Author's Note: This is the Beltane Finale--the New Wheel begins to roll from here.
Song for this Chapter: In the Woods Somewhere by Hozier. Parts of this song feel like Mercury's perspective and part like Cernunnos' feelings, and the sound...perfect for their interaction.
Cernunnos' POV
Mercury's stench is easy to track. I force myself not to rush. I want this over as quickly as possibly so that I can go to Cerridwen, but Mercury is still a god, if a much weakened one. He is cunning and he is strong, and he has had more time than I intended to prepare his own attack.
I follow the scent of gasoline and human sweat and godblood to the place Sucellus and my huntsmen must have dropped him. It takes me only moments to pick up his trail. He's heading East, away from the lake, into the densest part of the forest. Smart. Good cover for him. He would be more difficult to track if it were not for his stench. An occasional print or broken branch confirms where my nose leads.
The night is perfectly dark. Hundreds of creatures watch me with pale eyes. None skitter away nor molest me. I am Lord of Beasts. They sense my dark and deadly mood, and they have come to keep vigil with me.
I step over logs and beneath rhododendron fronds, moving silently. His scent fades, his tracks stop abruptly. I look around, double-checking. No, I have missed nothing. My eyes move to the canopy.
He's there, up a tree, balanced on a large limb, his back against the trunk. His pale hair is streaked with blood, his eyes are closed. I think he's foolishly allowed himself to fall asleep, but then he speaks.
"I have no mind to flee you, Cernunnos. In truth, I wish for a quick death, even if it is a grisly one. I am so eager to return to the Roman way, that even the Underworld will suffice. I am sick of this place. It reminds me of her and I am...heartsore."
I climb the tree opposite him, and sit upon the limb, staring at him. "You know nothing of Cerridwen, you fucking Roman bastard."
"She had a...wild and fierce spirit. I have existed a very long time, and until I met her, I did not know what being alive actually felt like."
He sounds sincere. It's a quality I've never heard in Roman speech. "I suppose you don't believe me, though. I suppose you can't understand why I would kill the goddess I desired."
"I understand perfectly why you killed her. You thought her death was a means to accomplish both your aims. You thought it would unbalance me enough to defeat me, but also to win her. Your rape of her immortality did not humble her enough, did it? You thought death would. You say you liked her fierceness, but in truth, you thought a little death might soften her towards you. You thought women like the men that can rule them, and all that bullshit. You thought you could find her in her afterlife and re-cloak her in her immortality as your Queen, and that she would be grateful that her murderer became her savior."
He shrugs. "I suppose, it was something like that, yes. Though, you left out the anger. I was angry with her, for the way she dumped me, without any remorse at all. When we were together, I...I admired her. Very much."
"If you truly admired her, why did you spend the few weeks she spent at your side complaining and belittling her?"
He shrugs. "Should I have shown her the tenderness that I was beginning to feel, only to have her rebuff me? She did not want feelings from me. She came to my bed mostly to pain you."
"Tenderness? You did not love her," I say coldly.
He looks at me levelly, his handsome face marred by the violence of Maeve's spell. "No, I suppose not. But she made me wonder if I could. And when I ended her existence, I felt...well, I felt."
Rage burns through me. Mercury wants to feel, does he? I will make him feel.
"It is time for you to run," I say.
"Nay," he says, opening his arms wide. "Have at me. I do not fear a violent death."
If I did not hate this piece of shit so much, I might commend his bravery. At least I see now, where Finn gets it.
"You don't fear a grusome end, do you? It's what I told myself, too." I say. "Ten thousand times. But the truth is, even if you're relatively sure you will be restored to your godhood, it's unendurably frightening, when you are hacked to pieces. You feel every slash, every gash, every tear, every spillage of organs, every limb drop. Perhaps the most maddening part is when the blood drips into your eyes and you move to wipe it away, only to discover you don't have a hand or an arm, anymore. In that moment of utter futility, that's when the pain really hits you, but it's too late. You can't make it stop. You've lost too much godpower to reverse your injuries. When control is no longer yours, the pain will go on and on. You would think, from over there upon your perch, that you will wish for death in that moment, but trust me, it's in that moment you will want to live. You'll want her. More than you have ever wanted anything. You'll want her kisses and her comfort and her magic to soothe the pain. You won't ever have it. You'll wake up in that Roman Underworld and return to your goddamn Roman way, but you'll remember your death at my hands for eternity—the way it made you long for her. A longing that will never be fulfilled. I hope it becomes your own personal hell."
