Hades

7 Underground

I woke to a deafening silence. A milky light filtered into the room and I rubbed my eyes to get a better look at my surroundings. The first thing I saw was a sitting area with a fireplace. The last embers were crumbling to a soft glow in the grate, casting shadows across the room and softening the edges of the furniture. The room was richly decorated in dark timbers, and a crystal chandelier hung from the decorative ceiling.

I found myself lying in an oak-paneled bed with gold satin sheets and a rich burgundy coverlet. I was wearing an old-fashioned nightdress with lacy cuffs. I wondered where my costume had gone? I had no memory of taking it off. I propped myself up and looked around, from the plush carpet to the heavy velvet drapes to the vast welcome basket that sat on a low glass table with gilt claw feet. A huge leopard-skin rug was laid out at the foot of the bed. The bed itself was covered in plump pillows and an inordinate amount of tasseled cushions. When I felt something cool and fragrant beneath my cheek, I turned over to see my pillows were scattered with red rose petals.

A huge marble vanity stood against one wall; its mirror encrusted with gemstones. Displayed on it was a mother-of-pearl hairbrush and a hand mirror along with an array of expensive-looking perfumes and lotions in blue glass jars. An ivory silk dressing gown was draped over the foot of the bed. Two wingback armchairs had been strategically arranged in front of the fire. The bathroom door was open and I caught a glimpse of gold taps and an antique tub. There appeared to be no consistent theme to the decor; it was as if someone had opened a magazine and randomly pointed to whatever suggested opulence and had it delivered to this room.

A breakfast tray with a pot of steaming tea and pastries had been left on the low table. When I tried the door, I found it locked. My throat felt dry and parched so I poured myself a cup and sat on the plush carpet to drink it while I gathered my thoughts. Despite the luxurious surroundings I knew I was a prisoner.

Someone had taken away the key card so there was no way out of the room. Even if I managed to escape and made it down to the lobby, it would be crawling with Jake’s allies. I could try and get past them and make a run for it but how far would I get before being recaptured?

There was only one thing I knew for certain. I could tell by the stone-cold feeling in my chest that I’d been torn away from everything I loved. I was here because of Jake Thorn, but what was his motivation? Was it revenge? If so, why hadn’t he killed me when he had the chance? Did he want to somehow prolong my suffering? Or was there some other agenda like there always was with Jake? He’d seemed so genuine about making me feel comfortable. My knowledge of Hell was sketchy as my kind never ventured here. I wracked my brains, trying to recall snippets of information that Gabriel might have shared with me, but I drew a blank. I’d only been told that somewhere, deep underground, there was a pit crawling with creatures so dark they were unfathomable to us. Jake must have brought me here as punishment for humiliating him. Unless … A new thought suddenly dawned on me. He hadn’t seemed particularly vindictive; in fact there’d been a strange excitement in his eyes. Was it possible he actually thought I could be happy here? An angel in Hell? That only proved how little he understood. My only objective was to return home to my loved ones. This wasn’t my world and never would be. The longer I stayed here, the harder it would be to find my way back. I knew one thing for sure: Something like this had never happened before. An angel had never been captured, plucked from the earth, and dragged into a prison of fire. Maybe this went deeper than Jake’s bizarre attachment to me. Maybe something terrible was on the brink of being unleashed.

A row of tall windows stretched along the length of one wall, but they looked out onto a swirling gray mist. There was no sunrise here and daybreak appeared to be marked by a watery light that looked as if it’d filtered down through a fissure in the earth. The thought of not seeing the sunlight for a long time brought tears to my eyes. But I blinked them away and gathered up the silk dressing gown, wrapping it around myself. I went into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth, then ran a comb through my hair to unravel the knots that had appeared. There was a suffocating silence in the hotel suite. Every noise I made seemed exaggeratedly loud. With a pang of longing I remembered what it was like to wake up in Venus Cove. I associated it with a cacophony of sound: music playing, birds singing, and Phantom loping up the stairs. I could picture in perfect detail my bedroom with its pockmarked boards and rickety writing desk. If I closed my eyes, I could almost remember the feel of my soft white bedspread against my skin and the way the canopy made me feel as if I were cocooned in my own little nest. Mornings there were met with a silvery predawn light that was quickly broken by streams of golden sunlight. It would wash over the rooftops and dance over the waves of the ocean, setting the whole town alight. I remembered how I used to wake to the sound of birdsong and the breeze tapping lightly against the balcony doors as if to rouse me. Even when the house was empty, the sea was always there, calling to me, reminding me that I wasn’t alone. I remembered the mornings when I’d come downstairs to hear Gabriel’s fingers lazily strumming his guitar and to smell the inviting aroma of waffles in the air. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen my family or how we came to be separated. When I thought of Venus Cove, I felt a brief flutter of hope in my chest, as though I could will myself back to my old life. But a moment later it was gone, transformed into despair as heavy as a stone pressing on my heart.

