He curled his hands into fists, fighting the urge to snap, knowing that doing so would derail the purpose of this entire press conference, which was to inform the public about the danger Hermes had let into the world.
He gritted his teeth, angry. He didn’t particularly like feeling this way toward Hermes, but he could not help recalling the distress his actions had caused Persephone. Perhaps it would not be so bad if she weren’t pregnant, if he hadn’t watched her work tirelessly over the last few weeks to decorate and bake for the holidays, but he had, and it was all gone in an instant.
These thoughts made him fidgety, anxious to check on his wife. He hoped no one noticed.
Focus, he told himself.
All you have to do is read from the script, Sybil had told him, handing over a piece of paper. It lay on the podium in front of him, except now that he was looking at what she had given him, he realized how small the text was.
Fucking Fates, she could have at least made it a point or two bigger.
“Good morning,” he said, clearing his throat into the mic, and he saw Sybil wince in his peripheral. Harmonia, who stood beside her, gave an encouraging smile, Fates bless her. The oracle was going to regret letting him do this, and he did not even intend that as a threat.
It was just the truth.
“You may be aware…or already…participate in the annual…tradition of…preparing for the Kallikantzaroi.”
He read slowly, in part because he did not wish to bend over the podium to squint at this small script, but also because the words Sybil had chosen felt unnatural. He glanced at the crowd, feeling disconcerted under their gaze. When he returned his attention to Sybil’s speech, he lost his place and decided he did not have the time or patience to find it again.
He straightened, dark gaze on the crowd, and all at once, he felt their unease.
Fucking finally, he thought, almost smirking.
“The Kallikantzaroi have been unleashed into the city,” he said, his tone and cadence settling into something familiar and ominous, judging by the look on the reporters’ faces. “You may be aware of their propensity for chaos and sometimes violence, but unlike previous years, this is no fun tradition or children’s tale. They pose a very real threat, and you should plan accordingly. The Olympian Council has set a plan in motion and will provide resources to help you ward your home against these creatures until their reign of terror ends on Christmas Day. Any questions?”
A few people raised their hands. Hades just stared, and after a moment, all but one remained.
“Can…can you tell us how this happened?” the lone reporter asked, voice quivering.
“Hermes,” he answered.
Without another word, he left the podium, only to face an unhappy Sybil.
“I gave you a script,” she said, holding her clipboard with both hands as though she wished to strike him with it.
“I think you did great,” said Harmonia, who lingered a few steps behind.
“You are too kind,” Hades said to the Goddess of Harmony and meant it. Then he looked at Sybil and handed the paper back to her. “The font was too small.”
“I asked you if it looked good.”
“If you are suggesting that is the same question as can you read this paragraph, it isn’t,” he replied.
“I’m starting to think you need to bring back Oracles speaking for the gods. It would save me a lot of work.”
Hades grunted in agreement and started to walk away when Sybil stopped him.
“Hades,” she said. “How is Persephone?”
“She’s fine,” he said. “Or so she says.”
He knew she was in the habit of minimizing her true feelings to ease his own. It was something they were both working on.
“I’ll text her,” she said. “Harmonia and I are excited to see her at the ceremony.”
“She is excited too,” he said.
They had been asked to light the national tree in Monastiraki Square this year, though whether they attended was up to the twins.
