I’ll show you tonight, Magnus told him. Skip dinner. Don’t eat anything. Tell them you don’t feel well, then have Mae guard your room from anyone else entering.
The ravens offered no further elaboration, and as more diplomatic dealings and small talks called for Justin’s attention, he had no chance to question his feathered companions. But when the day wrapped up, and they returned to Carl’s estate, he followed the birds’ bidding and stayed behind while the rest of the Gemmans (except ostracized Mae) went off for dinner. Lucian shot him a look almost as skeptical as the one he’d given the previous night, but if he had doubts or suspected an ulterior motive, he kept that to himself, saving Justin from lies or explanation.
Mae was another story.
“What’s going on?” she demanded, once the two of them were alone in his room.
“I’m not sure,” he said. “Maybe nothing. Magnus supposedly has a way for me to gather intelligence about the Grand Disciple.”
“Didn’t you lecture me last night on the dangers of supernatural involvement?” she asked. Pointedly.
“Yes, because you’re dealing with an unknown variable. I know mine.”
“You said there’s always a cost.”
“One I pay daily,” he shot back. “I’m sparing you from a similar fate. Are you in or not?”
She sighed. “You know I am. What do you need?”
Per the ravens’ instructions, Justin stripped down to his boxers and sat cross-legged on the bed. “Mostly they say just to stop anyone from interrupting me. Don’t let anyone come through that door. Oh, and open the window.”
Mae looked up at the small window at the top of the wall. It was big enough to allow light but would provide difficult egress for an adult, especially without a ladder to get up there in the first place. But she was still able to open it by standing on the bed before moving over and striking a defensive position against the door.
“Now what?” she asked.
“Now your guess is as good as mine.”
Relax, Magnus said. Expand your senses. Think of me. Think of becoming me.
You’re going to turn me into a bird? Justin asked him.
Not exactly. Just try to let go of your own body. Focus on mine, on wings, on flight, on my essence.
It wasn’t easy, and not just because of the metaphysical nature of the task. Justin had never seen Magnus physically—well, not since a brief glimpse on a smoky night. But Justin did his best to focus on that memory and what he knew of the raven now, of his personality and nature. Magnus talked him through it, guiding Justin’s mind and breathing until time and his surroundings faded away. A strange euphoria began to fill Justin’s body, an indescribable power like nothing he’d ever felt, though it reminded him of the high brought about by some of the sketchier drugs he’d taken in his life.
Suddenly, Justin had the sense of emergence, like he was breaking through a barrier or bursting from water. The room snapped into focus, clearer and more vivid than before as he looked down on it . . .
. . . and himself.
There he was, still on the bed. His body sat in the same cross- legged position, but his blank, staring eyes were like those of someone stoned or comatose. The weirdness of it started to break Justin’s control, but Magnus talked him back.
That’s only your body, your common physical form, the raven said. You’re sharing mine now. The part of you that matters, your soul and your essence are in this form. You’re safe. You’ll return to your body . . . eventually.
Justin looked around the room again and became aware that he was circling it, gliding and hovering on large, black wings. By the door, Mae stared up at him with wide eyes, and while she didn’t look scared, per se, she certainly appeared a little disbelieving.
She can see us, he told Magnus.
Yes. We’re in my physical form. You don’t have the strength or power to go in my invisible form, unfortunately.
What is that . . . joy I feel? Justin asked. That bliss? Is it just that awesome being a raven?
Well, yes, said Horatio.
Are you in this body too? Justin asked, startled.
Magnus answered. No, but we are always joined. Thought and memory cannot be separated. As for that bliss, that is what it feels like to open yourself up to Odin. Now come. You won’t be able to stay in this state all night, and we need to go.
Justin flew toward the open window, leaving a gawking Mae behind, unsure whether he or Magnus was the one fully in control. At times, as they flew through the darkening twilight toward the lights of downtown Divinia, Justin felt as though he were indeed the one powering those strong wings. Other times, it seemed as though he were merely a rider. Regardless of who was in control, that glorious feeling remained, burning within him.
You’ve spent your whole life seeking the next best high from drugs or the arms of a woman, Magnus told him. When all along, all you had to do was surrender to the god who wants you. Easier, isn’t it?
That’s questionable, Justin responded. I can control when I take the drug. I can walk away from the woman. Something tells me that once I give into Odin, there’s no going back.
You won’t want to, Magnus assured him.
The rest of the journey passed in swift silence. Even if Justin hadn’t had the benefit of the raven’s better vision, one didn’t really need special sight to spot their goal. If you could find the city, you could find the glittering temple. It dominated its dreary landscape, easily visible from above. Less obvious was which of the many windows led to the Grand Disciple’s apartments, but Magnus had apparently retained a good sense of that and skillfully guided them around the numerous angles and towers of the temple’s exterior.
The question is if he still likes fresh air, said Magnus. Otherwise, this journey—while full of compelling conversation—has been a waste.
They circled one corner of the temple, and the rush of wind against Justin’s feathers—feathers?—slowed as they prepared for a landing. A large window that he now recognized as the magnificent picture one he’d seen yesterday loomed before them—and it was halfway open again. Magnus’s body deftly swooped in and landed on top of the glass pane, pausing to get their bearings.
Justin experienced that same disorienting sense of power that told him a strong elect was nearby. The Grand Disciple sat in the same living room once more, though his body was angled away from them, so he hadn’t seen the raven’s quiet landing. The room was in shadows, lit by candles, and the odds seemed good the priest wouldn’t notice his feathered intruder with the light fading outside as well. Unfortunately, Justin wasn’t sure there was much they could actually observe, save that the Grand Disciple looked much more like an ordinary man when wearing a black silk dressing robe instead of his jewel-laden regalia. Magnus might have provided a clever entrance, but the raven didn’t have the capacity to rummage through any personal possessions, and the priest didn’t seem like he would start talking to himself either.
Justin was about to express his frustration at their inability to learn anything useful when a soft chime sounded. “Enter,” called the Grand Disciple. Several moments later, the screen leading into the room parted, and a young man in a temple uniform entered with a Cloistered woman.
The woman was a mystery, but Justin soon recognized the man as Hansen, the deacon who’d let them in earlier. He knelt and kissed the Grand Disciple’s ring while the woman held back, much as Mae had earlier.
“Your piousness,” Hansen said. “I’ve brought her, as you asked.”
”Excellent, Timothy,” intoned the priest. He gestured Hansen to his feet and looked past him to the woman. “Unveil.”