The Spirits' Guide

Chapter 18

Iris sighed as she flipped through the pages of a spell-book. It was the first spell-book she had been given. An ancient thing that predated her grandmother, although its author was unknown as was the true age of the book.

Iris had no use for it now, having mastered the abilities she had been given. No use other than to entertain herself while she recovered from the fall.

It was an added torment that Josephine had given her. A mockery to what she once was, the life she had had before she threw it away for revenge.

Hearing the whisper of fabric, Iris shot her head up, glaring. She saw a thin man with sun-kissed skin and tousled brown hair, as though the wind had played with it. He wore his usual attire of nothing more than just a white wool cloth covering his lower body.

Looking into the man's sharp brown eyes, she asked, "What is it, Hermes?"

The god looked gave a look of mock surprise before it switched to an arrogant smirk as he said, "Well, sister, I would have thought you would know why a gods' messenger comes to visit. We all heard about the, how do I put this, accident?"

Iris stared at him, unblinking.

"I'm not your sister. If there isn't some important message, then get out." Iris muttered as she turned back to her book.

"That's not very nice, Iris. We're worried about you. Though, after such a fall from such a height, I would have expected you to be closer to the ground."

Iris contained her grimace as she felt the tower gently sway in the wind. The woman was truly a demon.

"Get out," Iris hissed, slamming the book shut.

Hermes gave her a smirk as he stood where he was.

Iris gritted her teeth at the god's expression. Hermes was not going to leave her until she accepted that he had a message to tell her.

Sighing, she thought about how much the god reminded her of the Jinn. It had been two years since she last saw him. She could only wonder where he was since she explicitly ordered him to give her the information once she got back to Stila.

"Just tell me the fucking message," Iris grounded out.

Hermes' grin broke into a wide, toothy smile as he walked closer to her. She wondered, as she always did with his visits, if she could consider his hovering as walking.

Leaning in her ear, he said, "This is from the king of gods himself. The message is 'Give the word, and we will come. Such an insult should not be tolerated by any of the gods.' That's the end of his message, so what do you say?"

Iris stiffened at the words. She could imagine the carnage the gods would bring upon the country, on the mortals.

"That, in itself, is an insult to my own ability and power. Tell Zeus to stuff it up his-" Iris was interrupted as Hermes placed a finger on her lips.

"My, my. A potty-mouth as always, I see. It was merely an offer, a suggestion even. He would not dare invade one of Hecate's daughters' kingdoms unless the daughter herself agreed."

Iris couldn't help it, she rolled her eyes at the god's words. She was no daughter of Hecate, the goddess of magic and witchcraft, nor was she a queen.

"You think I'm just joking about this, Iris, but I'm not. You are one of us. To insult one is to insult all, Spirit-guide," Hermes said before he stepped into the darkest shadow in the room and disappeared.

Iris silently stared into the shadows. Hermes was wrong. She was no god, just a cursed witch.

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