Hades’ Daughter (The War of Fate) Read online

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  Copyright © 2017 by Charlotte Carol

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  The War of Fate

  Hades’ Daughter

  By: Charlotte Carol

  ISBN: 978-1-68030-927-0

  © Charlotte Carol 2017

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  To everyone who, like Scarlett, is fighting their inner demons daily.

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  Chapter 1

  Welcome to Hell

  Hades is known by many names in different cultures around the world—the Devil, Lord of the Underworld, and Satan. I have met the real Devil, and no, I am not dead, nor did I sell him my soul. No, I know him by a different name: Dad. My name is Scarlett Hades, and I am the daughter of the god Hades.

  Lying on my back on the bed, my legs bent, I stare up at the high ceiling above me. I blow air out through my lips, resting my hands flat on my stomach. I listen to the sounds of the house: the guards patrolling, the servants going about their different duties, and Tybalt, my pet hound, padding around the house, trying to find something to eat. I ponder what to do. It’s late in the “day,” and I’ve run out of ideas. I turn my head to look at the half-finished book on the bedside table, one of the many books my dad bought me. I have been meaning to finish it for a while, so I sit up, pushing my long hair out of the way, and reach for the book. I only get halfway back to the bed with the book, however, before the silence is shattered by a deep, booming voice, and I nearly drop it. I hear this voice often, but it still gets me every time when it is unexpected.

  “Scarlett Olivia Hades, come to the entrance right now!” The angry voice vibrates throughout Hell. I guess my dad decided for me then.

  I return the book to the bedside table before swinging my legs over the side of the bed and strolling out of my room. I pass servants and guards as I make my way toward the big staircase leading down to the entrance hall. Every servant, all of them souls, bows their head as I pass. The guards continue with whatever they are doing. I don’t get the privilege of having everyone bow their heads until I take over for my dad.

  I step off the grand staircase and find Tybalt meandering down one of the hallways leading into the entrance hall. When he catches sight of me, his big, black head rises. An instant later, his dark mass is bounding toward me. I crouch down to welcome him as he skids to a halt in front of me. I scratch him behind his ear in his favorite spot, running my fingers through his thick fur. He’s been in my life since he and I were newborns, and I can’t imagine my life without him. I know, cliché, but it’s true.

  I straighten up, his big red eyes following me, silently asking me what he should do, but also pleading with me to play with him. I put my hands on my hips as I look down at him. Watching him now, you would never know how vicious he can be.

  “I guess we could have one game,” I tell him. I clench my hands, pointing my index fingers and thumbs out, forming a makeshift gun. I point my index fingers down at Tybalt, his tail wagging side to side in excitement, making me glad that there is nothing valuable in range, and make a sound like a gunshot.

  “Pow!”

  At my sound, Tybalt falls to the floor, lying on his side, his red eyes watching me to see if he did well. I loved teaching him this trick when I was younger. I chuckle, bending down to give him another scratch before walking to the front door.

  With my hand on the handle, I glance back at Tybalt who is now up on all fours looking at me expectantly.

  “Tybalt, stay,” I command. He lies down, his head falling onto his big paws, his red eyes trained on me.

  “Good boy,” I say with a smile. I pull open the heavy door, and I am immediately hit by heat. I’ve lived here for eighteen years, and it hasn’t changed a bit. I love the feeling of opening the door and being hit by the heat and breathing in the sulfuric smoke. I love the glow and color of the fire pits, and even though it seems weird, I also love the sounds. As expected, this being Hell, the main sound is the souls’ screaming, but that’s what I’m used to and what home sounds like to me. Any different and I would find it strange.

  As soon as I step out onto the hard ground, a servant appears by my side, asking if there is anything he could do for me, offering to retrieve whatever I want. I think for a moment if I do want anything from him, maybe go and see my dad for me, but dismiss him when I decide to go for a ride. I walk past demons and souls toward the stables.

  When I arrive at the stables, I nod my head at the guard posted outside the big doors. I step inside, the hay crunching under my boots. Another servant comes scurrying to my side.

  “How may I help you, ma’am?” she asks. I love hearing the different voices of souls, as they come from all over Earth, but in the end, they all sound similar when they are screaming. The soul before me sounds like she
comes from the south of America.