I opened my eyes to see my reflection in the mirror and realized that something was different. Nothing had changed in terms of my features; there were the same wide brown eyes flecked with gold and green looking back at me, the small pixie ears, and the porcelain skin tinged with pink. But the expression in my eyes was that of a stranger. My eyes that had once sparkled with curiosity were lifeless. The girl in the mirror looked lost.

The room was set at a comfortable temperature, but I still shivered. I walked quickly over to the closet and pulled out the first garment that came to hand — a black tulle cocktail dress with puffy sleeves. I sighed and hunted around for something more appropriate only to find that there wasn’t a single piece of practical clothing in there. The outfits varied from floor-length evening gowns to tailored Chanel suits with silk blouses. I settled on the simplest item I could find (a knee-length, long-sleeved dress in crushed moss green velvet) and some ballet flats. Then I sat on my bed and waited for something to happen.

I remembered Venus Cove and my siblings vividly, but I knew there was something or someone I was forgetting. It nagged at me, an insistent tug at the back of my mind, and trying to remember was exhausting. I lay on the bed and stared at the scrolls on the ceiling. I could feel a gnawing pain somewhere inside me, but I couldn’t identify its source. I even wished Jake would show up in case talking to him provided the trigger for these lost memories. I could feel them stirring in the recesses of my mind, but every time I tried to grasp them, they slipped away.

The click of a key card startled me and a round-faced girl entered the room. She was wearing the standard housekeeping uniform: a plain taupe dress with the Hotel Ambrosia logo on the pocket, beige stockings, and comfortable oxfords. Her honey-colored hair was pulled back into a ponytail and held in place with a clasp.

“Excuse me, miss, would you like me to make up your room now or should I come back later?” Her manner was diffident, and she kept her eyes downcast to avoid eye contact. Behind her was a cart laden with cleaning products and piles of fresh linen.

“Oh, that’s really not necessary,” I said, trying to be helpful, but my suggestion only served to make her uncomfortable. She stood at a loss, awaiting further instructions. “Or now is fine,” I said, moving to one of the wingback chairs. The girl looked visibly relieved. She moved with practiced efficiency, straightening the bedclothes and changing the water in the vase, even though she couldn’t have been more than sixteen years old. Her presence was strangely calming. Perhaps it was the open candor of her face that was so at odds with these bizarre surroundings.

“May I ask your name?” I said.

“I am Hanna,” she replied directly. I noticed her English was a little stilted, as if she hadn’t learned it as her mother tongue.

“And you work at this hotel?”

“Yes, miss, I’ve been assigned to you.” My face must have reflected my confusion because she added, “I’m your maid.”

“My maid?” I repeated. “I don’t need a maid.”

The girl misconstrued my irritation as being directed at her. “I will work hard,” she reassured me.

“I’m sure you will,” I said. “But the reason I don’t need a maid is that I’m not planning on staying here very long.”

Hanna gave me a strange look and then shook her head vehemently. “You cannot leave,” she said. “Mr. Thorn never lets anyone leave.” She clapped a hand over her mouth, conscious of having said too much.

“It’s okay, Hanna,” I said. “You can say anything to me. I won’t repeat a word.”

“I’m not meant to speak to you. If the prince were to find out …”

“You mean Jake?” I snorted. “He’s not a prince!”

“You mustn’t say things like that out loud, miss,” Hanna whispered. “He is the prince of the Third Circle and treason is a capital offense.”

I must have looked completely baffled. “There are Nine Circles in this world, each one ruled by a different prince,” she explained. “Mr. Thorn presides over this district.”

“Which idiot gave him so much power?” I snapped and then, seeing the alarm on Hanna’s face, quickly modified my tone. “I mean … how did that come about?”

