Young Writers Society

Chapter 11: The Girl Who Breathed Fire

Being one of Hermes’ playthings wasn’t at all what Josephine imagined. He showered them with countless gifts, from rubies to emeralds to the most magnificent tasting food. He didn’t touch them, not once, as they provided him company. For most of the afternoon they sat in his quarters, playing cards and looking pretty. Josephine wasn’t at all sure if he’d recognized them, but so far it seemed he hadn’t.

Hermes was a young god. His eyes were a deep chocolate brown, with hints of gold. His skin was dark bronze, and when the sunlight hit him, it looked as if he was glowing. He wasn’t an ugly god at all—in fact, Josephine viewed him as one of the most attractive she’d encountered. Josephine had nothing against the Messenger God, but she trusted Persephone enough to continue silent in her question asking. She also wasn’t hating the experience she was receiving while in Troy—it was out of her comfort zone, and she was actually having fun for once. Not once in their company did he mention the Trials, either, so that eased Josephine’s anxiety.

Joy and Ophelia eyed Josephine and Persephone constantly. They didn’t speak to the duo once. They decided to keep it that way, as it was a risk and could blow their cover entirely. Josephine also couldn’t help but wonder when and how Persephone was going to make her attack on the god, so she stayed ready at every moment if Persephone decided to strike.

It was getting close to dawn, and Josephine was starting to get nervous. Not once did Persephone even hint to her she was going to make a move anytime soon, so Josephine felt like maybe they came here for no reason. Maybe, Persephone was having just as good as a time as she was and forgave him for whatever he did to her. But Josephine knew Persephone enough, and she wouldn’t trek over the Forbidden Slopes and almost die in the Valencia Desert for a good time.

Josephine elbowed her friend in the gut as they sat in a circle on Hermes’ spacious bed. They’d been playing poker for almost three hours now, and she was getting impatient. Persephone let out a feminine cough and turned to the god, “Lord Hermes, would you mind if Ana joined me in the powder room?”

“Help yourselves to the luxury I have to offer,” he gestured to the cracked door in the corner of the room, “There are hand towels on top of the toilet, as well as hand soap under the cabinet. I rarely use that washroom.”

Joy and Ophelia’s eyes pierced into the backs of Josephine and Persephone’s skulls. Persephone winked at Joy before sliding off the bed, brushing Hermes’ shoulders with the tips of her fingers seductively, and waltzing towards the washroom. Josephine followed quickly, but not with as much flair as her counterpart. She already stood out enough in the courtyard, she didn’t need Hermes to start giving her special treatment. Or… did she?

When they closed the door behind them Persephone brought a finger to her lips to insinuate to keep silent. She assertively turned to the sink and turned it on so that it muffled their words, “I know you’re impatient, Princess, but I can’t make any move on him until those two leave. We need to convince him to keep us overnight. We’ll have to be late for the next Trial. We should be fine, though, because since we went in the beginning of the last Trial, we won’t be starting the next one.”

“We haven’t even trained for the second Trial, Persephone! I agreed to this with your promise that we’d be back in time for it. Theseus is going to worry.”

“Theseus is already aware that you’re feeling unwell, and you will be in bed the remainder of our resting period. That includes the time before the Trial. Do you understand? We’ll be fine,” Persephone placed two hands on Josephine’s shoulders.

Josephine groaned and leaned against the wall. She just wanted to go to sleep.

“Once the two she-devils from Tartarus leave, we’ll have Hermes all to ourselves. That’s when we’ll make our move. Okay?” Persephone repeated.

Josephine nodded and turned the water off. She took a deep breath and composed herself, put on the fake face she’d been wearing all night, and exited the washroom as if nothing ever happened. Hermes was laid down on his bed, alone. A smirk crept across his face as he sat up, “Hello, girls. I know you thought I didn’t recognize you, my love, but it was hard not to remember that backside. Welcome, Persephone.”

Josephine froze and Persephone’s face went pale. Of course, he would remember her. How could Josephine be so stupid? Whatever he did to Persephone was obviously noteworthy and memorable or else she wouldn’t want him dead. They should’ve known. At this point, Josephine highly regretted not asking Persephone about her motives.

Dumb, dumb girl.

Persephone broke character and strode towards the god, “And I thought you were slow. I’m surprised you waited this long.”

“Well, Joy and Ophelia are my regulars. I knew when I saw two goddesses stride into my brothel, that they were here for a reason. I realized it was you as soon as I looked into your eyes, my dear. As for your friend… I could sense some curiosity about her, longing for power… intrigue.” He winked at Josephine, “the traits of an offspring of Ares. Josephine, is it?”

Josephine gulped. Hard.

“Ah, you were just laughing a few minutes ago. Why don’t you paint that pretty smile back on your face, darling?”

