Chapter Text
In the eyes of the victim, a theft is indistinguishable from a con.
It does not matter to a man how a thing was taken; when he is preoccupied with the fact that it is gone.
Yet in that how lay the vast difference between the two. Thievery could be a game of low skill, unsubtle and thuggish. But a successful con could never be anything other than a performance; and Hermes was a fantastic performer.
There was a thrill to the balancing act between charm and mystery, the stacking of truths, lies and flattery with enough speed to always be one step ahead. He liked to think he had a natural affinity for the art of it, a talent which few of his siblings (save Aphrodite) shared.
This more than any other reason was why Hermes tended to work alone; running smaller scams, acting as a courier or assisting with Aphrodite’s more involved schemes. Except of course, for those odd jobs whose directions came from on high.When Zeus fancied himself a chess master, with his progeny stuck as the unfortunate pawns.
His brilliant plan on this occasion being: having Ares Gently Persuade local distilleries to provide them with some free samples. Which Dionysus would then water down only to re-sell at a premium.
Dionysus, who was usually engaged running their family’s perfectly legitimate brewery that required no stealing of any preexisting product whatsoever.
Dionysus, now the linchpin this unnecessary scheme was built upon; who Hermes had been tasked with assisting.
He had arrived early to their meeting point - one of the many bolt holes Zeus had scattered around the county - wanting the whole thing over and done with as soon as possible.
Only to get stuck waiting on Ares, late to make his appearance and thus provide them with a means of transport.
The only silver lining in this terrible plot was that as far as partners went, Dionysus wasn’t entirely terrible; provided he wasn’t too deep in his cups.
The trouble - Hermes thought to himself, drumming his fingers impatiently against the window sill - the trouble lay in keeping him away from them in the first place.
“Excuse me! One moment, thank you.” Hermes said, dashing across the room to snatch a wine glass from Dionysus’ hand. The offending liquid was tossed out the open window, the empty cup returned to its owner’s hand before he had processed its absence.
“Terribly sorry sib,” Hermes chirped, not sounding very sorry at all, “I’m afraid I need most of your faculties present this evening.”
Hermes returned to his post at the window sill, the sharp tak tak tak of his nails against wood increasing in tempo the longer the drive stood empty.
“Heeey, not cool man, I wasn’t finished with that.” Dionysus spoke with an audible pout; Hermes didn’t need to turn around to know that he would find him draped dramatically across the chaise lounge he had parked himself in, empty wine glass still in hand.
“You really need to relax a little more Hermes; Ares will get here when he gets here. Besides, how hard could this be? When our label makes a delivery me and dad usually kill a bottle; so it’s not like he would mind me sampling the wares.”
Hermes scoffed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes - an impatient and unprofessional habit that Zeus took particular offense to.“That’s not the point; though of course he wouldn’t, you’re the only reason this stuff is fit for human consumption.”
He gestured broadly to the many casks of Gently Appropriated whiskey towering behind Dionysus. “Questionable where Ares actually picks these up, or I should say, from whom he picks these up. Would it kill him to rob and-or slaughter people who make quality product for a change?”
“’S not so bad,” Dionysus said, sadly putting down his glass, while Hermes paced across the room at a clip that threatened to wear a track through the floorboards. “Most of the stuff sold around here is trash anyway. A couple of spices and people never know the difference.”
Hermes sighed - not testily, he was perfectly capable of patience thank you very much - hopping up to sit atop one of the barrels next to Dionysus. “I still don’t get why Pop decided we should start stealing the stuff; I’m sure you could brew up something better in half the time it takes Ares to acquire it.
“I’m not here to figure out why dad does what he does man. He got it in his head I should try working on the other side of the family business. You know what he’s like when he gets an idea, not even ‘Thena could hold him back for this one.”
Hermes hummed without answering, drumming his heels against the side of the barrel.
Hopefully Ares wasn’t going to delay any longer, and would appear with the wagon they needed to make the delivery any minute now. That would be the responsible thing to do. That wouldn’t involve a future that left him needing to corral and cajole an already tipsy Dionysus through a speedy sale. Rushing through the order before the saloon owner opened the casks and realized their contents had been watered down then re-colored with molasses.
Hermes’ thoughts ran dizzily from one scenario to another, a frenetic pace matched by the beat of his heels against the cask.
Ares would get here any minute now. Obviously. And if he didn’t…perhaps a small (possibly poisonous) snake would find its way into his things back home.
