Chapter 44
Chapter forty-four
HERMES
Hermes watched Iliana disappear into the mouth of the cave and felt the moment his duty to the Fates was complete. The hidden thread around his wrist dissolved.
Finally.
He’d passed on the message and completed their request, delivering Iliana to them so she could hear their prophecy. Now, the restriction that had kept him from helping her was gone. He could now act on his own terms.
She didn’t need him hovering. He did anyway.
His reckless, beautiful troublemaker didn’t hesitate to face her destiny. She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and strode into the cave without looking back. Gutsy. He liked that about her. She didn’t flinch or demand reassurance as so many mortals would have.
A faint grin played at his lips, but it didn’t touch his eyes.
That same fearlessness that attracted him also unnerved him. She was too willing to shoulder burdens and too quick to walk into danger if it led to the answers she was desperate for. And that made her impossible to protect.
Behind him, the others remained motionless, like statues carved from the same desert stone around them. Their taut shoulders and clenched jaws betrayed their tension. Each stared at the spot where Iliana had been.
Until he laughed.
Three glowering faces swiveled in unison to stare at him. “What’s so funny?” Hypnos asked through gritted teeth.
Hermes met his glare with a grin. “Oh, nothing. Just three gods who are content to let a mortal girl face danger alone. The poets will write sonnets.”
“She’s with the Fates,” Thanatos said coldly.
“Exactly—and they could snip her thread whenever they please.” Hermes felt his smile grow tense. “But sure, keep standing here. I’m sure that’ll help.”
Thanatos scowled. “You are leaving.”
Hermes winked. “She’s with the Fates. I have other ways to protect her—and other threads to pull.”
Protecting her wasn’t just about standing guard; it meant gathering information and staying three steps ahead of her pursuers.
Not bothering to wait for their protests, Hermes left.
He was done waiting for the others to request his help.
Finally free, he planned to visit his tech group and have them research Iliana’s family and uncover who had targeted them, who had cursed them.
But he hesitated. He wanted to solve the puzzle of Iliana’s past—and he wanted to be near her.
He needed to check in with Hecate, too. But first, one quick stop.
He needed to follow the unfamiliar desire to know her.
Memories of past mortal lovers flashed through his mind.
Some were more meaningful than others, but he’d never felt this intensely for them.
He’d mourned each of their deaths, accompanying them to the Underworld himself as he said goodbye.
But when they’d lived, he’d cared for them at a distance.
Months often passed before thoughts of them entered his mind.
But what he was feeling for Iliana was different.
He was always aware of where she was and what she did.
He’d never wanted to return to someone as much as he did with her.
Distance felt like something to endure, not embrace.
It made him reckless. Needing to be near her muddled his thoughts.
Wanting to protect her meant he cared about her in ways that never ended well for gods like him.
Hermes appeared in the alley outside Iliana’s apartment building in Arizona, wearing a tailored navy suit. He practically oozed charm as he tugged the cuffs straight before making his way inside with purposeful strides.
After their night in Paris, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind.
He reminded himself that his visit was meant to find answers.
He’d scan for traps, verifying that no threats were waiting for Iliana if she returned here.
It was strategic and necessary. Any protective god would do the same.
He almost laughed at himself. That was all bullshit, and he knew it. Part of him just wanted to see where she lived. Touch her things. See what books she read. Understand her life before gods and curses and danger. He wanted to learn about her in ways that had nothing to do with keeping her safe.
He was in so much trouble.
Hermes knocked on the apartment door. A moment later, the supervisor opened it, wearing a threadbare robe and blinking behind thick glasses.
“If this is about the water pressure—”
“It’s not,” Hermes cut in, flashing an amiable smile.
The man stared, taking in Hermes’ expensive suit.
“Ian Johnson,” Hermes said smoothly. “I’m an attorney representing Iliana Amell.”
Her name still gave him pause. Bright Hope. There was something poetic about her name and the dire situation she was in. Something tragic about the connection.
“She okay?” the man asked. His bushy eyebrows drew together. “Her door was open a week ago, and she was just…gone. Her neighbor called it in, and we filed a missing person’s report.”
Hermes made a mental note to wipe the police report later.
“She’s fine. She needed to leave because of a family emergency. I’m here to manage her lease.” He laced his words with magic, soothing suspicion like cool salve over a burn.
The supervisor nodded and stepped away. When he returned, he handed over a slip of paper. “She’s paid through September.”
Hermes pulled an envelope from his inner coat pocket and handed the cashier’s check over. “This should cover another year.”
The man’s eyes widened, but he didn’t argue.
Once the supervisor completed the paperwork, Hermes walked up the stairs to Iliana’s apartment. He turned invisible after confirming he was unwatched, then entered her apartment.
Iliana’s apartment was small but comfortable.
Lived in. A half-packed box was set on the coffee table; something she’d never unpacked or was in the middle of packing, maybe.
A plush throw blanket was neatly folded on the back of a small couch, and a mug was left on a side table, forgotten.
Her bookshelf was crammed with novels and travel books, bookmarked and worn.
Sticky notes were tucked into the pages, her neat handwriting noting observations or asking questions.
Hermes looked closer at the titles. There were novels about fantastical places, distant countries, and biographies of adventurers. She wanted to travel the world, and now she was living in one most mortals never glimpsed.
