Chapter Forty Hermes
Chapter Forty
Hermes
For once, Hermes didn’t drink all that much, though the cocktails were spectacular and the wine even better.
He needed to keep his head on straight. All of the Olympians were at this so-called casual family dinner, their teeth gleaming like predators’ as they laughed and drank and heaped their platters with food: shrimp cocktail and crab cakes and the most sophisticated Southern grits that had probably ever been made, whipped with walnuts and brown butter.
Hermes stared at each of them each in turn, his eyes traveling from Apollo and Artemis—seated together, as always—to Athena, who had arrived this morning from Shanghai.
She was clutching an espresso martini (even gods felt the international time difference) and chatting halfheartedly with Julia’s mortal friend about her job at Google.
Farther down the table, Dionysus topped off his glass of wine, and Poseidon was deep in conversation with Zeus, though his sea-blue eyes kept flicking distractedly to Hera.
Which of them might have manipulated Julia into meeting Ares? And why?
It was a strange sensation, being in possession of highly valuable information that he had no intention of selling.
Normally, Hermes would have been lining up potential buyers in his mind, imagining what he would demand from each of them as payment for learning the truth about Julia’s mother—and what Hera had done to her.
But he refused to make any moves until he felt certain that he was helping Julia, not harming her.
Laughter rippled around the table, which was out on a private terrace, surrounded by trees with moss that draped languorously to the ground.
Strands of fairy lights hung cheerfully overhead.
Hermes could hear the ocean in the distance but couldn’t see it from here.
Tonight, its dull roar sounded almost sinister, like the growl of some primordial monster.
“You all right?” Ares asked, sliding a bottle of wine in Hermes’s direction.
Hermes’s eyes widened a little when he saw the label: a 1971 Domaine de la Romanée-Conti.
Zeus must have flown it here on his private jet, because even luxury hotels didn’t stock wine that cost as much as the down payment on most people’s homes.
“Of course,” Hermes said cheerfully. He allowed himself a small pour of the wine, because who knew when he would get this vintage again? Then he glanced again to the other end of the table.
Hera rose to her feet and started back inside the hotel’s restaurant, presumably to the ladies’ room.
But her steps were too purposeful, her smile too distracted, for her to simply be going to wash up. No, Hermes thought, she was on a different errand.
He would find out what it was.
Hermes took one last sip of the Burgundy and stood, murmuring something about being right back. As he walked in the same direction as Hera, his footsteps were silent, his movements as insubstantial as those of a ghost. Just as they had been at the Vault.
He followed Hera into the ground floor of the hotel, watching as she bypassed the boutique, where mannequins in oversized sun hats stood sentinel at darkened windows.
She turned into a room with a brass placard that read Library.
Hermes caught a quick glimpse of leather-bound books, deer heads mounted to the walls, framed antique maps, and vast smoking couches before she shut the door.
He crouched a few feet away behind a heavy wooden credenza, hardly breathing.
A moment later, footsteps sounded down the hallway, and golden hair flashed as the door opened once more.
Well, this was a surprising development. If Hermes had taken bets on who Hera was meeting, Aphrodite would not have topped his list. Clearly, both women’s dislike of Julia had outweighed their mutual enmity.
Hermes cast his senses toward the wooden door. Few of the other gods knew this, but his hearing was sharp even for an Olympian, surpassed only by Ares’s. When you were the god of thieves, you needed preternatural hearing, to keep track of everyone who might come chasing after you.
He could just make out the low voices inside the room.
“Poseidon said it’s starting within the hour,” Hera murmured.
“About time! If he doesn’t hurry, some of the guests will actually make it.”
“No chance of that. Don’t forget what I unleashed at the airport.”
“Sorrow and despair,” Aphrodite replied, sounding pleased. “Let’s hope it’s enough.”
“They’re talking about Pandora’s Jar, I assume?” a voice whispered near Hermes.
He stumbled back a step, heart racing. There was no one standing next to him.
“Hades, please. You know I hate conversations when I can’t see you,” Hermes said softly, trying not to reveal how spooked he’d been. “Makes me feel like I’m losing my grip on reality.”
“What is reality, anyway?” Hades mused, but he blinked back into visibility, jumping into view like a television turning on. He was dressed simply, in a navy blazer and white dress shirt, an incongruous pocket square peeking from the jacket.
“Well?” Hades gestured toward the library.
Hermes shifted, deciding how much to reveal. “They’re trying to sabotage Julia’s wedding to Ares.”
“I gathered as much,” Hades said dryly.
“I believe that you’re right and they used Pandora’s Jar.” Hermes hesitated as a thought occurred to him. “Were you spying on Hera at the Vault, too? Is that how you knew she had the jar in her possession?”
