Chapter 6 #2
He chose a stick, the sharpest he could find, and began digging at the back of the graveyard where the markers were weather-worn and moldy.
He’d rather not encounter anything fleshy.
The thought made him want to vomit as he dragged his stick through the dirt to loosen it before using his hands to shovel it out of the hole.
He almost wept, feeling the dirt beneath his nails.
Hecate was going to pay for this.
“I’m going to pick all your mushrooms and sow your garden with salt, and after that, I’m going to mix up all your potions so you don’t know what you’re taking or giving…
.” As soon as he said that one aloud, he had second thoughts, especially because the goddess often gave various elixirs to Sephy and he didn’t want to hurt her.
That was the one thing about this entire situation that made him feel horrible, the fact that he had been responsible for ruining his best friend’s hard work.
She was the only reason he had any motivation to keep going.
If he could do it all over again, he’d have let Hecate incinerate that bag of shoes.
“They weren’t that great anyway,” he muttered before giving an abrupt, high-pitched yelp. He quickly smothered the sound and instead let disgust shudder through him in quiet ripples.
He’d just touched a bone.
He retrieved his stick and poked around until he found the jaw, prying it from the ground. It took more effort than he expected, the thing had been there so long, it was basically glued into the earth.
He held it up and scrunched his nose.
Disgusting. No wonder the Kallikantzaros ran away from these things.
He tossed the jaw to the side and climbed out of the hole, wiping the sweat from his brow, suddenly realizing he did not know how many of these Hecate expected.
He didn’t think one would suffice, but surely she didn’t expect him to supply one for every mortal household in New Greece.
That was millions of people, millions of pigs!
There weren’t even a million pigs in this graveyard.
He would have negotiated the terms of his punishment, but Hades hadn’t given him the chance.
Moody bastard.
He might have blamed it on Persephone’s pregnancy and the fact that any day now, the god of the dead was due to be a father, but that was being kind. Hades was always grumpy.
Hermes moved on to the next grave.
He didn’t know how long he toiled or how many bones he’d gathered. He’d been digging for what felt like hours. His arms ached and he was covered in sweat. He had dirt everywhere, even in his mouth. He could feel it grinding between his teeth.
With another jawbone in hand, he crawled out of the hole, rising on shaky legs, discovering he’d only managed to dig up three other graves.
Hermes fell to his knees, buried his face in his hands, and wept.
He wasn’t there long when he felt a hand on his head. It wasn’t like earlier when the pig had munched on his hair. This was a gentle caress.
He looked up and met the gaze of a beautiful nymph. He was transfixed by her. She was pale like moonlight; her delicate body draped in sheer white. Her hair was long and brown, crowed with white flowers and greenery.
She smiled at him and then stepped away, hand still outstretched as though she were inviting him to follow.
Hermes knew he shouldn’t.
He’d had many encounters with nymphs, particularly the Oreads who’d seduced him in the caves of Arkadia. He still wasn’t sure how long he’d spent there, sequestered in their depths, sleeping, eating, and fucking. That was the danger.
It was also the temptation.
Hermes stumbled to his feet, the bones forgotten, enchanted by the nymph.
He followed just as she vanished into the thicket.
She remained ahead, navigating the forest like a ghostly spirit, uninhibited by the uneven ground and dense undergrowth.
Now and then she paused to look back at him, offering a sweet, encouraging smile.
Somehow, he knew it was a promise, that if he kept going, she would see to his every need.
It wasn’t long before he heard a symphony of sweet laughter accompanied by the sound of splashing water. As he neared, the ground grew soft, and he could feel the warmth of the spring in the distance.
His body grew taut with anticipation as he wove his way through the final copse of trees, finding himself on the rocky bank of a crystal spring occupied by two more beautiful nymphs and a really hot Faun.
Hermes’s gaze snagged on the half-human, half-goat male, his abs on full display, glistening beneath the moonlight.
Was it weird to salivate over muscles? Hermes suspected it was weirder not to salivate.
The nymph who had led him here waded into the water. She took a clay jug from one of her sisters and poured water over her head. The fabric of her white gown clung to her skin, emphasizing her breasts and hard nipples.
Hermes’s cock hardened.
“Hello, handsome,” said the Faun, pushing off the stone where he lounged.
“Would you join us?” asked the third nymph. They all looked similar, with pale skin and brown hair.
“You look tired,” said the second. “And dirty.”
The heat from the spring was so thick, it felt impossible to think or breathe.
“I am dirty,” he said, swallowing, his tongue swollen in his mouth. “I am very dirty.”
“Come, hero, and we will wash you,” said the first, approaching with the second who added, “Come, hero. We will attend to your need.”
They each took his hands and pulled him into the spring and suddenly he was surrounded by the three beautiful nymphs and the hot faun. Hermes started to untie his robe, but the faun took over, pulling it off, tossing it over his shoulder, a sly smile on his lips.
They poured water over him and used the gauzy fabric of their robes to wash him, slippery hands following the contours of his body as they rinsed away the dirt and grime. Every direction he turned, there was beauty and breathy laughs. He was overwhelmed and intoxicated, his body hot and throbbing.
The nymphs and faun teased, lips brushing the shell of his ear, fingers grazing the swell of his cock beneath the water. He yearned to feel their lips against his, craned his neck, but they remained just out of reach.
“You are familiar, hero,” said the faun as he doused him with water.
He sputtered, feeling as though he might drown. “In what way?”
“You are strong,” answered the third, kneading his shoulders.
