Page 32 of Invoking Ruin

The distance I put between us and everyone on our trail is not nearly enough. We’ll need to go farther tomorrow. Back to Greece, even.

If they are hunting treasure they will leave you well enough alone.

I hope the Moirai are right, and they aren’t fucking with me.

Worse, if Momus hadn’t been bluffing, if I only have two and a half days before he shows up demanding the knife…

I scoff to myself. How would he find me? Then again, I’m not sure how he found me to begin with. Something I’d done must have attracted more attention than I’d like.

Or I’m being watched.

A shiver runs down my spine at the thought.

That makes it even more vital that I move unpredictably, and drop off some godly artifacts to distract my pursuers.

I wish I had more stuff in my chest.

By the time the sun rises, I’ve formulated most of a plan. Carefully, I pull free of Dionysus. Better to let him sleep—and heal—as long as possible.

He sleeps deeply, unbothered. Maybe, when he wakes, he’ll remember how hard he made me come, how completely I surrendered to him. Maybe that will assuage some of the mistrust in his gaze.

I wish I could take credit for our earth-shattering climaxes as tools of deception, but I can’t. The way I gave into him makes me feel foolish.

But I’ve always been weak for him.

I dress in a green kaftan that cinches below my breasts. It’s a flattering dress, but more importantly, it makes me look like any other tourist. Mortals won’t look twice at a tourist, no matter what I do.

It worked when I was running through Megaera with Lethe.

I frown. My sister is hard to remember at the best of times, but now the memories I summon whenever I think of her are tinged with the sounds of her screams.

I try my best to block out both.

By the time I’m finished dressing, and have seen to the tragic mess that had been my hair, Dionysus is stirring.

His eyes hold no more recognition than they had the night before, but the shadow of wariness is still there.

I hate it, but I deserve it.

“There are clothes for you,” I tell him. “Shoes, too. Dress. We’ll grab something to eat and be on our way.”

He groans and rubs the sleep from his face. “I feel like I got hit by a truck.”

“I’m not surprised.” He’d been injured. More than that, he’d used his powers for a purpose more substantial than influencing a glass of wine. He hadn’t done that in at least a century.

He’s not as weak as he used to be, but there’s still some mortality tainting his ichor.

“Where are we going?” He drags the duffel closer and digs through it for everything he needs.

“Far.” I’m only mostly sure of our direction, today, but I’m not going to jinx it by saying anything out loud. Who knows who might be listening.

“Back to secrets, this morning, I see.” He starts dressing, and for a few seconds, I’m distracted by the crime in progress. Such a shame, covering his golden skin with fabric.

The clothes I had for him are also forgettable tourist casual, khakis and a purple button down shirt that shows off his forearms. It’s not what he would have picked out for himself, and might help us evade notice.

“Our destination will be a surprise. You wanted to take a vacation with me, didn’t you? Think of it like that.”

He scoffs. “That was when I thought we’d be traveling by airplane, not flying horse.”

---