Relief flooded him when he spotted a single bloom near the base of a tree. He dove for it, yanking the herb out of the ground.
“Yes!” he said, clutching the plant, lifting his arms in the air. “Take that, Circe!”
Suddenly, it was snatched from his hand by a purple blur.
“No!”
Hermes spotted the thief as it landed in a nearby tree, the flower clutched between its pointed beak. It was a woodpecker with purple wings and a band of gold around its throat, the unusual markings a sign of the animal’s past human life.
Hermes knew the feathered menace. His name was Picus, a former king who had rejected Circe’s advances and found himself a victim of her magic.
“Picus!” Hermes hissed, and the bird’s beady eyes snapped to the god before he turned his head up and swallowed the milky-white flower, letting the black root fall to the ground.
“I thought we were on the same side!” Hermes groaned, dragging his hands over his face, knowing he was going to have to dig up Circe’s boneyard without the protection of the root. He suspected there was no ideal time to begin, but it was probably best to wait for nightfall when Circe and her zoo slumbered.
Hermes trudged through the overgrown forest until he came to a high hill where he could get his bearings. There, he discovered a tendril of white smoke rising from the canopy of deep green, and he knew that was where Circe lived. His feet already ached at the thought of crossing the distance, another downside to being mortal.
He made his descent, chest tightening as he entered the woods again. They were not easy to navigate. Parts were overgrown while others were barred by fallen branches and trees. By the time he made it within sight of Circe’s marble palace, he’d thought of a million different ways she might improve her living situation.
Roads, for one.
A nice restaurant.
A spa.
Internet.
Literally any modern convenience—and yet, as he hid behind a tree and observed her, he realized she had never evolved beyond ancient times. She sat at her loom, weaving, glowing like the sun, hair fiery red, while tigers, lions, and jaguars lounged at her feet, her ever-present companions.
The witch-goddess looked up suddenly, golden eyes gleaming as she peered in his direction.
Hermes’s heart jumped in his throat, and he darted behind the tree. He waited a few minutes before peeking around the other side of the trunk to see Circe standing. She wore a white chiton, pinned at her shoulder. A gauzy blue shawl was draped over her slender, pale arms.
Hermes remained still, barely breathing as she stared out at her woods for what felt like forever. For the first time since he arrived, he was glad he did not have magic. It meant Circe could not sense him here.
Eventually the witch-goddess turned and her animals rose, following her inside her stately home. Despite this, Hermes did not move, suspicious she was still watching. He decided to wait and sunk to the ground, needing a little rest before he started this fucking archeological dig in Circe’s backyard.
His legs throbbed and his back ached. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d exerted himself this much, save for the few evenings he spent at Club Aphrodisia, but that was a pleasurable sort of pain with a satisfying end.
The only person getting off here was Hecate, and the only joy he could take from that was that he was, in some small way, responsible.
The haunting call of an owl startled Hermes awake.
He sat up, heart racing as he pressed close to the trunk of the tree, a pair of pale eyes staring down at him from above. This particular owl was unnaturally large and had two pointed tufts atop its head that looked like menacing horns.
Hermes was familiar with the species as he’d once turned a giant into the predatory animal as punishment for his cruelty.
“Oreios?” he questioned aloud as a trickle of unease skittered down his spine. Perhaps the punishment was not digging up bones but facing the ghosts of his past.
Hermes did not truly think the eagle-owl was the giant, but its appearance here did not bode well for him. It was a warning of something bad to come.
“You’re a little late. My whole holiday is fucked.” He glared. “Shoo!”
The owl bellowed in response as if sounding an alarm.
“Shut up!” Hermes hissed, getting to his feet, but the owl howled louder.
He searched the ground, finding a small rock. Just as he threw it, the bird took off into the night.
