My Dark Guardian

Chapter One

She walks down the darkened streets, the sound created by her black four-and-a-half inch high heels making contact with the pavement echoing around her. She knew it was a reckless decision to walk home, especially at night. But she did so anyway. At that particular moment, she didn't care. She just wished she had at least grabbed her jacket before she left her apartment to venture on her girls' night out. She could have asked her friends to drive her home - on the upside, she would be warm - or she could have called a cab service and have them retrieve her from the club. But she liked to be alone. She could focus on her thoughts better without the interruption of gossip from her friends, or the deafening sound of techno music blasting through the overhead speakers in the club.

But that wasn't the real reason why she left tonight.

She was just sitting at the bar with her friends, minding her own business when a man approached her. He was dressed in a pair of men's H&M blue jeans, biker boots, and tight-clad white T-shirt. His hair was pitch black, and his eyes were jade green. His sudden appearance made her feel uneasy. "Hello," the man said, a pearly-white smile broadcasted on his face.

"Hello," she replied, her tone slightly nervous as she made eye contact with him. "What's a pretty lady like you sitting here all by yourself?" he inquired as he cocked an eyebrow quizzically. Obviously, he wasn't paying enough attention, for if he did he'd know that the girl had been sitting with her friends. "Actually, I'm here with my friends," she said, motioning to her friends with her hand, who were too busy chatting away to pay attention at the moment. "Oh," he said as he glanced over at them. He shifted his gaze back to the girl. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Clarice," she said.

"Clarice," he repeated, pronouncing every syllable. She smiled. He had an accent, she noticed. British? Irish? Scottish? She hadn't a clue. "What's your name?" she asked. "Aidon," he answered. Let's assume, for now, that he's Irish, Clarice noted mentally. Soon after, they stared at each other for a moment. The man then took his hand and gently ran his fingers through her long, golden hair. Clarice stiffened at his touch. It was cold and superfluous. She recoiled from him, and a slight smirk donned his lips. "Is something wrong, Clarice?" said he, a hint of taunt in his tone. "No," she heard herself say. She kept a straight face as she stared back at him.

She then broke eye contact with him as she rose from the bar stool and walked away from him. A sick feeling erupted in her stomach. She couldn't help but feel drawn to him. Stop, Clarice told herself. He's just another man. And she didn't trust men. At least, not yet. Clarice was suddenly stopped when someone grabbed her arm. She turned around and realized it was one of her friends, Jessica. "Clarice, what's the matter?" Jessica asked, worried. She shook her head. "Nothing, Jess," she replied. "I need to go home, I'm not feeling too good."

"Okay. Do you want me to call you a cab?"

"No, it's fine. I'll walk home."

"Are you sure? It's not safe -"

"I'll be okay, Jessica," Clarice said sternly. "My apartment building is only two blocks away." With a sigh, Jessica finally agreed to let her go. "Call me as soon as you get home, okay?" she asked as she walked Clarice to the back exit. Clarice nodded, and left the club.

Clarice soon reached her apartment building. When she entered her apartment, she went straight to her bathroom, stripped off her clothes and she was about to step into the shower, but she was interrupted by the ringing of her cellphone. With a frustrated groan, she picks up her phone and answers it without even glancing at the caller ID. "Hello?" she said. "Hey, it's me," Jessica responded, "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm okay, I promise."

"Are you sure? Why'd you leave so suddenly?"

Clarice opened her mouth to speak, but then she stopped herself. How would Jessica understand the reason why she left? Oh yeah, I left the club because some guy tried to make a pass at me, and it made me uncomfortable, so I left. Jessica wouldn't understand, Clarice concluded. "I was feeling sick," she lied.

"Oh... Do you think it was the drinks?"

"Yeah, probably."

"Okay... Well, I'll let you go, Reese," Jessica said, using her old childhood nickname. "I hope you feel better."

"Thanks, Jess." And with that, Clarice ended the call and hopped into the shower.

***

Clarice lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling. It was almost 3:00 in the morning. She had been tossing and turning for the past two-and-a-half hours. Not once did she get a wink of sleep. During this time, she couldn't figure out why she was unable to sleep.

After an unknown amount of time, Clarice finally shut her eyes and - slowly but surely - drifted off to sleep. But unfortunately, it was short-lived. Clarice felt a sudden shift in the bed, as if someone just sat down. Abruptly, her eyes flickered open and she was shocked at what she saw before her. The man from the bar - Clarice could not recall his name - was sprawled out on the bed, right beside her. He was wearing a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He also wore black dress pants. There was an intense smell, but Clarice assumed it was some type of cologne he was wearing. The smell was quite strong, enveloping, enticing...

Clarice gazed at him, dumbfounded. At the moment, she was unsure whether or not she was dreaming. During this time, her subconscious was screaming at her, ordering her to get the hell out of bed and run. But her body was immobile. She couldn't move to save her life.

The man reached over and - ever so docile - caressed her cheek. His hand was as malleable as a feather. Then a somewhat devilish smile donned his broad face. He didn't speak, nor did Clarice. She wanted so desperately to move away from him, to scream, shout, anything. But he had her in a reverie.

Oh my God, Clarice thought, why can't I move?!

This isn't real. This isn't real.

It has to be a dream. He is a figment of my imagination.

I'm just going to close my eyes and this will all be a dream.

Then the deafening silence was broken by a light chuckle. "But Clarice, you're not dreaming," said the man. Now she remembered his name. "Aidon!" she gasped, relieved that she was no longer taciturn. "What are you...h-how did you -" she stammered, but before she could attempt to complete her fragmented series of questions, Aidon placed his index finger on her lips and shushed her. "I shall answer everything you want to ask," he said tenderly. "But some other time, sweetheart. I need you to come with me. Tonight."

Clarice could feel herself beginning to tremble. Fear was settling in. Then suddenly, she regained control of herself. She sat up and was about to step off the bed when Aidon abruptly grabbed her by her arms and pushed her back against the chestnut-colored hardwood bed-frame. Frightened, Clarice tried to push him away, but she failed drastically. "Please don't hurt me, Aidon," she entreated. As he snickered in response, he added, "Oh, on the contrary, my name isn't Aidon." Clarice's eyes widened in terror. She opened her mouth to reply, but 'Aidon' interrupted her.

"My name is Hades."

Clarice then felt his now ice-cold hand on her forehead, and before she knew it, darkness fell upon her.