Page 92 of The Cursed Chalice
“You’re lying,” I murmur.
“I don’t have time to lie or sugarcoat shit. I am not fucking Willy Wonka.” Dionysus drags his hand through his greasy hair.
My gut tells me he isn’t lying. I drop the sword at my side.
“So the gods are talking about you and this mortal. Maybe now you can—” Dionysus stops.
I look up at the ceiling, squinting.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing. I’m just watching my last fuck fly away.”
Dionysus huffs. “That’s your problem right there. You need more fucks. Both physically and mentally.”
“Say what you need to say and leave, Dion.”
“He is beginning to annoy me.”
Dionysus smirks. “Tell your other half to chill; I can hear him. Aphrodite, Athena, and Artemis came to my domain some days ago. That’s all I have to say.”
“How can you hear Aric?”
Dionysus slides down the chair and spreads his legs wide. “I am the god of bacchanalia; that fringes on insanity. So fill in the blank.”
I don’t answer, and neither does Aric.
“Look, maybe I can help you, and we can work together in the future. You will owe me.” Dionysus bites his lip. “Having the God of War in debt to me is appealing. What do you say?”
“There is an educated reason why I don’t give a fuck about you and your bullshit,” I reply.
Dionysus shrugs. “Have it your way.”
With that, he disappears. My shoulders drop, and the sword fades away.
“What the hell am I to do, Aric?”
I am met only with silence. I walk to my table. Best I drown myself in work.
SORAYA
Cheese bubbles slowly on top of the lasagna as I pull it out of the oven. Food brings people together, or so I thought. I told Phobos and Deimos to come to dinner. Both are busy, and Hecate is M.I.A. I don’t really have friends that I can call over, so it’s just Nisa, Ares, and me.
Garlic bread, a toast salad, and lasagna sound like a splendid meal to me.
“Oh, that smells good, Raya.” Nisa bursts into the room.
I chuckle as I take off my oven mitts. “Well, good evening to you, Soraya. How are you? How was your day?”
Nisa snickers. “Sorry. Good evening, Soraya. How was your day?
“Great, munchkin. Go wash up and then come eat dinner. Where is Ares?” I ask and kiss the top of her head.
“Office. I’m going to my room, then I’m coming back to eat.”
“Tell him dinner is ready on your way back.”
She skips out of the kitchen, and I stand, wondering if he’ll come to dinner. Maybe yesterday was a lot for him to process mentally, and he needed space.
