by Nazri Noor
“It’s just me,” the entity said, his smile lighting up the night – literally. “Your good friend Apollo.”
Chapter 11
Apollo smoothed his hair back and grinned, his teeth sparkling pearly and white. His other hand went down to the unbuttoned front of his shirt, drawing attention to his tanned torso.
“Well, hello, ladies.”
“Back off,” Romira huffed, clutching Prudence’s wrist. “We’re both taken.”
Apollo groaned dramatically. “A pity, that. I do so love human women. Especially the very pretty ones.”
Romira harrumphed, flipping her hair, but I caught the traces of a flattered smile on her lips.
“Who the hell wears sandals at night?” Bastion muttered near my ear.
“Will you shut up?” I muttered back.
“So,” Apollo said. “Now that we’ve dispensed with the pointless small talk – Dustin Graves, you owe me a favor.”
All necks craned towards me, which made it an especially unfortunate time for me to gulp.
“I’m not sure what you mean, exactly,” I said. “Care to refresh my memory?”
Apollo chuckled. “Very cheeky of you. I helped put in a good word for you with my sister, remember? Artemis wouldn’t talk to you about your little dog, so I volunteered to commune with her in your place. Get her attention.”
“Right,” I said hesitantly.
“And now it’s time for you to return the favor. Interestingly, there might be something in it for you as well.”
“I’m afraid I don’t follow.”
“Then I’ll lay it out for you straight.” Apollo’s posture straightened, the loose, lax frat bro melting away, leaving only a god, serious, resolute. “Your meeting with Artemis had its consequences. I was aware of the risks going in, but I never quite thought it would go so badly. Artemis has been excommunicated from the Midnight Convocation.”
“Holy shit,” Bastion muttered.
“Indeed. A goddess can still stand on her own, but being part of an alliance – a divine coalition, if you will, gives you power that you can’t quite get anywhere else in this time of nonbelievers. That means that my sister has lost a fair portion of her power.”
“Oh my God,” I said, looking around at the others, who were just as aghast as me. “All this because she helped me?”
Apollo nodded grimly. “The gods take their allegiances very seriously. The Midnight Convocation specifically has not forgotten about Metzli’s death. I don’t think they ever will.”
Poor Metzli, Aztec goddess of the night, slain in battle by the Overthroat. Then Chernobog – hell, any of the other entities of night and moon could still be after me. “But you’re saying that there’s something in it for me, as well.”
“Correct,” Apollo said, a dimple appearing in his cheek as the smile returned to his lips. “I may have heard that you and your adorable mortal friends are looking to forge new bonds with the cadre of mythical monsters and world-eaters known as the Great Beasts.”
Romira cocked her hip, pushing her hands into her waist. “And how do you know about this, exactly?”
Apollo pointed a finger-gun at her and winked. “I may have heard it through the grapevine.”
I shook my head. The gods of the old world were huge gossips, but the Greek pantheon really took the cake when it came to this stuff. And I wasn’t sure I liked the mention of grapevines, either. That suggested the involvement of yet another entity, one I thought I’d successfully avoided for so long.
“So that’s it?” I said. “I help Artemis – never mind that I don’t even know where to begin with restoring a goddess’s power – and I’ll somehow find a way to win over the Great Beasts?”
Apollo smiled in a transparently patronizing manner, the blond locks of his hair tumbling as he shook his head. “You’re still not getting it. I need you to talk to Artemis. She’ll tell you what she needs to get stronger again. And whatever that is, Dustin, well, you’re somewhat bound to helping her out. Unless, of course, you also want to make enemies with the Conclave of the Sun.”
Apollo’s smile was unwavering, still as warm and friendly as before, but behind the gleaming teeth and the twinkling eyes, I knew that his threat was very real. As a sun goddess, Amaterasu was part of the Conclave herself, just as her brother-husband Tsukuyomi was part of the Midnight Convocation. The last thing I needed just then was to have more angry gods – members of the Japanese pantheon, no less – breathing down my neck. I thought of the death goddess Izanami’s true face, and shuddered.
