Page 24 of Wildfire

They were both silent for a moment, Helen staring at the window, and Elise at her own hands, which she was twisting into knots.

This was where he was supposed to be teacherly or something, he supposed. He sighed, leaning forward, and tried to catch her eye. “Can I do something to help you?”

That was good, right? He hadn’t asked what the hell she wanted, or been brusque or dismissive. Surely it was enough.

She lifted her head, still biting her lip nervously but finally looking him in the eye. “Would I fail if I missed the final test?”

For a second, all he could do was stare at her blankly. How had they jumped from talking about Hermes to—oh.

Oh!

If Wilder had a damned bodyguard, how could they expect the students to feel secure? And perhaps Elise wasn’t the strongest power, or fire-based, but she had plenty of reasons to be concerned. Beside which, she’d carried an impressive GPA through her years at Banneker, and failing his class wouldn’t just mean she needed to do it again—it would mean she didn’t graduate with the honors she deserved. That she had earned through hard work.

“Are you coming back in the fall for the graduate program?” he asked. He tried to emulate the way he’d seen Ward talk to students: leaning forward, chin down, and eyes intent but soft.

It seemed to work, because she nodded vehemently. “I, um, I think your letter of recommendation was what got me in, Professor. Thank you again for it.”

He made a tiny dismissive motion with one hand. He doubted the letter of one young untenured professor had made that much difference, but he’d appreciated being asked. And she’d deserved the vote of confidence, so he hadn’t minded giving it.

“And you’re heading home to”—he had to stop and consider for a second—“South Dakota for the summer?”

“Yessir. My parents could use the extra hands on the farm, and I could use the money for starting the grad program. I haven’t gotten into a work-study job yet.” She blushed and looked away again, though Wilder couldn’t imagine why she was embarrassed by doing something so sensible. He didn’t have a lot of sway in the work-study program, but he could probably use a TA in his few lower level classes. He made a mental note to speak to the dean about it and recommend Elise for the position. She was a hard worker, and she’d be perfect for the job.

Not to mention the fact that it would be a few hundred papers Wilder didn’t have to grade.

“Well then. You’ll be back in class with me this fall. If you miss anything by missing the exam, we’ll make sure you catch it then.” He turned and rifled through his stack of assignments, looking for her name. “You’ve already turned in your last homework, right?”

“Last week,” she agreed, and Wilder could have sworn her chest had stopped moving. Was she holding her breath?

“You would miss walking for graduation.”

Her head lowered and her shoulders curled inward, and for one brief moment, Wilder had a sting of pity. She’d earned this—all the graduating students had—and some dick was ruining it for everyone.

“I know. It’s fine,” she muttered. And rather than press her about the once-in-a-lifetime experience she was missing, he nodded curtly.

“Right.” He leafed through the grade book he kept on his desk, and there it was. The only thing she was missing was a final attendance score, and a final exam score. If he knocked a single point off her attendance, and ignored the missing exam... “How does an A minus sound?”

She nodded wildly. “That would be perfect, Professor. I’d be so grateful—”

He waved her off. “Don’t be grateful, just keep being a good student. These are unusual circumstances, and I won’t fault you for being cautious. Off to South Dakota with you.”

She practically jumped out of her chair and rushed to the door, calling behind her. “I’ll see you in the fall. Thank you, Professor!”

It was almost impossible to stifle his smile at that, but it dropped away when he glanced back at chirpy damned Helen, who was looking at him like he’d grown an extra head. “What?”

She threw up her hands defensively. “Nothing! Nothing at all. Well, I have class. See you tomorrow, Wilder.”

And then, blissfully, there was silence.

Queen of the Underworld

As fast as Hermes could get to the edge of the subway platform under DC, he was still constrained by the train’s availability. Charon guided souls to the underworld, and Hermes—Hermes had to wait for him to pull up.

So by the time he finally made it to the throne room in Hades’s crystal palace, the god looked annoyed.

Per usual, he didn’t express his displeasure, so his wife swooped in to make sure that Hermes didn’t miss his subtle cues.

“Took you long enough,” Persephone snipped, crossing her arms, decidedly less subtle than her husband.

---