Page 29 of Wildfire

Wilder shook his head, pulling his hand from inside Hermes’s embrace and holding it up to stop him from whatever dramatics might be ready to burst forth. “I do not have the time for you to have a breakdown, or the inclination to live through a history lesson on the Greek gods. Give me the CliffsNotes version.”

Theo’s eyes went round behind his wire-rimmed glasses, his mouth slipping open in astonishment, and it made Wilder want to stamp his foot like a child. He was ashamed enough of how long he’d taken to truly connect the dots, and there was Ward acting astonished that he’d ever gotten there.

“Honestly,” Hermes said, and for once his sarcastic tone was entirely welcome. “You lot are something else. How many relatives named after Greek gods in the same family did you think you could talk about before he got it?”

“I—I didn’t—” Ward stammered, pushing his glasses higher on his nose but staring at the floor.

“How many times do you think ’thena needed to throw around the word ‘mortals’ in that contemptuous tone of hers? You may not like the guy, but at least show him a little respect.” Hermes tightened the hand wrapped around Wilder’s waist, pulling him in tighter.

Somehow, with all the awful things that had happened in the last hour, that still managed to sting.

Didn’t like him?

Theodore Ward, the closest thing Wilder had in the world to a friend, didn’t like him?

Ward scowled at Hermes. “Don’t presume to know how I feel, Hermes. I’ve known Wilder for longer than you, and I know him better. He’s...” Oh this was going to be bad; he could feel it in his bones. “He’s an acquired taste.”

Okay, that hadn’t been as bad as expected. It wasn’t good, but at least he hadn’t started in about what an ass Wilder had been to him, or—fuck. That was not what Wilder needed to be focused on right then.

Even if he rather had been an ass to Ward for a long time.

“Fine,” Hermes said with a sharp nod, then lifted his chin in the air. “Good. I’m glad you’ve managed to look beneath the surface and see the vulnerable, squishy, cat-loving marshmallow beneath the haughty, arrogant exterior.”

Wilder turned to stare at Hermes. Hell, was that actually how the man—the god—saw him? He wasn’t sure whether to be insulted, or endeared and insulted.

“Don’t you laugh,” Hermes added, waggling a finger in Ward’s direction.

Looking over at Ward, he did indeed look like he was trying to hold back laughter. Lovely. Now he was a joke. A vulnerable marshmallow of a joke, apparently. Wilder gave up on Theo and Hermes turning their attention back to the matter at hand without help, and shoved them back on track. “Dean Woods is a goddess, and she’s gone to report to her father, because Typhon is killing students. Why? Who is he?”

“He’s a titan,” Hermes explained. “Well, a monster who works for the titans. The power of the gods depends on mortal worship, or at least mortal actions. We need you. The power of titans is their own. They can take it from mortals, but they can also take it from trees and volcanoes and earthquakes and every other thing.”

“And they’ve decided to take it from students at the school,” Wilder finished for him. “How do we make him go back to mountains and volcanoes and all that?”

Ward shook his head as he came closer to them, and the strain on his face was more obvious up close in the harsh light of above the mirrors. Wilder had a feeling he wasn’t going to like the answer. “Typhon and the others, they’ve been imprisoned in Tartarus for millennia. There was a sort of jail break.”

For a moment, all Wilder could do was stare at him. It was like something out of a Lovecraft novel; ancient horrors summoned from the deep, or space, or some other unknowable plane, who intended to destroy or subjugate humanity. Or perhaps, for whom humanity was like ants, to be wiped out as pests that crawled the surface of a space they had laid claim to.

He leaned against Hermes, the tiny bit of remaining strength going out of him. What had been happening to the students, it wasn’t an isolated problem. It was the future they had to look forward to if someone didn’t do something.

I don’t know why you learned to throw fireballs if you’re not going to join the military, his father had told him time and again.

Apparently they were going to be put to good use after all, because Wilder was not going down without a fight. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to let some titan horror from the deeps keep killing his students.

Let Me Carry You

They retreated to Theo’s office to wait for Lysandros to finish handling the mess. Hermes suspected that Marco wasn’t going to find his way to the district’s medical examiner—at least not right away, and not from a location quite so close to Wilder’s office. Evidence against him was beginning to stack up, and the last thing they needed was Wilder being tossed in a jail cell where they couldn’t protect him.

Hermes sat in one of the plush seats meant for students. He didn’t think the college had decorated the office for him—oh no, this office had Lysandros written all over it—perhaps not in style, but in quality. In wealth. Someone had dropped some cash to make sure dear Professor Ward was comfortable.

Everything was brown and antique and cozy. Hermes was vaguely surprised there wasn’t a throw blanket draped over the back of one of the chairs, but he supposed that would be kind of inappropriate for a professor’s office. He’d looked, because if one had been there, he’d have wrapped it around Wilder’s shoulders, even though the man was sitting up stiffly. He looked like he needed the comfort.

Hermes pinched his hands between his knees, bouncing his ankle quickly, tapping the rug on top of the wood floor. All he wanted to do was rush off. That was his modus operandi, wasn’t it? First sign of trouble, and he was gone. He could watch the sunrise in Tahiti and sip on something fruity while he waited for the world to end.

Only now, he didn’t feel like there was anywhere to run. There were too many people who weren’t willing to abandon ship, and maybe Hermes didn’t want to leave them to fend for themselves.

He realized, looking over Wilder’s stony expression, the utter devastation carving lines into Ward’s face, that Hermes was, this once, the steadiest person in the room. He’d seen thousands of years and had the best idea of what they were up against.

Shit. If he hadn’t thought they were well and truly fucked before, that really sealed it.

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