Page 25 of Invoking Ruin

I glance up at her, finding her already watching me. She sighs and rinses the cloth in the sink. I can’t quite see from this angle, but the water she’s wringing from the cloth doesn’t look red. It looks… I’m not sure.

“Momus is the god of blame and criticism. His entire existence revolves around finding and pointing out the faults of others.”

God. He’s a freaking god. I stabbed a god with a corkscrew.

The room reels again, and Vita is suddenly in front of me again, holding my shoulders. “Breathe, Sandro. Breathe.”

I do, in through my nose and out through my mouth like I was taught.

“Gods are real?” I mutter.

“You rode through the sky on a chariot pulled by Pegasus,” Vita points out. “Would the rest be so surprising?”

When she puts it like that, I suppose not. I grind my teeth. “And what does that make you? He called you his niece. Is being a god genetic, or something? Are you half-god, or a quarter, or…”

Vita’s lips purse. Now, she can’t meet my eyes, and her gaze lands somewhere above my head. She goes back to sponging the blood off me.

I wait her silence out, not pushing her to answer, but also not giving her the easy out I usually do when she avoids my questions. I wanted to please her, to make her smile, bring about that crooked, mischievous curl of her lips I find so enchanting. I thought she was flighty. Worried that if I pushed her too hard, I’d scare her off, but now I wonder if I wasn’t right about her being too good to be true, and if the rotten grape is bursting right on my fingers.

“Yes,” she says at last. “I’m a goddess.”

“Of what?” I ask. “What’s your real name? It’s obviously not Vita.”

She shakes her head. “I’m not going to tell you that right now.”

“Bullshit. Why not?” I start to stand up, but she pushes me back down.

We glare at one another. Has this woman—goddess—ever glared at me before?

“Because it isn’t the right time for you to know. You’re injured and overwhelmed, and I have far more to tell you than just my name. Just know I have never, and will never harm you, Sandro. That promise is worth a little trust, isn’t it?”

I’m not entirely sure it is. After all, lying is a kind of harm, and she’s been doing that to me since we first met. But I figure she could do much worse, depending on the type of goddess she is. I don’t want to anger her.

“Gods, mass murder, flying horses… what does any of this have to do with me?” I ask.

Vita doesn’t answer right away, making a show of inspecting my head, her hand cool on my chin as she tilts my face back and forth.

“Momus is trying to use you to get to me.”

I frown, staring down at the warm terracotta tiles. “He called me your toy. Am I?”

She hisses out a breath and rinses the wash cloth out once more. “Momus can’t imagine how anyone might care for someone else. He only sees flaws, not desires. His words are meant to cut, not to be true.”

That’s definitely not an answer. I want to press her for one, but she’s already moving to the shower. She turns the knob and gets the water going.

The wash cloth is in the sink. It’s mostly rinsed clean, but it’s still a little red from my blood. But there’s something else mixed into the diluted pink shade, something not mortal.

A more important question fills my mind. “Am I a god?”

Chapter seven

Dionysus (Sandro)

Vita turns around to stare, first at me, and then the wash cloth in the sink. She takes a deep breath, and a thousand different stories flicker across her face, a thousand lies. She’s a good liar, subtle, but I’m good at reading people and what they truly want. The last thing she wants is to tell me the truth.

Defeat settles in the set of her shoulders. “Yes.”

She reaches for me, undoing the first buttons of my shirt before I can consent or protest. The corkscrew is still in my pocket. I grab it and slash it through the air.

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