Bacchus was as good as his word about the tour. Alice found that he made a surprisingly good tour guide. In fact, she might have found it interesting if she weren’t so distracted.

                He took her down long corridors and into large, spacious rooms done in marble and gold. The first was a bath house, which Alice gaped around at in awe, feeling the misty steam curl around her and brush past her cheeks. It was huge, nearly the size of a football field. Marble columns ran down each section, dividing the pools. There were baths of every shape and size, a heart shaped bath with peach coloured water, a circular, crystal blue pool, a clam-shaped pool with green water. Here and there, beds had been set up, and there were a couple of people receiving massages from the silent, white-clad servants.

                When she looked up she caught Bacchus staring sideways at her. He didn’t flinch or look away, just smiled in a way that made her skin prickle.

                “Do you like it?”

                “It looks…relaxing.”

                It did. Alice wanted to cut the tour short before it began and stay here. The steam curling off the waters looked inviting, and she was so tense. A massage would be wonderful.

                “Well, this place is heaven,” Bacchus pointed out.

                Alice smiled. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” She hung back a little when he turned for the door, listening to the music being piped over the speakers in the corners. Gentle music, classical, if she wasn’t mistaken. She could really learn to like this place.

                “Shall we continue?” Bacchus swept one hand towards the exit. “I promise, there are still more pleasures waiting, many more.”

                She didn’t doubt it, though the way he said “pleasures” made her a little nervous. He had better not get any funny ideas. Instinctively, Alice found herself reaching for the necklace she always wore, but then she dropped her hand away, holding back a laugh. He was a god, two measly little threads of magic weren’t going to help. The thought of the magic though, it was enough to make her reach up and touch the vial hanging from the chain. She missed that electric tingle, the buzz of taking in magic. She hadn’t done it in so long.

                Maybe she should, just to hold it inside, just in case he tried anything.

                For the second time, she looked up and caught Bacchus staring, but this time his eyes had gone narrow, and they glittered knowingly. She pulled her hand away and blinked at him, heart suddenly beating furiously. What was that look for? He looked like he thought he knew something, or…like he’d figured out something about her.

                Bacchus said nothing though, he just opened the door for her and gestured for her to go ahead. They were both silent the rest of the way down the long corridor, and Alice took in the ornate, Grecian sculptures on pedestals lining the walls, and the decorative ferns that draped from the sconces.  Everything was lush and colourful and utterly beautiful. Of course, this was heaven, so it was no surprise.

                “You know,” Bacchus broke the silence, finally. “You could only half sacrifice yourself.”

                Alice nearly tripped over her own feet, skidding to a stop, but Bacchus kept going down the hallway, not even looking over his shoulder to see her reaction.

                She hurried to catch up. “What? What are you talking about?”

                He shrugged, carefully casual. “I mean, the reason my people want you is because of your power. Because they’ve never seen a witch of such power and they covet you, or they want you dead. But if you only gave up some of your power….”

                He stopped at the last doorway at the end of the hall and held it open for her. “Do come in, this isn’t conversation for open hallways. You have many enemies, Alice Cunningham.”

                The room he led her into was much smaller than the bath house had been, but it was still huge, with a vaulted ceiling that was held up by what looked like solid gold pillars, and elaborate gold designs scrolling all around the tops of the walls. There were more pedestals inside, each one proudly bearing an expensive looking bottle of dark wine. Red silk draped from the walls and furniture, and everything was accentuated by rich green ferns, balancing out the gold. It was exactly the type of room that Alice would have expected from someone who was basically the god of “having a good time”.

                There was a servant waiting there, a woman with sweeping golden hair and sharp blue eyes who looked up as they came in. She’d been arranging a platter of fruit, and now she frowned, tight-lipped, at Alice.

                “Tista, please retreat to your room for a little while, I must have a private talk with my guest.”

                The servant looked less than impressed by this idea, and Alice was strongly reminded of the fanatical siren that had been Ambrose’s servant. At this point she could barely remember the woman’s name, it seemed like such a long time ago, but the memory was still there. And it wasn’t pleasant. She wanted nothing to do with jealous servants, or spoilt, ridiculous gods that acted like children, for that matter.

                She glanced sideways at Bacchus. He did remind her a little of Ambrose, if she was being honest, even the room did. It was rather surprising that he didn’t have a room full of women waiting for him. Not having a harem was points in his favour, at least there was that.

