22
In the doorway is an endless darkness.
It’s both inky and smoky all at once.
“Care for a drink?” Dionysus asks the monster, an ingratiating smile on his face. A glass appears in his hand and he holds it out.
Even as Dionysus speaks the darkness swirls closer, enveloping him until he disappears from view. A scream comes from inside the deepest part of the black.
“That’s not good,” Trevor observes.
“I can maybe puppet it,” Tamika says. “I just need a bit of its blood.”
“It doesn’t have blood,” Tina snaps. “Any i***t can see that.”
“Everything has some sort of life essence,” Tamika counters. “Wet goo that holds it together.”
“I’ll get it.” Shauna’s voice is small as she flaps her wings near my ear.
“No,” Tina and I say together.
The monster is done with Dionysus. It floats towar
