Bella being her own person.
So? What do you guys think about the current direction of the story?
Heads up, I'm currently, desperately looking for a beta reader. Shoot me a message if you're interested or if you know a good place to find one.
Thanks, ya'll.
-O.K.