CHAPTER XXVI
DIONYSUS
Dionysus knocked on Ariadne’s door.
Since he’d returned from his visit with Poseidon, she had not come out of her room. He hadn’t even tried to get her attention last night, wanting to give her space.
He was frustrated with himself. When she’d called him out for not respecting her or valuing her, he hadn’t protested. He’d just accused her of the same thing.
In addition to that, he wasn’t sure he could tell her about his visit with Poseidon.
It had unnerved him more than he thought it would, not only because of what he had learned about Medusa but because of what the God of the Sea had said about Ariadne. He wondered why Theseus was so obsessed with her. What did she have that he wanted? Perhaps it was merely that she knew his secrets and she had escaped.
Whatever it was, it worried Dionysus the more he thought about it, and it made him anxious that he had involved her at all in this quest for Medusa.
Medusa’s fate was another horrifying revelation. What sort of curse had befallen her? To only become a weapon in death?
“Ariadne?” he called. “Are you awake?”
He waited for her reply, but he heard nothing from the other side of the door, which made him uneasy.
“I’m sorry about yesterday. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I don’t respect or value you. I…” He hesitated. “I think you’re…great.”
He paused and still heard nothing.
Then he pressed his ear against the door and listened hard. Even if she was just ignoring him, he should hear something.
“Ariadne,” he said and tried the door. It was locked. He banged on the door again. “Ari, answer the fucking door!”
His heart started to beat harder in his chest the longer the silence progressed.
“I’m coming in,” he said, ramming his body into the door. He burst through to find an empty room.
He stood there for a moment, gaze sweeping the familiar but empty space. He crossed to the bed and threw the blankets off, but she wasn’t beneath. He checked the bathroom and the closet, but each were empty.
She was gone.
“Fuck!”
Dionysus paced the length of Hades’s office at Nevernight.
He raged. His body was shaking. He had not felt this kind of hysteria in a long while. He knew where Ariadne had gone—to confront Poseidon about Medusa. She had threatened to go herself; she’d told him he was moving too slow.
Fuck.
“You were supposed to watch her!” he had roared at the maenads he had posted outside his home.
They glared back at him, just as angry.
“We did,” snapped Makaria.
“Then why is she gone?”
“Perhaps she is more skilled than we thought,” said Chora.
He should have checked on her sooner, but he had wanted to give her privacy and space.
Fuck privacy. Fuck space.
He whirled toward Hades when he appeared and gave him no time to ask questions.
“Ariadne has gone to confront Poseidon,” he said. “She thinks he has Medusa.”
“Does he?” Hades asked.
“Does it matter?” Dionysus snapped.
Hades narrowed his eyes.
“No, he doesn’t have Medusa,” Dionysus said, frustrated. “I would go to her, but I cannot teleport to his realm without being invited. I need your help.”
Hades was one of the three who had control over all realms.
“Are you certain she has gone to him?”
“Yes,” Dionysus hissed. “Hades, he will hurt her.”
Whatever the God of the Dead saw in his eyes, he must have believed.
“Fucking Fates,” he said as he called up his magic.
They teleported to the Gulf of Poseidon, where Dionysus had come earlier to wait for the God of the Sea. The weather was stormy—the clouds overhead were low and thick, the wind was strong, and the waves were large, crashing against the dock. He shielded his eyes as the rain beat down on him, feeling solid and painful.
Poseidon’s yacht was some distance from shore, rising and falling with the waves.
“Do you have a plan?” Hades shouted over the storm.
“No,” Dionysus said. As if he’d had time to think any of this through.
Hades’s mouth hardened, and he sighed, teleporting again.
This time, they appeared on the yacht, only to find Poseidon already standing, holding Ariadne as a shield. Her wrists were tied in front of her. One of his hands was around her neck, the other pressed into her stomach. She looked furious and afraid, and Dionysus feared what the god had done to her up until this point.
“This is low, even for you, Poseidon,” Hades said.
“Would you forsake me divine justice, Brother?”
Poseidon’s face was pressed against Ariadne’s as he spoke, though she tried to pull away.
“Divine justice?” Dionysus demanded. “For what offense?”
“The mortal accused me of abducting a woman.”
“It was a question,” she spat. “And it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility, given your track record.”
Poseidon squeezed her neck harder, tilting her head back farther.
“The mouth on this thing,” he said. “Have you not taught her to hold her tongue?”
“Not everyone abuses women like you, Poseidon,” said Hades.
“And now I am being accused of another crime,” Poseidon said.
“It’s not an accusation if it’s true.” The words slipped through Ariadne’s teeth.
Poseidon gripped her mouth and turned her head toward him. Dionysus started forward, but Hades stopped him. They glared at one another, but Hades’s gaze was also a warning. If they moved too soon against Poseidon in his own realm, Ariadne would be caught in the cross fire.