Coincidentally.
Dionysus swatted at his ankle, interrupting his musings. The banging on the barrel having reached a volume that seemed to merit intervention. “Come on Herm, stop jostling the whiskey. I know you’re worked up but you’ll see us through! You always do; ‘Thena tells me you and Aphrodite could talk anyone into anything.”
“While I certainly appreciate your unwavering faith, I think all that drink has finally scrambled your brain.” Hermes said with a laugh, strained as it was at the moment.
“Aphrodite could help you talk anyone into anything; I’m only here to help move this transaction along at top speed, sib. If this fellow ever notices he’s grossly overpaid for these five barrels of swill, well, we should at least be at a safe distance when that happens.”
Dionysus shrugged. “Eh, same thing.”
“Awful kind of you to say so; perhaps you can pass that compliment along and talk Pop into giving me a raise.”
“Ha! If I could I definitely would man.” Dionysus flapped his wrist as though he could physically wave away the conversation, reclining back into the chaise.
Ares still nowhere in sight, Hermes was forced to wait and watch as Dionysus stretched out into his usual hedonistic splay.
His brother had always gone through life with a contagious mien of easy calm; not even their high-strung family found themselves immune to his charms.
It was sometimes almost enough to mellow Hermes out.
He tried a deep inhale and a measured exhale; the sort of controlled breathing Artemis was always going on about. No pacing, no tapping. Easy. Perfectly feasible.
Hermes wedged his hands under his thighs to try and keep still - Easy.
Dionysus let out a full body sigh.
“Could you relax? I can practically feel you worrying, man.” He twisted around in his seat, squinting up at Hermes with an uncharacteristic level of focus.
“Heeey, did you eat? ‘Thena’s always telling me you get extra twitchy when you skip a meal. Do you need me to be a good host and get you something?”
Not easy. Downright impossible. Hermes thought, resigning himself to another unsuccessful attempt at sitting quietly. Sliding off the barrel and starting to pace around the room once more.
“It would be nice!” He waved his arms emphatically, using the momentum to pinwheel around on a turn - fast enough that he could watch the subtle terror creeping over Dionysus’ face.
“I would love to relax one day! Wonder where I can fit it into my schedule? Let’s see; we have to deliver these casks today,” Hermes began to dramatically count the events on his fingers, relishing the chance to force yet another family member to sit through an inopportune rant.
“Then I’ll need to run across half the county to give Poseidon the money from that sale, dip south to help Aphrodite swindle her new beau. And after that I’ll need to take whatever she’s acquired to Athena so she can fence it! Then perhaps, just maybe, at that point, Pop won’t have something that needs doing ‘right this moment, young man’, miles and miles away. And I will be allowed a blessed moment to sleep in a real bed for a change! Imagine that!”
“Heey, heey, slow down little man.” Dionysus appeared before him, having abandoned his chaise to lay a gentle hand on Hermes shoulder; effectively blocking his circuitous path from one wall to another. His brother’s usually smiling face was creased with concern, and that more than the hand trapped Hermes in place.
Hermes was led back to the chaise lounge and forced to sit as silence stretched on between them, heavy and awkward.
His brother hovered over him for a moment, thumb rubbing gentle circles into Hermes’ shoulder before moving to sit next to him.
“I didn’t know Dad was working you that hard.”
“He’s not, it’s alright, I’m alright,” Hermes mumbled, wishing he hadn't been interrupted.
There on the chaise, the soporific quality of Dionysus’ being had the unpleasant side effect of managing to make Hermes sit quietly for once. An entirely undesirable state.
The danger of sitting still, of letting his frenetic energy fizzle out, was that when forced to lay there quietly - despite the buzzing of his anxious thoughts - the protests from his body were only too happy to make themselves known.
The slight twinge in his left ankle, caught on a stirrup in a rather impromptu dismount last Thursday, was present and accounted for.
He was hungry - breakfast had been hours ago, before the sun was up - with it being well past noon currently, creeping towards late evening.
Worst of all, when forced to slow down by some meddling sibling, sometimes Hermes would realize he truly was tired
Like now.
Especially since the bit about not seeing a bed for the last couple of days had been true.
Hermes took a deep, steadying breath, well practiced at taking the sum of all uncomfortable feelings and sensations, and packing them into a tight little box, to be taken out and solved later. When he was much less busy.
