The Search for Juno

Chapter XV

Angie was already uneasy—she was often uneasy about Hermes's ideas, really—but the second Hermes crept down the hall and lifted firewood out of the old woman's fireplace, Angie was convinced it could only go further downhill from here.

She was watching him heave the wood from its place, one of her eyebrows risen, when he turned and said, "I need matches. Can you find matches?"

"No matches," said Clio then, hall table's drawer held open in front of her. She rummaged around a bit and produced a bright red kitchen lighter. "But there's this."

As best he could with the logs in his arms, Hermes shrugged and nodded his head towards the back porch. "That'll do. Follow me, ladies."

Angie held open the screen door for him as they ducked out into the night. The woman's backyard was sparse: firm, sandy ground interspersed with a few tufts of yellow-green desert bushes and cacti. Millions of stars peppered the blue-black sky; if she wasn't worried that Hermes was about to burn this woman's house down, Angie would have stopped to make out the constellations.

Hermes dropped the logs with a low "Oof," dust kicking up in his and the girls' faces. The air smelled sweet, like hickory. "Angie," he said, placing his hands on his hips. "I'd really appreciate it if you could stop looking at me like I'm about to commit arson."

"Then what exactly," she began, not pleased that he had read her so simply, "are you doing?"

Hermes tilted his head, devious grin glinting white in the silvery moonlight. "You can't expect to meet the God of Fire without a flame."

As if corroborating an important tale, Clio nodded her head exuberantly, her hands interlaced in front of her. "Oh, yes. I have heard of this. The easiest way to see Hephaestus is to walk through a flame. When you step out of it, you will be in his cave."

If this were happening a week ago, Angie would not have believed one word of it. She would have pivoted on her heel, stalked back into the house, and finished off those awful oatmeal raisin cookies waiting for her in the room.Who was she kidding—she was not very far off from doing that now.

She closed her eyes a moment. "Can I point out something to you that maybe you both have forgotten?"

"Of course," said Clio.

"Maybe," said Hermes.

"I am human," Angie said, opening her eyes again. The god and the nymph both blinked at her in silence, and Angie realized they were more ignorant than she'd thought. "I am not a god, nor some sort of magical wood nymph, dryad, what-have-you. You know what happens to humans if they walk through fire? They get burnt to a crisp."

Hermes raked a hand back through his hair, a shiny obsidian in the bluish-black night. "But—"

"Are you going to tell me it's some sort of magical fire? So—oh right, duh, silly me—that just means I'll be perfectly okay?"

Hermes hesitated. "Actually," he said, "yeah...that is sorta what I was gonna say."

Angie just stared at him. I should really stop being surprised about any of this, she thought.

Against her better judgment, though, she believed him at the end of the day. She hadn't ended up dead yet, after all.

So they made a fire. Hermes knelt and arranged the logs, careful to keep them away from any dry grass, and because she'd never used one before, Hermes and Angie let Clio use the kitchen light. She got way too excited over the little click noise it made before the flame shot out, blue and sparkling.

Soon, the fire loomed in front of them, throwing a fervent orange light over the vicinity, the smoke stinging Angie's eyes. It took her a moment to realize it, but her heart was hammering in her chest. She knew there wasn't, but she yearned for an alternative anyway. She was brave—she'd never doubted that—but she was not this brave.