I wake up three times, in the midst of everything. Once, with sweat drenching my brow and my body shaking as I finally vomited. The second, with Avery apologizing over and over again, speaking to a man with a cool, softened tone that made me sleepy all over again. And then, finally, against my bedsheets. My uniform was still on, torn in the places the Snakes had bit into my skin, with blood browning the grey top. I was missing a shoe, and my leg throbbed unpleasantly. If not for that, I would have thought everything was a dream.

  I sat in the comfort of red sheets, staring up at the ceiling where old glow in the dark stars were beginning to peel off. I inhale sharply, trying to focus. My mind was racing in a way that made my hands shake and my heart start pounding madly. Every time I inhaled, it felt as if I was being choked for that second before it broke out with a shuddered exhale.There was nothing but silence, a glance out the window told me it was late at night, which made me wonder if my Aunt had even cared enough to notice? Did she notice?

  How did I get home?

  Slipping from the bed, I stumble, wincing. A hand to my waist, looking down. There were no wounds. No evidence on my skin that I had been bit and tossed around, despite the aches and the sourness in my throat. I shuffle down the hall, listening out for my Aunt. A check around and I see she was home. I debated looking for dinner, wondering if she made a meal, but my stomach twisted unpleasantly at the thought so I settled for a shower. The water is steaming hot, and I curl up on the floor, watching dirt and dried blood swirl down the drain, lips pressed tightly together. I always liked hot showers, not baths—It felt comforting, when my skin turned bright pink and steam filled the room.

  I still have to do an awkward walk back to my room, pausing when I hear my Aunt snoring from her room. It wasn't the two of us, normally. I had an uncle who was a truck driver, and my cousins were off in college. There were rooms dedicated to them, as she had more boys than girls. There had been one, before I moved in—I saw pictures of her, with bright pink hair and vibrant eyes, a grin that told me she knew everything even if she didn't. Sometimes she was with a teen guy, but most of the time, she was with a girl who looked like she lived in a gothic Victorian movie.

  I moved into my cousin's room a week after my Aunt took me in. It felt like it wasn't my place yet, no matter how much I decorated it.

  I push open the door and jolt, at the sight of Dionysus, fiddling with a few candles on the vanity. It was one of the few things that belonged to my cousin that I never touched. It would've been wrong to do it, to move things around in places she seemed to spend hours at.

  Dionysus turns to regard me and I make note of his outfit. A toga, those shoes you seen in Ancient Greek reenactments and various gold jewelry. I want to ask why he's wearing it, why he's touching things that aren't his, but I battle with the thought he's a God, he can technically do what he wants, right? I shut the door, move to my bed and sit on it, as he fully turns to stare back at me. His arms crossed over his chest, eyes focused on me.

  His left arm had what looked to be grape vines, curled around it. For a moment, it looked as if it was shifting when he moved.

  "You're calm."

  "I don't know what to think." I reply, instantly. It's honest, I really don't know what to think. my whole body is frozen in a state of just moving.

  Dionysus makes a noise in the back of his throat, which sounded like one of those big cats in the videos Avery sent me. We both stare each other down, my throat tightening for a moment before I finally ask:

  "How did I get home?"

  "Your friend." He shrugs one shoulder, a lazy smile on his lips. "She was freaked out. I don't blame her, you lost a lot of blood."

  "Oh." I stare at my hands, unsure. "I don't know what to say."

  "You never seem to know, do you?" Dionysus asks, moving closer. He crouches in front of me, and I can smell the sweet scent of grapes and lavender. It's such a strange combination, but it works. Then again, maybe it worked because he was a God. Maybe it worked, because he made it work, and he thought lavender was good enough to calm my nerves. But I was calm, so that didn't make sense.

  I exhale, feeling pressure lighten at my chest.

  "I know a lot of things."

  "I'm sure you do."

  He responds just as quickly as I speak, but not in a way that makes me feel like I was being talked down to. Just... answering honestly. It's a strange feeling.

  I rub my hands on my pajama pants, suddenly feeling small in them. Embarrassed. The pretty blues and white unicorns are almost childish in front of someone who could take down a Monster with ease.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  The monster.

  "What happened to the snake?"

  "That?" Dionysus scratches his jaw, thoughtful. "Ahhh, I took care of it."

  "Why don't you take care of them usually?" I blurt, without meaning to ask it. Dionysus makes that noise again, laughing. I worry briefly my Aunt will hear him, and think I'm doing something unsavory—but then he stops laughing and sighs heavily.

  "If I had a penny for everytime someone asked me that, I think I would compete with Hades for the richest God." His hands hit his knees and he pushes up. "Alright, I guess I owe you some answers, considering how your friend mucked up that 'ole..." He sighs again, pinching his brow. "That. Whatever that was."

  "Avery didn't mean to hurt me." My voice rises just a bit, trying to defend her. Dionysus blinks at me in surprise.

