I grimaced at the thought. While I had a sweet tooth, at least I had taste.
“So,” he said, folding his hands and turning back to me. "Biblical proportions?"
I pulled out the Judas coin and set it between us.
He stared at it. "Fuck me. How’d you get one of those?”
"Cardinal Azevedo's goodbye gift," I said as our drinks arrived. "Tell me there's a way out."
Luka picked up his vodka and downed it in a single gulp. "There is no way out of a Judas coin. You know the rules. Once you accept it, you’re bound to hunt the original contract holder.”
“Who is…?”
Luka's jaw tightened.
"Who was it, Luka?"
The silence stretched before he finally said, "Dionysus."
I blinked twice and then cleaned out my ears with a pinky because that couldn’t be right. “Are you shitting me?”
“Afraid not. He requested you specifically for the Azevedo job.”
My hands had gone numb around the cup. "You're telling me I have to kill a Director. One of the seven people who run this organization."
Luka frowned, and we looked at each other over the ancient coin and the unopened bag of sour gummy worms. We both knew what that meant. Luka had killed Prometheus, his predecessor, and Rhadamanthys had dragged him before the Tribunal to face certain execution for the murder of a Director. Only Vincent and I proving Prometheus's betrayal had saved him from execution.
But there’d be no reprieve in this case. Dionysus wasn’t guilty of anything nearly as seedy as Prometheus’ crimes.
"Fuck,” I spat and turned away. “Dionysus practically raised me."
He'd taught me how to hold a knife, how to move through shadows, how to kill without hesitation. He'd also taught me that loyalty meant something in this world, that family could be chosen, that I was more than the animal they'd kept in that cage.
Now I had to kill him. The universe had a supremely fucked up sense of humor.
Around us, conversations died mid-sentence. That particular quality of silence that came right before violence.
I turned and cursed at the sight of Judge Rhadamanthys standing in the doorway, black Stetson tilted at the perfect angle. It was never a good thing when a Judge showed up.
Rhadamanthys spotted us and made a beeline for our table. "Ah, how good to see you again, Piccolo,” he said, stopping beside me.
I nodded. "Your Honor. Small world."
"It is indeed. But I’m afraid I’m not here to deliver good news.” His gaze fell on the coin sitting at the center of the table. “Is that it? The one Azevedo gave you?”
“News travels fast,” I muttered.
“Even faster in some circles,” he noted and gestured to the coin. “May I?”
“Be my guest.”
He picked up the coin and held it to the light. "Interesting. Do you know the story, Piccolo?”
I leaned back and crossed my arms. “Judas had enough of Jesus’s holier than thou bullshit and sold him out for a kiss and thirty pieces of silver.”
Rahdamanthys’ eyes flicked to me. “An oversimplification. One some might call sacrilege. But still not entirely wrong.” He lowered the coin. “The Judas Coins predate the first minting of the Ferrymen coins, as do the rules surrounding them. Rules that I wonder if you’ve familiarized yourself with yet.”
“I know that refusing the coin would’ve meant death,” I said. “And I know accepting it means I’m bound to kill the contract holder.”