His smile faded away. Was it an adventure if she couldn’t choose to leave? Was it freedom if she was trapped by the curse?
He’d taken her to Paris, giving her one night of wonder. She’d been so grateful, so alive. She thought she’d never get a chance to see it. But now she had. All because she was a prisoner of divine interest and protection.
Hermes shook his head. He had no business thinking about her that way or wanting to give her the world, to show her every corner and keep that light in her eyes. She deserved better than a god who ran from anything like that. He was a messenger, not a savior.
He pushed away the thought and reached out with his senses, searching for any lingering magical traces. Curses. Charms. Wards. Hexes.
Nothing.
He added his own wards, his divine energy spreading throughout the apartment. They wouldn’t stop a determined god, but they’d alert him if anyone with power set foot inside her home.
Iliana would be coming back eventually. When she did, he’d make damn sure nothing was waiting for her. Something still seemed wrong, but he couldn’t place what it was.
Hermes stayed cautious as he walked around the apartment again. Moving into her bedroom, he paused at the sight of the high-end lock on her bedroom door. It was a reminder of how close they’d already come to losing her.
He looked at the photos. There were images of her parents, and a few shots of Iliana at various ages. In all the pictures, she was alone or with her parents, always with that slightly guarded expression he recognized.
She had no friends, no partners. Just her books and dreams of being anywhere else.
On her nightstand was a well-used leather journal, but no pen in sight. He didn’t open it. Even a nosy god like him had his limits. He could see the worn edges and the way it had been repeatedly opened to certain pages.
What did she write about? Her loneliness? Dreams? Parents?
Hermes shook his head. Something was off about the whole situation. He knew there were no accidents regarding Iliana, her curse, and the growing interest from the godly realm. Someone was watching. Someone who knew more about her than the gods protecting her.
While pondering that thought, a message slid against his ear—caught through his divine sense.
“…Found her…Iliana…she will be vulnerable tonight…”
Hermes stilled. The voice wasn’t close. Not even on this continent.
He narrowed his eyes.
Then came another voice, rougher than the last. “…move quickly…before they realize…”
Before they realize. Present tense. Not a plan for tomorrow or next week.
Tonight.
Hermes appeared in Tokyo. The neon city was energetic. Crowds of humans rushed across streets and moved past him, unaware of the god in their midst.
The voices had grown silent.
Hermes hissed. Had they felt his presence and fled? He extended his senses once again.
There was another whisper, too faint to pinpoint the location. “…no mistakes…take her out before…”
The rest of the message was fractured, leaving him desperate to learn more.
His pulse grew erratic. It wasn’t from excitement or a chance to hunt down more information. It was fear. Cold. Sharp. Unfamiliar.
He followed the speakers—Dublin, Vanaheim, the Underworld, Prague, and Caracas—each location another breadcrumb, a challenge. They’d studied his movements. Anticipated his reactions. Dropped just enough hints to keep pursuing shadows and acting rashly.
Dread filled him.
Hermes had enemies, sure. Many. But few knew how to stay ahead of him for long. Still fewer could operate in multiple realms with this kind of finesse.
He stopped chasing.
He closed his eyes, then opened himself, letting his divine awareness stretch across the globe like an invisible net. His senses expanded outward, pulling at pieces of conversations faster than he’d ever tried to decipher before.
Nothing. Again.
And then, faint and slippery, he heard, “They will fall with her—all of them…”
Hermes’ eyes flew open. He wasn’t following voices now. He wasn’t the hunter. The realization had ice water flowing through his entire body. He was being baited.
How many times had he warned heroes away from being led by their desires? Especially those that led straight into traps. He should’ve heeded his own advice. Now, all it took was a single moment of diverted focus, and suddenly he’d been outmaneuvered.
They knew he was listening and wanted him to hear. He hadn’t stumbled across their conversation. The messages were deliberately dropped for him to follow, to distract him. To pull him away from her.
Or worse. To make him panic and do something stupid.
They were using his curiosity against him, his need to find out information that would help him protect Iliana. He’d chased them halfway across the world. He’d let himself be led around like a fool. All because the moment he’d heard her name, heard a threat, his careful strategy evaporated.
This was why caring was dangerous. Why attachments made you weak. Hermes wasn’t thinking like the clever god who’d outsmarted Zeus himself. He was acting like a desperate idiot willing to tear through different realms to keep one mortal woman safe.
Hermes left behind Caracas an instant later, reality blurring as he tore through space. A ringing started in his ears. A crackling energy formed around him as he flew.
His arrival in the clearing was too loud, not like his usual silent entrances. It only sounded like a snapped twig, but it was loud enough for the other gods to know he’d appeared.
Iliana stood in the middle of her gods, looking rattled but unscathed. He’d made it back in time to warn them. She was safe now, but she wouldn’t be tonight.
Thanatos stood over her protectively. Anubis held her hand, his stance rigid. Hypnos’ expression was impassive, but his energy was tightly coiled. Tension wound around them all, so thick Hermes could’ve sliced it with a dagger.
He barely stopped himself from grabbing Thanatos’ arm. He didn’t smile, wink, or joke. Instead, he closed the distance between them.
She was in immediate danger, and they were running out of time.