Page 101 of Ungodly Rich

A moment later, footsteps sounded down the hallway, and golden hair flashed as the door opened once more.

Well, thiswasa surprising development. If Hermes had taken bets on who Hera was meeting, Aphrodite would not have topped his list. Clearly, both women’s dislike of Julia had outweighed their mutual enmity.

Hermes cast his senses toward the wooden door. Few of the other gods knew this, but his hearing was sharp even for an Olympian, surpassed only by Ares’s. When you were the god of thieves, you needed preternatural hearing, to keep track of everyone who might come chasing after you.

He could just make out the low voices inside the room.

“Poseidon said it’s starting within the hour,” Hera murmured.

“About time! If he doesn’t hurry, some of the guests will actually make it.”

“No chance of that. Don’t forget what I unleashed at the airport.”

“Sorrow and despair,” Aphrodite replied, sounding pleased. “Let’s hope it’s enough.”

“They’re talking about Pandora’s Jar, I assume?” a voice whispered near Hermes.

He stumbled back a step, heart racing. There was no one standing next to him.

“Hades, please. You know I hate conversations when I can’t see you,” Hermes said softly, trying not to reveal how spooked he’d been. “Makes me feel like I’m losing my grip on reality.”

“What is reality, anyway?” Hades mused, but he blinked back into visibility, jumping into view like a television turning on. He was dressed simply, in a navy blazer and white dress shirt, an incongruous pocket square peeking from the jacket.

“Well?” Hades gestured toward the library.

Hermes shifted, deciding how much to reveal. “They’re trying to sabotage Julia’s wedding to Ares.”

“I gathered as much,” Hades said dryly.

“I believe that you’re right and they used Pandora’s Jar.” Hermes hesitated as a thought occurred to him. “Were you spying on Hera at the Vault, too? Is that how you knew she had the jar in her possession?”

“I was just guessing. Believe it or not, I despise this sort of spying. I’d much rather pay you to do it than engage in it myself.”

“I could do it more effectively if you’d lend me the Helm of Darkness every now and then.” Hermes cast a longing glance toward the artifact, a ring on Hades’s right finger.

Hades huffed out a quiet laugh. “Not a chance.”

Silence fell between them. Hermes looked at Hades: his jaw set, his gray-green eyes inscrutable. He was as silent and still as the grave.

Oddly, Hermes sensed that he could trust him.

“I do know something else about Julia,” he admitted. “Something big.”

Hades’s expression didn’t change, though a flash in his eyes revealed his interest. “I’m listening.”

“Before I tell you, I’d like to make a trade.”

Amusement lifted Hades’s mouth in a smile. “I expected nothing less. How much?”

“No, not money. If I tell you this, I want you to guarantee Julia’s safety,” Hermes insisted.

The god of death seemed surprised. “Really, Hermes. You could ask anything of me, and your request is that I protect the life of a mortal woman?”

“She’s in danger, but I can’t figure out from whom. I have no idea how to protect her. All of this”—Hermes flung out a hand, indicating the gods, their quarrels and jealousies and petty games that played out over the course of centuries—“she doesn’t deserve any of it. She has no idea what she’s up against.”

Hades studied him thoughtfully. “I always expected you to pleadwith me for the life of a mortal, but I expected it to be a lover. Not a friend.”

“Lovers are easily replaceable; friends are much rarer.” Hermes meant to sound flippant, but there was a shiver of vulnerability beneath the words, and he knew that Hades heard it.