Angie was right. Hermes didn't like her idea much at all.
He complained about it the entire way to the Underworld, going on and on about how they couldn't trust Hades until he got his shit together, that he wasn't going to want to help anyway if it so much as threatened to threaten his precious, precious reputation. They were better off handling this situation themselves, he said. Bringing others into it would just complicate things, he said. He said a lot of things, but Angie was only half-listening.
"Hermes," she said as Charon delivered them to the other side of the River Styx with a jovial "Coins!" as a send-off. "At this point, Esme has attacked not just the twins, but Clio and me. If that doesn't indicate that she's serious about this, then I don't know what will. He'll want to help. Believe me."
Hermes huffed, adjusting his grip on Esme, who was tossed over his shoulder like she weighed nothing more than a winter coat. "And just what is it you think he can do?"
Angie shrugged. "Scare her shitless, perhaps. He's the King of the fucking Underworld, and this place is crawling with all sorts of dark creepy demons and stuff. That alone should freak her out."
"You have such an optimistic way of thinking sometimes, Angie," Hermes said, shaking his head. "But then other times you get in this 'Oh no, it's all over, we're all gonna dieeee' sort of headspace. It's always confused me."
She grinned. "I like that. The last thing I'd want to be is someone who's easy to figure out."
Hermes let out a long sigh that made it quite clear he was tired of her. Except he made that noise a lot, so she doubted he was really all that tired.
When they appeared outside the door to his penthouse, Hades was confused, too. He kept glancing between the three of them—Angie, Hermes, and the unconscious heap that was currently Esme.
After a while, he cleared his throat. "Angie. Herm-Herm. Hi."
Angie waved.
Hades grimaced in response. "Do I want to know what exactly is going on here?"
"Yes, yes you do," Angie replied, waltzing inside once Hades nervously motioned them in. "Because this, O Great Lord Hades, is your new favorite prisoner: Esme Espinosa."
Vik was in their kitchen when they got home.
Angie disguised her surprise, looking at Vik, and Alex, who was seated beside him, in turn. She frowned, considering for a moment how close they were sitting and the weirdly intimate way Alex's hand rested on the back of Vik's chair. She considered asking. She decided not to.
"Hey, Vik. Hey, Al."
"Hey," the pair said in unison, frowning back at her as she frowned at them, probably wondering if she was gonna ask.
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FantasyThe gods are real. All it takes is this one realization, sparked by a short video no one expected to go viral, to turn 21-year-old Angie Nohl and her friends' worlds on their heads. Their existence now exposed to the masses, Angie and the Greek pant...