“Fine,” I said. “You twisted my arm. Don’t look at me like that, I’m kidding – I know I’m at least partly at fault. So, where do we find her?”
Apollo scratched his chin, looking up into the sky. “Well, let’s see. She’s probably pretty upset. Down in the dumps, even. And when Artemis gets in a bad mood, she does what the rest of us like to do: indulge.”
“That’s not exactly a lead, is it?” Romira said, frowning.
“Depends,” Apollo said with a smirk. “Where would you go in Valero, I wonder, to find a downtrodden Greek goddess who just wants to drink her own weight in wine?”
I sighed. “Great. The Amphora. Which I guess means we’re going to run into Dionysus as well.”
Apollo nodded. “Pretty much. Hey, that’s just how it is.” He puffed his chest out and grinned again. “And don’t let me catch you gallivanting off wherever, now. We had an agreement, you and I. This is the exact favor I need you to fulfill in exchange for what I offered. Help my twin sister.” His grin somehow grew even wider, brighter. “Or, you know. Or else.”
Prudence narrowed her eyes at the sun god. “Or else, what?”
Apollo chuckled. “Hey, that’s between me and the shadow mage here. I’m just saying, the right thing to do is to honor your end of the bargain.” He winked at me, and in that tiny, briefest instance I imagined all the power of the world’s sun gods and entities coming down on my head with the full fury of their fire. I just bit my tongue and nodded. “In the meantime,” Apollo continued, waving his hand at his ridiculous car. “Can I offer you a ride to the Amphora?”
Romira shrugged. “Sure, why not. Gotta admit, I’m curious about what it looks like on the inside.”
“Here,” Apollo said, smiling, opening the rear passenger door. “Let me help you in.” He placed his hand on the small of Romira’s back, guiding her in. She swatted it away, frowning.
“Hey, just because I’m being friendlier doesn’t mean you’re allowed to get handsy,” she grumbled.
“Apologies,” he said, raising his hands. “You’re that Cerberus woman, aren’t you? One of the mages he’s contracted.”
Romira’s eyes flitted to me, then back to Apollo. “Yeah,” she said warily. “One of.”
I could tell from Apollo’s grin that he was gloating. That was the thing with entities. Even the friendliest ones still had an air of the sinister about them. It should have been obvious to me – and to Romira, especially – that the entities could easily forge multiple contracts with as many mages and mortals as they cared to lend power to. But I could tell that it bothered her, being reminded that she wasn’t quite as special as we all thought.
We piled into the back of the car. Apollo clambered into the driver’s seat, Bastion taking up the passenger side. Apollo threw the car into gear and it lurched and trundled onward, with an engine powered by faith, perhaps, and a gas tank full of magic.
“Nice limo,” Bastion said.
“You mean four-wheel drive,” Prudence said.
“What are you guys talking about?” I looked around. “This is clearly a hatchback.”
Apollo chuckled. “My little baby looks different to everyone. In my eyes, she’s as beautiful as she was in the old days, an ornate, golden chariot that’s still good and sturdy enough to ride through the skies.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You mean this thing can fly, too?”
The corner of Apollo’s mouth curled into a little
grin. He patted the dashboard, whispering something foreign, ancient. The car shuddered, then jerked, and I looked out of its windows in mingled awe and horror as we sped farther, higher away from the ground.
“This is incredible,” Prudence said, a rare smile on her lips. Romira’s knuckles were white as her fingers dug into the back of the driver’s seat, but she was whooping delightedly. I couldn’t tell how Bastion looked, but he was bellowing his lungs out in a way that told me he hadn’t had this much fun in a long, long time. And me, I hung on for dear life.
Apollo’s laughter wasn’t quite loud enough to drown out the car’s roaring as it brought us rocketing through Valero’s night sky. “Hold on to your butts,” he cried out. A massive boom cracked from somewhere in the back of the car, propelling us faster and faster. The sky filled with sun and fire. I screamed.
Chapter 12
“You have to admit, that was pretty fun,” Romira said, lifting her cosmopolitan to her lips.