  “I would like my horse. Don’t bother saddling him. I’ll do that,” I tell her. I walk to the wall which holds the silver bridle and black saddle for my horse, Drake. I lift them up, feeling glad for my extra strength, and turn back to the middle of the stable.

  I see the soul leading, with difficulty, Drake from one of the many stalls. I watch as Drake pulls his head up violently away from the soul. The strength and the height of him, which is already causing the soul to struggle, nearly pull her off her feet. I watch with amusement as the soul tries to lead an uncooperative Drake toward me.

  Eventually, the soul manages to pull Drake in my direction. I take him from the soul, dismissing her afterward. As the soul rushes away, Drake tries, for the last time, to cause damage to the soul by kicking out his back leg. His massive hoof misses her by inches. I pull him down to look at me.

  “Behave,” I admonish him as I rub my hand down his black nose. He blows out through his nose, a lot calmer now. I place the saddle on his back, securing it around his stomach before flipping the stirrups up his back. I make sure they are at the right length and are secure.

  Once I am satisfied, I then move to the bridle, securing the straps and pushing the bit between his teeth. I give him a pat on the neck as I lead him toward our exit. I halt him to get on him. Holding the reins, I place my foot in the stirrup and swing myself onto his back. I secure my other foot and place my hands correctly on the reins before kicking him with my heels. He starts to walk briskly.

  “Scarlett Olivia Hades, if you are not here in one minute, there will be trouble!” my dad’s voice rumbles through Hell once again.

  I roll my eyes and shout back, “I’m coming. No need to go all devil on me!”

  I don’t get a reply, so I kick Drake again and again, and we are cantering toward the entrance to Hell, the hot air blowing my hair around my face.

  As I ride, I notice a demon advancing on a little boy. I usually try to stop the demons from attacking the young children. It’s very rare to get young children here, so when the demons find one, they have a field day. The souls don’t age. For the rest of eternity, they stay the same age when they died. Anyone who is born here will become a demon and will age extremely slowly after the age of eighteen. Even souls can have children, but it’s really rare to be done willingly. I slightly nudge Drake to the right to charge at the demon.

  I get a glimpse of the demon’s monstrous face as his beady, red eyes widen in surprise. A demon often looks like a human. However, when they attack, their face transforms; their eyes look like they’re catching fire, and they grow fangs. The same happens to me, but I get a pair of horns too, like a tiara.

  Drake knocks the demon into a pit behind him, and the fire swallows the demon’s body but not his screams of discomfort, though.

  I roll my eyes. He’ll be fine; he’s just overreacting. The fire won’t kill him; it will be more of an annoyance like if you ran a bath too hot. Otherwise, half of the demons in Hell would be dead as we’ve all fallen in at least once. I, however, am immune to the effects of fire. To me, it’s like sitting in a pleasant bath. I actually use it to tan on some days. On Earth, humans use a fireball in the sky; I use the fire in the ground.

  I maneuver us back onto the main path leading to the entrance, patting Drake’s neck as we ride.

  As we draw nearer to the entrance and my dad, I slow Drake to a trot to control him better. I steer Drake past the demons waiting for new souls and to the winding path leading to the entrance. Drake and I climb the steep incline before emerging onto the flat piece of land at the top.

  I stop Drake so I can admire the view of Hell from up here; it’s one of my favorite places to sit and watch the movements of Hell, my dad’s office being the other. You can see almost all the way back to the house from up here. Hell is a big place, as it needs to be able to hold everyone. The demons and souls all look the same from up here, small ant-like beings.

  With a smile on my face, I turn Drake and start off at a walking pace toward where my dad is standing in a tunnel. On the other side of this cave is where the boat docks to drop off the souls from just being sorted. The demons use this as their way to get to the other side of the lake and onwards to Earth.

  I stop Drake outside of the cave and tie his reins to a post that I had placed before. I give him one last stroke before I amble toward my dad.

  When he hears me coming closer, he turns his angry blue eyes to me, his strong arms crossed. Before you imagine him as the universal image of the Devil—all red, horns, and a tail, holding a pitchfork—he doesn’t look anything like that. Yes, like me, he grows horns and fangs if he’s very angry or attacking. (The latter is rare. Not the former, he likes to blame me for all his anger.) But his normal everyday appearance is a tall, strong human. His hair is pitch black, which he likes to compare to his soul. His piercing blue eyes are one of the features I inherited from him. They say my brown hair is from my mother, but I don’t remember her to know whether that is true. I also apparently got my height from my mother, as I am slightly taller than average at about 5’7”, unlike my father. He looks very young, but the truth is, of course, the total opposite. He is a couple of millenniums old. If anyone were to see him walking down a dark alley, they would most likely turn and run the other way.