Mercury eyes are bright with fear now. Good.
"Why don't you run, Mercury?" I sigh. "Are you not the wing-footed god? It is a fitting end for you. You'll make a better death on your feet." I do not tell him I hope the adrenaline coursing through him after flight will make him feel his death more acutely.
He looks at me coldly, but in his civilized manner, he inclines his head. "I suppose you have some wisdom after all, Cernunnos." He rises gracefully on the limb, walking sure-footed out the length of it. He leaps, and he is running.
Stag, even with his immortality shorn from him, he is still fleet. As fast as any beast I have ever hunted. I lead with my horns and a snarl, flying off the limb after him.
We tear through the forest, him lithely dodging all natural obstacles, me crashing into trees at first in my rage. My mistakes lengthen his lead, but he is still in my sight, a silver streak like an automaton, so out of place in my natural domain. I lean into the beast, and soon I am bounding on all fours, taking great leaps and gaining upon him.
A massive tree ahead, Mercury headed straight for it. He will dodge at the last minute, making it harder for me to turn. If I only I can push harder—
One final burst of rage and I push off from the earth with all the power I have, putting my head down at the last possible moment. My left horn pierces his back, just above the right kidney. His sharp cry of surprise rings out in the dark, and then I feel the shudder of my horn planting into the tree. I hear his teeth grinding, a proud refusal. He will not whimper, but the sickly sweet scent of pain floats into my nostrils. His blood runs down my horn and into my hair.
I reach up, grab him by the neck and jerk my horn free, catching him as he falls. I drag him away from the tree into a clear space and toss his reeking, panting form on the ground. He doesn't speak, he just stares up at me. I am glad he uses no words. It will make this easier, if he doesn't beg.
I drop to my knees and claw away his shirt. His wound is already healing from what godpower remaining to him. But slowly. I have him at my mercy to finish the kill, for minutes at least. The guts must be spilled first. I have the strength to do it with my bare hands, but I find myself taking out my knife. It's cleaner, less painful that way. Wait. I want him in pain, don't I? He murdered Cerridwen. He stole my soul. He deserves all the pain I can deliver.
My hand is shaking slightly in the indecision. I have killed many men in defense of humans I loved, and in war, and occasionally in wrathful punishment, but I have grown unaccustomed to the hunting of men. I have not done this since I became truly self-aware. The last time I ate a human, I was as much a beast as much as Sir Kittyhart—some fourteen, fifteen thousand years ago.
Suddenly I have no lust for eating his liver while he watches. But I will, to make a point.
Knife, then, to the throat first. He'll die quicker that way. I put the blade against his throat, and the bastard looks me straight into the eyes and pushes into it. I let the knife sink slightly into the flesh, but still, I don't bear down. I don't rip the carotid or sever the soft cartilage of his trachea.
We just stare at one another, god to god, our eyes burning in the dark.
A twig snaps behind me, a body moving slowly.
"Come to share in the vengeance, my old friend?" I ask. The smell of hops and juniper on Sucellus is unmistakable.
"Well, Nuno, truthfully, I wasn't sure I'd find you in time, but I'm glad I did."
A flash, and suddenly the air fills with many more scents. I can hear the sounds of people's feet pressing softly into the earth in a ring around me.
"What have you done, Sucellus?" I growl.
"Don't blame me. It was your Priestess's idea, She says, they are your people. They should know you for the god that you are."
So many scents, all familiar to me know. Leander and Tandie. Grace and Susan. Isabel, Reece and Steven. Martin and Billy and Tyler and a dozen other Mystic Mountain Men. He's brought them to witness.
Not the trained witches, though. No one with magical power to hinder me. Just mere mortals, with little power, yet I find they hold a power over me I did not expect.
