Page 52 of Flame and Fury

“Come now. Is that the way you greet your brother?”

“The last time I saw you, you left me in a desert. I had to walk for three days without food or water before I found civilization.”Hermes might be my brother, but our relationship is tepid at best.

“You lost a bet. Don’t play if you’re scared to lose.”

It’s my own fault for ever thinking Hermes would play fair. He’s a cheat, though reliable when it comes down to the wire. “Fine. What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to take you to your new owner. I think you’re going to love this.” Hermes closes his eyes, his golden curls bouncing as he shakes his head, a pleased smile on his face.

“Please tell me our father didn’t buy me.”

Hermes scoffs. “As if I’d lift a finger to do anything for him. Come now. You know me better than that.”

Sarcastic bastard or not, Hermes does hate our father as much as I do. I clap a hand on his shoulder, and without another word, he transports us. We arrive on the front lawn of a small house that looks like a family from the fifties lives here. I bet there’s a tire swing in the back and apple pies cooling on the windowsill. If the windows were open.

The rest of the neighborhood is in disrepair, and this house stands out like a sore thumb. It’s a well-tended, small red brick ranch-style home with a one-car garage at the top of a sloped driveway. It’s bland compared to the ostentatious houses of the gods and the elites, but there’s something wholesome and welcoming about it.

“This is where I leave you, dear brother.” Hermes steps back from me and bows with a flourish.

“Where is here, exactly?” It’s not like a desert that I have to escape, but it would be nice to know where I’m at. I need to get back to Wren as soon as possible.

Hermes grins and then disappears on a soft breeze.

The front door to the house opens, spilling yellow light onto the lawn. At first, it’s impossible to make out the figure silhouetted in the doorframe. Then he steps out onto the front porch and under the lantern-style light above the house’s address.

“Nico?”

Whose house is this? Who the hell bought me?

“Don’t just hover in the doorway. Let our guest inside,” a man’s deep voice calls from inside the house. A voice I recognize.

Nico jerks his head, inviting me in. I follow him into the modest home and find Ares sitting in a recliner.

“Oh, yay. I guess I won the auction. How exciting. Come sit, son of Zeus. We have a few things we need to discuss.”

CHAPTER30

WREN

It doesn’t take long before we’re pulling around the back of Nathaniel Rogers' house. I shouldn’t be surprised since he bought me after all. Still, seeing the workhouse monstrosity leaves me exhausted just thinking about what’s to come. Atlas is out there somewhere, and I’m about to be trapped at Nathaniel’s house.

My door opens before I get a chance to collect my thoughts. A man in his fifties with curly, shoulder-length hair opens my door. It’s salt and pepper and slicked back from his face. He’s wearing the red cleric robes, but they don’t quite fit his body, like they’re hand-me-downs, or he’s lost a lot of weight. There’s a pin on the collar of an inverted triangle with one vertical line and another horizontal line cutting through the middle. It looks familiar.

He lowers his head to look inside the car. Fucking great. It’s the cleric from the street who was beating up those kids. One of his eyes is puffy and ringed in a purple bruise and there’s tape over the bridge of his nose. The sight brings me a small sliver of joy, which is chased away by dread. I’m sure he remembers me as well.Especially when his head cocks to the side and his eyes narrow.

“Come now, we don’t have all day.” His voice has a whine to it that instantly grates on my nerves. Or maybe it’s the combination of the events of the day that are getting to me. No, it’s definitely his annoying voice.

Everyone’s always rushing me from one place to the next and no one bothers asking if I even want to be there. The answer is, no, I don’t. I want to go back to Jerry’s bar and my shitty apartment and forget about all the damn problems in this territory. Instead, I slide out of the car and stand face-to-face with the greasy man. His eyes travel down my blood-stained clothing with a look of disgust.

“You need to be cleaned up. You should be kissing the master’s feet that he’s giving you this opportunity.”

I press my hand to my heart. “I’m so sorry. Where are my manners? I forgot to change out of my almost-dying clothes into something more formal. I really should’ve insisted on proper attire before I was sold off like a lot of old dishes at the auction.”

Oh, boy. When I first started this competition, I told myself I was going to keep my mouth shut and fly under the radar. That’s gone horribly wrong for me. So maybe now it’s time to start saying exactly what’s on my mind and calling people on their bullshit when it spews from their mouths.

The man mumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously likebitch. He spins on his heel and scuttles toward the house. Assuming I’m supposed to follow, I trail behind him, even though he doesn’t say anything else to me.

We’re obviously going into the servants’ quarters. This is a whole different stratosphere of living than what I’m used to. The entrance takes us inside through a vestibule. The cleric walks straight through, taking us past the kitchen. I spot a few people chopping vegetables and prepping food, but nobody’s speaking. It’s eerily quiet.

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