And so we did, on the comfiest crimson crushed velvet sofas money could buy. Asher and Samyaza made their quick introductions, Dionysus’s eyes going wide at the mention of the words “necromancer” and “former king of the fallen.”
“We should be conducting this meeting in the VIP section,” Dionysus said cheerfully. “You know, for all these VIPs you’ve brought to see me.”
I chuckled nervously and cleared my throat. “Here is fine,” I said, nodding appreciatively as a server set down four clear glasses of water. “Just fine.”
Dionysus splayed himself across a divan, looking every bit like a modern day Lothario. He liked to wear his shirts unbuttoned down to his waist, showing off his body and his deep tan. Little about him gave away his divinity, unless you counted the wreath of olive leaves tattooed across his temples. The ink leaves billowed and fluttered, animated by some enchanted, unseen wind.
“You have come to me for help,” Dionysus said with a simpering grin. “You said as much when you called me earlier, yes?”
“It’s a bizarre situation, to say the least. Dead bodies everywhere, too many similarities to be a coincidence, and we’d like to see if you’ve heard anything about it.”
The god cocked an eyebrow. “Do you have anything else to go on, perhaps? Descriptions? Dare I ask, images?”
“We do, actually,” Asher said. He strode over to the divan, then plunked down next to the god, pulling his computer out of his bag and into his lap. Dionysus watched him with amusement. I could tell the god found Asher’s eagerness to be brazen, but maybe he liked that. It was one Asher’s gifts, after all, next to necromancy and nerdiness. He could charm the pants off of anyone, whether or not he meant to do so.
“Wow,” Asher said. “You Greek gods get some good wifi.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Dionysus waved his hand irritably. “Show me these corpses you’re all so worried about.”
The blue light of Asher’s laptop bathed Dionysus’s face in an eerie glow. There was a strange sort of sadness in the lines of his eyes when he frowned at the screen, a kind of quiet repulsion. He shook his head, then pushed down the laptop’s lid. “Enough, little one. I’ve seen enough.”
“Right,” Asher said, glancing at me uncertainly as he returned his laptop to his backpack. “But that’s the gist of it. Multiple corpses turning up, different countries, similar time frame, same modus operandi.”
Dionysus gestured at my neck and chest. “And do all of them have these same tattoos? These glyphs of yours that all nephilim have.” He was massaging his temple, incidentally, in the same place where his own tattooed wreath met the top of his ear.
“Not all of them,” Asher said. “We don’t have access to enough information to really give you a ratio, but Florian seems to have a rough idea of how many nephilim were victims.”
Florian nodded, looking down at his hands. “I’d say about eighty. Sam has this trick that lets him see nephilim around the globe. Pretty useful, I’d say.”
“Interesting.” Dionysus rubbed his chin, his eyes lingering on Samyaza a little too long. “So much scrying power between the three of you, I see, and yet you come to Dionysus for help. Why?”
I shrugged, shooting him an ingratiating grin. “You said so yourself, once upon a time. You hear things on the grape vine. Whether or not you meant that literally is none of my business, but we wanted to see if you’ve picked up on anything yourself.”
He steepled his fingers, leaning deeper into his divan, relaxing. “You would think so, yes, for something this curious. I will not lie. I have heard little rumblings about these murders and the strange nature of them, but have no real details to offer you.”
“This is important,” Samyaza said, springing to his feet. Whoa, little too aggressive there. “Please.”
Dionysus cleared his throat, hardening his gaze until Samyaza slowly, sheepishly sat back down again. “As I was saying, I have not heard of any true details about the murders. I know as much and as little as you do, gentlemen. In fact, I would not have known that there were nephilim among the dead. Very curious. And with their organs missing. Again, Mason Albrecht. Why have you come to Dionysus with these questions?”
This time I didn’t smile, meaning to level with him. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Dionysus, but you and your worshippers are known for hedonism, indulging in food and drink.”
He nodded, smiling. “This is correct.”
“But your servants, your maenads, are also known for going into berserk furies, and for tearing living men and women apart in their bloodlust.”
Dionysus’s smile hitched too far up his face, growing too wide into something sharper, and crueler. “It would not be wise to make such accusations of me, nephilim.”
I answered calmly. “That’s not what I was suggesting at all. There’s an art to the bacchanal. These victims clearly didn’t have their insides torn out with bare hands. It’s all clinical, surgical. But going back to the meat of things – sorry for the pun – you and your people are known for indulging in the finer delicacies, and for violence. If there is any talk whatsoever within your ranks about indulging in a different sort of delicacy, in a finer kind of violence, we’d like to be the first to know.”
The aura of malice surrounding Dionysus diminished, and he smiled sweetly as he crossed his legs, draping his arm along the divan behind Asher’s shoulders. “I understand, now. I understand your proposal, and will deliver any information I receive on the matter. Whether there will be any, I cannot promise, naturally.”
I nodded. “Naturally. Our other concern is that someone specific could be behind these murders. Beelzebub, the demon Prince of Gluttony. If you sense any demon stink nearby, we’d like to know about that, too.”
Dionysus sat forward again, nearly on the edge of his seat. “The plot thickens. Yes. The Lord of the Flies is known for his eclectic