"This Roman God robbed Cerridwen of her immortality and then he murdered her mortal form," I tell them. "He deserves to die. Brutally."
Not one of them moves, or makes a sound of protest. They loved Cerridwen, too.
I press the knife against his throat. Mercury's breath catches. "It's true." His voice rings out clear in the dark. "I would have killed Cernunnos, too, but I have been defeated. Vengeance is his. Romans would do the same."
His words are proud. Goddamn Mercury, giving a fucking death speech. How noble. How brave. How Roman. He doesn't fool me. Death is a new and fearful experience for him. His now mortal heart is pounding, more alive than it has ever been. I press the knife deeper. With my gods eye, I can see the artery pulsing in his throat. I am a mere millimeter from the point of no return.
He feels the death nick coming. He stills. "You were right," he says to me softly. "I want to live. I want her here."
Fucking hell. She is here. Not with him, but with me. Though Carrie's body lies still, and the presence of her soul has fled, her memory is with me.
For all her fierceness, Carrie would not abide this—me killing with a cool mind. She felt some affinity for Mercury or she would not have bedded him. Perhaps it was only pity for the god he could have been. She would have that same pity now. Wise woman that she was, she would tell me that vengeance does not always equal death.
Most of all, she would be furious with me for even considering gorging on Mercury's insides in front of the children. I can hear her exasperated chiding, as if she were here now. Stag, Cernunnos—is this the way you want them to remember you?
I stab the knife into the ground beside his ear and pull him to his feet.
"That feeling of your heart beating for another? Of wanting what you can never have? That is my vengeance. Now, leave my domain, and take your fucking feelings with you. I hope they serve you, Mercury. I hope your heart remains fragile and beating wildly in your chest. It will pain you. It will cause you great suffering and misery. One day, it may also bring you the greatest joy, if you actually learn to love. Maybe you can do some good in your Pantheon, with love in your heart. Now go find someone to admire besides my wife, because her memory is mine and mine alone."
Mercury's face pales at my words. This is not the outcome he desired. Temporary death would have been more noble than to slink back to Jupiter, mortal and defeated and—how did he say?—heartsore. "Godsdamn you, Cernunnos."
"You already did." I walk away.
I hand him over to my huntsmen. "Take him to his kinsmen. Let them go. Have the witches direct the spirits to close the wards." The huntsmen move away with him, leaving me with my pagan students.
I stop before Leander and Tandie. The others gather around. Blood of my blood, so many of them. So much I wanted to teach them. So little time now. I feel Sucellus' hand upon my shoulder. From his place behind the cask, he has glimpsed the hearts of so many men. He will guide these.
"Come," I say. "There is one final rite we must make together."
I walk slowly, as I did each Samhain.
I think myself well past the point of surprise, but as we reach the ritual site, I confess am wrong, for the last time. These witches have done the unexpected. They are prepared to perform my final rites. My step is abrupted. I've died ten thousand times, but I've never had a funeral.
Two bowers have been erected beside Cerridwen's altar. One bower is open, and Sean and Dru sit upon a pallet in its center, dressed in the muslim robes of ancient ritual. She is turned sideways in his lap, leaned against his chest, her eyes closed, and he has his arms around her, head bent over hers, speaking low into her ear. Or maybe singing, I can't tell. Their focus is utterly entwined, completely internal. The ache in my heart eases slightly at the perfectly content expression on Dru's face.
She will be well loved.
The witches chant, but I have no mind for the magic they will work to ease my passing. My only thought right now is for the souls I love.
"Where are they?" I ask, sure that Sucellus will understand. I would have a final word with my heir, and a final blessing from my priestess.
He points to the second bower, which is a solid sheath of blooming mountain laurel.
"They have already begun," he says. "Sean and Dru will wait. Maeve thinks it must be so." I stare at him, not knowing what he means. Sucellus opens his hand. Dru's black diamond ring is inside. "Sorry I picked your pocket for this, but you need a link, on this side. Maeve has spelled it. Crush it, and Dru will feel it. They'll be ready to do their part." He smiles at the two young lovers.
