Hades Sent : Book One of the Sent Series Read online

  Hades Sent

  Book One of the Sent Series

  ~~*~~

  B.Y. Simpson

  Copyright © 2021 by B.Y. Simpson

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental. Although some real-life iconic places are depicted in settings, all situations and people related to those places are fictional.

  Book Layout © 2017 BookDesignTemplates.com

  Book Editing and Formatting by JeanneFelfe.com

  ISBN 978-1-7377935-0-2 (paperback) | ISBN 978-1-7377935-1-9 (ebook)

  ~~ * ~~

  For my boys, Easton and River. Mommy loves you.

  For Jake, who always supports my ideas and loves me for who I am.

  For Beth and Jennifer who read the very rough drafts and convinced me the story was worth continuing. It probably wouldn’t have gotten completed without you. P.S. Jennifer, I still have the journal.

  ~~ * ~~

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Acknowledgements

  About The Author

  Prologue

  Okay. I can do this. Really, I can. It’s just a simple task. One short glimpse is all it takes. The mirror taunts me from across my bedroom. Why is it that every morning I dread this? Every time the sun rises across the clouds, I feel nervous and uneasy? If nothing has changed, it will! It has to. No question.

  I swallow the lump that has formed in my throat and walk slowly across my room to peek at my reflection. Don’t panic. It will be fine. Just fine. My reflection shows me exactly what I don’t want to see. I toss my hair off my shoulders and breathe in deep. I’m still the same. No wings. No place here. Yet.

  No place to call home anywhere, really. Laying my head down on the bedroom pillow doesn’t mean this is home. It simply means shelter. These walls are empty, just like the promises the higher authority keeps telling me.

  “Keep completing the assignments and the wings will come,” they say. “You need more motivation and dedication! Wings are attainable to those truly worthy.” So, I complete the tasks they have for me, day in and day out. Helping people … helping humans … and it’s okay. But after so long, one starts to think that maybe the system is rigged.

  I should have left that money on the sidewalk yesterday where it was, instead of turning it in. That would be a total shock to the tally system. No one has ever tried to fail on purpose. What’s the worst that could happen?

  No. I shake my head to clear it. Stop it. I won’t get my wings thinking like that. All those who have wings earned them without complaint. This is a new day! New people need help and I will be the one to assist them!

  I walk over and pull my white lacey curtains apart to let the sun in. It’s always so bright here. Blinding, really. No storms ever come, no clouds. Just bright white light from above. We are at peace here. True peace. None of that murky hateful stuff is allowed. Except, well … I have trouble with that. I guess I should explain a bit more about what I’m talking about.

  You see, I am an angel without my wings. Yes, it is tragic. I think so, too. Us young teen angels must earn them. I live in what humans call heaven. However, it’s not exactly the same. I am in angel heaven, not the wonderful human heaven. Angel heaven is … difficult. I understand that the human heaven is peaceful and beautiful. It’s a forever type of love and sacrifice. My heaven judges and condemns you. This heaven has different levels depending on what you have earned, and the circumstances of your birth. Now that I talk about where I live, it doesn’t really sound like heaven at all. And to top it off, my dad and I kind of live on … the bottom level in heaven. You know, the one right before getting kicked out altogether. It’s all because Dad had an “accident” sixteen years ago and the result was me. Problem is, it wasn’t with just anybody. Angels are not to have relations with humans per the command of the higher authority, and certainly not with demons. My, were they surprised to find Dad swooping back in here after a yearlong stay on Earth helping the humans, with a baby in his arms. That baby was me. And yes, I am part angel, part demon. A hybrid, as they call me. Dad’s an angel. Mom is a demon from Hades, although I’ve never met her. It’s forbidden. The higher authority let us both in, but punished Dad terribly. He lost his wings and I’m beginning to think I will never get mine.

  The higher authority claims I am too much demon and not enough angel. If they really wanted, I suppose they could throw me out, but I haven’t given them a reason to. So, I’m trying really hard to earn my place here and move Dad and me up a level or two so that life can be better for us. Maybe I can even get Dad’s wings back. Well, after I gain mine. It’s all in theory. They hate me. I look too different, I guess. Fire-red shoulder length hair, and one blue eye and one black eye certainly stand out. Everyone is supposed to have white hair, blue eyes, a pale completion, and soft features. Kind of like the angel statues on Earth. I don’t have that. Not at all. Besides my hair and eyes, my skin is more of an olive color, and I definitely have my mother’s hands. As a demon, I’m sure she has long pointy black fingernails because that’s what I have. They get trimmed daily. It still doesn’t help.

  People stare and kids talk, but that’s the way it is here. They teach love and acceptance, but don’t follow through. Living around a bunch of two-faced people isn’t easy. I’m determined to make it, only because they are so desperate to see me fail.

