Alexandra Adornetto: Hades

I had no idea how long it would be before I saw it again. The last thing I was aware of was falling and the sound of my own ragged screams before the darkness consumed us.

I looked around, disoriented, and shivered in my flimsy satin shift. I remembered nothing about how I’d come to be here. My hair was damp with sweat and the fluffy costume wings I’d been wearing were gone. I figured they must have come loose and been wrenched off during the turbulent ride.

There wasn’t anything about this place that was even vaguely familiar. I was standing alone in a dark and cobbled laneway. Fog swirled around my feet and the air was pungent with a strange odor. It smelled like decay as if the very air itself were dead. It looked like the derelict part of some urban landscape because I could see the smoky outline of skyscrapers and spires in the distance. But they didn’t look real — more like buildings in a faded old photograph — blurry and lacking in detail. Where I stood there were only brick walls covered in crude graffiti. The mortar had fallen out in places, leaving openings that someone had stuffed with newspaper. I heard (or imagined I heard) the scuttling of rats coming from behind them. Overloaded Dumpsters were scattered around and the walls were windowless apart from a couple that had been boarded up. When I looked up, I found that there was no sky, only a strange expanse of darkness, dim and watery in some places and thick as tar in others. This darkness breathed like a living thing and was much more than the mere absence of light.

An old-fashioned lamppost shedding a milky light allowed me to identify a black motorcycle propped just a few meters away. Its rider was nowhere in sight. Seeing the bike made my mind reel and forced me back to my current predicament. I fought to make sense of what had just happened but memory failed me. Random images flashed through my mind in no apparent sequence. I remembered a rambling house off a highway, a grinning jack-o’-lantern, and the laughter and banter of teenagers. Then the harsh sound of an engine being revved and someone calling my name. But these images were like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that I’d only just begun to assemble. It was as though my mind were denying me access to the memories for fear I wouldn’t be able to deal with them. It was dishing them out in fragments that made little to no sense. Suddenly one vivid image crashed through the barrier and the recollection caused me to gasp aloud. I was back aboveground, immobilized by fear, as a motorbike driven by a raven-haired boy recklessly pitched itself through a slash in the highway. How was that even possible?

I had the feeling I’d been standing in the deserted alley for a while and yet had no sense of how much time had passed. My thoughts felt thick and sluggish, and trying to navigate my way through them was arduous. I massaged my throbbing temples and groaned. Whatever happened had also taken its toll physically and my limbs felt shaky as if I’d just run a marathon.

“It takes a day or two to adjust,” said a honey-smooth voice. Jake Thorn materialized out of the shadows to stand by my side. He spoke to me with such lilting familiarity, as if he and I had known each other long enough to dispense with formalities. His sudden appearance put my senses on high alert. “Until then you may experience some disorientation or a dry throat,” he added. His nonchalant tone was astounding. Despite my confusion I felt like screaming at him, and if my throat hadn’t felt as parched as a desert, I would have.

“What have you done?” I croaked instead. “Where am I?”

“There’s no need for alarm,” he replied. I wondered if he might be trying to reassure me, but he wasn’t able to pull it off and only ended up sounding condescending. I looked at him not even trying to conceal my skepticism. “Relax, Beth, you’re in no danger.”

“What am I doing here, Jake?” It was more a demand than a question.

“Isn’t that rather obvious? You’re here as my guest, Beth, and I’ve taken care of everything to ensure your stay is a pleasant one.” There was such an uncharacteristically expectant look on his face that for a moment I didn’t know how to reply. I looked at him wide-eyed.

“Don’t worry, Beth, this place can be a lot of fun when you’re with the right people.”

Almost to illustrate his point the ground beneath us began to vibrate. A song I recalled from last summer blared so loudly it ricocheted off the walls. It appeared to be coming from behind solid steel doors at the far end of the lane. They looked how you might imagine the entrance to a maximum-security prison. Only it wasn’t a prison but rather a venue of some sort, indicated by a neon sign flashing above the doors. PRIDE. I saw the tail end of the letter P trail off across the roofline in what was meant to represent peacock plumes.

“Pride is one of our most popular clubs,” Jake explained. “And it’s the only way in. Shall we?” He indicated via a courtly flourish that I should walk ahead of him, but my legs seemed rooted to the spot and refused to cooperate. Jake was forced to take my arm and escort me. The fog cleared to reveal a young man and woman standing outside the doors. The woman was insect thin, pale, and dressed in nothing but sequined black shorts, a leather bra, and the highest platform shoes I’d ever seen. Fine silver chains hung via silver hooks from her bra down to her navel, creating a mesh curtain in front of her torso. Her platinum blond hair was cropped short, and a cigarette hung from black painted lips. I was surprised to see the young man was even more heavily made up than his female counterpart. His eyes were boldly outlined and there was black polish on his nails. He wore a leather vest over a bare chest and checkered pants that tapered at his ankles. Piercings were visible on every body part exposed. The woman traced the outline of her lips suggestively with the tip of her tongue on which I could see a silver stud. Her eyes had a hungry look as they traveled over my body.

“Well, well,” she purred as we approached the entrance. “Look what the cat dragged in. It’s a glow-in-the-dark doll.”

“Good evening, Larissa … Elliott.” Jake’s greeting was acknowledged by a silent and simultaneous inclination of heads.

Elliott smirked and cast an approving glance in Jake’s direction. “Seems someone took something that didn’t belong to them.”

Jake’s face broke into a gloating smile. “Oh, I think she belongs to me.”

“Well, she certainly does now.” Larissa’s laugh was low and guttural. She’d outlined her eyes so the liner curved upward, giving her a feline look.

The way they talked about me as if I weren’t there was unsettling. It made me feel like some kind of trophy. If I had been less disoriented, I might have expressed my disapproval. Instead, I asked the only question that sprang to mind and my voice came out sounding childish and waif-like.

“Who are you?”

Elliott clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “She obviously don’t get out much.” That made me angry.

“It’s really none of your business!” I retorted, causing the pair to break into peals of laughter.

“She’s entertaining, as well,” commented Larissa. They cocked their heads and continued to study me with an unsettling intensity. “What else can she do?”

“Oh, just the usual,” I snapped back angrily. “Backflips, knife throwing, that sort of thing.”

Jake sighed with sudden boredom. “Can we move this along, please?”

Larissa shrugged obligingly and bent down to look me directly in the eye. “You wanna know who we are, doll face?” she asked. “We’re the door bitches.”