“What are you doing?” I asked him.
“Upholding tradition,” he replied. He nodded to the kids assembled. “Since the dawn of time, man has been intrinsically linked to his gods. As I’ve said in class over and over again, man viewed the gods as true entities, ones who could be entreated or invoked, feared or loved. Only in the last few centuries has that practice moved away from common thought. Now the gods of old are seen as myths, and the gods many worship today exist behind veils and walls of liturgical hierarchy. Here, in this room, we go back to the basics. We explore what it means to be truly human, and to truly connect with the divine.”
My stomach churned and it took all I had to keep standing and not just collapse to my knees.
He squeezed my shoulder. “I know what you think,” he said. “I know the correlation you’re drawing—I saw your sketch, and I know you think what we’re doing is a part of it. But I assure you, it’s not. We are intent on not harming anyone. In fact, the main purpose of this group is to grow and flourish as artists.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The muses,” Tina said. She stepped closer to me. Was it my imagination that her eyes were wild, or did she truly seem a little touched? “Think about it. All the great artists made a huge deal about calling down the muses. I mean, look at Homer! He started his epics with an invocation.”
“So, what? You’re calling down the muses to be better artists?”
“Exactly,” Tina said.
“That’s . . .”
“Insane?” Jonathan asked. “Look a little deeper, Kaira. I think we both know it’s far from insane. We’ve all seen your thesis—we know that you understand the truth. The arcane is everywhere, waiting to be invoked to further the progress of art. That’s why I asked you to join us. You’re already connected to that world—you already see the potential and inspiration within the occult.”
“But people are dying,” I began, but he cut me off.
“Suicides happen,” he said flatly. “They are tragedies, but they happen. What we do here has nothing to do with blood.”
“But Jane? And Mandy? Were they part of this?”
It was the first time Jonathan actually looked uncomfortable by my questions. He looked to the others.
“Just Mandy,” he replied after a moment. “But she was not a suitable vessel. She wasn’t strong enough to withstand the powers of a god. But look around you. Look at the work your fellow students have achieved, without harm, without pain. You have that strength within you. If you opened yourself to the power, you could achieve anything.”
Without harm, without pain . . . The gods require blood. Maybe the kids doing the summoning hadn’t been hurt, but the gods demanded a price. Someone had paid. And that someone was Jane. Who would it be the next time?
“Nothing is free,” I said, forcing down the image of Munin perched on my sink, my blood pooled around me. “What about Jane? How was she involved?”
“She wasn’t,” Jonathan said. “I already told you—it was a suicide. A tragedy.”
“Then why the hell was there a ring around her body?” I asked. I glared around the room. “Was it one of you? Did you sacrifice her?”
Jonathan put a hand on my shoulder. “You need to calm down, Kaira. Jane was not involved in this, and no one here was involved in her death. We aren’t trying to harm others—we are trying to further art.”
“Then explain the ring,” I demanded. “Why was it there? Why was she a sacrifice?”
Jonathan said nothing.
“Why don’t you just join us for tonight?” he finally said. “Leave your misconceptions at the door for another hour and we’ll show you there’s nothing at all diabolical here. We are merely exploring ancient rituals and integrating them into a modern practice. It’s no different from praying before a recital or giving thanks for a good show.”
“Then why the locked door?” I asked.
“Magic has always been scrutinized. What the world doesn’t understand, it fears, and we have no room for fear or hatred here. This is a place of learning. Of connection.”
I wanted to hate him. I wanted to scream. But the trouble was, everything he said made sense, and that made it worse. I grew up with a pagan mother—I’d helped with rituals and solstices, made her charms and teas. I believed what he said—the gods were there to be invoked, and many were the beneficial sort. But as Munin had warned, there were more gods than there were stars in the sky. And not all of them wanted humanity to flourish.
“Who are you invoking?” I asked.
Jonathan just smiled.
“Not all gods are named,” he said. “Come, we don’t have much time. Kaira, if you’d stand over here.”
“No.”
He paused and looked at me.