“I will teach you to be silent,” Poseidon hissed.
“If you wish to dole out justice, then I will too, if you harm her,” said Dionysus.
Poseidon released her face, his eyes returning to Dionysus. He chuckled. “So eager to be valiant,” he said. “And all for pussy you haven’t even tasted.”
The yacht rocked violently. Dionysus struggled to stay on his feet, though Poseidon seemed unaffected by the sudden jolt.
“Don’t worry. I’ll tell you if she’s sweet.”
Ariadne’s gaze was locked with Dionysus’s. He shook, desperate to go to her.
“Don’t look so glum,” Poseidon told her. “I’ll let Dionysus join if it will make you more comfortable.”
His hand smoothed down her stomach to her hip.
“Do not touch her,” Dionysus barked.
“What’s the matter? Threesomes not really your thing anymore?” Poseidon asked with a chuckle. “You really have changed, and for the worse, if you ask me.”
Hades’s magic manifested like tendrils of smoke, one snaking around Poseidon’s neck and yanking him back. The sudden move forced him to loosen his hold on Ariadne. She bolted for Dionysus.
“No!” Poseidon growled, and suddenly the yacht pitched again. Ariadne fell to her knees and rolled, crashing into the wall. Dionysus rushed for her, but as he did, the windows shattered, glass rained down on them, and water began to pour into the boat as it was tossed about on the sea.
“All this for a mortal who called you a name?” Hades’s voice carried over the storm.
“I could say the same to you,” Poseidon said.
Dionysus could tell when Hades struck Poseidon with another blow because the fury of the storm lessened. Still, he stayed focused on Ariadne, and she crawled toward him.
When they reached each other, they were on their knees, and he took her face between his hands.
“Are you all right?”
She nodded, and Dionysus helped her to her feet, though it was almost impossible to stay upright with the way the yacht heaved.
They fell again, and as Dionysus hit the floor, he saw Hades looming over Poseidon, his hand on his head. Beneath his touch, Poseidon trembled. His teeth were bared, the veins in his neck strained, and then he managed to summon his trident, breaking whatever hold Hades had.
Poseidon rose and swung at Hades, who vanished, reappearing some distance away, but Poseidon followed. While they charged each other, Dionysus reached for Ariadne again, but as he did, her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she went limp in his arms. Her body convulsed as water poured from her mouth.
“No!” he growled. “Hades!”
But when he looked to the brothers, Hades had ceased to fight. He seemed to be frozen, stricken by Poseidon somehow.
“You are here fighting for a woman who does not even belong to you while yours suffers at the hands of my sons.”
Poseidon’s voice reverberated throughout the cabin despite the roar of the storm. Dionysus did not know what the god meant, but he’d clearly gotten to Hades because his chest heaved and his body trembled.
Then he vanished.
Dionysus did not know what had happened, but he was now alone and facing Poseidon. He rose to his feet and summoned his thyrsus—a fennel-tipped staff—though he knew he was facing a god in his own realm, one of the three, and that his power was no match.
Still he charged and was thrown back. He crashed through the wall and was nearly swept into the sea, but he managed to grab hold of the rail of the ship.
The rain pelted him, and the ship rocked beneath him, but he managed to crawl his way back on deck. When he returned, he found Ariadne within Poseidon’s grasp again. He had her bent over a table, her legs spread, his hips pressed into her ass.
“I wouldn’t have made you watch,” he said. “I was satisfied that you would be tortured by merely the thought of my dick inside her, but then you brought Hades into my realm, and for that, you too must be punished.”
Dionysus’s anger burned, and his eyes locked with Ariadne’s, which glistened with tears. He had no power here, save one, and the only thing he could think to say before his magic hit her was, “Forgive me.”
He knew when the madness struck her because her eyes changed. They took on a crazed and feral look. She let out a sudden, horrifying shriek and found the strength to rear back suddenly, throwing her head into Poseidon’s face. The blow struck home with a loud crack, and the god released her, stumbling back. She whirled on Poseidon and began to claw at his body. Her fingers dug into his skin as if he were nothing but clay, and before he could stop her, she had ripped chunks of his flesh away from each arm.
It was horrifying. It was the nature of Dionysus’s magic.
Despite her frenzy, Ariadne was very much aware of what she was doing, though she had no control. There was no way she could ever forgive him for this, and he did not blame her, but he’d had no other choice.
A scream tore from Poseidon’s mouth, and Dionysus bolted forward, trapping Ariadne’s arms beneath his own as he held her against him, her bloodied hands still holding Poseidon’s flesh. She growled unnaturally and lurched as he dragged her back, still overcome with madness. If he let her go, she would try to tear the god limb from limb, and while Dionysus would not mind witnessing that, it was only a matter of time before Poseidon gained the upper hand.