I ran the palms of my hands across my jeans, wiping away patches of sweat that should have stopped leaking out of my skin a half hour ago. Fun was subjective. Fun was relative. I’m all for roller coasters and amusement park rides, but Apollo’s chariot was a flying death trap.
Prudence winced as she swallowed a mouthful of her beer and set it down on the table, printing a wet ring onto the dark wood surface. “I thought it was pretty fun, too. Apollo’s a character, but you can’t say that wasn’t a wild ride.”
That was one way of describing him. Apollo had shoved us out of his chariot half a block away from the Amphora, the girls laughing and still coasting on the adrenaline of the journey, me desperately checking my jeans to make sure I hadn’t pissed myself.
I cupped my goblet firmly, as a way to steel my shaky nerves. I was the only one of our group who’d actually sprung for one of the Amphora’s signature drinks, their own house wine, personally created, I would assume, by the bar’s divine lord and master. Okay, Bastion got one, too, copying my order right after I’d placed it.
“Good stuff,” Bastion said. “I’m betting this is from Dionysus’s private reserve?”
“I mean, he’s responsible for it,” I said, “but it’s not quite the same as the wine he actually creates himself. With magic, I mean. That stuff? Best I’ve ever tasted.”
Bastion nodded approvingly. I took a sip from my goblet. Yep, I was right. It was sweet, complex, bursting with the textures and colors of nature – but it wasn’t the same wine I remembered, the kind that Dionysus had used to poison me the first time we met. The Amphora looked much the same as the last time I visited with Sterling and Gil, which had also been pretty much a work trip.
The same crimson velvet drapes everywhere, with eerie magical firelight sputtering in hidden corners and alcoves. There was the same odd crash-bang of cymbals, flutes, and drums that passed for the Amphora’s music. And with the music, of course, came the same bevy of bare-chested, nearly naked dancers that Dionysus liked to keep enthralled and mesmerized in his section of the bar, his own personal retinue of tanned, twisting revelers.
And Dionysus himself looked very much the same as the night I met him, a handsome young man with dark, curly hair, perfect dusky skin, and a tendency to leave most of his shirt unbuttoned, giving everyone a frankly scandalous view of his lean torso. My very limited contact with the Greek gods – the male ones, specifically – told me that they liked to show off. I guess it wasn’t so surprising, considering how the pantheon was so well known for its, um, extremely amorous escapades.
Here was one god, I thought. But where was the other, the one we actually wanted to talk to? I scanned the Amphora, and still no sign of Artemis, not since we walked in.
I started when Dionysus suddenly swung his head in my direction, his eyes going wide and bright as he saw me. A huge grin burst onto his face, the laurel leaves tattooed in a wreath across his temples wavering in an excitable, invisible wind.
“Don’t look now,” I grumbled, “but the wine god has spotted us.”
He rose from his divan, his tittering maenads and servant girls falling all about him, then pouting as he made a beeline for our table. Romira, Prudence, and Bastion didn’t change tacks all that much – they’d met enough gods and entities in their time with their Lorica, after all. What was another one?
But I broadened my shoulders, straightened my back, and readied an eager smile. Sure, Dionysus traded in wine and orgies. He was the party boy of his pantheon, probably the biggest lush of them all. But I knew better. Behind the tanned, chiseled cheekbones and lazy smile dwelled a cunning, alien intelligence. The gods were magnificent, radiant, and beautiful, but beneath it all they were fickle, petty, and dangerous.
“Justin Braves,” Dionysus called out, in a musical lilt that made us sound like the best of friends. Expensive perfume and the faint scent of olives filled my nostrils as he pulled me up and wrapped me in a tight, amicable embrace. I froze, fully aware that Dionysus’s bare chest and stomach were rubbing against me, looking directly past his shoulders and thinking of some way to make things a little less awkward.
“Dionysus,” I said, politely, but firmly, clapping him on the back. I wasn’t about to ask how he knew about my slightly secret but also exceedingly stupid alter ego, not just then. Romira and Prudence watched us cautiously – they probably remembered the poisoning. Bastion, on the other hand, wore something of a smirk.