“I’ll be fine. I can admit it’s been a rough week, but we all run into those every once in a while, correct?” He shot Dionysus his best smile.
Dionysus ruffled his hair, an annoying penchant shared by all his taller sisters and brothers, clearly not buying the act in the least. But being nice enough to pretend that he did.
“If you say so Hermes, then sure. At least let me fix you something while we wait. If ‘Thena finds out I had you here and let you skip a meal, I’d never hear the end of it.”
Dionysus shuffled him downstairs and Hermes found himself forced into a different chair, sat at the table near the house’s vast kitchenette slash brewery slash impromptu dumpster. A pair of stale biscuits were shoved into his hands while Dionysus stoked the stove’s coals and set a pot of water to boil.
“How long has Dad kept you traveling?” Dionysus asked while rummaging through the cabinets; engaged in the herculean effort of trying to find real, nutritionally viable food. Or whatever could pass as such in-between the many piles of trash, papers and random objects littering most available surfaces.
Hermes picked idly at the biscuits, trapped between the hunger and nausea that happened when he had perhaps skipped one too many meals. “Only these last few weeks. Should die down soon enough.”
“Well good news is I can pretty much guarantee it will.” Dionysus grinned at him from across the counter, triumphantly rattling a coffee tin unearthed from some dark corner of the room.
Coffee.
Hermes, feeling more alert than he had in hours, carefully followed the trajectory of the tin the way a man dying of thirst might look at an oasis. Sweet, blessed Coffee. Which he totally wouldn’t even kill a man for right now. Not even a little bit.
Hermes’ focus had narrowed down into near tunnel vision for the pot being fixed by Dionysus; almost enough to make him miss that last comment. Almost.
“Hang on, what do you mean about it dying down? Has Pop found something else he needs to plan for, or are we moving again?” Hermes bounced his leg idly, nausea receding, well on his way to inhaling the second biscuit.
Zeus had always used a few select family members to run a wide variety of “jobs”; from the dubiously legal to the clearly-not-so. In counterpoint, Athena’s oversight had crafted a rather expansive empire of perfectly legitimate businesses, expertly positioned to launder any ill gotten gains into more profit.
Those employed by Athena’s branch of the family business had never been officially connected to their more off-color counterparts. The Olympian estate in Sacramento, as headed by her, was a place of no ill repute (at this time) with no need to skirt lawmen.
Those lucky few Hermes was a part of were enrolled in a much more transient career track, one that required them pack up and move from town to town in a constant shuffle. Usually when their father’s pathological need to scheme - or sleep around, to disastrous effect - inevitably caught the eye of the authorities.
“Something like that; I meant to tell you when you first got here. But I got distracted when we started talking, you know?”
“Truly? Wonderful - well, I desperately hope this wasn’t something important Dionysus,” Hermes said. Doing his best to ignore the nausea’s triumphant return.“Not that it would be the first time, mind.” He added with faux cheer, unable to keep a hold of both his annoyance and the urge to take a jab at Dionysus’ stellar sense of timing. Sometimes, it was best to pick your battles. The battle to not sass back his family was one which had rarely seen victory.
“Hey don’t blame it all on me, man,” Dionysus pouted; an expression that should not have worked as effectively for a person that tall or that old.“You had a lot to say when you first got here, so I forgot. But don’t worry Herm, I knew I’d remember eventually.”
Controlled breathing.
Hermes turned his attention back to the much awaited pot of coffee, the only source of solace left for him in this world. “Well, go on then. What was it that you needed to say?”
Dionysus took his sweet time, both for answering and for walking over with the coffee. The moment it was in range, Hermes snatched his cup before it could be put down. It scalded his tongue and burnt the roof of his mouth. Sometimes, the things we loved truly hurt us most.
This did not stop him from pouring himself a second cup.
“Whoa, whoa, slow down Hermes! Unless you wanna prove ‘Thena right and choke on it one day.” Dionysus scolded, in an act of unparalleled hypocrisy for a man who drank wine as if it were water.
“Anyway, about dad; as soon as we finish for today, he wants you and Ares to head back to the estate; so you can forget about your other plans. Sounds like moving isn't gonna cut it this time, you’re set to lay low for a while. Until he figures out what to do about that bounty hunter.”
“Charon?” Hermes said incredulously.
“I thought Ares had taken care of him last time they met.”
