Dark Harvest (Darkling Mage 2)

The maenad stopped short of the step that led to the VIP area. She held up one arm and gestured past the curtains, smiling, but silent. I stepped past her, leery of the curtains stiffening at any moment, but I managed to pass through safely.

Couldn’t help it. I guess I still wanted to gloat, so I turned around to give Sterling another little jab – and all the breath left my body.

The common area, scrubland, whatever you wanted to call it was completely gone, in its place a thick, impenetrable hedge grown over completely with vines and ivy. Behind me the strange song played on, keening flutes and crashing cymbals and drums keeping time for the undulating masses dancing and fucking and worshipping for the wine god’s pleasure. Above the music and the mating came Dionysus’s voice, clear as a bell over the ruckus.

“Clever, isn’t it? That you could see me from your end, not knowing that the barrier was there all along.”

I turned to him and shrugged wordlessly. As I thought, the entity was much smarter than he was letting on. He was perfectly defended all this time, and only those who’d been granted permission could have entered his home. I walked close

r to Dionysus on his divan, stepping carefully between the greased, gyrating bodies of his many dancers, the cast and atmosphere of the domicile oddly red and blood-like in spite of all the greenery.

“So why bother letting them see at all?” I spoke as casually as I could, because you really never can tell with these gods. It was always best to feel them out, so I could pick the right approach. Flattery worked wonders with most of the ones I’d communed with in the past. I wondered what strategy I would have to adopt here. “Why let the riffraff see you when they know they can’t enter without an invitation?”

Dionysus grinned, black curls tumbling over his brow as he took a long pull from his Chalice. “Because it’s good for sales. They see all of this,” he said, gesturing at his worshippers, “and they want in. And then they see this,” he continued, thumbing at himself, puffing his chest out, and wearing a winning smile, “and they’ll do anything to be near me.”

Ah. Flattery it was, then.

He pushed one of his serving girls off his divan. She collapsed to the floor, tittered madly, then sauntered off to join the dance. Dionysus patted at the empty space he’d just cleared.

“Sit, mage. Come and talk.”

So I did, taking my place next to the god on what must have been the most comfortable piece of furniture I’d ever laid my ass upon. Still, it was all so new to me. Every communion I’d ever been on had an ever-present edge of danger in the experience. Sure, the entities were amicable in the end, if you could call it that, but basically all of them had tried to kill me, one way or another. I decided that I shouldn’t get too comfortable just yet.

“So,” Dionysus said, grinning through a perfect set of teeth. “To what do I owe the honor of a wizard’s visit?”

Wizard? I didn’t know very much about magical hierarchy, but I still knew enough to acknowledge that a wizard was at least several notches more prestigious than a plain old mage. So flattery it was. “I’m only here for information, your, uh – ”

The god laughed. This close I could smell him, a mingled scent of olives and sweet wine. “Please, mortal. Dispense with the formalities. We’re friends. You may call me Dionysus.”

“Y-yes,” I said, politely refusing the stuffed grape leaf a passing serving girl was attempting to feed me with her mouth. “And I’m Dustin.”

“Dustin. A fine name. Ah, but where are my manners? You do not have a cup.”

I looked around for the omnipresent serving girls, not wanting to be rude, when I realized that they’d all given me distance. In fact, the music had stopped as well, and dancers and revelers alike were all watching the divan. I held very still.

“Was I supposed to bring one myself?”

“Well, no,” the god said with exaggerated care, a hand on his chin. “I would have offered you one similar to the goblet I’m using. It never empties, you know.”

“I see.” The silence choked me. I eyed the hedge of vines blocking the exit from the entity’s realm. The waitress at the Amphora on her own had been just the one maenad. I looked around, realizing too late that every last person in this room was a bacchante, a worshipper of Dionysus. One snap of his fingers and the frenzy would take them. The ruby-red tinge of the domicile started to make sense.

Dionysus inched closer on the divan, so uncomfortably close that I could feel the warmth of his god-breath on my cheek. The wreath tattooed to his temples moved of its own accord, as if rustled by an invisible breeze, but the marvel of it did nothing to soften the menace of the god’s expression.

“I wonder, Dustin,” Dionysus said. “Have you seen my Chalice?”

I looked around at all the gleaming red faces, finally regretting my decision to leave Vanitas and my backpack outside, not that I had a choice. Forcing the tremble out of my voice, I finally spoke.

“I can explain.”

Chapter 5

“Now tell me, in plain language, exactly what happened.”

“With all due respect,” I said, speaking around a mouthful of vines, “that might be easier if you let me down from here.”

Dionysus was not amused. The vines around me tightened, and I grunted against the discomfort that was slowly, surely turning into pain.

It happened much too quickly for me to react. All the god did was wave his hand, and a swarm of vines erupted from the ground, wrapping around my limbs, simultaneously restraining and suspending me in what I might generously describe as an unpleasant position.