  Chapter One

  Ireland

  “Ireland, are you enjoying your lunch?” comes a voice from behind me. I glance up from my meal of broth and bread to see Gabriella making her way toward me. Glee shows on her face as she sits down beside me on the cafeteria bench. It’s lunch time at our school, The Academy of Female Wings, and here I am stuck with her. Gabriella, like everyone else, is an angel that is happy all the time. She can hide her true intentions behind her goddess-looking face. I don’t see how she can trick the higher authority into thinking she’s kind and considerate. Everything she
says is condescending. If not, then she’s cold and fake.

  I take another hard look at her to debate on what to say when I see what’s on her plate. Envy makes my face flush. Gabriella has a beautiful array of food to choose from. Apples, cherries, wine, and rich cheese take up one side. Pasta rich in olives takes up the other. I swallow, forcing down my stale bread and before I can respond to her question about my lunch, she continues talking as if waiting for me to answer is the most horrible waste of her time.

  She tsks and says, “Such a shame isn’t it? It’s not fair that the higher authority treats you so poorly. You eat this trash for lunch while others enjoy much more tasteful things.” She pops a bright red, juicy cherry into her mouth and I salivate. “And, to think, it’s all because your father had relations with some demon woman. Pity. He seems like a smart man. You must agree, Ireland, that he doomed you from birth. And just so you know”—she regards me sharply—“I’m not judging you. I’m simply being honest. That’s what good angels do.”

  My nostrils flare from anger and my eyes grow hot. Of course, this isn’t a good thing. My eyes glow faintly red when I get mad. Thanks, Mom. “Honesty is always the best policy, I’m told.” I smile at her as nicely as I can. Apparently, Gabriella isn’t fooled. She stares at me and for a moment appears shaken.

  “You’re a freak, Ireland,” she murmurs before grabbing her plate and moving away.

  “I am not,” I whisper more or less to myself. As much as I try not to, things get to me in this place. For instance, the food options for the lower level angels are worse than not eating. Well, almost. We get broth and bread and on special occasions juice to drink because we haven’t proven ourselves yet. The higher the level you are, the better the food, the better the living arrangements, and you get the best missions to help the humans out. Gabriella is almost at the top level. Don’t ask me how. I suspect it’s because of how much she sucked up along the way. Probably has to do with her birth. Two high up angels can set things up quite nicely for their children. Her parents are top pick around here.

  I’ve had all I can stand of my bland food, so I tuck the rest of the bread in my school bag for later. Dad might want it. Nothing goes to waste at my house. That’s an important rule. The bell rings, suddenly, telling us it’s time to get going to our lesson for the day. I sigh. Okay. Today will be the day. They must assign me a better task. Please, let them give me some kind of hard assignment.

  I get up, brush the crumbs off my collared blue shirt and white pants, and head through the cafeteria doors to go to the drop-off. Every day, the lesson is different. They are not the common Algebra lessons or chemistry projects. Oh no. These lessons are the type that let us go down to Earth to help and assist someone. They are auto assigned, and we are not supposed to help anyone else. That’s hard to do. There are so many people that need to be helped with something.

  The drop-off is on the outskirts of level two. It’s exactly what it means. A drop-off. To Earth. Yes, I said it. We fly down from there to Earth. It’s pretty much a big open vast space in the sky.

  The Academy of Female Wings is on level three. Unfortunately, I am stuck with only females because the male angels are separated from us to avoid “conflict” as they say. Puh-lease! We are separated to prevent new angels from appearing within the levels. “No relations until adulthood,” we are commanded. Well, I can’t see that happening. But then, I guess, it’s going pretty well considering I don’t even know where the Male Academy is.

  We reach each level by staircases. Each level is decorated according to who’s occupying it. The bottom level has staircases of wood, ascending onward to better things. The wood on my staircase is sparse and what is there is half rotten. No one cares if we make it up or not. The further up you climb, the better condition of the stairs. The middle level stairs are made of bricks and stones. The top level is grand, with marble steps and railings. Even the stairs remind me of my lack of worth.

  Security is tight and I’m only allowed up here because of school. Otherwise, I am stationed on level … whatever. I’ve lost count … perhaps level twenty? All that matters is that I’m on the bottom level and everyone knows it. And I should leave for no reason it’s school related. Pretty discriminating, if you ask me. This is heaven. Why are there even levels to begin with? We should all be the same, but of course no one asked me my opinion.

  Clear those thoughts, Ireland. They will get you nowhere here. Put a smile on your face! The Higher Authority demands it! I feel a twitch near my mouth and that’s how I know I’ve got my nice fake smile plastered to my face. There. That wasn’t so hard. Now, I’ve just got to keep it there, especially until I get to the drop off. I keep walking toward the drop-off, silently hoping no one will come up and talk to me.

