Page 25 of The Games Gods Play
“I know, but you don’t seem to be trying very hard. At least the others have picked a few things up. Don’t you want to earn your gifts?”
“I’m starting out slow.”
“I can see that. Why?”
I shrug. “Just learning what not to do first. Seems prudent in dealing with a game devised by a bunch of bored gods.”
“Interesting. Have you learned anything so far?”
“Yeah. Don’t eat the food.”
13
Following The Clues
A shout pulls my gaze to the right in time to see a stone statue of a cherub turn into a gargoyle and snap at Isabel Rojas Hernáiz, Poseidon’s champion, dressed in a gorgeous heather-colored gown. She pushes one of the other champions back, then immediately yells at the gargoyle in rapid-fire Spanish.
I tilt my chin in Isabel’s direction. “And don’t touch the statues,” I add.
She even chucks a gold cup at the thing, which bounces off its stone forehead with a tink. The growling gargoyle unfurls a pair of wings that make a grinding noise as it flies away. I grin at the string of profanities still coming from Isabel. Didn’t Poseidon say she was a beauty queen before her current job in tech?
“That’s right,” Isabel calls after it as she picks up whatever was near the gargoyle that she wanted.
I mentally add her to my list of possible people to team up with.
“I have a token to find,” I say to Hades. “Stay out of trouble.”
His low chuckle follows me and lodges under my skin like a splinter I can’t see.
Followed shortly after by yet another gong and time check.
That sound is really starting to jangle my nerves.
While time slips away, I continue looking for patterns in the items while surreptitiously watching the other champions. But by the time two more gongs go off and Zeles calls out, “Thirty-five minutes,” I’m starting to rethink my plan. It’s not getting me anywhere. The others must be wrestling with similar doubts, because their movements all turn a little more rushed, faces more pinched.
I pause on Zai, giving him a closer look.
He has picked up a delicate glass bauble, I can’t tell of what exactly, and is trying to surreptitiously study the underside more closely. Long enough that I start to wonder what he sees. He coughs when he sets it down. Then he moves on to the next item and does the same, looking at the underside, though he puts that one down quicker.
My heart beats a little faster. Maybe patience paid off. Is he onto something?
Starting well away from Zai to keep from drawing attention to him, one at a time, I pick up different items—a scepter, a chalice, an orb. All priceless. Felix would fall over in a dead faint if he saw these riches.
I mix looking at the bottoms with other actions as I gradually make my way to the trinket he stared at first.
I set down an orb and sigh, glancing around, which is when Hermes steps into my line of sight, his winged feet and iconic helm the fanciest parts of his ensemble. Other than a gold cape that flares behind him when he walks, his armor holds no further adornments, no symbols. I’ve always liked my patron god.
I get the feeling that he doesn’t like me, though. Shrewd eyes in a narrow, arresting face are trained on me as he weaves through the antiquities, stopping only when he’s close enough that I can hear his lowered voice. “I know who you are—one of my Order’s pledges.”
Not now, I’m thinking. Talk to me later when I’m not under the gun.
I bow before him like I never have with Hades—or any of the others so far, for that matter. “I have always honored you as our patron god, Hermes. I hope—”
He jerks a hand up, and I stop, mouth hanging open until I remember to close it.
“I am not your patron during the Crucible.”
Unsure, I rise slowly from my bow. “Of course—”