“Not quite, it seems that our not-so little friend is back. And it’s not just Ares he’s after this time.” Dionysus produced a sheaf of papers from one of the piles of debris around the room, and slid them across the table. Several wanted posters for their family members waited in an orderly stack.
The details section contained the usual fare; their potential ages, descriptions and last known locations. The one notable difference from previous wanted posters being that these postings included an artist’s depiction.
Precious few photographs existed of their side of the family; even Zeus’ ego could concede that having any images of them in circulation would have been a uniquely terrible idea. Yet eerily accurate renditions of him and some of his more notorious siblings stared at him from beyond the page.
A little shiver of something crawled up his spine at the all too accurate details. There was Aphrodite’s porcelain-doll face, stunning and free of any imperfections. The streak of white paint that dominated Ares’ profile, the sunburst scar cross Artemis’ left eye, the slight scowl they shared on the page and in real life.
At the end of the stack, his own bust smiled broadly at the viewer; the artist had even captured the many earrings that Hermes had acquired over the years. A staggered waterfall of gold, whose attachments curved down alongside his jaw.
Hermes drained the last of his second coffee feeling, if only for a moment, at a loss for words.
Dionysus took the papers back with a slight grimace.“There’s no postings about anyone who’s usually with me and ‘Thena. But she thinks its only a matter of time before they connect the dots. It seems Uncle Hades decided to have his et tu moment. He’s been seen working with Nyx’s company, it’s likely that’s where they got the information.”
Hermes bounced his leg with enough force to shake the table, wishing there had been enough coffee left for a third cup. “I’m not sure this family can take the added drama of our Black-Sheep turncoat uncle bringing us to justice. Between Pop and Athenas’ spats I would have thought we were full up on the stuff.”
Dionysus shrugged, tossing the papers back into another nondescript pile of trash. “All I can tell you is that we’ve been instructed to head back as soon as we’re done with this bit. And to run speedily in the other direction if Charon turns up. Shouldn’t be too hard, from what ‘Thena’s told me he’s the tallest person you’ll meet, not to mention ugly as sin.”
“So, he’s hideous?” Hermes choked on a laugh. “That’s the one detail she’s provided? Who passed on that little tid-bit, Aphrodite?”
“Aw come on ‘Herm, ‘Thena wouldn’t mention it just to be a gossip. I’ve been told the man’s got impressive scars,” Dionysus’ perfectly manicured hand swept across his face in a diagonal motion; a pantomime of the damage that marred the bounty hunter’s visage.
“That kinda look’s gotten him some impressive rumors.”He lowered his voice conspiratorially, a wry smile playing at the edges of his mouth. “Including some fairly silly nicknames, if you’ll believe it. Folk down in Sacramento call him the ‘Ferryman’, given that he likes to take his bounties down for delivery by the river.”
“Well, technically you’re not far off.” Hermes mused.
He had only seen Charon once. The man had plagued Ares for the last several months, at one point cornering him in Redding; where Hermes swept in to provide a Ares a quick get-away. Even at a distance, Charon had cut an unmistakable silhouette; towering over most people, the infamous scars the only thing visible under the brim of his large black hat.
“So we can thank our fine friend Charon for your upcoming break. Everyone’s supposed to sit around at home until Dad and ‘Thena figure out what they want to do about the Hades situation.”
Hermes wasn’t sure if he had wanted this kind of break, but did not have very long to consider his thoughts on the matter.
There was a rustle somewhere behind them, the distant crunch of displaced gravel the only warning before the door was shoved open, slamming roughly against the wall, rattling on its hinges.
Ares had finally made his appearance.
“Are you ready my kin?” His smooth and mellow voice broke the silence. A tone that booked no argument and struck fear into the hearts of his opponents. A simple enough question, and yet, perfectly crafted to elicit the Cain instinct dwelling in the depths of Hermes’ soul.
“Brother!” Hermes smiled through gritted teeth, annoyance rushing back the moment Ares had arrived; reminding him of why they’d had time for a coffee break in the first place. “How incredibly kind of you to join us. If only a little late by several minutes - almost twenty - but who’s keeping track?”
He bounced out of his chair, quickly coming behind Ares and beginning to push and shove him towards the upstairs.
“As you can see, there are several barrels awaiting transport. Dionysus and myself would love the assistance of your many manly muscles in getting them loaded into the wagon before you head back to the estate. Come on, please move, no time to waste!”
