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I stuck my hands deep in my pockets and shook my head. “No, ma’am.”
The Lorica made good on their threats, too. The high-security Prism, located deep within the heart of Lorica headquarters, was a seven-layered jail, sorting arcane criminals into different levels based on the severity of their crimes and how dangerous their abilities were. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life in orange, or red. The stories I’d heard about that place – no thanks.
“Then it’s settled. You will no longer engage in this ridiculous entrepreneurial endeavor. You will also behave, I trust, and avoid exploding entire sections of this fair city’s sidewalks. We make it look easy, but cleaning up after this mess isn’t going to be fun.”
“But I told you,” I said. “It was Quilliam. He’s this magus, and he summoned a bunch of books, then the books opened fire on me, then – ”
“I still see no sign of this Quilliam character,” Rani said. “Provide evidence of his existence, or of his role in destroying so much public property, and I will have him thrown into Prism faster than he can blink. But for now, you may as well be telling me that your imaginary friend did this. Well, imaginary enemy, more accurately.”
She got us there. I breathed through my nose, trying to keep myself calm. It wasn’t fair. This was Quill’s fault.
“Gentlemen,” Rani said. “I hope you both understand that you are extremely fortunate that I was the one who came to investigate this scene.”
She paused for a moment, stretching out the silence. What she didn’t have to mention was the fact that she came alone. Nothing says confidence more than showing up without so much as a support team, let alone one or two bodyguards.
“You have been shown more patience than the other Scions of the Lorica’s Heart would have afforded,” she continued. “Please keep your noses clean for the foreseeable future. Otherwise, the consequences could be dire. Remember. We are always watching.”
Maharani snapped her fingers. Smoke and fire began rippling and crackling again, the stasis field lifted. The Scion herself was gone. Florian and I pushed past the gathered crowds, lowering our heads. The Lorica was bad news, but so were the cops. We needed to get out of there, and fast.
I sucked on my bottom lip, chewing on its edge, half expecting to taste blood, breathing steadily to control my anger. They were watching. Like I needed to be told. Everybody was always watching – the Lorica, the demon princes, the people upstairs.
Damn it all. I just wanted to fade from the world, go somewhere nobody could ever find me. But I wasn’t safe, not even in Artemis’s domicile. I needed to disappear, and as much as I hated the idea of it, I needed Beatrice Rex to help me do that.
And the only way to make that happen was to do exactly what Loki wanted.
13
“This is most unfortunate,” Dionysus said, an empty goblet dangling loosely from his fingers. “Most unfortunate indeed.”
I sighed. “Huge understatement. Look, we’re really sorry, but the Lorica’s got our number.”
He set his goblet down, leaned forward, then planted his chin in his hands, grinning at me. “It really is the downside of being so famous, is it not, Mason?”
“Yeah,” I said, squinting at him. “Famous.”
Trust Dionysus to already be drunk so early in the afternoon. My understanding of gods was that they could sober up whenever they wanted, with the caveat of needing so much more alcohol to actually get sloshed in the first place.
He just really loved the state of it, then, the warmth and buzz of – you know what, the hell if I knew. I don’t drink. Legally, I shouldn’t, plus I didn’t like losing control of myself, even for a little bit. No judgment for anyone who likes a beer or a cocktail to relax after work or what have you, but it’s just not my thing.
Again, it was really nice of the staff at the Amphora to let us in regardless of all that. We weren’t there as customers, after all, but as potential suppliers. Well, one-time suppliers. Florian sat on the couch next to me, his face long and somber, not at all a fine match for the Amphora’s sumptuous interiors.
Velvet everything, basically, deep red drapes cascading from the ceiling to the floor, attached to those fluted columns you might find on both ancient Greek buildings and the front porches of the homes of the rich and slightly tacky. Magical fires burned in every corner, glowing merrily. Everything smelled of an ancient, unknowable incense, its fragrance always just at the tip of your nose and your tongue, giving the Amphora a distinctly seductive air.
Seductive. That was the right word. Not romantic, no. Dionysus and his crew were anything but. Both the god and his servants, the maenads, lived with a passion for festivities, for wine, and the frenzy of flesh-ripping violence. It was the reason I was so hesitant to visit the Amphora and report to Dionysus, because why risk being torn limb from limb when a phone call would suffice?
But Florian had the right idea. It was the right thing to do, and based on the way Dionysus was giving us his signature lopsided grin, how he had his legs draped over the side of his chair, it looked like we weren’t scheduled for a casual afternoon dismemberment, after all.
Dionysus peered into his goblet with one eye, pouting. “Ah, what a tragedy it is, to lose so much of that delicious wine you made.” He swirled his finger in the emptiness of his goblet, and where there was only space, suddenly he was making a whirlpool in a cupful of brilliant red wine. He waggled one eyebrow at Florian and grinned. “Ah. But you can always make more, yes?”
“Whoa,” Florian said. “I’m not sure if we made it any clearer, but that sounds like a really bad idea.”
Dionysus threw his head back and made a whining noise I wouldn’t have expected from a god, but maybe this was his negotiation style. “Why not?” he said, drawing out the vowel. “I can offer you protection.”
His eyes went huge and he sat up, sloshing half of his newly materialized wine on the ground. From the bar, one of his maenads shook her head and tutted.
“Florian,” Dionysus said, breathless. “I have an idea. You can come and brew your beverages right here in the safety of the Amphora.”
“That sounds really sketchy,” I said.