Persephone stepped in front of Josephine as Hermes rose to his feet, “Leave her out of this.”

“Oh, but I was just getting started,” the god’s smile grew as a beam of light crashed through the ceiling and into the room, causing the girls to stumble back. All Josephine saw was white, and next thing she knew the Messenger God was standing behind them.

“Have you come to kill me?”

“What a lucky guess,” Persephone spun around, pushing Josephine further back into the room. The lighting shifted once she spoke those words, and Hermes’ face transformed from the smirk into a look of anger. Persephone made the first move; vines emerged from the floor and wrapped around Hermes’ wrists and ankles—suspending him in the air. He snapped out of them with ease, dropping to the floor with a loud thump.

The Goddess of Spring ran for him, and Josephine didn’t know what to do. Should she help? She would be no good against a god without any magic, and she didn’t want to die today. She stayed in the shadows, watching as Persephone battled the god with grace. She dodged every move, the vines acting as her backup. Hermes continued to fight and shred through the flora—his glamour glowing through his now sweaty exterior.

“You are a coward!” Persephone screamed through the madness, dodging a hit to her thigh. The god grabbed her by the neck and threw her to the floor. The whole ground shook, causing the few glasses of wine they’d previously been drinking to tip over and shatter on the floor. He dragged Persephone’s body across it, and she screamed in agony as the glass painted a crimson mess along her spine.

He kicked Persephone to the side, and she rolled away in pain, gripping her neck and trying to stand. To no avail, she dropped back down onto the glass invaded foundation. His gaze shifted to Josephine.

“Why are you not helping your friend, hm?” He walked over to her, Persephone’s blood splattered across his tailored suit. He walked circles around her. Josephine could feel his breath on her neck. She didn’t dare respond. She was frozen; a statue stuck in time, unable to move, purely made of stone. She had the mindset of a cat: if I stay still, maybe he can’t see me. But she was not a cat, or a statue. She was a goddess, a person who really was a coward.

“I see,” Hermes said, his whisper loud in Josephine’s ear, “You don’t have any magic yet. Ah, what a shame. I thought you actually had a chance to win the Trials. Unfortunately, I’ll have to change my wager after tonight. There may be nothing left of you to compete with.”

Josephine felt her blood boiling and her mind raced as she thought of a solution, any solution, to get her out of there. She prayed to her mother, she prayed to her father, she prayed for anybody to come and save her. But seconds past and her mother’s red aura didn’t pass through the door, and her father’s large shadow didn’t show through the blinds. Hermes held a shard of broken glass up to Josephine’s neck and she gasped, every inch of oxygen leaving her body.

Her fingertips started to tingle, her heartbeat grew faster, and her skin began to sweat immensely. She’d never felt this way before. She gripped her skirt with her left hand and screamed as a burst of energy emerged from her core.

Hermes flew back and into the wall, the foundation shattering. The room was caught in flames, and Hermes screamed in terror as he tried to put out the fire on his suit. Josephine started running straight for him, adrenaline driving her every move. She thought back to Theseus.

It’s like a dance. One step at a time.

She swayed and moved and danced around Hermes’ attacks, and so did her flames. With every hit she landed the God grew weaker, fighting fire itself. She just barely noticed Persephone watching them from the ground, a smile plastered across her face. She groaned every once and a while at the pain but was more astonished by Josephine’s gift. The rare gift of fire. She’d never met a god or goddess with that peculiar gift besides Hades, and even he wasn’t fluent in his castings. Josephine seemed like she’d been practicing how to wield her magic since she was born.

Hermes fell, his eyes lowering to the ground beneath Josephine’s feet. She felt empowered, strong, and divine. She no longer felt fear or anguish.

She was the Daughter of War.

She was victorious, once again. The Messenger of all gods, the cunning and swoon bachelor, laid at her feet. She rushed over her friend and kneeled at her side, studying Persephone’s wounds.

“Rate the pain on a scale of one to ten,” Josephine murmured as she surveyed the damage. Persephone had suffered major blood loss and needed to get to Asclepius as soon as possible. Now that Hermes wasn’t a problem, they could teleport with no issues. The real question was if Persephone was strong enough to conjure her magic—or Josephine would have to try to teleport. Now that she discovered her gift, there was a good chance that she could possibly be successful.

“Nine and a half,” Persephone groaned, still smiling, “The Girl Who Breathed Fire. I can’t believe it.”

“Shhh,” Josephine concentrated on moving locations as she closed her eyes. She pictured herself in Asclepius’ keep, with Persephone bedridden and healed. She pictured the wind taking them beyond dimensions and into another room, where they’d be safe.

They disappeared just as Hermes finally raised to his feet.