Alexandra Adornetto: Hades

“Your turn!” I felt a swarm of warm bodies around me.

I resisted by digging my heels into the floor. “I don’t want a turn. I was just watching.”

“Come on!” the voices urged. “Give it a shot.”

I decided it might be easier to pick up an apple than try to fight their enthusiasm. Despite the voice in my head telling me to run, to leave this place, I found myself on my knees staring at my own reflection distorted by the movement of the water. I squeezed my eyes shut and forced the warnings out of my head. When I opened them, I saw something in the water that made my heart stop. Hovering just behind my reflection was a wobbly image of a wasted face, its skeletal features concealed behind a heavy hood. It clutched something in its crooked, clawlike hand. Was it a sickle? Its free hand reached out toward me and its abnormally elongated fingers seemed to curl themselves like tendrils around my neck. I knew it was impossible, but the figure was startlingly familiar. I’d seen its iconic black robes in books and paintings and I knew it from my teachings back home. It was a representation of death … a Grim Reaper. But what did it want from me? I couldn’t be touched by death so it must be here for a different reason. It was an omen. But of what? I panicked and pushed my way roughly out of the circle and ran for the back door.

Outside I could still hear the muffled cries of protest at my alleged lack of participation. I ignored them and put a hand on my chest as if willing my heartbeat to steady. The cool air helped a little, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that the phantom reaper had followed me and was lurking nearby, waiting for a chance to catch me alone and encircle my throat with its wafer-thin hands.

“Beth, what are you doing out here? Are you all right?”

I heard a strange sound and realized it was coming from me. I was taking long, gasping breaths. The voice was familiar but it didn’t belong to Xavier as I’d hoped. Ben Carter got off the porch and came and stood beside me, shaking me gently as if I needed to be woken from a trance. The human contact made me feel marginally better.

“Beth, what happened? You sounded like you were choking ….” Ben’s uncombed hair hung over his brown eyes, which now looked at me with trepidation. I tried to catch my breath but failed and began to fall forward instead. If Ben hadn’t been there to catch me, I would have toppled facedown onto the ground. Ben seemed to be of the opinion that I had caused my own state of suffocation.

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, once he’d established that I wasn’t dying. He peered at me closely. Beneath his apprehension I saw a new idea dawn. “Have you been drinking?”

I was about to vehemently deny such an allegation before realizing that it was probably the most plausible explanation I could offer for my erratic behavior.

“Maybe,” I said, twisting out of his grasp and struggling to my feet. I backed away from Ben, fighting the urge to burst into tears. “Thanks for your help,” I said rapidly. “I’m fine. Really.”

As I walked away from him, one question kept sounding in my head, loud and clear. Where was Xavier? Something was wrong. I could feel it. Every celestial instinct warned me that we needed to get out of here . Fast.

I found a weeping willow in the front yard and leaned against its sturdy trunk. I could see Ben still standing by the front porch looking at me with an expression of concern mingled with confusion. But I couldn’t worry about having offended Ben now. I had more important things to think about. Could it seriously be happening again? Could demons have returned to Venus Cove? I knew for a fact that there was no more evil in this place. Gabriel and Ivy had seen to that. Jake had been banished — I’d seen raging tongues of fire consume him. He couldn’t be back. But why was every hair on my body standing on end? Why were chills coursing through my veins like tiny lightning bolts?

I felt as if I were being hunted. From where I stood alone on the gravel drive, I had an uninterrupted view of the back fields and the thick woodland beyond. I could see the scarecrow in the paddock, his head drooping onto his chest. I hoped Xavier was on his way back from the lake. I knew as soon as I saw him my fear would ebb away like a receding tide. Together we were strong and could protect each other. I needed to find him.

Just then, a gust of wind set the dry grass rustling. The scarecrow’s clothing began to flap and its head snapped up, staring directly at me with its black button eyes. My heart somersaulted in my chest and I let out a piercing scream. I spun on my heels and started back toward the house.

I didn’t get far before colliding with someone.

“Whoa, take it easy,” said a boy, hopping lightly to one side. “What’s up? You look kind of freaked out.”

His speech was far too slurred for a demon’s, and when I glanced up, I saw he didn’t look like one either. He wasn’t wearing a costume and I recognized him vaguely from somewhere. My panic subsided a little when I realized it was Ryan Robertson, Molly’s former prom date. He was standing with a huddle of people who had gathered outside the front porch. A half-consumed cigarette dangled from his hand. The group regarded me with sluggish disinterest. There was a sharp, bitter scent in the air that I couldn’t identify, but was strangely pungent.

I lifted a hand to my cheek, felt it burning hot, and was grateful for the cool night air against my skin. “I’m okay,” I said, trying to sound convincing. The last thing I wanted to do was raise unnecessary alarm based on my own misgivings.

“That’s good.” Ryan closed his eyes dreamily. “I wouldn’t want you to be not okay, if you see what I mean.” I frowned; he wasn’t sounding entirely coherent. Was it me, I wondered? Was I going completely crazy or was this bizarre party to blame?

I jumped when the screen door slammed. Molly appeared on the porch.

“Beth, there you are!” She seemed relieved to see me and leapt down the steps. “Way to freak me out! I didn’t know where you’d gone.” Her gaze swept disdainfully over Ryan and his cohort. “What are you doing with them ?”

“Ryan was just helping me,” I mumbled.

“I’m a helpful person,” Ryan declared indignantly.

Molly caught sight of the hand-rolled cigarette in his hand. “Are you high?” she demanded as she thumped his shoulder.

“Not high,” Ryan clarified. “I believe the term is greened out .”

“You loser!” Molly erupted. “You’re supposed to be driving me home. No way am I spending the night in this creepy dump.”

“Quit your whining, I drive better high,” Ryan said. “Sharpens my senses. By the way, I think I need a bucket ….”

“If you’re gonna puke, don’t do it near me,” Molly snapped.

“I think we should call it a night,” I said to her. “Will you help me find Xavier?” My suggestion was met with a swell of protest from Ryan and his friends.

“Sure,” said Molly, rolling her eyes at them. “I doubt tonight could get any weirder.”

We had just headed back toward the house in search of Xavier when the sound of a motorcycle tearing through the grass caused us to turn around. There was something urgent about the way it screamed to a halt in front of us, spraying gravel through the air. Molly shielded her eyes against the glow of the headlights. The rider slid off in one easy movement but left the engine running. He was dressed casually in a worn aviator-style leather jacket and backward baseball cap. I recognized the tall, well-built boy immediately as Wesley Cowan. Xavier and I passed his house every Friday afternoon on our way home from school. Wes would inevitably be crouched in his driveway polishing his dad’s old Merc in preparation for a weekend of partying. Wes played on Xavier’s polo team and I knew he numbered among his closest friends. Like Xavier, Wes was one of the hardest boys to rattle. There was very little that succeeded in shaking his air of confidence. It was surprising to see him now with his shirt muddy and his face creased with worry.