Was working with, corrected Justin. She’s done with that now.
Mae’s words replayed through his mind as he slowly walked back into the house: I refuse to give in to them, and you should too. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll resign from your job and . . . I don’t know. Go back to teaching. Go back to anything, anything that’s not this.
Maybe she was right. A surge of anger welled up in him, anger for the hurt he was feeling and at the role the gods were playing in messing up their lives. But was it entirely the gods’ fault? Really, when Justin looked at it, things had fallen apart because of one person, the man who’d worn his face to take advantage of Mae. Thinking about that, it became easier and easier for Justin to channel the pain of Mae’s loss into hatred and revenge for the mysterious assailant.
He ignored Cynthia’s attempts at conversation and stormed to his room, slamming the door behind him. Okay, he told the ravens. Get your master on the line. If he wants me, he can have me. Mae’s pulled herself out as a bargaining chip, but it doesn’t matter. I want to find who did this to her. If Odin can help me do that, I’ll swear my undying loyalty to him and act as his priest.
The declaration lifted a huge weight from Justin’s shoulders, and he expected any number of reactions from the ravens. Joy. Disbelief. Smugness. What he got instead was almost a sense of . . . discomfort.
Ah. That won’t be necessary, said Magnus.
We’ve, um, been meaning to talk to you about this, but things got so hectic last night that we figured we should wait to tell you, added Horatio.
Justin sat down on the bed, wishing this form of communication gave him the ability to look his advisors straight in the eye because he definitely needed some context.
Tell me what?
There were a few moments of silence, as though each raven were daring the other to speak.
It’s done, said Magnus at last. You are bound to our god. You fulfilled the terms of the deal already.
What are you on? demanded Justin. I did no such thing! I know that deal word for word. I have to take Mae to my bed and claim her before swearing to Odin, and in case you haven’t been paying attention to my screwed-up love life, I’ve gone out of my way to avoid that scenario.
And yet, said Magnus, you enacted it last night.
Justin was indignant. Really? Did you see something I missed? Only if you missed the part where Mae was in your bed, and you
poured your heart out to her, claiming her as the only one in the world for you, explained Horatio.
That wasn’t sex! protested Justin.
Who said it had to be? asked Horatio. You’ve been going on about how “claiming” someone in bed is such an archaic way to talk about sex, but really, you’re the only one who’s been hung up on that term. There are many ways to interpret those words, and you fulfilled them in a very literal way last night by claiming her as your soul mate.
I know I never used that term, Justin said, still unable to believe what was happening.
No, but that’s not what matters. What matters is that you can claim someone in a number of ways, and really, declaring that they’re the one, that there’s no other for you . . . well, said Horatio, call me a romantic, but that’s a much more profound way to claim someone as your own than through sex.
Odin never clarified the meaning! Justin protested. It’s a trick. A trick based on one word.
You never asked for clarification, said Magnus. And you played a similar trick on Odin when you dodged the deal the first time you made love to her.
First and apparently only time now, said Justin. This isn’t fair.
Fair? Magnus had no sympathy. He let you out of the deal fairly because you had the power of words on your side. This time, the words and meanings played you. Accept it gracefully. This is binding. You’ve fallen into the deal and must now serve him.
I get nothing! I don’t get Mae. I don’t get the power to find her assailant.
Nothing? asked Horatio. You get to serve our god! You have the honor of being his first and greatest priest in your country, and this torc Mae gave to you in anger will only aid your quest. I’d hardly say that’s nothing. And Odin may still help you find her attacker.
But no guarantees, said Justin morosely. He set the torc on his bedside table and felt nothing as he stared at it. A great and powerful artifact meant nothing without Mae.
No, agreed Magnus. The time for bargains is over. You’ve led him a merry chase with your ability to wheel and deal and make the most of twisting words. It’s a trait our god possesses in abundance and is what he admires in you. Now is the time to serve and fulfill your promise.
The truth of the ravens’ words settled in Justin’s gut, just as it had when another word trap had landed him into learning Odin’s runes and lore. Justin had recognized his inability to bargain then, just as he’d known he had the power to escape after sleeping with Mae before. But now? Now, he could feel Odin’s chains settling upon him. Intentional or not, Justin had claimed Mae with his heart, if not body, and now he was bound to the god as a result.
I wish you wouldn’t look at it as a punishment, fretted Horatio, sounding legitimately upset. Odin truly is a great and generous god who cares about you. You will find joy and meaning in his service.
The only thing that brought me joy and meaning is on her way to a war zone, Justin retorted. But rest easy, I’ll stand by my word and serve. In fact, I think I’ll start celebrating my new vocation right now.
Eight hours later, he was still drinking.
It hadn’t been continuous, of course. That was largely because he’d passed out in the afternoon after overdoing it in the first part of the day. As evening rolled around, he found himself in a far better position to pace himself, simply keeping a steady supply of drinks coming that maintained his buzzed state but protected him from being sick or (hopefully) getting alcohol poisoning. He’d made his way to an upscale bar downtown, finding the atmosphere much more welcome than the one at home, after Cynthia had thrown him out for “turning to self- destructive behavior as a way to make yourself feel better about screwing up.”
She was wrong, though, because none of this self-destructive behavior was making him feel better about anything.
“Is this seat taken?”
The voice surprised him, largely because Justin had gone out of his way to avoid any female interactions so far this evening. It wasn’t that he couldn’t—after all, there were no commitments between Mae and him—but the thought of wooing female company for the night seemed like a lot of work for not very much reward. Besides, he knew enough to know when he was charming drunk and just drunk-drunk. He was definitely the latter, and while that still didn’t rule out his chances with women, it didn’t necessarily help them either.
When he saw the speaker, though, he silently cursed his inebriated state. Daphne Lang sat down beside him.
“I have nothing to say to you,” he said, wondering how quickly he could sober up. No time was ever a good time to be cornered by a reporter, but being trapped by one when you weren’t in full possession of your wits was probably the worst time. “And you should be ashamed of yourself for following me.”
“Relax,” she said, waving over the bartender. “This is a happy coincidence. I live around the corner and come here all the time. I admit, however, I was planning on speaking to you at some point.”
“The usual?” asked the bartender, earning a smile and a nod from her.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Justin when they were alone again. “Word has it Tessa’s done with you, and I’m not selling her out to give you some crap human interest story. Go scavenge somewhere else.”