Hades
Gunfire greeted Hades as she walked into the devil’s office. There, on a giant massage chair, lounged the Devil, a bowl of popcorn perched on his enormous red belly as he watched an action movie. Hades tried not to stare as the kernels jumped in sync with the chair’s hidden mechanism as if the Devil himself were a giant popcorn maker. Instead, she focused on the screen.
“Hey, that’s my favourite movie. Can I watch it?” Hades asked. The sweet smell of the popcorn felt like an invitation. The Devil half-nodded but changed his mind mid-motion, causing his head to wobble like a bobblehead.
Hades rubbed her legs, still sore from the guard’s grip. Maybe the Devil had forgotten why she was there. It wouldn’t be the first time. Fingers crossed.
The gunfire ceased as the Devil located the remote control, and silence settled over the room with a slight undercurrent of moans from the hell pits outside the tower. Hades’s shoulders slumped. No luck today. Hades avoided the Devil’s gaze and studied the green-knitted warmers the Devil had pulled over his horns. He fingered them gingerly, like they could explode at any moment.
“Your godmother decided on knitting as a new hobby,” he said. It sounded like a threat.
“I know,” Hades said, curling a strand of coppery red hair around her own wool-free horns.
“You know, it’s not a good idea to oppose her.”
“Is that why I’m here?”
“You’ve been to the pits again,” the Devil said, half lifting from his chair, towering over her. He somewhat spoiled the effect by offering her popcorn.
“I feel–” she began, then stopped herself by cramming the corn into her mouth. She knew very well that the Devil and her godmother didn’t like sentences that started with feelings, ended with them, or had them anywhere in between.
The Devil groaned. “Everyone out there–” he gestured towards the giant windows that offered a panoramic view of the hellfire below, “has earned their place in that pit, and I carefully decided on a punishment for each of them. They must suffer their sentences. You going down there doesn’t work. You’re a demon, Hades. You entrap. You punish. You don’t help. That’s not what we do.”
“Why am I up here and not down there?” Hades stared into the Devil’s eyes until he looked away first.
“Always the same question,” he grumbled.
“I wasn’t born a demon. You told me so yourself. So, I must be human. There is nothing else.”
“You will always be our fallen angel.” Something like fondness shone in his blood-red eyes. Hades stepped back in case the Devil had any idea of hugging her.
“Why can’t I go to the human realm? Like the other agents? I’m not a child anymore. I’m fifteen. I want to see something other than this tower!”
“Hades, you are named after the god of the underworld for a reason. It’s your destiny to one day rule alongside me — and your godmother, of course.” He glanced towards the obsidian double doors as if he sensed the sound of knitting needles.
“Gods, as if,” Hades mumbled before adding, “If that’s the case, tell me about the souls. Take the girl, the one I help—” Hades tripped over the word and bit her tongue, “the one I saw. Was her crime that bad?”
The Devil’s fist crashed into the armrest, sending the massage function into a wild spin. “Enough! You will do what we see fit. You sound like the lawyers I get from the human realm who try to argue their way out of hell. And I despise them enough. Don’t make me angry, Hades. You are what you are. Be thankful that we took you in and raised you. Otherwise, your life would be worse.”
“What do you mean, otherwise?”
“Out!” the Devil cried, and his red face took on a sheen of rage. Hades backed away, her eyes on the Devil. She knew from the past that he could be fast despite his size. But he would not hurt her. Or would he? Her fingers grazed over the jagged scar she had had for as long as she could remember – one of the reasons why she had always yielded. But the urge to know the world beyond the tower expanded like the lava flowing through the pits, and she was unsure how much longer she could contain it before it burned her whole.
**
Hades closed the door to the Devil’s office and slumped against it. The sigh of relief on her lips turned into a groan as she spotted her godmother. Acid green wool curled around her horns, topping her head like a crown. She shoved a dustpan and brush into Hades’s arms.
“You got soot on the carpet – again,” she said.
