Page 2 of The Trickster's Heart

“Oh, who’s a good boy?” he cooed to each of the massive hounds while scratching behind their ears.

“It looks like they’re finally getting used to you, Trickster,” a deep male voice yelled out to him from the house’s doorway. Hermes turned his attention from the dogs and caught sight of Aeëtes, Hecate’s consort, leaning against the archway.

Aeëtes was the only immortal, of the god or demigod variety, who matched Hermes in feigned nonchalance. He was taller than Hermes, with tanned skin and a short beard, and he perpetually looked like he had stepped off a beach. There was a tightness around his eyes that was uncharacteristic of his permanently sunny demeanor, and Hermes’s brow furrowed as he closed the gap between them.

“What’s wrong with you then?” He tilted his head to one side, not bothering to push the golden curls out of his eyes. Aeëtes looked surprised before shaking his head and letting out a rough, quick laugh.

“You cut right to the point, don’t you?”

Hermes shrugged. “If Hecate’s no longer satisfied with you warming her bed, she should know that I’m more than happy to take your place.” He winked at Aeëtes and snickered when Aeëtes’s expression darkened.

“Careful, Hermes.”

“You’re simply so easy to rile up, my dear friend.” He clapped a hand on Aeëtes’s shoulder and steered him inside. “Who am I to deny myself all of life’s little joys?”

Aeëtes scoffed, “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”

“You say that as if you don’t love that about me.” Hermes winked and strolled into Hecate’s kitchen like it was his own. He hopped up on the massive counter and started swinging his legs back and forth like a child.

Hecate’s kitchen was legendary, and deep down, Hermes knew his nearly unfettered access to it was rare. He appreciated it, even if he didn’t mention it.

The dogs had filed in after them, collapsing down in front of the lit hearth in a heap of fur and tails. A large pot was simmering over the fire, with dark purple smoke snaking up towards the ceiling. Bundles of herbs hung from the rafters, and a thousand tiny jars and clay pots littered the table and workbenches that took up the rest of the kitchen’s space. It was the apothecary of the mother of witches, the goddess of dogs and women, and Hermes knew where the limits were when he was lucky enough to be there.

Hermes looked around. “Where is my lovely night terror?”

Aeëtes sat down at the table and ran a hand over his face before letting out a long sigh. “I’m not entirely sure, to be honest. I hoped you would know.”

“What do you mean, she’s gone?” A rush of anxiety ran through Hermes, and he hopped off the counter. Hermes straightened up to his full height, and a pulse of magic flickered over his skin, the wings on his sandals coming to life as his scepter appeared in one hand.

“Easy there.” Aeëtes held up a placating hand, slightly surprised at how quickly Hermes jumped to revenge and reconnaissance. “She’s not missing in that way. There was a disturbance near one of her temples. Some mortal men were harassing her acolytes. It pissed her off to the point where she decided to go handle it…personally.” Aeëtes shuddered.

It pleased Hermes to see that even though Aeëtes loved Hecate, she still scared him a little.

She scares me, too, honestly.

“Ah, I see.” Hermes’s battlements vanished, and he leaned against the counter, appearing entirely relaxed again. “You don’t know which temple?”

“No,” Aeëtes sighed, leaning his head against his hand. “She didn’t say when she left. She only managed to get a few sentences out before she disappeared. She was spitting mad.”

“I believe it.” Hermes grimaced. “I haven’t led anyone to the banks of Styx recently that had Hecate’s signature on them, so I don’t think she’s finished them off quite yet. How long ago did she leave?”

The god snapped his fingers, and two cups of wine appeared. He handed one to Aeëtes and knocked his cup against it in a hearty cheer. Aeëtes nearly drained it in one sip. His desolation was written all over his face, and while Hermes couldn’t understand it fully, he tried to lighten the mood.

“Careful, big boy. I’d tell you to go slower, but there’s more where that came from. I’m happy to warm your bed, too, if that’s what it takes to stop your moping.” His tone was equally suggestive and playful. Aeëtes rolled his eyes.

“Cut it out. Can you be serious for once, please?”

A sharp pang of rejection flooded through Hermes, but he was quick to bury it. From the day he was born, fully-formed and already in a role he’d had no choice in, Hermes had never stayed in one place for long. His relationships with the gods of the Underworld were the strongest ones he had, and he wasn’t exactly forthcoming with them.

Hermes would listen to anyone’s secrets—and for the most part, contrary to his reputation, he would keep them—but hardly revealed his own. He got through most of his relationships with a quick wit and quicker comedic timing, assuming that was the most value he would ever be to anyone. When his efforts were met with a sharp tongue, he didn’t blame Aeëtes, but felt rejected all the same.

Hermes didn’t answer Aeëtes’s question and repeated one of his own. “Tell me, how long ago did she leave?”

Aeëtes let out a long sigh, finishing his drink. “Two days, maybe?”

Hermes froze with his cup halfway to his mouth. A sense of mild disbelief and annoyance crept into his expression as he narrowed his gaze towards Aeëtes.

“She’s been gone for…two days,” Hermes deadpanned. Aeëtes nodded woefully, now resembling a child who wasn’t allowed to have more sweets than an immortal demigod and son of Apollo. Hermes put his cup down and crossed his arms over his chest. “Two days?”

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