My uncle slowed the vehicle behind the parked car, sighing heavily as he pulled the handbrake on. Ahead of us was the real estate agent, beaming a smarmy smile that held little honesty. The guy was certainly pleasant, fawning all over Brad as if he was going to snap up this amazing deal with whirlwind speed. Little did he know that my uncle had zero interest in the house so long as the structure was sound and it was cheap.
"What number are we up to now?"
"For what? Houses that we've looked at or towns that we've moved to? Both are in double digits."
Brad smiled thinly. His sympathy was lacking, as always.
"Houses that we've looked at."
"This is house number twelve."
"It's certainly more promising than the last one. Come on, let's get this over and done with."
Brad turned off the engine, and the windscreen wipers stopped halfway across the glass. We'd been in Hades for a week, and it hadn't stopped raining. Quite literally. I have not heard a single minute where there hasn't been some form of rain. From a light patter to torrential, it was endless.
"Are you sure you want to live in this town? The name is kind of creepy."
I was expecting the devil to jump out from behind a bush. So far, the only thing that's jumped out at us was a rat. It was in the loading dock at the bed and breakfast we were staying at. Brad had gone down there to collect a delivery, insisting I helped him with the boxes.
"We don't have a choice. Got to go where the boss says, and that's all there is to it."
"Well, you might want to ring your boss and tell him to send umbrellas and raincoats. Maybe a rowboat might be ideal too."
Brad chuckled as we approached the real estate agent. Like everyone else, this guy assumed that Brad was my father. I looked like Brad. There was no doubt that we were related.
We both had chocolate brown hair and deep green eyes. We were fair-skinned and tall. The only difference, aside from our genders and ages, was that Brad had developed a bit of a potbelly.
Sometimes Brad would correct a person if they assumed wrong. Sometimes he didn't bother at all. I guess he only wanted to make sure they didn't think that he was some pervert that was dating a teenager. If they thought that, then they were clearly blind. Brad and I were definitely two peas in a pod.
"Glad you made it, Brad. Did you find the place okay?"
"Yeah, easy as."
He nodded, then turned to me. The artificially whitened teeth stood out in the gleaming smile. I tried not to stare. Tom was a man that liked to keep up his image. I'd only seen him a couple of times for these viewings, but it was obvious that the man had invested a lot of money into the view. Like the fake tan and the pristine suits, the chunky gold ring on his finger, or the fancy watch on his wrist. Tom Garrow was the perfect image of a man that was good at his job and showed it in his appearance.
"What do you think, Evelyn?"
"Well, it's more promising than the last," I muttered. "At least the front door is where it's supposed to be."
The smile faded as he stared at me. He didn't know what to say or how to respond.
"She's joking." Brad interrupted, then stepped between us to cut us off.
As they walked to the footpath, Brad frowned at me. I shrugged. As if I was going to be anything less than honest. The last place did not have a front door, literally. It was sitting on the front lawn, sodden and broken. Inside was completely trashed with graffiti, someone had started a fire in the living room, and there were a lot of used needles and a homemade bong. After seeing the needles, I turned around and sat in the car.
I could deal with bongs, fires, and graffiti, but used needles were dangerous. I wasn't prepared to clean them up, and I didn't think Brad should either. When he asked me what was wrong, I told him exactly what I thought, and unfortunately for him, the real estate agent was right beside him. I didn't care what he thought. It was sheer rudeness to present a house for rent in such a state. If it happened overnight, then I'd say, fair enough, these things happen. But it was evident that the mess or the damage was not new.
From the sidewalk, there were two steps up to the path that cut through the lush green lawn. The front garden didn't have a fence. Instead, a rock wall sat as high as the top step, the garden filled with pretty flowers. Everything looked well maintained, and I knew that this was not the house for us. I was not a gardener, and Brad never had time to do anything.
He worked for a company in connection with the government. I don't know exactly what they did. It had something to do with technology, phones, and the internet. I'm sure if I was actually interested, he'd tell me. It was a home-based job, something that was not planned and would not remain that way for much longer, not now that I'm almost eighteen. He'd taken this role so that he could raise me. It was his suggestion after my mother's funeral three years ago. I had no idea where my father was. I had never met the man, and neither had Brad.
He wasn't aware of it at the time, but I knew the truth about my mother. She was a prostitute, and it was highly likely that my father was one of her clients. She probably didn't know who my father was either.
Brad was only ten years older than me. He was the late-in-life miracle my grandparents were unaware of until my grandmother started getting horrible stomach pains. One trip to the A&E, and she was pushing his fat head out.
I never knew my grandparents. They died together in a plane crash about a year before I was born.
