Page 48 of Wildfire

Hades.

God of the underworld.

Wilder tried not to shiver at the realization.

“Your father still isn’t allowed in the underworld,” Hades started, but Hermes cut him off with a hoarse laugh.

He rolled his head against Wilder’s shoulder to look up at his... uncle?... a bitter smile on his face. “Zeus wouldn’t have come if you’d asked. Not unless I were Athena or Hebe, and maybe not even then.”

The way Hades flinched and looked away made Wilder wonder if perhaps he had asked Zeus to come, and been ignored.

Hermes didn’t even seem to notice, just pushed to his feet, slow and clumsy. And when he got there, he froze, frowning. He looked up at Wilder, then over his shoulder at Hades and Lysandros. He gave a jerk, like he was trying to turn, or jump, or... something, but nothing happened.

When he met Wilder’s eye, there was abject terror on his face. All he said was, “I’m still here.”

Hades put a hand on his shoulder, and he jumped at the motion, staring at his hand, as though its sudden bracing presence was a shock. For a moment, he just stared. At his shoulder, at his uncle, at Lysandros, off into space. Then he crumpled back down into Wilder’s arms, murmuring, “Everyone’s so fast. Why are you all so fast?”

Wilder didn’t know a lot about Greek gods—if someone had asked him a week before, he’d have said they didn’t exist, and Hermes’s parents had a sick sense of humor. He had, in fact, basically said that. But he was pretty sure that the stricken expression on the god of the dead did not bode well for Hermes’s godly abilities.

Hades turned and rushed to Lysandros in the doorway, where they had a low, tense conversation. The only thing Wilder managed to make out before Lysandros turned and left was “get Hebe.”

He had never been a praying man; he’d always believed a person shouldn’t ask for the things they wanted, they should earn them. As it turned out, he’d always been an arrogant ass. Now, he prayed to anyone or anything who might listen: that Hebe was close by, and that whatever was wrong with Hermes, she could fix it.

From the fear in Hades’s gaze, Wilder guessed that so did he.

Golden Gods

Never in his life had Hermes been slow. Yet there he was, curled up in Wilder Pratt’s lap, and every movement around him felt like a lightning strike. Logically, he knew that the world and people around him hadn’t changed—it was all inside him. And still, it was horrifying.

He kept his eyes shut tight and tried to focus on the steady sweep of Wilder’s fingertips across his skin. His fingers were smooth, uncalloused, and cool. And right then, they were the only things that felt steady.

Without question, he was taking advantage of the man. But Hermes had, arguably, done him a favor. So didn’t he deserve to steal a bit of comfort? Laying claim to Wilder’s lap for an hour while his vital organs were in active rebellion seemed more than fair, and as yet, Wilder hadn’t complained about it. Instead, he’d traced his temple, the line of his cheekbone, and back to his hairline again. Over and over, until Hermes’s panicked breathing steadied.

Hermes wanted to thank him, but he was worried that if he brought attention to Wilder’s kindness, it would dry up. It was startling enough that Wilder had come all the way down here with him, just to see him safe.

Though he shut his eyes, he couldn’t block out the tension in Hades’s study. Lysandros had disappeared after a quick, terse conversation with his father, but Hades still lingered, scowling darkly at the pair of them. Occasionally, he asked Wilder a question about what had happened at Banneker, but Wilder’s answers were clipped. Eventually, they both fell silent.

There was nothing else to do but sit back and wait for someone more powerful to come and save the day. Hermes didn’t have too many friends in high places, but his sister Hebe ranked.

When she arrived, she swept into the underworld without the slightest hesitation, Hades’s daughter Melinoe at her shoulder.

Hebe had, perhaps, the least reason to fear any god. They depended on the blessing of youth she gave them. Without her, they all risked withering away. Once, Zeus had gotten on her bad side, and no godly being wanted to face down erectile dysfunction like some poor sap on a late-night Viagra commercial.

Still, like Persephone, Hebe was a bright spot in this dark place. She brought in with her a subtle golden sheen. Hermes hadn’t noticed how pale and gray he’d gotten until set in direct contrast with his beautiful sister. With a marrow-deep sigh, he flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

“I’m dying, aren’t I?” he asked, sucking in his cheeks, determined he wouldn’t be unreasonable about it. If he was going to lose his immortality and fade from the world, he was sure as Hades going to make it a nightmarish event for everyone.

With a huff through her nose, Hebe dropped to her knees beside the couch. “You’re not dying,” she insisted, her mouth a pursed pink spot in the middle of her face.

She held her hand up, and Melinoe dropped a pocket knife in it. With surprising dexterity, Hebe flipped it open and dragged the razor-sharp blade across Hermes’s forearm.

With a hiss, he jerked his arm back and cradled it to his chest. “The fuck?”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Wilder demanded, voice full of affront that toed toward real anger. The way he edged toward the front of the couch suggested he’d like to put himself between Hermes and his sister. He was just barely holding himself back, and only because Hermes was still draped halfway across his lap.

With a frown, Hermes took him in. Was Wilder concerned about him? Curious—Hermes had thought this was guilt and tolerance and not much else. After their spat the night before, he’d settled into the idea that was all it was ever going to be.

Thoroughly unimpressed, Hebe frowned at them both. “He’s a god, Pratt.” Impressive—Hermes hadn’t even updated his Twitter with the professor’s name, but she already had her finger on the pulse of the latest gossip. She waved a hand over the arm Hermes cradled to his chest. “That’s basically a paper cut. If it’s actually a danger to him, that’s the least of our worries here.”

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