“Well, I suppose I could stitch up something nice for you, tailor made. But I’d have to measure you first, of course.”
Florian leaned into the counter, this time making it creak instead of his body. “Any time,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. “It’s a date.”
I tried to keep my amazement to myself. Florian had actual game. Who the hell knew? Say what you will about him, but I was starting to believe more and more that his lackadaisical, laid-back nature was more of a front than anything. An ancient intelligence lingered behind those lazy, half lidded eyes, one that had plenty of time to build a trove of tricks and secrets for the nuances of nature magic – and for other purposes as well.
“Hi,” I said, waving at them meekly. “I’m still here.”
“Sure you are,” Beatrice breathed, her chin in her hand, her eyes steadily focused on Florian’s everything. She turned to me, blinking slowly, her expression sliding into indifference and boredom. I tried not to look so offended. “So, you two come back to me with some bottles, and I’ll see what I like. But I can promise you right now that I am not willing to trade away the entire cost of a shimmerscale enchantment.” She smirked at me. “You’re still going to have to cough up the ten grand I need to stitch you a couture jockstrap.”
I rubbed my forearm meekly. She was right, in the end. It was silly to assume that anyone would take ten grand worth of nonexistent liquor in exchange for, well, just about anything.
“You know, the problem is that you boys are going about this all the wrong way.” Beatrice reared back, pushing a finger into her chin in thought. “You should be taking your products directly to people who actually need them.”
Florian nodded. “I agree. Which is why I went wandering around the Black Market to check out the local places. I found a couple of bars, maybe some restaurants that might be interested.”
Beatrice shook her head. “You’re not thinking big enough. The person you should be talking to doesn’t even operate in the Black Market.” She pointed up at the ceiling, her fingernail gleaming like a jewel. “Upstairs. In Valero.”
I stared at her, eyes wide, as I tried to process her meaning. “Do you really think they’ll be interested?”
She leaned her forearm on the counter. “Trust me. You want to talk to Dionysus. Head to the Amphora. If you impress him with your stuff, you’ll never want for money ever again.”
“That’s a fantastic idea,” Florian muttered. “Who is Dionysus again?”
I frowned at him. “Shouldn’t you know this stuff?” I gave Beatrice a quick, small salute. “And thanks, Beatrice. That really is a good lead.”
“Not a problem,” she said, thumbing the side of her nose proudly. “Just don’t forget my finder’s fee. Ten percent of the sale.”
“No percent,” I growled.
“Dinner, on me,” Florian said, waggling his eyebrows again.
Beatrice laughed. “Sold, to the highest bidder.” She flipped her hair. “But don’t bring Mason.” Her eyes traveled slowly down my body. “Not unless he’s ready to get measured for the jockstrap.”
I blushed so hard that my hair could have burst into flames.
20
I’d heard plenty about the Amphora from my old friends, how it held special enchantments. Half of the bar was for the guests, while the other half was actually spillover from Dionysus’s own domicile. That was where he liked to keep his retinue of naked dancers, just a ton of revelers taken over by the seduction of his wine and his influence, carefully selected from the Amphora’s own clientele. Maenads in skimpy outfits served the drinks, acting as both the waitstaff and as bouncers. I’d heard stories of how terrifying the god of wine’s worshippers could be when he whipped them into berserk frenzies.
; But none of that happened in the daytime. In fact, Florian and I were pretty lucky to be let into the Amphora at all. Sure, I wasn’t of drinking age, but it was still nice of them to make an exception since we were visiting outside business hours. We were just there to talk, we told the woman at the door, undoubtedly one of Dionysus’s loyal maenads. This one was dressed in regular civilian casuals, a comfy T-shirt and jeans, but the ruby glimmer of her nail polish put me in mind of the kind of strength maenads possessed when Dionysus commanded them to kill, how they used their bare hands and teeth to rip everything in sight into bloody shreds.
“Behave.”
That was the very first thing I whispered to Florian as the maenad led us into the bar. He didn’t need to be told, I was sure, but I didn’t want him accidentally flirting with anyone that the god might object to. We were in his domain, after all, simply his guests, until we were suddenly his enemies.
And there Dionysus waited, sitting on a deep red couch, legs crossed, one hand on his lap, the other clutching an ornate golden goblet. He swirled its contents as we approached, favoring the two of us with a friendly, if somewhat sticky smile.
“Well, well,” Dionysus cooed, his voice inflected with both the casual camaraderie of the gently soused and the boisterous confidence of a man who knew that he held all the cards. “Are these new friends, come to pay Dionysus a kindly visit? Or perhaps they are potential new partners in my thriving business, eh?”
I wasn’t even going to question things anymore. The entities had their ways of knowing everything that happened in Valero, and I strongly suspected that he already knew exactly why we were there.
Florian and I each took seats opposite the sofa, and I smiled at Dionysus. “Maybe both,” I said, thanking the maenad who served us glasses of water.
Dionysus nodded at me, the wreath of leaves tattooed along his temples drifting and wavering, as if blown by an unseen wind. “I would offer you something more potent to drink, but I think that my business bends enough of your human laws without violating the one about underage drinking, yes?” Then he turned to Florian, the brilliant white of his teeth standing out against the lustrous olive of his skin. “And you. I suspect that you have brought your own wonders for me to sample.”
Florian nodded politely. “Indeed I have. My name is Florian. And this is – ”