Ares, in an odd display of good sense, let himself be led without complaints.
Back on track at last, Hermes thought to himself, bounty hunter issues momentarily forgotten.
Blissfully unaware of just how much the previous statement had tempted fate.
—————————————
Kerry was a little spit of a town that had barely been worth mentioning before the discovery of the nearby gold mine. The subsequent boom following its opening had seen to the expansion of the saloon, the general store and even the creation of a small hotel. Unfortunately, while the size of the place had increased, the same could not be said for the overall quality of the location.
Despite the significant delay caused by Ares, in the end their tardiness was barely noticed by the proprietor of the not-so-fine establishment they had come here to swindle. The man had turned out to be a devout follower of Dionysus’ own philosophy, and had barely been sober enough to stand upright by the time they arrived.
He had happily taken Dionysus’ explanations for any discrepancies in the look and feel of their product; and Hermes had even more happily palmed the man’s gaudy pocket watch as they shook hands on their way out of his office.
Their business satisfactorily concluded (with a sucker who didn’t realize he’d been duped no less) no force on earth remained powerful enough to keep Dionysus away from the many dubious liquors offered by their host.
Hermes found himself coerced into whiling away the remainder of their day in the dingy little pub. The lateness of the hour and the impressively immovable object that was a drunk Dionysus making it more convenient to rent a room for the night, and commit to an early start the next morning.
“Nothing like some pleasant fools to brighten the evening, I’ll tell you what Hermes.” He had said with a smile, having quickly found a suitable corner of the room to begin hosting court in.
Nothing like a pleasant fool indeed.
All that occasionally made Dionysus a terrible partner shaped him into the perfect distraction.
While the rest of Zeus’ children weren't exactly homely, Dionysus’ and Aphrodite’s good looks were accented by a magnetic quality that drew in men and women alike. Hopelessly besotted moths to a callous flame.
Moreover, while the same could not be said for his critical thinking skills, Dionysus’ charm only grew the more wine flowed. The small crowd gathered around him was nearly insensate by the end of the evening, sloppy with drink and slumped over the tables. The few that remained upright loosing spectacularly at poker to Hermes, who had barely needed to muck the cards to amass a sizable pile of winnings.
“Think you’ve had enough fun by now sib?” Hermes asked sotto-voice, while dazzling the poor idiots in front of him with a riffle shuffle (none of them noticing the new stack, which guaranteed him a full house). “I believe I’ll quit while I’m ahead…after this round.”
“You sure do love to spoil my fun Herm, but I suppose I can cut my evening short this time.” Dionysus drawled, the girl on his arm tittering at a non-existent joke.
“I’ll just take this lovely lady up on her tour of the facilities while you wrap up your game.” The girl dragged him up and forward, both of them stumbling to some dark corner in the back of the building. Typical.
Hermes couldn’t help but roll his eyes; trust his brother to monopolize a saloon girl’s time and receive even more attention for his efforts.
“Well gentlemen, seems like it’s just us now.” Turning back to the table with a smile, he quickly dealt the cards, ready to sweep the pot and head onto Athena’s estate as early as possible the next morning.
Easy. Too easy. He thought to himself, watching two men fold, leaving him and one poor soul who was most certainly about to lose the rest of his chips.
Then, as if the universe sat poised and ready to punish him for the irony of that thought alone, the door to the saloon swept open. The conversation did not pause, nor did the packed crowd part like water in a melodramatic scene. But Hermes, rather jumpy at the best of times, turned to look at the newcomer regardless, and froze.
The man was tall; ridiculously so, towering more than a foot over most of the patron’s heads.
He strode purposefully across the room, clearly searching for something. His sharp gaze was half hidden by a large black hat, whose sizable brim could not manage to obscure a set of gnarled scars stretching across his mouth - pulling down one corner into a permanent grimace.
Charon.
Hermes, seized with the sense of panicked urgency experienced by small prey animals, felt that this was a situation which required a quick and clear exit as soon as humanly possible.
He whipped around sharply, placing his back to the entrance, hoping he had noticed Charon without being noticed in turn.
“I’m afraid it’s been a bit too long since I left my brother unsupervised. Might you do me a favor and hold onto these for me sir?” He asked, not bothering to wait for an answer as he shoved the cards into a nearby man’s hand and slid underneath the table.
Being the shortest of his siblings had come with certain advantages he had never been too shy to exploit. Was it slightly humiliating that he was able to crawl mostly unnoticed between the legs of all the people milling about the room? Perhaps.
