Page 95 of Ungodly Rich

And yet, it sounded as if Julia’s mother might have been involved with a god.

Julia twisted her plain gold ring back and forth. “I thought he brought one of my stuffed animals to life once, but then it scared me so much he changed it back. Another time I saw him dancing with my mom, except that they weren’t dancing. Their feet were floating several feet above the ground.”

The flying waltz. One of Zeus’s favorite romantic moves with mortal women.

“What do you remember about that man?” Hermes asked, his mind spinning. “What was his name?”

“All I remember is that he was handsome. I can’t actually picture his face, and I definitely don’t remember his name.”

“Did you see him after you lost your mom?” Hermes ventured, knowing it was an insensitive question. But he had to ask.

“No. I saw a woman that night.” Julia was staring out at the ocean, her voice distant, as if she’d gotten lost in her memories—or in a nightmare. “I heard shouting in the living room and came to the top of the staircase. A woman was there, arguing with my mother about something. Soon after she left, our house caught on fire.”

“Your mom died in a fire?”

“Later, I tried to tell the adults about the visitor, but they said I was imagining things.” Julia shrugged helplessly. “Apparently, a stray sparkcaught in the kitchen, and the house was so old and flammable it went up like tinder. There were no signs that anyone else had been in the house. It was just a freak accident.

“But when I dream of that night, I hear that woman, the one who shouted at my mom.” Julia was talking swiftly, almost frantically, as if these memories had been building in her like smoke and she had no choice but to fling open a window and let them out.

“Julia, I’m so sorry. How completely terrible. Though I have to say, I’m grateful that you survived.”

“It’s a miracle that I did. When the rescue workers came, they began searching for a body, because they assumed there was no way anyone could have made it. But they found me asleep, curled up in a small pocket of debris. I was holding this.” She gestured to her ring, the one she wore on her right hand. “My mom had given it to me just a few weeks earlier and told me to wear it always. It’s the only thing I have left of her,” Julia added softly.

Hermes felt dizzy, his mind racing with the implications of what she’d said. If he’d guessed right, if he’d put all the pieces together properly, then he finally knew why Hera was so obsessed with Julia.

Julia’s mother had been sleeping with Zeus, and then Hera had killed her.

“Thank you for telling me all of this. I’m honored that you felt like you could share it,” Hermes said earnestly.

Julia nodded. “Thank you for listening. And for not thinking I’m crazy.”

“Crazy?” Hermes repeated. “Why would I think that?”

“It’s what the grief counselor thought, when I told her what I’d seen my mom’s boyfriend doing. She said I had hallucinated false memories, to replace the all real ones that were too painful. She’s probably right,” Julia hurried to add. “I hit my head in the fire, or inhaled too much smoke.”

“I’m sure that’s it. If you’d seen the things I thought I’ve seen at Burning Man, you would know how easy it is to fall for a hallucination.” Hermes tried to sound flippant, to set Julia at ease about the confessions she’d just made.

To his relief, she smiled—a sad smile, but at least it was there. “Would you mind keeping all of this between us, as friends?”

Hermes’s immortal heart snagged on that word.Friends.

He was used to being called a coconspirator, praised for his cleverness or his speed or his biting wit. But none of the other gods had ever truly considered him a friend. He’d thought Aphrodite might be a friend, once upon a time, but Hermes saw now that their friendship had been surface-level, based on their love of rosé and drama, their shared sense of being excluded from the inner circle.

Julia listened to him. She sympathized with him, andsawhim.

“I meant what I said; my lips are sealed,” Hermes assured her. “Though as your friend, I have to say, you could tell Harry.”

“It just hurts so much to talk about. And it’s not as if he’s told me everything, either,” Julia added softly.

Well, that was an understatement.

They drifted to one side of the beach, closer to the roar of the surf, where the edge of the sandcastle village was marked with great gates made of drip sand. Julia was quiet, contemplative, and Hermes gave her space, his mind whirling. If she wasn’t working with another god—which seemed impossible at this point—then why was she immune to magic? The Aegis was the only object he knew that could shield against enchantments, but it was in the Vault.

With a chunk missing from its side.

The Aegis was even more ancient than the gods, dating back to the murky dawning of the world itself. Perhaps it wasn’t made of bronze at all, but some celestial element, tossed to earth from the stars in the moment of creation. Who could know? Zeus, the first of the gods to be born, had seized the Aegis, along with the thunderbolt, for himself, leaving the other great artifacts, the trident and the Helm of Darkness, for Poseidon and Hades.

Hermes’s eyes darted back to Julia. If he were Zeus and wanted to scrape off a piece of his immortal shield to protect a human, how would he do it? He would make an earring, Hermes thought, or perhaps a coin.