Hermes | Book 1

: 03 :

Light watched the darkness with careful wariness, but he could see nothing for she was all that he wasn't and he could not understand something that he had no knowledge about.

Chapter 3

QUIET blanket around the small group as the Sheriff lead the way. Asta did not make a move to strike up any sort of conversation; as a matter of fact she did not even bother to look at Hermes as she exited meekly behind her father through the back of the station, her muscles rigid as entered the cold.

The Sheriff's place was dainty jump from the station. It was a comfortable two storey with sun baked roofs and fairy lights dangling from the windows and came with an edgy garage and a whitewashed summer house.

Asta took in a sharp and very much audible breath in and quickly proceed to enter house, her back as stiff and uncomfortable as ever.

Hermes took a step to enter the house, but was stopped by the Sheriff's hand. Slowly, he allowed his eyes to meet the older man's.

"Tomorrow you will come with me in the morning to identify yourself." The man could not have sounded more casual. "If I find that you are not who you say you are," He left the threat hanging.

Hermes stole a gulp of air as he nodded silently. The Sheriff moved away and allowed him to enter.

Cautiously he stepped into the sleek wooded floor and deposited his shoes on the rack. The Sheriff did not fail to notice the way the young man held his bag like how a young child would hold a prized possession as a sense of comfort in a new environment.

"Guest bedroom is the second one to the right upstairs." He informed none too gently. There was no need of reading between the lines to know the Sheriff was not at all pleased with Hermes's arrival into his home.

"I'm sure you know about her condition, Hermes?"

At first he looked lost, and then a light dawned on his face. "Yeah. I know about it."

The father looked at him for a moment more. Then he stepped close to him. "One wrong step towards my little girl," Hermes could smell mint and a faint trace of cigar smoke in his breath. ", and I will not hesitate to show you what I learnt in the five years I trained in rifle shooting."

"Y...Yes sir." Hermes a little, his eyes widened in slight fear. "No wrong steps. None at all."

"Good." The Sheriff suddenly looked very jolly for a person awake at midnight. "Now off you go."

With a shaky smile, he quickly climbed the carpeted staircase which was painted with words and phrases from various books. "No wrong steps, not a single one." He repeated mechanically to himself.

The second storey of the house took a completely different outlook from the ground floor. The floor was carpeted in fluffy grey and the walls were hand painted in a thousand varieties of colours. Spotlights highlighted particular strokes on the walls, maybe some of that touched the walls.

Other than the many spotlights, Hermes was completely in the dark. Stretching his arms out instinctively in front of him, he navigated through the long corridor while enjoying the feel of the soft carpet underneath his feet and between his toes.

"First door to the right," He whispered in the dark. "Second door to the right."

His voice sounded weary, exhausted and more homesick than ever. There wasn't a need for a mind reader to know that though Hermes was grateful for having a place to spend until he reaches home (if somehow miraculously the Gods sent down a passport and identity verification papers to his bag) but he was feeling miserable and completely alone between all the humans.