Page 56 of Wildfire

She wasn’t wrong, exactly, but Wilder didn’t like it. They were so young, and the moment the dean suggested that they could come to graduation if they wanted to help stop the monster that had been killing their fellow students, the majority were going to ask where they could sign up. Even with Typhon out murdering their contemporaries, they thought they were invincible.

They were children, and they didn’t yet have the critical thinking skills to understand that death didn’t only happen to other people.

Even Hermes seemed to understand, twisted halfway around on the counter, staring at his sister. It occurred to Wilder that he hadn’t scolded the man for sitting on the counter, even in his underwear.

Huh.

“What makes you think Typhon’s gonna show up for graduation if you have it?” Hermes actually set his soda and brownie down on the counter as he asked, as though he were preparing for a fight.

She met his eye, not a little disdainfully. “It’s the last time so much of the student body is going to be all together, easily accessible, before the fall. He won’t be able to resist.”

“He ran off last time he got surrounded,” Hermes countered, before Wilder even thought of it. It boded well, hopefully, for his swiftness returning at some point.

She shrugged. “He didn’t expect everyone last time. This time he’ll come expecting them. Prepared.”

Hermes let his body fall forward, smacking his palms against the granite countertops as he put all his weight on them, facing his sister and staring into her eyes. “And how the hell do you think we’re gonna beat him this time? Like you said, we caught him on his back foot last time. This time we won’t.”

She gave a calculatedly casual shrug. “I wasn’t there, but I understand that he and Wilder hardly had a second to fight. Wilder can beat him, given the chance.”

Wilder was dubious about that, despite how everyone kept saying it. Yes, fire was bad for gods, but he hadn’t even left a mark last time.

Hermes looked at her for a moment, as though waiting for something.

She didn’t speak up again, just regarded him coolly.

“You’re not even planning to tell him, are you? My god, you’re a cold bitch, ’thena.” She pursed her lips and leaned toward him, but Hermes whipped around to stare at Wilder, so fast he almost fell down, forcing Wilder to reach out and steady him, since he clearly wasn’t completely better. “If you kill Typhon—”

“Hermes.” Her voice resonated through the room, cold and flat and terrifying.

Hermes didn’t even glance back at her, even as Wilder startled and stared at his boss. “If you kill Typhon, you’ll be stuck with his immortality. You’ll live forever.”

And that... that was a possibility Wilder had never considered.

Forever and Then Some

Hermes was a messenger god, but he was also a trickster—not one person in the world would be shocked to hear he was throwing a wrench in Athena’s plans to make Wilder her immortal number two.

They would be surprised, however, by his reasoning.

Not twenty-four hours ago, Hermes had offered him immortality in a more traditional, far less violent manner, and Wilder had barely missed a beat before turning it around and shoving it right back at him. By all accounts, he might not even want to live forever—perhaps he was one of those rare mortals not afraid of the concept of death. Wilder Pratt was the exception in everything else; why not this?

If Wilder lived forever, he deserved to make that decision on his own, for his own reasons. He at least deserved to be well informed.

Athena’s jaw was firm and twitching, but since Hermes had spilled the beans, there was nothing to do but face the truth. Wilder wasn’t talking either—just staring at him with a furrowed brow. So, as ever, it fell to Hermes to fill the silence.

He took a bracing sip of Coke then set the can aside—he needed his hands free for this explanation.

“So, it’s like a balance of power, right? There was a mortal once, Glaucus, who killed one of Helios’s cows. It created a rift, killing an immortal, and the rift sucked Glaucus into filling that role. He became immortal, with all the might and majesty of an immortal cow, so not much. But you kill an immortal, the world just... evens that out. It makes another.”

Hermes licked his lips, he was talking fast now, the room blurring around the edges as he looked into Wilder’s intent gaze. “But then you look at the last war with the titans. Not many died, because they’re extremely hard to kill.Butit wasn’t until Zeus killed one of them, Menoetius, that he was able to defeat Cronus.”

Raking his hand through his hair, Hermes shrunk into his shoulders. “And if Typhon had managed to kill me, all my power would’ve been his.” And even without intending it, Hermes would’ve made the situation worse. Wasn’t that just like him?

“You’re certain?” Wilder asked tightly, not looking at Athena for confirmation, but directly at him. By some insane twist of circumstance, Hermes had his full trust, at least in this.

He nodded. “Heracles—born a demigod, but mortal. Killed immortal beasts. Blessed with immortality. If you kill Typhon, you’d become immortal.”

With an annoyed huff, Athena crossed her arms and tipped her chin up. As intense as she could be, she rarely looked quite so martial as Ares, and it was easy to forget that was her root power as well. If Hermes didn’t shut his trap, he was going to end up with a spear through his chest any second.

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