Dionysus’s only advantage here was that he’d managed to surprise the god, but this was still Poseidon’s realm.
The God of the Sea seethed, eyes flashing with malice. He looked at each of his bleeding, mangled arms. His breath came quickly between clenched teeth. The yacht pitched on the sea.
Dionysus struggled to hold Ariadne at bay. Still under his spell, she thirsted for Poseidon’s blood because it was the first she had tasted, and she would not rest until one of them was dead.
“If she manages to survive the sea, I will hunt her down and tear her to pieces in front of you,” Poseidon said. As he spoke, the flesh on his arms regenerated, and though he was whole, he was still covered in blood. “And you will be forced to eat each one, each slice of skin, each hot organ, and with each bite, you will know that it would have been easier to let me fuck her in front of you.”
And then Dionysus heard a crack, and the entire ship was taken under. Water filled the room with such force, the only thing he was conscious of was the way it stole his breath before everything went dark.
CHAPTER XXVII
DIONYSUS
Dionysus’s head hurt.
He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain that radiated at his temples, tensing his whole body. His mouth was dry, his tongue swollen, and there was a roaring sound that filled his ears. He did not wish to awaken fully, but the longer he lay there and the more he surfaced to consciousness, the more he remembered about how he had come to be in this state.
Poseidon.
Ariadne.
He realized the roaring in his ears was the sea, and he forced his eyes open, blinking rapidly at the bright blue sky, realizing how the hot sun burned his skin.
He turned his head, and for a moment, his vision swam, but then everything came into sharp and sudden focus when he saw Ariadne lying some distance from him, half in water, half on land, and unmoving.
“No,” he croaked, scrambling to his feet, slipping on the sand as he rushed to her. “Fuck!” He fell to his knees beside her. The water surrounding her was tinged with scarlet. “Ari!”
He rolled her into his arms and cupped her face, brushing the sand from her cheek. She was too pale; even her lips were colorless. He checked for a pulse, pressing two fingers against the hollow area beneath her windpipe. A sluggish beat thrummed against his touch.
He placed a hand over her chest and closed his eyes, calling the water in her lungs, and after a moment, it spilled from her mouth. Yet there was still no movement, no sign of consciousness.
“Fuck,” he cursed again, noticing a large gash on her thigh, and while he could heal it, he had no idea how long she had bled or what kind of infection might have set in while they lay unconscious on shore.
He pulled her close and then looked up to find an old man staring down at them from atop a hill of white rock. He had wild white hair and a matching beard, and his skin was dark and bronzed as if he had spent his whole life beneath the sun. He wore only a white sash around his hips, and it seemed as wispy as sea-foam.
He was divine, Dionysus was sure of it, but he did not know who exactly he was. There were numerous sea gods.
“Please,” Dionysus called to him. “Please help us, I beg of you.”
Though the old man stared directly at him, he turned and walked out of sight.
“No, please!” Dionysus gathered Ariadne into his arms and scaled the rocky hill, squinting against the brightness of the rocks, which reflected the sun’s rays. From time to time, he was blinded by the light, and he slipped, falling hard to one knee. He knelt there for a moment, his gaze dropping to Ariadne’s face. Her lashes were long and fanned across her cheeks, which were turning rosy from the heat. While she was beautiful, he was desperate to look into her eyes once more. He couldn’t imagine never feeling her gaze on him again.
He wouldn’t.
He got to his feet. His knee stung, and he could tell there was blood, but it healed quickly. He tried to hold her closer to his chest, attempting to shield her face from the sun. As he came to the top of the white rocks, he saw the old man standing at the base of the hill as if he were waiting for them.
His heart rose a little, though he was not sure he should have hope.
“Will you help us?” Dionysus asked.
“I have helped you,” said the man. “I dragged you from the sea.”
Dionysus swallowed but his throat was dry and scratchy. “Then I am in your debt,” he said. “Please—”
The man turned again, his bare back burning red from the heat, glistening with sweat.
“Please,” Dionysus shouted. “I will remain in your debt if you will help us a little while longer. I need refuge—”
The man kept walking, disappearing down a sandy path overgrown with bright green flora.
“Wait!” Dionysus followed the man, who seemed to move like a ghost. He caught only a glimpse of him as he made his way down the shady path.
He was not sure how long he walked, but the terrain shifted as they neared the mountainous center of the island. The air became wetter, the ground mossy and rockier as it inclined steadily upward until he rounded a corner and found the man standing outside a small cottage that had been built into the side of the earthy wall.
Dionysus stared at the man.
“You say you are in my debt,” said the man.
“Whatever you wish,” Dionysus said.
“There is a cyclops who resides here and eats my sheep,” the man said. “Kill him.”
“After she is better,” Dionysus said. “I will see my debt through.”