As I clean the wound, I can’t help but remember the first time Hawthorne and I visited when we were looking for the panel. I rub the flesh of my palm. I wonder if the brand is still there.
“I’m going over to Hephaestus’ temple,” I call out to the three of them.
They immediately look relieved, even Hawthorne. He loves digging through ruins as much as I do, but it seems to be all we do lately. We pack up the rest of our stuff and head over to the large structure.
Hawthorne looks down at me with a soft smile on his face. “Our first date and our first kiss. Maybe one day we’ll come back here and have another.”
“As long as it ends better than the first,” I tell him with a shudder, remembering the comatose state he was in when we left last time. I climb the hill and enter through the massive columns. At the entrance to the cella, I hold up my palm to the symbol etched in the wall and watch as the brand appears on my hand.
“It still works.”
For a long moment, I stare at my palm, an idea forming in my head. “We need to get some gold. The highest quality. Maybe five pounds. Jamison?”
His phone is already in his hand as he nods. “I’ve got a guy in the city. Let me give him a call.” In clipped tones, he greets theperson on the other end and explains what he needs. A minute later, he ends the call. “He’ll be here in about twenty minutes.”
I bite my lip as I fill them in on my idea. “We need fire. Lots of it. But it’s too much for one person to generate.” I refuse to endanger Hawthorne again. When I search their faces, I realize they all look a bit skeptical. “Honestly, this is a Hail Mary, but it’s the only idea I have right now. While we wait for your guy, we need to shut down the site and block it off.”
Twenty minutes later, after getting cursed out in at least a dozen languages, the last tourist leaves the site and Jamison’s guy arrives. Gatlin takes the gold, while Jamison finishes the transaction. I motion for him to carry it into the center and set it down.
“You’re going to ask Hephaestus to create the scepter,” Hawthorne murmurs in disbelief. “You know Hera rejected him, right? And later, he created a throne that trapped her in it until Dionysus made him release her.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure they hate each other. Look, it’s long shot, I know,” I reply with a defensive shrug. “He probably won’t respond, but we have to try. Are you going to be okay doing this again?”
His jaw tightens, and he looks over at Jamison. “It will be easier with the two of us. Say the word when you’re ready.”
I move to the center of the room where the painting used to be and hold my hand over the symbol on the floor. The brand begins to glow, and the light appears on the floor, shining up toward the ceiling.
“Give me a boost?” I call out to Hawthorne, and he conjures wind to pick me up and move me closer to the ceiling, where I find the matching symbol. I repeat the steps, and when he lowers me back down, I scramble backwards to watch the two lights meet in the middle.
And just like before, the floor beneath our feet rumbles; stones slide to the right and left, revealing a large hole. In the center, the golden anvil with the hammer lying on it begins to rise.
Hawthorne nods to Jamison, and they both release a stream of fire onto the anvil. As the words are revealed, I repeat them like I did last time.
“Let the flames fire the forge and the hammer reveal.”
Remembering the searing pain, my hand trembles as it reaches out for the hammer. The brand glows, and I close my eyes and brace myself, then pick it up. My knees almost buckle at the searing pain, but I grit my teeth. “Now!”
I hear Gatlin curse a blue streak in the background.
Unlike last time when it was just Hawthorne, the two of them are able to get the flames white in thirty seconds flat. Through the haze of pain, I watch as sweat pours down their faces from the effort and heat.
This is where I have to start winging it. “Gatlin.” He places the gold on top of the anvil. Time to begin.
“Hephaestus, ingenious creator, master of the forge, and god of all artisans. Infuse this gold with your divine power. Help shape it into the most delicate and powerful of scepters, fitting for the Queen of Olympus. My only wish is to finish the quest you gave to me by removing the divine interference. Please hear my plea and shape this metal with the precision only you can wield. Blessings and praise for your true artistry in creating this masterpiece.”
With those words, I strike the anvil as hard as I can with the hammer until it grows cold in my palm. Then I set it down and step back. The fire dies, and all of it slowly disappears into the floor again.
Gatlin rushes over and runs his hands down my arm before picking up my left palm. When he sees it’s not burned, he scowlsand mutters something about fucked-up gods. I lay a finger on his lips to quiet him, and he nips at it.
“Now what?” Jamison asks tiredly.
“We wait,” I tell him. “Either he’ll grant my plea, or he won’t.”
He nods and looks over at Hawthorne. “I can’t believe you did that on your own the first time. It’s a wonder you didn’t completely lose your magic.”
I stroll over to Hawthorne and wrap my arm around his waist. “Doing okay?”
He shoves his damp hair back from his face and wraps his arm around me. “Maybe we’ll have our anniversary date at your villa in Italy. After all, that’s where we first…”