“He was one of the Originals.” Hanna shrugged as if those six little words explained everything.

“I’ve heard about them,” I said. The term rang a bell. I was sure I’d heard my brother Gabriel use it, and I knew it dated back to the beginning of time and creation.

“When Big Daddy fell from grace …” Hanna began casting a furtive look at the door.

“I’m sorry?” I interrupted her. “What did you just say?”

“That’s what we call him down here.”

“Call who?”

“Well, I suppose you would know him as Satan or Lucifer.”

I felt the pieces of the puzzle begin to fall together in my mind.

“When Lucifer fell from Heaven there were eight angels who pledged their allegiance to him …,” I continued the story for her.

“Yes.” Hanna nodded eagerly in confirmation.

“Michael cast them out along with their rebel leader and they became the very first demons. Since then they’ve used whatever means they can to wreak havoc on the earth in retaliation for their expulsion.” I paused to let the enormity of it sink in. I frowned as a paradoxical image came into my head.

“What is it, miss?” Hanna asked, seeing my expression.

“It’s just hard to imagine that Jake was once an angel,” I said.

“I wouldn’t say hard; more like impossible.” Hanna’s words were so blunt that I had to smile.

Still, I couldn’t shake the thought from my head. Jake and I shared a genealogy. We had a common maker. What he’d since become was so far removed from what he was originally created to be. I’d always known it, but I guess I was so eager to banish him from my mind that I’d never allowed myself to think it through properly. I couldn’t reconcile that the Jake I knew, the Jake who had tried to destroy my town and the people I loved, had once been just like me. I knew about the Originals. They were the most faithful servants of Lucifer, the ones who’d been with him right from the word go. Throughout human history he’d sent them to occupy positions in the highest echelons of society. They had crept into communities on earth, enabling them to continue their corrupting influence on mankind. They had infiltrated the ranks of politics and law where they were able to destroy without consequence. Their influence was poisonous. They indulged man, preyed on his weaknesses, and used him to their own advantage. An appalling thought occurred to me. If Jake worked for a higher power, then who was really to blame for what had happened thus far?

“I wonder what Jake wants this time?” I murmured.

“That is easy,” said Hanna in her funny, stilted English. She seemed happy to be of use, to impart some information I didn’t possess. “He only wants for you to be happy. After all, you are to be his bride.”

I laughed at first, thinking she was making some horrible, tasteless joke. But when I looked at Hanna with her round, childlike face and big brown eyes, I knew she was only repeating what she’d heard.

“I think I need to see Jake,” I said, slowly trying to conceal my mounting panic. “Right away. Can you take me to him?”

“Yes, miss,” she replied promptly. “The prince has asked to see you anyhow.”

Hanna ushered me down the dimly lit corridors of Hotel Ambrosia, moving like a ghost across the thick carpet. Everything was eerily still, and if there were other occupants, there was no sign of them. We took the glass elevator, suspended in midair like a bubble. Once inside we could see all the way down to the central fountain in the lobby.

“Where are we going?” I said. “Does Jake have a special dungeon he likes to conduct business from?”

“No. There’s a boardroom on the ground floor.” I realized Hanna took everything I said at face value, so sarcasm was pretty much lost on her.

We stopped in front of a pair of imposing paneled doors. Hanna’s reluctance to go any farther was obvious.

“It’s safer if you go in alone, miss,” she said pointedly. “I know he means you no harm.”

I didn’t argue with Hanna. I certainly didn’t want to expose her to the vagaries of Jake’s temper. I didn’t feel frightened now that I was going to come face-to-face with him again. In fact, I wanted a confrontation, even if only to tell him what I thought of him and his heinous plans. He’d done his worst; there was nothing further he could do to hurt me.

Jake looked edgy when I walked in, as if he’d been kept waiting too long. There was a fireplace here too, and Jake was standing with his back to it. He was dressed more formally than usual in tailored pants, an open-collared shirt, and a deep purple dinner jacket. Light danced across his bone white skin. He looked just the same as I remembered, with strands of long dark hair falling across eyes that were glassy and reminded me of a shark’s. When he saw me, he began pacing around the room, pausing to examine one detail or another. There was a vase of long-stemmed roses in the center of the table. Jake plucked one to inhale the scent and then twirled it idly in his hands. He ignored the thorns and trickles of blood that ran down his fingers as if he couldn’t feel any pain at all. I realized he probably couldn’t and the wounds healed a moment later.