But, desperate times call for desperate measures.
Hermes grimaced as he shimmied over a particularly sticky patch of floor, narrowly avoiding getting stepped on.
Perhaps, in retrospect, a little too desperate; but not every decision was a winner.
Having safely made it to the end of the room, he quickly headed towards the dark hallway Dionysus had vanished into. Breaking into a flat run the moment he was out of sight from the main entrance, trusting the sounds of drunken revelry to mask those of his escape.
The hallway led out into several small alcoves and storage rooms, in the last of which he found Dionysus. Engaged in something with the saloon girl, both of them glued together and not bothering to jump apart despite the interruption.
“Gotta go! Dionysus we need to be on our way right now, immediately!" He chirped, bodily inserting himself between them to force the couple apart. The saloon girl tumbling onto the floor in a voluminous heap of petticoats.
“Hermes, what-“ Dionysus shoved him away, likely working himself up to a rare show of genuine anger, which Hermes had no time to witness.
“Excellent exit strategy sib, your keen instincts for debauchery save the day once again. Now if you’ll just come along, we can avoid the incredibly large and imposing man who just arrived. Charon! You remember Charon? You know, the fellow contractually sworn to take me in dead or alive, who Athena asked you to avoid at all costs!” Hermes rambled, punching through the nearby greased-paper window and dropping onto the dusty earth below.
To his credit, Dionysus only took a brief moment to understand their situation and followed soon after; ditching the indignant saloon girl calling after him without a second thought. They scrambled out the back, running full tilt towards the first escape vehicle they could lay eyes on.
A wagon whose owner found themselves unceremoniously shoved into the dirt before they could protest their uninvited passengers.
They sprung out of Kerry like bats from hell in the cover of night; the rickety coach protesting as they careened recklessly into the south road, towards Sacramento. Waiting in tense silence to see if anyone had followed; squinting anxiously as the few pinpricks light that marked Kerry finally faded into the distance. Swallowed up by the trees that encroached upon the path as they headed deeper into the wilderness.
“Well, that went excellently,” Dionysus complained breathlessly, still sounding incredibly winded from their brief moments of mild exertion. “Assuming he didn’t notice the ruckus we caused. If we’re lucky he might be ugly and deaf.”
Hermes scowled, not ready to risk slowing down just yet. “He would have found us anyway. I’d much rather be on the open road, with a halfway decent chance of getting away.” Dionysus twisted in his seat to keep an eye on the road behind them. “Are you sure it was him? I thought Ares was the only one who’d ever gotten close enough to see his face.”
“Well I didn’t stop to ask for confirmation, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Hermes said crossly. “But I thought it might have been prudent not to stick around and test our luck with the man conveniently fitting every single description we have of him!”
Dionysus sighed loudly, recovering his usual, mellow attitude now that the potential danger had passed. “I suppose it doesn’t matter now; but I have to hand it to you -” He started, before abruptly breaking off into silence. Both of them tensing up at the faint, yet unmistakable sound of a nearby rider.
The moon was bright and full that night, peeking through the canopy of branches in an effort to break up any lingering darkness. The rider, steadily approaching, was illuminated only in brief flashes before being cast back into shadow. Hermes cursed under his breath, unable to steer and safely look back at who was gaining on them.
Dionysus, clutched as his arm tightly. “Hermes,” He started, sounding incredibly faint before being interrupted for the second time that night; by the sharp, unmistakable crack of a warning shot.
At that point in time, several things began happening all at once.
The horses, spooked by the sudden loud noise, bolted forward, threatening to drag the wagon off the road and into the forest.
Dionysus - who had never experienced anything but the comforts of Athena’s perfectly legitimate business - let out a strangled scream. Ducking down near the footrest to try and hide behind the meager cover offered by their ride.
The bounty hunter, nearly overtaking their wagon, emerged from the shadows like a scene from a nightmare; perched atop a pale horse even larger than he, pistol clutched in his hand, a cloudy trail streaming behind him.
“Is he smoking?” Dionysus screeched incredulously, gripping Hermes tight enough to bruise. “In the middle of all this!”
Hermes didn’t bother answering, trying fruitlessly to swing them back onto the road and stop Charon from cutting off their path. The wagon, wobbling unsteadily underneath them, found itself dragged halfway off the path, steadily boxed in towards an inevitable crash.
