“How do you make him happy?”
“Slaughter a goat or ten, follow his rules, or the lack of rules, as the case may be, and throw the occasional party.”
The priest’s hand gestured to the scene behind them.
“Ah.”
“It’s up to you. Forgive me for saying so, but you don’t seem like a young man with a clear vision of where he’s going in life.”
“No, I guess not.”
“Here’s your once in a lifetime offer. Say yes, and I’ll introduce you to a genuine god. Say no, and I’ll have to insist you get drunk enough that you forget all about this conversation.”
The boy looked at the god’s creations, engaged in their celebration and worship.
“They’re a little scary.”
“Of course they are,” the priest said. “They’re divine, and every god worth the worship they get is at least a little scary. The weak ones get beaten, taken over. With him, for Dionysus, what you get is blood lust, desire, and naked fear. My question is, do you want him to be your scary god? Do you want that to be your desire, bloodthirst and fear to control?”
The boy looked at the scene again. He could see the animal in it, the nature, smell the alcohol and the blood and the moist grass. For a moment, perhaps, he could see what it would mean to be in command of that raw energy. It was a heady feeling, dizzying.
“Yeah.”
“There we go, finally a decisive answer. I’m Nathan, priest of Dionysus. You are…”
“Jeremy Meath.”
“Initiate of Dionysus.”
“Jeremy Meath, initiate of Dionysus.”
■
“This is a mistake,” Nathan said.
Jeremy shook his head.
“Everything comes at a price,” Nathan said. “The gods exact the greatest prices of all. You can’t treat this as some sort of system to be gamed.”
“I’m not,” Jeremy said. He walked the perimeter of the apartment, before throwing open the window. The furniture had been stowed in the bedroom, leaving the living room open.
“You haven’t practiced. You haven’t established a working relationship,” Nathan said.
“I’ve prayed, I’ve performed sacrifices.”
“But you haven’t learned to use the power he grants you. You’re going into this blind, and this is something you get one shot at.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re-“
The older man stopped mid-sentence.
“I’m what? Crazy?” Jeremy asked. “Our god bears the epithets of Bromios, of Agrios. He protects those who do not belong to society. Who is he, if not a god of madmen?”
“You’re too young. You’re still a teenager, inexperienced,” Nathan said, very clearly changing tacks, his argument weaker for it.
“I suppose we’ll see,” Jeremy said.
He laid out the item. The address plate with the house number for the condo.
“You’re reaching too far,” Nathan said. “You’re dooming me in the process. I have responsibility over you.”
“I hereby make a claim. Let this be my statement,” Jeremy spoke, his hand on the number plate, his voice low.
“Idiot,” Nathan said, his voice sounding farther away. “You’re going to war when you’ve never held the sword before.”
“I claim this space, and only this space. I claim it by right and deed, and I name it mine, I name it my god’s, and I name it for my god’s creations. I name it as my staging ground, a place from which I can expand my god’s realm. I do this not as a warrior-“
He paused, looking at Nathan.
“-But as a devout man. I go to war with faith in my heart, not a sword at my side. Let this be my challenge to all that would oppose me.”
The words reverberated through the area, through Jeremy and Nathan both, and all of Toronto.
“Dionysus,” Jeremy said, “I have not asked you for anything yet. Now I ask you to give me the strength to see this through. Let this gaping emptiness be filled by the powers of savage and inborn truth.”
Seconds passed. He could feel others approaching, their weight tilting the world by the smallest fractions. He closed his eyes, steeling himself. There had been no chant in the background, no tide of wine or terrible transformation. His god’s will was not making itself known.
But he could feel another tilt take place. He opened his eyes.
The color was draining out of Nathan’s face.
Sure enough, they arrived. Satyr, nymph, maenad, bacchae.
They gathered behind him, leaving Nathan bereft.
Most of them had been Nathan’s.
“You mad fool,” Nathan said. “Damn you.”
“The gods are gamblers,” Jeremy said.
“So are we,” Nathan said. “The game is rigged against all of us, unless we play very carefully.”
“If you believe that, you’re worshiping the wrong god.”
“I guess so. I didn’t expect him to lose faith in me before I lost faith in him.”
“Well, those are the old ways,” Jeremy said. “My first challenger is showing up now, unless you’re going to take the first stab at it? You can prove your worth, reclaim what I’ve been given.”
“Can I? I don’t think so. You’ve got his attention and favor right now.”
He couldn’t quite manage to keep the bitterness out of his tone.
“Goodbye,” Nathan said.
“Goodbye,” Jeremy said.
His mentor left.
The room grew darker, as the spirits claimed the space. It waited, in a state of flux, ready not not quite his.
He waited, quiet, and resisted the urge to drink. In years of service, he’d been lightheaded, but almost never drunk. Tonight might mark one of the few occasions he’d let himself get drunk.
He was relying on his god for insight.
He was relying on another simple idea, too. That his god had as much to prove here as he did. He’d noticed the trend, reading about the gods. Priests had to work to get the kind of displays their god first gave them as initiates. If his god was going to do his utmost to impress him, he might as well make use of that, and tackle a suitably large problem. The demesne.
The first arrival, five minutes later, was Doug.