Initially, Brad and I struggled. I was used to a life where I was usually on my own at night and in school during the day. Essentially, I'd raised myself. I missed my mother, and I still got upset when I thought of her, but it's not like I really knew her. As for Brad, I guess he never expected to have a sullen teenager tossed at him when he was in his mid-twenties. It's not as if he was going out every night, partying with his mates, or bringing women home, but it was still weird, and it took a long time to get past it and become what we are now.
He knew of me, but I'd never met him until the funeral. Brad and my mother rarely saw each other. At least, I think that's how it was. Brad never talks about my mother, and if I bring up something about her, he shrugs. They were not close.
Stepping under the front porch, I looked back at the street. It was pretty. I'll give it that much.
Trees lined the street. Houses were well maintained. I don't know when anyone in this town was able to tend to their gardens without getting completely drenched but this place and the houses around it, they were well maintained.
"Does it ever stop raining?"
The real estate agent had been smiling, now frozen as he stared at me. I frowned, waiting for him to respond.
"Yes, the forecast says that the weekend should be dry."
Opening the door, the agent started telling Brad about the place. I looked out at the grey sky and wondered how that would clear up by tomorrow.
Entering the house, I was pretty surprised at how spacious it was. The first floor had a lounge room, dining room, kitchen, and guest room. I doubt we would ever have guests stay overnight, so I'm sure Brad will commandeer the space for work.
We'd inspected the three bedrooms upstairs as well as the attic. Apparently, I could have that if I wanted it. The space was certainly large enough to accommodate a bed, maybe a small lounge. It was even wired, so I could have a television too.
When we'd finished looking at the upper levels, the agent took us down to the basement. It looked as if no one ever came down here, not even to store their junk. The agent found a broom in the closet, testing each wooden step before stepping onto it.
"This place is old," he murmured. "Turn of the last century, I think. If you're interested in the place, we'll get a builder in to check the stairs."
"It's fine. I can deal with them."
Brad was apparently a handyman now too. I never knew that. To be fair, I don't think he knew it before today, either. I waited at the top of the stairs, expecting something dire to happen. The house was not creepy or anything terrible like that. It just felt ominous to me.
I don't know why he was volunteering for the job. This place was a rental. It was the owner's job to maintain it to be safe. Thankfully the real estate agent said they have someone to deal with the issues.
Warily I walked down the stairs, looking around at the cinder block walls. I thought no one had been down here, but there was something strangely new about the area. Not recently, but perhaps within the last fifty years or so.
Brad and the agent were discussing the pipes and the heating. I ran my hand over the cold blocks, feeling the dust grate against my palm. Something thumped, almost like a dull clunk of a drum. I stopped, waiting to see if it would happen again. It didn't, but the brick warmed under my hand. Moving it to the next brick, I didn't expect it to be warm too. I kept going, soon finding a cold brick. It was odd. Just one section was warm.
"Is there a hot water pipe behind this wall?"
Hearing their shoes scratch over the dirty floor, I turned to look at my uncle and the agent.
"I wouldn't think so, but anything is possible. Now, what do you think about the place?"
"It's great," Brad offered. "If we can organize it, I'd like to move in as soon as possible. The bed and breakfast is nice but not ideal for the teenager when the pub is so close."
"Of course. I'm sure that we can get things moving quickly."
The two of them walked to the stairs, discussing what needed to be done before we moved in.
"Cleaning," I muttered. "No doubt the person who isn't working yet will be the one assigned to the grand task."
Pulling my hand away, I watched as a crack between the bricks appeared. It was small, but it was there. Brad was already at the top of the stairs. I rushed after him.
"There's a crack in the bricks."
He nodded, seemingly not concerned.
"I'll get the builder in to look at everything." the agent said. "He'll be here looking at the stairs anyway."
Brad watched the agent as he walked through the corridor to the living area of the house.
"We need a place, Evie. I can't keep working in that little hole."
"Yeah, I know."
"It's a good place. Close to the school, the shops."
My derisive stare must have said it all.
"I know, Evie, I do, and I'm sorry. You're going to have to repeat the year to get it finished."
"You know, I'm blaming your boss for this. I don't need to do the year again. I just need to remain in one town for long enough to finish what I've started."
"Well, hopefully, it will be this town. Besides, you know it's better to start from the beginning."
I'd gotten the first month of the school year done when his boss hinted at relocating. Brad asked him to hold out for as long as possible so that I could finish the year out. We'd gotten three quarters of the way there when the jerk said he couldn't wait any longer, and Brad had to move. As my legal guardian and with no other relative to send me to, Brad had to take me with him.
Brad had stalled as much as he could, but with a deadline looming, he couldn't stay any longer. We had to move.
So, this was us, moving to the little town called Hades. Apparently, it was named after the town founder, Reginald Hades. I looked at the map and thought it was Hades, as in Hell, but that was not the case. His name was pronounced Hah-dess and that's how everyone in this place said the town name. I didn't believe it. I think that we really are in Hell.