“Your hair is like spun gold,” said the second, massaging his scalp. He closed his eyes, relaxed.
“Your eyes are bright like the sun,” added the faun.
“Go on,” he urged, pleased to hear the praise. His friends rarely said nice things about him. It was always, “Shut up, Hermes!” or “Fuck off!” or “Stop being dramatic!”
“It’s almost as if you were a god,” said the one who had led him here.
He opened his eyes to find her standing in front of him, gaze suddenly icy.
The enchantment that had put him at ease ceased, and a jolt of fear struck him hard. The realization he was in danger came a second before all four spirits pushed him under water.
Hermes fought, clawing and kicking at his attackers.
They dug their nails into his flesh and wrapped their fingers in his hair. He returned their viciousness, unable to summon his magic, though he reached for it as his energy and air depleted.
He was going to die here, a victim of nature spirits.
How fucking embarrassing.
This was not how gods died.
He was supposed to go down in a blaze of glory or at the peak of orgasm, either would be better—and much more respectable—than this.
Hermes screamed when he felt sharp teeth sink into his shoulder, releasing all the air left in his lungs. He jerked free of their hold and broke the surface, gasping for breath, but realized, as he looked around, that he was not in a spring or surrounded by deadly, beautiful, fuckable nymphs.
No, he sat in the middle of a muddy pit surrounded by pigs.
“Oh no.” Hermes felt his stomach drop, realizing he’d been drawn into one of Circe’s traps. Worse than facing the witch-goddess, however, was the fact that he had tried to kiss not one, but four pigs.
All he could smell and taste was shit.
“I’m going to throw up,” he said, right as his stomach turned violently and he vomited all over the ground.
A cruel laugh echoed in the clearing and Circe appeared before him.
“Oh, Hermes,” she said. “You should know better than to give in to the allure of nymphs.”
He spit, trying to clear his mouth of the foul taste.
“You’re one to talk, Circe. You fuck every man who happens upon your lonely island,” he spit again. “Unless they reject you and then you turn them into pigs.”
Circe’s mouth tensed. “Bold of you to be so rude.”
“I’m Hermes. I’m the god of bold and rude.” He paused, noticing she had changed, her robes now a deep iridescent purple. The color was striking and made her eyes glow even brighter. “Are those your torture robes?”
Her brows lowered. “What?”
“Torture robes,” he repeated. “Hades has torture robes. His are black, to hide the blood. Are yours purple to match the color of a pig’s anus?”
“Perhaps you can tell me since you are about to spend a very long time as one.”
Hermes pursed his lips. He’d walked right into that one.
He straightened, holding the goddess’s eerie gaze. He was too exhausted to fight the coming transformation; his only hope was that Hecate would arrive and rescue him from his plight.
He watched as Circe stretched out her hand, palm open and…nothing happened.
Even Circe seemed surprised, head turning as she flexed her fingers in an attempt to summon what he assumed was her wand. He had only seen it a few times, and usually from a distance. It was a simple, bronze stick, and apparently it was gone.
“Oh,” Hermes drawled as the realization struck.
Circe’s gaze snapped to him. “What?”
“They’re here,” he said.
“Who’s here?” she demanded.
“The Kallikantzaroi,” he said. “Little fuckers. They’re vessels of chaos. They like to destroy and steal things. They’re why I’m here. Apparently, you can ward them off by hanging a few pig jaws around the place.”
“Are you saying they took my staff?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Probably, and whatever else they found interesting.”
Circe’s lip curled and her eyes darkened.
Truthfully, Hermes had always been afraid of Circe, but her expression frightened him.
He felt the unmistakable pull of teleportation clawing at his body.
It was always uncomfortable as a mortal, and suddenly he stood in the middle of the goddess’s living room.
It took a moment for the dizziness to pass and then he glanced around. She had a set of benches covered in plush fur on either side of a large piece of polished stone which acted as a table. Decorative mosaics made for stunning decor on the floors and walls, and plush animal skins made soft rugs.
It felt nostalgic and strangely sad.
As Hermes looked around, he noticed other things too. Grapes and olives were scattered across the floor, silver bowls upturned. Vases were tipped over or broken, pillows were ripped open, and feathers covered the room.
A statue had been knocked over; a spray of marble pieces scattered across the floor. He recognized the thin pieces as the rays of Helios’s radiant crown.
Circe went to the fallen statue and kneeled beside it.
Helios was dead, having been torn from the sky by Hecate during the Olympian War. Hermes was not sure Circe knew the details, but he was sure she knew he had died despite her exile on the island. She was his blood and had likely felt it.
As bad as he felt for her, he also realized she was distracted. He turned to make his escape, searching for an exit, only to find four giant cats standing guard. They bared their teeth, growling.
Hermes broke into a sweat and laughed nervously before turning to face Circe again.
The goddess rose, features like stone. “You say you know these creatures?” she asked.
“I wouldn’t say I know them.” He paused as her gaze narrowed, the growling behind him increased in volume. “But I…I know enough.”
“Then you will ward my home against them and find my staff.” Her voice was thunderous and dark, no longer warm and alluring.
“Fine,” he said, crossing his arms. “But what do I get in return?”
Circe’s chin dipped, arms at her sides as she took a few menacing steps toward him.
“You get to remain just as you are,” she said. “A privilege few are granted here.”
With that, she vanished, leaving him alone with her giant cats.
Hermes sighed, shoulders drooping. “Merry fucking Christmas to me,” he said.