The God & The Shadow

Chapter 46

HERMES
3 months after

Hermes snapped his fingers and smiled at the mirror. The maroon suit fitted him well and matched the look he was aiming for.

His hair was slicked back and the watch on his wrist gleamed against the light. He was more than ready for the party this Friday, and he felt readier to celebrate hard. Really hard.

And maybe, he'd be impressed.

The sound of another bottle crashing against the wall made him cringe. "Gods, that is enough." He huffed before walking out of his bathroom.

He stormed down the hallway, smiling at some of the servants he'd accidentally pushed in his hurry.

After a few turns and climbing up the stairs, he rapped his fist against the door.

Silence greeted him and he knocked once more. "I know you're in there!"

The door swung wide open, the room's occupant nowhere to be seen. All Hermes saw were papers scattered all over his bed, empty bottles of all kinds of alcohol on every surface, and the shattered glass by the roaring fireplace.

Hermes took a tentative step inside. He hadn't seen him ever since that day they'd gone to the Blacksmith the day after Veronica's disappearance.

He could never forget the look the god had when he saw her. The Blacksmith taunted him with her looks; everything she once was, everything about her. But she wasn't Veronica and thankfully, he knew that too.

But upon asking for her whereabouts, she refused. For the first time in decades, centuries, the Blacksmith refused to bargain. Hermes even recalled how he even offered her freedom in exchange, but she simply said I like it in here and I wouldn't want to leave this sanctuary.

And as if on cue, he walked out. Dark eye bags rimmed his eyes and his facial hair made his face look even more rough than it had before.

"Gods, you look like shit."

"What do you want?" Lore didn't even look at him when he picked up a brand new bottle of bourbon, uncapped it, then drank.

Hermes scoffed and tore the bottle out of Lore's grasp. "I want you to stop drinking yourself to death."

He didn't even bother stealing the bottle back. Instead, he turned and opened another one, following what looked like a daily routine, and walked away.

"I'm immortal. This can't kill me." He quipped as he took a swig and placed it on his nightstand too crowded with books and empty bottles to even serve its purpose.

Hermes had to remind himself that this was his way of dealing with grief to keep himself composed. "Veronica wouldn't have wanted this."

"Veronica," His eyes closed ruefully before they opened once more and his hand reached out to the bottle again. "isn't here to determine what I should or shouldn't do."

Hermes did the first thing he thought she would've done in this situation and threw the bottle of liquor he held into the fireplace. It roared as it consumed the liquid, and he thought that maybe she would've done something different.