                Bacchus waited until Tista had gone, slamming the door on the way out. He shrugged at Alice almost apologetically. “Teotista is my favourite servant, and she gets protective of me sometimes. She probably thinks you’re going to stab me or something.” That sly smile curled the corner of his lips again. “She’s heard about you and Epimetheus.”

                “Then she’s a smart woman.” Alice folded her arms across her chest. Establishing where she stood was a good idea, now that they were alone in his private room. “You and I both know what happened to him.”

                Bacchus’ smile didn’t slip, but his eyes went darker for a few seconds. He turned suddenly, reaching for one of the bottles on the nearest stand. “They say the gods have necter, but we don’t, we have wine. Thousands of years old, this has been around…oh, probably before your family line began.”

                Alice eyed the bottle of wine in his hand as he turned around. “Oh? Well, I’m sure it tastes lovely.”

                “Let’s find out, shall we?”

                She was about to protest, but Bacchus was already loosening the cork. Alice jumped when it came out with a bang, and the god’s smile twitched as he held back laughter.

                “Do I make you that nervous, Alice?”

                “You remind me of him.” She wasn’t sure why she said it, but his reaction was immediate and extreme. His face twisted, the anger crystal clear for a moment, before it disappeared. For a moment he seemed to grip the wine bottle more tightly, and then he turned slightly, so she could only see the side of his face, and began to pour the wine into two glasses that had been sitting on either side of the bottle.

                “He’ll be out in four years, you know.”

                She’d been trying not to think about that. “I’m well aware of that.”

                “I’m sure you are.” Bacchus handed her the glass of wine, which she took reluctantly, and Alice noticed that his hand was shaking ever so slightly.

                “Were you close, you and him? You seem upset.” Alice kept her face blank, but she couldn’t help feeling satisfied that the god was showing some form of weakness. He wasn’t nearly so playful and carefree as he thought he was.

                “Not quite.”

                “Enemies then.” She looked down at the wine, which did smell very nice, and wondered if she dared drink it. The last wine experience with a god hadn’t turned out well at all. She settled for swishing it around in her glass and looking at Bacchus expectantly.

                Bacchus hesitated. “Teotista will think I’m insane for telling you this, but… I think you’re trustworthy, Alice. I’m right, aren’t I?”

                Alice pressed her lips together. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to have confession time with Bacchus, even though it was rather satisfying to see a chink in his armor. She had to get him back to the subject he’d mentioned earlier, about her only sacrificing herself a little bit. What did that mean?

                But he was waiting for her to say something.

                “You want my honest answer? I care nothing for the affairs of the gods, I just want to be left alone. So if you told me something, it would never leave this room. And I have no interest or motivation to run to Epimetheus and betray you. He would kill me on the spot.”

                Bacchus nodded, apparently satisfied. He took a long drink from his glass and then said, “I loved a mortal woman once, which has been the downfall of many gods.” He shook his head. “She was mine, for some time, and then Epimetheus and I quarrelled. It was over something silly, I can’t even remember what, since I was…uh, shall we say... slightly intoxicated.”

                Alice nodded for him to keep going. She thought she could see where this story was headed.

                “I'm sure I don’t even have to tell you what happened next,” Bacchus said. “You know what he’s like. In a temper, he sought out my lover and killed her. I found her the next morning in her bed, her neck snapped. He did it without thought. She was nothing to him.” His hand was really shaking now, so violently that some of the wine slopped out and spilled over the side, and Alice felt her sympathy stirring.

                “How long ago was this?”

                Bacchus appeared to regain his composure. He cleared his throat and took another drink of wine, his expression returning to an indifferent smirk. “Years ago. I have moved on from her, though I hope she is happy in whatever heaven she ended up in, but my quarrel with Epimetheus is not over.”

                “What do you hope to do then?” Alice frowned. “You can’t kill him. You could hurt him, maybe, but why talk to me about it? I’m not going to be any kind of help.”

In a heartbeat, Bacchus was transformed back into his sly, smiling self. “Ah, but when Epimetheus is at last free from the river in four years, when he returns from the underworld and comes back here, he will find his promised spot in Gaia’s heaven has been taken  by me. And when he returns, before he is thrown out on his backside, he will see that I have the only other thing his heart is set on.”

                Her own heart was beating so loudly in her ears that it was hard to hear herself when she spoke. “What?”

                “You, Alice. He’ll see that I have you.”