“Yes, godmother.” Hades rolled her eyes, then blinked, hoping her godmother had not seen it.
“What did he tell you?” Her godmother stepped close, her familiar smell of brimstone and liquorice greeting Hades.
“The usual?” Hades answered while silently cursing the black trousers and shirt, the standard uniform for hell agents. The soot sneaked up on these and dislodged in the worst moments as if to get her caught. Hades bent down to sweep, her head feeling like dunked in lava, as she heard the other agents in the office snigger. Luckily, her skin was red as gleaming coal, so at least they wouldn’t notice.
Her godmother sighed, “Just try to live up to your name.”
The start of an argument danced on Hades’s tongue but was cut short by the sound of an elevator. Its door revealed long burgundy legs ending in a tight black skirt. Hades scrambled to hide the dustpan behind her back as she breathed a single word: “Temptation.” The full, dark lips of the arriving demon curled into a smile the same shape as her freshly polished horns.
“Godmother, little one.” Temptation tilted her head slightly in greeting, and then her eyes connected the soot with the half-hidden cleaning utensils. “In what trouble did you get this time?”
“Nothing. How was Earth? Did you complete your mission successfully? Can I type your report?” Hades asked as Temptation’s gaze sent fire spreading through her chest. Temptation was the devil’s most successful agent. Hades had a picture of her on her nightstand, a secret nobody could ever know about.
Temptation laughed and tossed a cat’s fur at Hades. “Take this. I got into a fight with a street dog. Nothing I couldn’t handle, but the fur might be affected.”
Other agents popped out of their cubicles like jack-in-the-boxes as Temptation made her way across the office space. But Hades’s gaze returned to the fur. Maybe it was the only thing that could distract her from Temptation’s curves. She trailed her fingers over the soft hair. The sleek midnight-black fur transformed the agent into a cat that whispered the words of the Devil into their human’s ear. The businessman didn’t stand a chance. He would have followed Temptation’s words, hypnotised by her voice. Hades lost herself in the image of wearing her own fur, convincing any human to help her. Solving the mystery of her past would be so easy. She just needed fur; she just needed to get out. Her fingers curled tighter into the fur, her feet shifting, pulled by an invisible force. She turned, her eyes fixed on the closing elevator. Just a few steps away. She could make a run for it.
“Not so fast.” Her godmother’s sharp voice made Hades jump. Tiny skulls on clawlike nails laughed at Hades as her godmother peeled the fur out of her hands. “I will keep this, shall I? Back to work, now.”
Hades slumped as her eyes followed the fur to her godmother’s desk, where it lay, beckoning her to take it.
She would never get out. Not with her godmother watching.
**
Hades slumped on her chair, listlessly shoving her computer mouse back and forth. The cursor under the few words she had written flashed an irregular pattern, urging her to continue. Her eyes flew over the handwritten notes from Temptation, her mind conjuring matching pictures. Temptation’s human, a successful businessman, had, under Temptation’s guidance, stolen money from the company he worked for and forged documents – another success story. Hades studied the ceiling, imagining an angel on the other side, typing a report. Maybe once upon a time, the angel had written a report about her. If she had been human …
Hades’s hand crept to her chest, rubbing the usual spot. As long as she can remember, this spot has felt cold, like a sliver of ice is embedded in her heart, and no amount of hellfire could ever melt it completely.
A miscalculated shove sent the mouse against her paper coffee cup. The cup wobbled, slopping brown liquid over the report. The agent opposite looked over, shaking his head.
“You should be more careful. You caused enough mess,” he said in a patronising voice, holding out a red paper towel.
Hades ignored it and dabbed a sleeve at the mess, a holy word on her lips.
“I heard you went down into the pits again. What in heaven’s name is it with you? Why would you want to mingle with those damned individuals?” the agent asked.
Hades opened her mouth, closed it and ground her teeth against each other. The other agents wouldn’t understand. She barely understood why she was going down there, helping the souls with their retributions. She picked at a blister on her hand caused by wielding a mop all morning while she listened to the stories of a girl’s soul, whose punishment was the fruitless task of cleaning the soot from the lava floor.
