Page 22 of Wildfire

Hebe. Something flared in the back of Wilder’s mind at the name. Hebe? Another Greek name, he thought. Was their family obsessed with ancient gods?

Wilder was no expert on the subject; he suspected if he wanted the information, Theo Ward would have it. Or, well, there was always the internet. But Hermes, that one was simple, right?

The messenger of the gods. Fastest god in the world. Son of Zeus. Brother to... Athena, and Artemis, and Apollo, and Ares, and probably a bunch of other people whose names started with A, since the old man had a reputation for sleeping with anything that moved, and maybe a few things that didn’t move.

But hadn’t there been a Hebe?

“Your sister, Hebe?” he asked. Half of him didn’t expect an answer, and the other half thought it was ridiculous, but—

“Yup. Best of the lot if you ask me. Dunno how you work for Athena. She’s fucking insufferable. It’d only be worse if it was Apollo.” Before Wilder could sigh and ask him why he persisted in deliberately using the worst grammar he could think up, the neurons in his brain connected.

Athena. Apollo. “Athena?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light, and instead it came out squeaky.

Hermes ran a hand over Melly’s head and down the length of her body, and she arched into it. “Sorry, ‘Dean Woods,’ I mean,” he corrected. Wilder didn’t have to see him roll his eyes to know it happened.

Melly planted herself firmly against the opposite side of Wilder’s chest from Hermes, letting him pet her, and purring like a little motorboat as the man stroked her back.

The man.

The... god? No, that was too ridiculous.

What was it she’d offered him to watch out for Wilder? A good word with their father. Forgiveness. That didn’t mean anything, did it?

“Such a pretty girl,” Hermes was whispering to Melly across Wilder’s chest. “And smart, too. You know who gives the best pets, don’t you? That’s right, your uncle Hermes.”

Wilder quirked a brow at him. “Uncle Hermes?”

Hermes shrugged his free shoulder and looked up at Wilder, a wicked gleam in his eye. “It’s a little soon to ask her to call me Dad, don’t you think?”

Wilder let his head fall back on his pillow and groaned. Against his side, Hermes’s shoulders shook with laughter, and Melly just kept purring away.

Walk to Class

The morning was downright domestic. Wilder made tea downstairs. He offered Hermes fried eggs, but Hermes didn’t have to eat, and he figured he’d put Wilder out enough already. This wasn’t an offer made out of genuine pleasure that he was there. Oh no, there was one thing Wilder liked about him, and Hermes was under no illusion about what that was.

“What’s her name?” Hermes asked as he watched Wilder’s cat wind her way around his ankles, looking up at the oven and chirping, curious if there were any treats for her.

Something in Wilder’s position stiffened then. “Melisandre.”

Hermes smiled. “Cute. She’s a sweet girl.” This last, Hermes cooed, crouching down by Wilder’s magnificent kitchen island and holding out his fingers for her to sniff. When she detached herself from her dad, he rubbed her head, scratching around her ears.

“She is...”

Wilder was watching them, and Hermes had the distinct feeling that he’d missed out on something, but if Wilder wasn’t going to tell him, he didn’t suppose it mattered much.

He lifted his head, cocking it to one side. “More classes today?”

Wilder pursed his lips, turning back to the stovetop. “Thursday’s a pretty light load, but I have office hours this morning.” He scowled down at Hermes. “I suspect that means you’ll be shadowing me again all day?”

A snarky affirmative was right there on the tip of his tongue when Hermes heard the call—Hades’s voice vibrating in his bones. He might have his marching orders from Athena, but he was still the pantheon’s resident messenger god. He couldn’t shirk all his duties to look after one mortal, even if he was ever more invested in keeping this one alive.

With a sigh, he shook his head. “You did make a pretty compelling case with that fire show yesterday. You can look after yourself for a couple hours, yeah?”

The murderer didn’t seem all that active this early in the day, anyway. They were an evening killer so far.

Wilder’s brow furrowed, like he simply couldn’t understand how Hermes, thorn that he was, would ever willingly extricate himself from his big, golden-lion paw.

With a smirk, Hermes shrugged and stood up. “My uncle’s calling me. He said he’d look out for things on the missing-soul front. If he knows something about what’s going on, it’d be worthwhile to find out, dontcha think?”

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