“I was just guessing. Believe it or not, I despise this sort of spying. I’d much rather pay you to do it than engage in it myself.”
“I could do it more effectively if you’d lend me the Helm of Darkness every now and then.” Hermes cast a longing glance toward the artifact, a ring on Hades’s right finger.
Hades huffed out a quiet laugh. “Not a chance.”
Silence fell between them. Hermes looked at Hades: his jaw set, his gray-green eyes inscrutable. He was as silent and still as the grave.
Oddly, Hermes sensed that he could trust him.
“I do know something else about Julia,” he admitted. “Something big.”
Hades’s expression didn’t change, though a flash in his eyes revealed his interest. “I’m listening.”
“Before I tell you, I’d like to make a trade.”
Amusement lifted Hades’s mouth in a smile. “I expected nothing less. How much?”
“No, not money. If I tell you this, I want you to guarantee Julia’s safety,” Hermes insisted.
The god of death seemed surprised. “Really, Hermes. You could ask anything of me, and your request is that I protect the life of a mortal woman?”
“She’s in danger, but I can’t figure out from whom.
I have no idea how to protect her. All of this”—Hermes flung out a hand, indicating the gods, their quarrels and jealousies and petty games that played out over the course of centuries—“she doesn’t deserve any of it. She has no idea what she’s up against.”
Hades studied him thoughtfully. “I always expected you to plead with me for the life of a mortal, but I expected it to be a lover. Not a friend.”
“Lovers are easily replaceable; friends are much rarer.” Hermes meant to sound flippant, but there was a shiver of vulnerability beneath the words, and he knew that Hades heard it.
“Very well. I swear that I will do my best to protect Julia,” Hades promised.
The god of thieves, the god of death, and a clever mortal woman. Hermes hoped they would be enough, against whatever forces were arrayed against Julia.
“I learned that Julia’s mother, Claire, was in a relationship with Zeus before she died,” Hermes explained. “And I am almost certain that Hera killed her.”
There was a beat of silence, then Hades sighed heavily. “I thought Hera was behind it when it happened, but I couldn’t be sure.”
Hermes stared at the other god. “You knew?”
“As I said, I knew about Julia’s mother and Zeus, but I wasn’t sure if Hera was responsible. Murder is not her style.”
“I wish you’d told me.” Hermes didn’t bother hiding the irritation from his tone. “I have spent months wondering what was special about Julia, why she was impervious to magic, when the whole time she was wearing a ring forged from the metal of the Aegis!”
“A ring?” Hades asked, and Hermes felt a stab of pleasure. At least there was one thing Hades hadn’t suspected.
“Yes, a ring. Zeus gave it to her mother, who clearly gave it to Julia. That’s why Julia survived the fire,” Hermes explained.
“Does she still wear this ring?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” Hades replied. “Then it’s all beginning, just as was prophesied.”
“Prophesied? What are you talking about?”
At that, Hades shook his head. “Information passes down a one-way street between us, Hermes. Though I do swear to uphold my end of the bargain we made and protect Julia’s life to the fullest extent of my abilities.”
“Thank you,” Hermes replied.
Hades shrugged. “I was already planning on keeping Julia alive.”
Before Hermes could reply, the door to the library swung open.
Hades instantly became invisible again. Hermes didn’t wait; he sprinted back to the terrace at top speed.
As he rejoined the group, thunder cracked overhead, a few droplets of rain pattering on the terrace.
“It’s all right,” one of the hotel employees was reassuring Julia, “storms blow through at this time of year, but they always pass quickly!”
Within seconds, the rain had become a downpour. Waiters began hurriedly clearing the table, sprinting out with umbrellas to bring the guests indoors.
Hermes followed, watching as Aphrodite and Hera rejoined the group. They both feigned surprise at the sudden change in weather, as if they hadn’t been plotting with Poseidon to bring it about.
Hades, of course, was nowhere to be found.
He hadn’t bothered to join tonight’s family meal, or perhaps he’d never been invited.
Hermes couldn’t believe he’d been so shortsighted, asking Hades to protect Julia when apparently, Hades had already intended to do so.
He was usually better at reading the other gods’ motives.
And what had Hades meant about a prophecy? Had the Fates predicted something about Julia?
Maybe he should warn Hera. She might stop interfering with the wedding if she knew she was up against Hades, that there was a mysterious prophecy at play. It might be the only thing, Hermes thought, that would convince her to back down.
His eyes traveled back to Julia. She looked so carefree, laughing as her hair got wet, running inside with Ares to escape what she thought was a few minutes of rain. He’d gotten soft, worrying about her. He wasn’t thinking like himself.
It had been a very long time since Hermes had feared for anyone, or anything, who could truly be hurt—someone fragile enough to be lost forever.