“It’s just …” Hades began, looking into the narrowed eyes of the other agent. She remembered the stories the girl’s soul told her of her days at parties and dances. The dresses she had worn and the food she had tasted: the friends she had made and the boys she had loved. She looked down at her black uniform, always the same; nothing ever changed here. The soul had only been a little older than Hades when she died. But she had lived so much more. Okay, the girl had severely mistreated her servants. So, she kind of deserved to be in hell. Still …
“If I were you, I would lie low for a while. You don’t know how lucky we are,” the agent opposite her droned on. Easy for him to say. He had an assignment on Earth. He had a cat fur like all the other agents. A fur of his own. Hades’ eyes returned to Temptation’s fur, still on her godmother’s desk. Normally, agents never let their furs lie around. Hades had yearned to get her hands on a fur for the longest time. Her lips formed words that might have been a prayer if she had known how. But maybe an angel would hear her—an angel in hell, now that would provide the distraction she needed. She sighed as no heavenly intervention materialised. She had to do it herself.
Snatching some papers from her desk, she weaved through the cubicles past other agents. Sure that everybody knew what she was up to, she glanced around, her fingers leaving moist prints on the white paper. Everyone seemed to be busy, at least until Hades’ gaze reached her godmother, who watched her out of unblinking eyes. Hades smiled while alarm bells sounded in her head, vibrating around her skull. She needed a plan, an idea. But her mind rewarded her with utter blankness. Her godmother’s nails tapped the desk, and Hades felt each contact deep in her stomach. Curling her arms around the papers, Hades turned away and returned to her workplace. Her mind screamed ‘coward’, but her feet seemed controlled by a different force. The arrival sound of the elevator barely registered in her overcrowded mind.
“Oh, my God!” The worst curse anyone could utter up here – or down here, that very much depended on the point of view. An agent jumped up, slopping coffee over his shirt, and his shaking finger pointed at a spot behind Hades. The moans reached Hades before she could turn, and she froze. She was so used to them as background noise, but now the volume had been turned to the max. Hades gulped and risked a peek at the elevator filled to bursting with souls. It disgorged a first wave, the scent of coffee colliding with decaying flesh, rotting for eternity. Riding on the wave crest was the soul of a girl, her mangled body in the pink party dress, erect as she carried a mop upside down like the flag of their revolution. Her eyes locked with Hades, and her mouth twisted into a distorted grin as she waved the mop.
Holy God!
Hades dropped the papers from her hands as the blisters started to burn, remembering the rough wooden handle of the mop. She had drummed it over the guard demon’s back as he had carried her from the pits just a few hours ago. Hades desperately tried to remember where she had dropped the mop. In the pit … or? A picture rose from Hades’ too cooperative mind: her futile attempt to block the tower’s door with the mop. Hades groaned, her heart trying to escape her body. She was doomed.
Hades backed away, but there was no chance of avoiding the wave of souls that washed over and around her like a lava stream, swallowing everything in their wake. Some other agents had barricaded themselves behind their desks, chucking everything within reach at the intruders. Hades ducked to avoid being hit by a stapler. Another elevator, this time it revealed the red face of the guard demon. He roared at the souls like a wild lion, and they moaned back, not properly scared – unlike Hades. She needed to vanish. If the guard demon found her, Hades was sure he would remember the mop as well as she did. Hades’ skin itched as if pierced with a thousand needles as she imagined her punishment.
Her mind short-circuited as she desperately looked for an escape. Would she be able to hide? At least for the time being, maybe also for eternity.
A fresh wave of souls pushed into her, bringing with them the sulfuric stench of the pits. Gagging, Hades dropped to the floor and crawled to the side, searching for refuge behind her godmother’s desk, which was luckily unoccupied. Peering out, Hades charted her surroundings. Hopefully, her godmother was too busy to find out about her crime just yet. When Hades finally spotted her godmother, she almost forgot to hide, her mouth hanging open.
