Zagreus turned over in bed and looked at his lover, Josh. He traced his hand down Josh’s bare arm, and could hear Josh take a deep breath, coming slowly out of sleep. Zagreus took Josh’s hand in his, entwining their fingers. Josh moaned and said, “Do we have to get up?”
“We don’t have to,” Zagreus said. It had been over eight months since he had brought Josh back from Hades, six months since he had returned his father’s Helmet of Invisibility to do it. Zagreus was starting to pick up Americanisms, no longer sounding so ancient and Greek, but his deep voice of command still brought chills to Josh. “But I’m hungry.”
Josh turned over, grinning. “For what?”
Zagreus chuckled and kissed him, a long, slow kiss that left them both breathless, anticipating more.
The doorbell rang.
Zagreus looked confused. So did Josh. “Who could that be?”
“I don’t know,” Zagreus said, rolling out of bed. He grabbed a pair of shorts from a drawer and pulled them on as the doorbell went off again. Vaulting over the railing to the first floor below, he then strode to the door. He peeked through the peep hole before opening it – and he stepped back in fear.
“Who is it?” Josh yelled down.
“Stay up there! Don’t say anything!” Zagreus looked around, as if he wanted to hide, or hide something. The doorbell went off again, and as it’s sound hung in the air, Zagreus took a deep breath and opened it.
A blond man stood on the other side, dressed in a long coat, t-shirt and well-worn jeans, with sneakers and a flat cowboy hat. He carried a large messenger bag slung over one shoulder, crossing his body.
“Hermes,” said Zagreus.
“Herman,” he said. “Mark Herman.” He pushed by Zagreus and walked into the apartment. “Nice place you have here. Your father really puts up the cash for a fancy place like this.”
“What do you want?” Zagreus asked, his hands at his sides, clenched into fists.
“Why, to come visit. Can’t an old friend visit?”
“You are here for a reason.”
“Don’t you think it’s rude to speak in Greek when you have a guest?”
“I do not have a guest.”
“You make a lousy liar, Zagreus,” said Hermes, walking into the kitchen area. “You always have. You always did what your father told you, didn’t you? It took love to make you break the rules.” He went into the fridge and took out the carton of orange juice. “Mind if I help myself?”
“What do you want?” Zagreus repeated, anger tinging his voice, and this time he spoke in English.
“Ah, see, that’s better. We should let your guest know what we’re talkinga bout.”
“Hermes, I will ask you –”
“One track mind, by the Titans.” He took down a glass from a cabinet and poured himself a tall tumbler of orange juice while speaking, “I know that you stole a soul from Hades.”
“I did no such–”
Hermes snapped his fingers, and the floor upstairs above them turned to glass. Josh, naked, was standing at the railing, listening. Zagreus looked up, then sighed. He looked down at Hermes as Josh yelped, seeing the glass floor.
“Now, Zagreus,” said Hermes with a smile, “I’m not here to make you give back your lover to Hades; oh, no. In fact, I was thinking how useful it would be to bring back some people from the dead.” He tucked a hand in his messenger back and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He placed it on the table and slid it to Zagreus.
“You are the psychopomp. I cannot do it without my father’s helmet,” he took the paper. It was written in ancient Greek. He read it, looked up, and read it again. “Hektor? Helen? Archimedes? Achilles?”
“Those are just a few.”
“I do not even know if their souls are in Hades anymore.”
Hermes drank the orange juice in two gulps. “I know you know, Zagreus. Again, you’re a lousy liar.” Hermes put the glass down and the glass floor upstairs changed back to wood. “You know as much as your father does. Even more.”
“I cannot do this,” he said.
“Of course, you can. Because if you can’t, then maybe, just maybe, I will talk to my father and it might slip out that Hades is missing some souls…”
Zagreus slammed the paper down on the table. Hermes’ smile didn’t waver. He put the glass in the sink and started for the door. “Have fun.”
Zagreus grabbed Hermes by the pouch’s strap and dragged him back. “This,” he said, “is not funny.”
Hermes shrugged, pulling himself away. “I’m not doing this for you or me,” he said, an angry look crossing his face. “You have all the time in the world to do this. For these mortals, these precious mortals, need heroes.”