  The path there takes all types of forms. Grass trails, cobble stone pathways, even a roadway leading to the last stairway. A normal human would be exhausted by now, running up and down the paths and stairs. Angels don’t have to worry about getting tired out. We never do, at least not in heaven. I heard about one angel though that got sent to Hell. He lasted about an hour before he died. Thinking about that gives me the shivers.

  But you would think some of us could fly up to each level. Nope, not the case. We must walk or run to each level, no flying. Course, I don’t have wings to fly anyway. And even if I did, I wouldn’t fly here. I’ve seen angels break the rules before and the result was being brought to the higher authority. They control everything and punishment is enforced. Who ever heard of angels breaking the rules? Certainly not the higher ups. They give you two rule breaks before you’re toast. One time means you are stripped of your wings—if you have them—and sent to the low level to live. If rule number two is broken, goodbye. You are either sent to Earth or Hell; it really depends on the rule broken or the mood that day of the higher authority.

  So, why do I live here? Why would I want to? I don’t really know. Perhaps, because of my dad. I can’t leave him. Angels do get a lot of benefits. No pain or illness in heaven. Immortality has a nice ring to it, too. The main thing I want is to get my wings and to move up. Then, I’m sure life will be better for me and Dad. And to do that, missions have to be completed … wings have to be earned. Sigh. And now, here we are full circle. Except, this doesn’t feel like a circle. This place feels like a cage.

  “Morning! How goes it down below?” says a guard standing at the entrance of the drop-off. Kirk smiles the same condescending smile he wears every morning. He guards the drop-off night and day while wearing full military clothes, the colors bright gray. Handcuffs swing from his side as he moves to check my ID.

  He knows who I am, which is why he asked me how it goes below. But I hand my wrist over to him anyway. If you look close enough, you can see a tiny bar code there. He scans it so that I can go in. I’m tagged in for another day. Each second, minute, and action of the day will be recorded.

  Okay. I need to respond to him. “Things are good. Thank you so much for asking,” I say in the best voice possible.

  Kirk smiles at me in the most sour way. “It is really no problem, Ireland. Good angels always ask.”

  “Of course. Have a nice day,” I smile as sweetly as I can and then walk through the opening to the drop-off. It’s really bright here. This is the point where heaven meets Earth. It’s a thin piece of atmosphere that joins us all together. Below are clouds and planes. Birds, trees, and people. Down there is freedom.

  Everyone in my class is already here. I’m last. Again. They circle the drop-off waiting patiently for their assignments from our instructor, Ms. Craven. Our teacher is a middle-aged angel wearing silk blue robes with a tie. Her hair is twisted in a bun and she’s trying not to scold me in front of everyone. To many witnesses, she thinks. Next to her is Gabriella, who catches my eye and shakes her head in concern. I walk toward the group as quietly as I can. Ms. Craven lifts her paperwork out of thin air to run down the list of names going to Earth today.

  All the girls in my class are just lik
e Gabriella except one. She might be my saving grace. Her name is Faith and she does not stay with the rest of the group. All the other girls listen to every bark and command that comes from Gabriella’s lips. Faith sings her own tune. She doesn’t talk to me either, but every now and then I catch her rolling her eyes, mocking the others. Faith gives me hope. She even has a different look about her. Not like me, but I swear she has green eyes that she hides as best she can with blonde bangs.

  Ms. Craven clears her throat. “Okay, girls. Let’s get our lessons for today, shall we?” This is the part I block out. I used to get mad when the other girls where given better tasks. Now, I try to ignore it. They all look at me, waiting for me to say something. They wait for the demon part of me to display. I’m entertainment to them. Not today, I say in my head. Not today.

  Ms. Craven blabs for a while, going through the list. I catch that Gabriella gets to prevent an abduction from happening to a little child. I want to do that. Next, as always, is my turn to see what I can do today. “And lastly, Ireland. It seems that your task today is to … well … assist a bank. There’s a bank robber in a semi-rural area of Tennessee. You will be going to the United States to try to keep this robbery from happening. Sources say it is a young man, maybe twenty, who has robbed several in the area.”

  A bank robber. Okay. This is better than yesterday’s task of finding lost money. “Sure,” I answer with real excitement.

  “You all will stay on your assigned tasks for as long as it takes to be completed. You are to meet back at your assigned pick up spots each day. If you are not there at the assigned time, we will assume your task is not complete. Everyone will have a buddy partner to communicate with. You shall communicate when the task ends and if you have any trouble, your partner can come assist you. Each partner is assigned by area, as you know. Today, Ireland and Gabriella will be partners working together if needed,” explains Ms. Craven while looking at Gabriella with pity.