Page 4 of Invoking Ruin

I'm not responsible for his weakness. My grandmother—Nyx—was the one, who, in an attempt to end all of god kind to rejoin her fallen lover, caused the tear in the Void which took much of the immortal vitality of the fellow gods. And, my not so beloved sister Lethe had been the one to steal his memories away and replace them with this fake, mortal identity.

But I've been the one taking advantage. And now there's a cure. One I'm determined to not let him have.

“You’re back already?” he asks, none the wiser.

“Business ended sooner than I thought, so I caught an earlier flight.” I take a long sip of the wine. It always tastes better when he’s touched it. Whether he understands he’s a god or not, his power leeches into the wine, infusing it with the divinity he brings to the world.

This wine bar is much more popular than it has any real right to be.

“You know, you never told me what it is you do.” He fills another order for a man a few seats down. Though he never takes his gaze off me, his movements are flawless. The right wine, a smooth pour, delivery, all without so much as rippling the liquid in the glass.

“I’m in consulting,” I tell him with a dismissive wave of my hand. I learned a while back that no one really understands what consulting is, but it sounds important, and invites few questions. He doesn’t need to know the breaks I take from his side aren’t spent doing some menial job, but spent keeping the other gods off our trail. “It’s very boring.”

He shrugs. “Nothing about you is boring, Vita.”

The nickname, even though it isn’t mine, brings forth another blush. I take a long sip of wine.

“Flattering, but I assure you that my job very much is. But it’s over for today. How long are you working?”

He doesn’t press me for details. Never has. Part of it is the underlying need of Dionysus to please. He’s always wanted to bring other people pleasure, even at the expense of himself. But, by now, he must suspect I’m keeping secrets from him. How could he not? I suspect he doesn’t want to know the answers.

I don’t think he wants to remember who he is.

He’s happier like this, without the weight of godly responsibilities weighing him down. His family would want him back with them, helping them, keeping him contained within the walls of Olympus. Meanwhile, I’m happier when he looks at me with something other than hatred.

“A couple more hours.” His hands are ceaseless, pouring wine and handing it off to other servers. He doesn’t even seem to hear them give the orders, but he never makes a mistake. He knows what people want instinctively. “Then I’m all yours,” He finishes up. “You don’t mind waiting?”

I shake my head. “I have all the time in the world.”

Both true and untrue. If I did my job right, Nemesis and my suddenly-conscience-filled sister Lethe will be looking for us in Mykonos and not in Lake Como.

“I’ll keep your glass full,” he promises.

And he does. We fill the two hours with the sorts of conversations about everything and nothing at the same time. I learn about his job, his routine, those false memories of his mortal life.

Where they come from, even I don’t know. The mind, godly or otherwise, will do incredible things to avoid the things that don’t make sense.

Without those false memories, the emptiness would break him. It's already happened once before, and his pleading still haunts me.

I’m determined to never let it happen again.

Finally, his shift ends. He hangs up his apron, and then he takes my arm, and we leave the bar together. The air has turned a little chilly. Late summer and a misting rain will do that. But I don’t mind. The bad weather gives my fragile mortal persona reason to burrow under his arm and huddle against him for warmth.

He gives his affection so freely, this Sandro, this mortal inhabiting my Dionysus’ body. Everything with him is easy.

Except for the feeling of dread hanging over every minute. This won’t last. It can’t.

Either Dionysus will remember on his own or my sister will find him and restore him.

When that happens, I might as well be in Tartarus with my grandmother, Nyx. I’ll be cast in darkness either way, without him.

“How long are you here for?” he asks. We head toward the gelato shop that’s become our favorite haunt, rain or shine.

A good question. I want to stay. I would love nothing more than to just bask in the glow of his presence. But, the longer I do, the more of a target I put on our backs. I don’t have any more time to waste waiting for the axe to drop. I have to stay a step ahead, start searching out a way to keep the other gods from finding us for good.

Lethe can no longer lend me a touch of her Oblivion, helping me become forgotten. Nor would she help me, even if she could. A grudging part of me realizes that’s a natural consequence of almost murdering your own kin, accident or not. But there’s still one more option. It’s not one I want to take, but the noose is growing tighter, and I can’t let silly things like moral scruples get in the way. Not anymore.

“I’m only here until tomorrow morning. Early flight.” I have to try to hook him into my scheme, even if I’m not sure where it’s going yet.

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