Never before had knitting needles seemed so threatening as in her godmother’s hands. Adopting a wide fighting stance, her godmother made the needles dance in the air, fighting two souls simultaneously. One of the needles went right through the eye of the soul of a tough guy, tattoos winding across his faded body like snakes. Screaming like one of her favourite Greek gods, her godmother lifted the guy’s soul by the eye socket and threw him into an approaching group. The souls scattered like bowling pins. The other needle connected to the mop. The girl’s soul and the godmother circled each other, mop shoving against needle, neither yielding. The girl’s pink dress clashed with the acid green of her godmother’s cardigan.
Temptation danced by, jumping with light feet over desks and barriers, herding a group of souls back towards an elevator as if they were sheep. She whistled a song as she took aim and jumped on the back of a burly guy’s soul, using it as a horse as floating grey hair became reins.
Temptation couldn’t see Hades like that, hiding under a desk like a frightened bunny. Hades’ throat burned with shame, and in her mind, she already heard the other agents snigger. Maybe if she fought well enough, the guard demon would overlook her involvement with the mop? Straightening, she looked over the table for a weapon. That’s when she saw it. The fur. Waiting for her. An electric current rushed through her body, ending in her fingertips.
This was her chance. She could hide in the human world until everyone had forgotten about the mop incident, and while she was there, she could research her past. Finally, getting some answers on who she really was. Not all this fallen angel nonsense – actual facts.
Temptation herded a bunch of souls into the right elevator. The left elevator was unoccupied for now. Hades’s godmother and the girl’s soul had conquered a desk in the middle of the room, a frightened-looking agent sitting beneath, his hands over his head. Mop still fought against knitting needles, metal clanking against wood in a rapid staccato. The girl’s chest was spotted with some large holes where the knitting needle had found its target, the dress hanging in tatters. Yet the girl still fought with a mask of grim determination.
Eyes fixed on her godmother, Hades pulled the fur towards her, clutching it to her chest. Its animal smell, so different from the usual brimstone, promised an escape. Hades tried to map a course through the chaos, but the demon guard staggered toward her, a bundle of souls wedged under each arm. Their moans and groans mixed with the guard’s bellowed orders into a dissonant song. If he made it to the left elevator, Hades would miss her chance. She crawled, dodging fighting souls and agents, the hand that held the fur clenched so tightly that Hades could feel her nails through the leathery hide.
She checked behind her. The guard had lost some souls and was busy rearranging. Hades could still make it. Her free hand pressed the elevator’s button. A light illuminated the button –
too bright. Hades shielded it with her body. Sweat dripped from her face and was absorbed into the fur. Hades swore at the elevator to come, as she had never learned any prayers. God would not help her anyway. As for the Devil, it was better that he watched a fight on TV, not the battle on his doorstep.
The guard demon staggered forward, only a few steps from her. He was still occupied with the souls that kept slipping from his grip. A too-loud ding announced the elevator. Hades looked up, right into the eyes of the approaching guard.
He growled, a sound resonating deeply in his armour-like chest. Jumping into the elevator, Hades shoved a soul in his general direction. She hammered her fist onto the closing button, the floor vibrating under her feet as the guard demon’s hooves bounced off the floor. Souls rained down as he lost their extra weight. Some of them wound around his ankles, slowing his progress.
“Hades!” This came from her godmother, who had pinned the girl’s soul to the desk with one of her needles.
“Go!” the girl’s soul shouted, her body wriggling like a trapped beetle, and one hand stretched upwards in a victory sign.
“Hades!” The guard roared at the same time, lunging forward. The souls clung to his lower body like a massive tail slashing a path of destruction through the remaining cubicles. Frantically, Hades’s wet hands pushed the doors towards each other as if that would make any difference. The doors closed halfway … three-quarters of the way. A spark of hope ignited in Hades, only to be quenched by a clawed hand curling around the almost-closed door.