An imposing table filled the boardroom, so highly polished it reflected the ceiling. High-backed swivel chairs were arranged around it. A giant monitor took up an entire wall. On it I could see scenes from the clubs. I watched in fascination the image of bodies shiny with perspiration dancing so closely together they were almost melded into one entity. Even though it was only on a screen, the scene made me feel light-headed. The image shifted suddenly to rows of statistics and numerical calculations, then back to the tireless dancers. It seemed to zoom in on individuals and tabulate information about them.

“What do you think of my club rats?” Jake boasted. “Damned to drink and dance for eternity! That was my idea.” He held a tumbler from which he periodically sipped an amber liquid. A half-smoked cigarette hovered on the rim of an ashtray.

Someone coughed and I swung around to see we weren’t alone. A youth who didn’t look much older than me sat in the far corner of the boardroom, stroking a sleeping cat. He was dressed in a checkered shirt and pants so big they had to be held up with braces. His brown hair was cut jaggedly across his forehead as if it had been done with a pair of shears. He sat with his feet pointing inward the way a child might.

“Beth, meet Tucker. He’s one of my assistants and he’ll be keeping an eye on you. Tucker, stand up and shake hands,” Jake barked at the boy before smoothly turning back to me. “My apologies for his boorish manners.”

Jake seemed to treat him as some kind of pet that he was in the process of training. When Tucker stood up and came toward me, I saw that he had a discernible limp and dragged his right leg. He held out a large, calloused hand for me to shake. I saw a deep scar ran from his upper lip to the base of his nose. It pulled his lip up slightly so that he looked as if he were permanently sneering. Despite his size he seemed vulnerable to me. I tried smiling at him, but he only scowled darkly and averted his gaze.

Tucker’s movement roused the cat, a Siamese and none too friendly. It arched its back and hissed ferociously at me.

“I don’t think he likes competition,” said Jake in a silky voice. “Enough with the temper tantrum, Faustus. How are you settling in, Bethany? I’m sorry your arrival had to be so dramatic, but I couldn’t think of any other way.”

“Really?” I retorted. “I would’ve thought over-the-top is just the way you like it, being the big drama queen you are.” I tried to make my words as offensive as I could. I was in no mood to humor him.

Jake twisted his mouth into an O of mock surprise and clamped his fingers over it.

“My, my, we’ve learned to be catty. That’s a good thing. You can’t go through life always being Little Bo Peep.”

Jake reminded me of a chameleon in the way he could alter his appearance to blend with his surroundings. On home ground he was entirely different from the way I remembered him at school. At Bryce Hamilton he had been self-assured but still an outsider. He’d his devoted clan of followers, but it was the subculture he represented that was his strongest attraction. He’d known he didn’t belong and made no attempt to conceal it. Instead, he seemed to revel in drawing attention and when he worked his seductive influence over a student, it gave him a smug satisfaction. But he’d always been on the alert, prepared for any eventuality. On his home turf, Jake was entirely relaxed, his shoulders sloped, his smile lazy. Here, he had all the time in the world and his authority went unquestioned.

He rolled his head to the side impatiently and addressed Tucker. “Are you going to pour my guest some wine or just stand there all day like the oversize lump of uselessness you are?”

The boy hurried over to a low table and grabbed a crystal glass with clumsy hands. He filled it with crimson liquid from a decanter, and set it down gruffly in front of me.

“I don’t want a drink,” I snapped at Jake, pushing the wine away. “I want to know what you’ve done to me. There are things I want to remember, but my memories are blocked. Unblock them!”

“What’s the point in remembering your past life?” Jake smiled. “All you need to know is that you were an angel, and now you’re my angel.”

“You honestly don’t think you can keep me here without some consequences? Some divine retribution?”

“I’m not doing too badly so far,” Jake chuckled. “Besides, it was high time you got away from that hick town. It was clearly holding you back.”

“You make me sick!”

“Now, now, let’s not squabble on your very first day. Please, do sit down.” Jake’s voice became suddenly inviting as if we were two friends reuniting after a long separation. “We have so much to talk about.”