But furious.
And naked.
Very naked.
Hermes’s stomach dropped when he felt Hades’s magic permeate the room. It was heavy and tasted metallic, like blood on the tongue.
The blood wasn’t Hades’s. It was Hecate, who appeared suddenly, commanding in a dark voice, “Lampedes!”
Suddenly, there was a bright flash of light and the Kallikantzaroi screamed.
The smell of singed hair and burned skin filled his nostrils and tightened his throat. He coughed, eyes watering. Then the light dimmed and he blinked, trying to clear his spotted vision, only to meet Hades and Hecate’s fierce gazes.
He offered an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.
“‘Tis the season?”
Hades growled and Hermes sensed it was the end.
He didn’t exactly hate the idea of dying by Hades’ hands, though he’d have preferred a choice in the method. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting.
“What happened?”
Hermes knew that voice, and his stomach turned as he opened his eyes. It was the moment he’d been dreading since he saw the foyer.
Hades turned to reveal Persephone who had come into the kitchen behind him. She looked so small and bright beside her hulking, brooding husband, dressed in pink satin pajamas.
Her gaze swept the room and then Hermes saw it—her lip quivered.
Oh, no.
“I’ll fix it!” he said, desperate to keep her from crying, but it was too late. Tears streamed down her face. She swiped at them, but eventually gave in to the sobs.
Hades put his arm around her and glared back at him.
“I think you’ve done enough,” he said, before ushering Persephone from the room. “Come now, go back to bed. We’ll fix it all by morning.”
“It is morning,” she said miserably.
Hermes’s chest ached and his shoulders slumped forward with the weight of his guilt.
Hecate stood opposite him, arms crossed over her chest. They were of equal height, but he felt small beneath her gaze.
“Is that a knife in your ass?” she asked.
Hermes craned his neck, realizing he’d never pulled the blade out. He did so now, inhaling between his teeth. He tried to draw on his magic to heal the wound, but found he couldn’t.
His eyes widened. “Hecate?—”
She’d taken his magic.
“You promised,” she hissed.
“I didn’t mean—I fell asleep!” he exclaimed, waving the bloody knife around.
“What you meant doesn’t matter. You have unleashed a plague upon the world.”
“That’s a little extreme, don’t you think? The Kallikantzaroi always enter the Upperworld.”