  "Oh, you do have some bite." It wasn't mocking, it was pride. "Good job."

  "Aren't Gods supposed to be... more... mean?" I think back to all the stories I've heard, hands balled tight. Thinking that Avery was going to be punished, maybe turned into like... a worm. I would find her, if that was the case, and put her in a jar so she can live a good life.

  "Eh, it depends on the day. Some days, we are kind, other days, we are cruel. It's the balance we have to maintain, so you mortals don't forget your place." He won't go on, there's a tone in his voice that tells me I shouldn't ask. "Which is why when it comes down to the Monsters, we can't really interfere. It's... sort of woven into Fate. There's this whole thing about Heroes defeating Monsters."

  "Oh..." That didn't answer my question. I wonder if he can tell, because he looks over me and rolls his eyes.

  "So when a God does the job of a Hero, that's one thing. But when a Hero does it, what happens then?"

  "...."

  "You're uh." Dionysus cleared his throat, hands to his hips, eyes closed as if he was trying to find the patience to speak. "...I'll get to the point. If a Hero kills a monster, they can speak on the behalf of the Gods, and make it clear who helped them. Who gave them the power? Like Diomedes, when Athena blessed him during the Trojan War and he hit and wounded Aphrodite."

  It still wasn't making sense.

  But maybe I was just tired. From the day, from dying.

  "You want us to do the dirty work, and you get credit." I speak slowly, brows furrowed.

  Dionysus goes still, and for a moment, I can see thorns growing around his temples, before he breathes out quickly, squeezing his hands against his waist. "No."

  "But you can do it."

  "Yes and no."

  "Why."

  "There are things I can't explain, only the Fates know."

  "Why don't the Fates – "

  "You ask a lot of questions." He cuts me off.

  "You said I never seem to know anything." I point it out, though no smile makes it way onto my face. There isn't a sense of smugness. It's just logical. "How can I know, if I don't ask?"

  That makes him pause, turning his head to the side before turning back to me, with a look of complete seriousness.

  "I took care of it earlier, because you needed help. But there are limits, and I can't tell you. Fates."

  I had a feeling that most answers would end up with only the Fates know. Which still confused me. I wasn't much into greek mythology, or any mythology. I knew only what my Aunt told me, and what school taught. I turned away from it all, because I always assumed any God wouldn't care enough to look down at me and help.

  He took care of something earlier, because I needed help. If I had prayed, would he have come? If I asked for help from anyone, would they come? Did Avery know them better? I open my mouth, thinking the answer would come out, but nothing does. My voice dies, and my shoulders slouch. I'm left just staring at him, with wide green eyes. Dionysus is tall, I realized. It should be intimidating, the top of his head touches the ceiling, and he's broad. But there's a softness to him, one that makes me feel strangely comforted. Like he knows all my secrets that I can't tell him yet. That I want to say.

  "I'm tired." I mumble, rubbing at my eye. "I don't understand anything, it's been a long day. I think I died—"

  "Oh, you did die." Dionysus sounds nonchalant as he speaks, waving a hand dismissively. "That's nothing. I'll owe Thanatos a few favors or so."

  Thanatos, the winged God with the sword. I think back to him, but my memory is mostly fuzzy in regards to that. Like I'm not entirely supposed to remember it. The way he's handling the topic of my death is slightly... disappointing. Like it's just another day, another thing that can be tossed aside and forgotten.

  Dionysus looks at my face, and something in his expression tells me I may have looked more upset than I felt. He's crouching in front of me again, taking my hands and squeezing them. He's very warm, and his hands are smooth. Makes sense, he's a God—Gods don't have to do the hard work a human does. He won't have scars or cuts from living.

  "I can tell you this, at least. There's a new age of beasts, of Gods and Monsters, and humans that need to fight. We can't be there to help everyone. So I chose you, well, Avery messed up, it wasn't your time yet, but I did choose you."

  Something about the way he says it makes me feel strange. Like knowing I was needed for something more than just my everyday life. I expected some sort of excitement, some drive, something inside me to just leap for joy. But nothing comes.

  I'm staring at him, trying to find anything, trying to just feel more. I can't.

  Why can't I feel more?

  I open my mouth, and let out a soft:

  "I'm afraid."

  The confession spills out, and something in my chest twists. I exhale a shaky sound. Dionysus seems surprised by that, but the smile he gives me is sincere. Is this how his worshippers felt, interacting with a God? Feeling like they can say more than they think? Being able to tell a truth, that even they hide?

  "I'll be here."

  "In my room?" I ask, and he laughs. It's loud, and shakes the room.

  "No, Gods, no. I'll be there if you call. I know your friend will show you the reigns, but, if you need to call me—" He clasps my hands together in his, and when he pulls them apart, I see a small necklace. It's not a grape, but a gold pinecone, small and held by a silver chain. I don't understand it.

  I look up to ask, but when I do, he's gone.