“I am joking, of course,” Dionysus said, pulling away, but gripping me tightly by the shoulders with two powerful hands. “I know that your name is Dustin Graves. Of course I do. Look at that pretty face.”
I blushed.
“Look at all these pretty faces,” Dionysus drawled, turning to the rest of our table. Romira smiled coquettishly. Prudence rolled her eyes. Bastion sat a little straighter, his chest puffing out. “But surely you haven’t visited to just drink. This smells like a business call to me.” Dionysus looked back into my eyes, his own smoldering like dying coals, the leaves across his brow drifting slowly, almost menacingly.
“I have to admit, we’re definitely here about work,” I said.
Dionysus pursed his lips together, flicking his wrist and producing one of his signature goblets out of thin air. He took a long, hardy gulp, then sighed. “Surely this isn’t about some offense that I’ve committed, some slight against the magical community. I see three faces from the Lorica sitting before me, one of them a Scion.”
It was the tiniest noise, and his face hardly moved, but I actually heard Bastion gasp.
“Come now, boys and girls,” Dionysus said, pulling up a chair and straddling it, resting his arms against its back. “The gods talk. The gods listen. The gods gossip.” He sipped from his goblet again, his lips coming away glistening and wet. “And I am the biggest gossip of them all.” He turned to Bastion, then winked. “May I offer you a goblet of my finest, dear Scion?”
I locked eyes with Bastion and slashed my hand across my neck as I furiously shook my head and silently mouthed the phrase “Hell no.” Bastion cleared his throat and politely declined.
“Truthfully, we’re here about someone from your family,” I said. “Someone might have mentioned that Artemis is hanging out – or has been hanging out at the Amphora. Something about her being bummed over getting kicked out of the Midnight Convocation.”
“Ah,” Dionysus said, leaning closer, the sweet smell of wine tumbling from his lips as he leered at me. “And you would know all about that, wouldn’t you, shadow mage? Though it isn’t entirely your fault, I imagine. Oh no. The Convocation has very strict ideas about what is and isn’t considered acceptable conduct by its members.” Dionysus stared into his cup and shook his head. “They probably remember Metzli. Poor Metzli.”
I nodded. It wasn’t my place to say anything. The Convocation wouldn’t forget about the demise of the Aztec night goddess for a long time coming. I bit my lip. I knew that I was complicit in her death, but I didn’t know how I would ever make amends for it. Artemis said that the Co
nvocation understood the risks of helping us against the Eldest, and Nyx seemed to agree, but Chernobog – man, Chernobog. That was someone to look out for in the future.
“Well, it isn’t any of my business, truly,” Dionysus said. He snapped his fingers and the wet sound of pouring liquid rose from his goblet. It filled to the brim with ruby-red wine once more. “For as long as you promise not to make things any messier than they already are, Dustin Graves, I am glad to point out Artemis’s whereabouts. I owe you that much, after all.” He elbowed me in the ribs and winked. “The gods don’t forget those who do them favors. And vise versa, or something.”
“We’d really appreciate that,” I said. “We don’t really have the time to explain, but there’s honestly a lot riding on this. We need to see Artemis, and soon.”
“And see her you shall, Dustin,” Dionysus cooed. He nodded at the far end of the bar. “She’s right over there.”
And he was right. There she was, where she wasn’t before, her waves of hair crowned with a wreath of delicate leaves and vines, a bow and quiver of arrows strapped to her back, her body clad in practical, protective leather armor. She should have stuck out to us like a sore thumb, but as I’d learned over my time with the arcane underground, the entities had their ways of blending in with the populace, of hiding in plain sight.
I clapped Dionysus on the shoulder. “Thanks a bunch, man. We’ll stay out of your hair. And promise, no drama.”
Dionysus grinned at me and threaded his fingers through mine, grasping my hand and shaking it. “Any time, Dustin Graves. You really should drop by more often. The Amphora is always open to you and your very lovely friends.” He winked again. “And we still have to discuss the subject of getting you a fetching tattoo.”
Ugh. Bad joke. I remembered that, the three-petaled flower that Dionysus had branded onto my skin as a literal ticking clock, counting out the days I had left to live.