  I shove my hands into my pants as I stop beside my dad, looking at the subject of his anger at this moment.

  “What’s up?” I ask cheerily.

  He gives me an unamused look and then points at the wall we are standing in front of. There’s not a lot for me to do down here, so I make my own fun to amuse myself. Earlier today, I painted in blood on the wall in front of us:

  WELCOME TO HELL! I HOPE YOU ENJOY YOUR STAY HERE! IF YOU DON’T, TOUGH LUCK, BECAUSE YOU AIN’T LEAVING.

  “Oh. That.”

  “Explain,” he commands.

  “I thought they needed a welcome. They are sorted into boats at the Styx Lake which take them to either Olympus or Hell, and in all that time, they never get a welcome,” I explain with a shrug. By Olympus, I mean the place that humans call Heaven, not the mountain in Greece. However, a long time ago, my family did reside there.

  The humans finding out about the existence of my family was through stories, meaning the myths that are thought to be true, are sometimes just that. Myths. Slight details can be changed or left out through time. For example, the myth about where the dead go is not entirely true. Yes, they do come to the underworld, but they also go to Olympus. The humans only heard about the underworld’s problems with souls, so they assumed that here was where all the souls went. Zeus made sure it was this way, as he didn’t want the souls to change the way they lived. If everyone believed they were going to the same place, no one would change their ways to better the outcome, and they would end up leading their life as the true person they are. Why make souls who have lead good lives suffer? I find that we all use Hell to describe the underworld as it fits it perfectly, and it’s definitely a lot easier than saying the underworld each time. It’s the same with my dad; people all over the world have different beliefs about who rules their version of the underworld, and as a result my dad is given different names as he is the only equivalent to their beliefs. An example, and one that I like to call my dad, is Devil.

  “If you want to give them a welcome, why don’t you go to the lake and throw a party saying: The Underworld isn’t that bad. We have cake?”

  I chuckle; you would never think that he’s the god of the underworld and the dead with the way he acts.

  “Hell is meant to scare the souls that come here, and if they get a welcome, we are sending the wrong message. I want you to clean this up,” he says, producing a bucket and a sponge out of nowhere and handing it to me. Unfortunately, I don’t have this power yet.

  “What if I don’t want to?” I ask, raising my eyebrow as I put my hand on my hip.

  “Well, that’s an entirely different story,” he says sarcastically.

&
nbsp; “Okay, then I don’t want to,” I tell him.

  My father’s caring face is gone in an instant and is replaced by the gnarled, monstrous face of a demon, his eyes red, his horns and his fangs visible.

  “Are you being serious? That might scare souls and demons into doing what you want, but that doesn’t work on me.”

  His face changes back to his normal one when he realizes that I am right. “Just do it!” he grumbles before stroking Drake and walking down the winding path.

  “Great!” I mutter under my breath. I pick up the sponge, thrust it into the soapy water, and start to scrub at the wall.

  ***

  I have been scrubbing away for five minutes when I hear the boat pull up. I grin to myself as I continue. Great, a new set of souls. After I’ve heard all the souls and demons disembark, and the boat making its way back to the other side of the lake, I spin around to greet them.

  Demons pass by me without giving me a glance. I look at the group of souls to see if there are any children, and when I see none, I decide to scare them like my dad said we should. I allow my horns and my fangs to grow and my eyes to change color.

  “Hello and welcome to Hell. My name is Scarlett, and I will be your tour guide for this lovely evening. You’re a lucky bunch because, in fact, I’m actually the big guy’s, Hades’, Satan’s, the Devil’s—whatever you want to call him—daughter. So, are we all ready?”

  I continue without waiting for an answer. “This is the entrance, and where all the souls arrive and the demons exit. We are currently in a state of redecoration, as you can see behind, but that should be over soon. Now, we will be heading toward the big fire pits, so choose a buddy and stick with them. Try not to fall in, but if such a thing should happen, ignore the screams, and we will continue. Any questions before we move on?” I ask, looking at each of their petrified faces.