In a moment of adrenaline fueled clarity, Hermes came to the following conclusions:
A.) Their current trajectory ended with them captured; or crashing into a tree, only to then be captured.
B.) While it was very slim, there was a chance that the bounty hunter had identified Hermes but not Dionysus. And, should his brother avoid Charon, nothing linking the two sides of their family could be said to exist.
C.) Charon, determined and opportunistic, would likely choose to go after the easier quarry if they split up.
D.) While the chances of outrunning a horse were even more slim. He would only need to outrun it for a little bit, long enough to lead Charon on a wild goose chase where his horse could not follow.
The sum of these points made it clear that only one option remained that had any hope of ensuring their escape.
“I’ll see you in a few weeks,” Hermes shouted, handing the reins to Dionysus before leaping off the wagon; in what would likely go down as The Most Desperate Measure in history.
He hit the ground running, fleeing in the opposite direction from Dionysus; willing Charon to take the bait. Hermes chanced a look back and saw, with a rush of triumph, that Charon had. His mount skidded to a halt, pulling a fast turn to chase after the easier prey. The triumph was quickly overtaken by overpowering dread; as both horse and bounty hunter headed his way at breakneck speeds.
Hermes was quick, but Charon’s horse was looming closer and closer, the clear winner in a flat out race. Which was why it was imperative to wait until the very last second for his final trick to stand a chance. When Charon was nearly upon him Hermes dropped into a stop so sudden it sent him skidding forward, flat on his back; the bounty hunter’s hand swiping at thin air, too high up to reach him from his mount.
Perfect.
Now came the truly difficult part. Finding somewhere Charon’s horse could not follow, before he had time to regroup and reach him again. He scrambled up, heading deeper into the woods; a hail of bullets whizzing past him.
Clearly, the bounty hunter had finally lost his patience.
Hermes, seeing nothing but low brush on the horizon, began to lose hope of finding a suitable obstacle.
Away from the path, their visibility had dropped, the denser canopy blocking out most of the moonlight. He stumbled forward blindly in the darkness, branches pulling and snagging on the fabric of his clothes. While somewhere, not nearly far enough behind him, Charon and his mount tore through the underbrush at a steady speed.
Seized by one last desperate instinct Hermes pushed forward in a final burst of speed, hopefully far enough ahead that he had slipped from the bounty hunter’s field of vision, if not his hearing range.
He scrambled up the nearest tree, trying his best to hold perfectly still.
Somewhere underneath him, Charon continued forward before he too came to a halt. Likely noticing the glaring absence of any outlaws at ground level.
Hermes, perched on the first branch sufficiently high enough to hide him, but wide enough to support his weight; clung to the trunk. Willing his breathing to regulate, not wanting to risk making the slightest noise. Below, he could hear Charon’s horse begin to circle around the area. A dull, repetitive track that would continue for the rest of the night.
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Morning had arrived, and Hermes was still in the tree. Battling exhaustion, he slipped half-in and half-out of consciousness in alternating turns. Until a niggling realization shook him awake.
It was quiet.
It had been quiet for a while now, and Charon was nowhere in sight.
Hermes waited anxiously for a few moments longer.
Still quiet.
He slipped down the trunk and landed softly on the forest floor, tensed and ready to spring. The leaves in the canopy rustled softly in the wind, no other person in sight.
Too tired to feel anything but weary relief, Hermes began the trek back to the road. Planning to walk back to Kerry and head back to Sacramento from there.
He stumbled forward, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. Wondering if it might have been better to stop and sleep right then and there before trying to go a step further, potential wild animals be damned.
Seconds away from choosing to lie down and pass out in the middle of nowhere, Hermes jolted back into full alertness. Having heard a small, odd sound somewhere behind him.
He whipped around, convinced he would see Charon in the distance; and so, missing the Charon quite close to him. Who seemingly manifested out of nowhere to catch his wrist in a vice like grip.
The instinctive cornered-animal fear fought desperately with his exhaustion, as he thrashed in Charon's grip. Bouncing forward to smash his forehead against the man’s nose with a vindictive, yet satisfying crack; taking advantage of the split second opportunity to tear his wrist away after the blow, with no plan but to run far and to run fast.
Hermes sprang up and away, convinced for one beautiful, delirious moment that he might make it. Before several pounds of heavy, wooden rifle stock connected with his temple, knocking him unconscious.