“Duh. No one wants to wear the aftermath of their drunken adventures home.” She motions behind her without looking. “I put on coffee.”
Thank the gods for small favors. “Coffee and ice cream is one way to deal with a hangover.”
“Shhh.” She makes a face. “My head hurts.”
“Imagine that,” I murmur and walk around to grab us both mugs. I pour hers two-thirds of the way full and pass it over. She promptly drops a giant dollop of ice cream into the coffee, and I shake my head. “You know, I seem to remember locking up last night. And yet here you are.”
“Here I am.” She gives me a slightly rumpled version of her usual wicked grin. “Come now, Hades. You know that there isn’t a lock in this city that can keep me out.”
“I’ve become aware of it over the years.” The first time she showed up was a mere month after she earned the title of Hermes, some five or six years ago now. She startled me in my office and almost ended up with a bullet in her head as a result. Somehow, that interaction translated into her deciding that we’re great friends. It took me a year to figure out that it didn’t matter what I thought of the so-called friendship. Then Dionysus started appearing with her about six months after that, and I gave up fighting their presence.
If they’re spies for Zeus, they’re completely ineffectual and aren’t gaining any information I don’t want him to have. If they aren’t…
Well, it’s not my problem.
She takes a long drink of her ice-cream-dosed coffee and makes a disturbingly sex-like sound. “Are you sure you don’t want some?”
“I’m sure.” I lean against the counter and try to decide how to play this. I can’t really trust Hermes. No matter that she seems to consider us friends, she is one of the Thirteen and I’d be a fool ten times over to forget that. More, she makes her home in the shadow of Dodona Tower and answers directly to Zeus—at least when it suits her. Showing my hand before I have a concrete plan is a recipe for disaster.
But the cat’s out of the bag in every way that matters. Zeus’s men will have reported Persephone’s location to him already. Hermes confirming it changes nothing.
Dionysus stumbles through the door. His mustache is a mess and his pale skin is nearly green. He waves vaguely in my direction and makes a beeline for the coffee. “Morning.”
Hermes snorts. “You look like death.”
“You’re to blame. Who drinks wine after whiskey? Villains, that’s who.” He contemplates the coffeepot for a long moment and finally pours himself a mug. “Just shoot me in the head and put me out of my misery.”
“Don’t tempt me,” I mutter.
“Yes, yes, you’re very broody and terrifying.” Hermes spins on the island to face me. Her dark eyes light up with mischief. “All these years I thought it was an act, but then you stalk in, carrying your kidnapping victim.”
I start to clarify that I didn’t actually kidnap anyone, but Dionysus barks out a laugh. “So I didn’t hallucinate that. Persephone Dimitriou always seemed a bit of a sunny bore, but she just got interesting. She stepped out of that party less than thirty minutes after Zeus announced their engagement, and then she turns up on the other side of the River Styx, where good upper-city girls most definitely don’t go? Very, very interesting.”
I frown, unable to stop myself from focusing on the least important part of what he just said. “A sunny bore?” Admittedly, we hardly met under ideal circumstances, but the woman is anything but a bore.
Hermes shakes her head, sending her curls bouncing. “You’ve only seen her in her public persona when her mom drags her to events, Dionysus. She’s not too bad when she’s not locked down, especially when she’s hanging out with her sisters.”
Dionysus opens one eye. “Darling, spying is highly frowned upon.”
“Who said I’m spying?”
He opens the other eye. “Oh, so you’ve been spending time with the Dimitriou sisters, have you? The four women who hate the Thirteen with a passion that’s truly outstanding considering who their mother is.”
“Maybe.” She can’t even keep a straight face. “Okay, no, but I was curious because their mother is so determined to match them up with as many powerful people as she can get her hands on. It pays to know these things.”
I watch this play out with fascination. Hermes, being one of the Thirteen, should be someone I dislike on principle, but her role edges her into the shadows in a number of ways. Private messenger, the holder of secrets I can only begin to guess at, a thief when it suits her. She’s nearly as much a patron of the darkness as I am. It should make her even less trustworthy than the rest of them, but she’s so damned transparent that sometimes it makes my head ache.