Half a soul means a half a mind. I still do not comprehend, until the Greenspark ignites the second bower, setting the laurel aflame in a green roar. All are mesmerized by the energy they have never seen, but it flames familiar to me. Magic I have known ten thousand times.
I understand now. Finn and Lana have opened Divine Space. Their energy is flowing into the bower, making a stable portal. That's what the spell is for.
"My brave children," I say, and Sucellus chuckles.
"Love makes us all fools. None bigger than you, Nuno. Go." He shoves me forward.
Maeve's coven never breaks its chant, but Maeve turns to me. She looks me straight in the eye like I'm just one of her Mystic Mountain men and says, "I have the sight." She gestures toward the flaming bower. "Just got a glimpse in there. Things over there ain't gonna be like you think. Time don't exactly exist. I don't think you're heading into a weekend getaway. You're going to need this, I think," she folds Cerridwen's immortality over my arm. She squints at Cerridwen's mortal form. "Not sure if you'll need that. Hope so, but I can't see that far."
Nothing she has said surprises me. I've never had any awareness beyond the edge of Divine Space—the cusp of ecstasy where divine sex exists. Something tells me an unbound soul could wander in much deeper. "Thank you, Maeve," I hold out my hand to her.
She doesn't take it. Her mouth is set in a thin line as she shakes her head. "We ain't square, Cernunnos. Nowhere near. Lana was supposed to be the first Mystic Mountain witch to go to college and get out of these mountains. She was going places, and taking our tradition with her. You got my daughter bound up with a newbie god who don't know which way is up, yet. Now you're gonna leave him in charge. You're leaving him big shoes and not alot of godly help. I see it in his eyes. He'll make his own help. He wants a houseful of godlings. His own little Pagan Pantheon. Even if it doesn't happen today, I guarantee he'll put a baby in my daughter before she is legal to drink moonshine."
"He is an honorable god," I frown. "Divine love-making is a sacrament, but a Pantheon of bastard godlings? He would not profane my Priestess in such a way." The way I profaned Druantia.
Maeve slaps her hands to her sides, all exasperation. She taps me rudely on forehead. "Is your god's eye not working properly? He already married her, didn't he?"
I blink. Beside me, Sucellus raises a finger to his lip and chuckles nervously. "Yeah, you...uhhh, missed the handfasting while you were yapping with Mercury. It was quick. We kinda figured you'd give your blessing."
I sigh. I suppose it's a good thing that they are making decisions without me. "It's fine." I concede. "I would have wished that they waited a few years, until Finn's power is stable, but perhaps its for the best that they will stand together from the beginning. They love one another with a rare love."
"Yeah, yeah. You know what's as rare as the love they share? The hate the Romans have for him now. Hell, Finn's face is probably already on the Most Wanted Board in Olympus. Which means my daughter, and any children she might have will be Roman targets, too." She jerks her head towards Sean. "And my son? Do you know how rare he is? And powerful. He dreads the knowledge of it, but he is the future of Mystic Mountain. I gave him an adolescence free of that burden by binding his magic, but I always knew he was coming home. I saw it," she points to her third eye. "Now I haven't had so much as a glimpse of either one of my children's futures since you showed up. You have changed everything. So you come back, Cernunnos, you hear? Because you started some shit with this New Wheel, and you damn well better finish it."
I force a smile. "You are one fierce witch, Maeve."
She huffs. "Oughta be." Her face softens as she walks forward to Cerridwen's alter. "It's like you said, the Witch Goddess Cerridwen is my ancestor. Been knowin' that for awhile. The lineage is in the family grimoire. Only the Coven leader can read it, though."
I nod, "That's why you are helping me."
She nods and says roughly. "'Course. Blood is blood. No particular matter if you like your blood or not."
I have that feeling again, lightened to know that Cerridwen lives on in these wild witches. "You would have liked Cerridwen better than you like me."
"Well, that remains to be seen, don't it? If you don't fuck up over there in Divine Space, maybe you'll bring her home to us."
I want to kiss this firebrand of a witch that is my descendant. She has done what the others didn't dare. She has steeled me, and hardened my grief into resolve. She is more like Cerridwen than she knows.
"I won't fuck up."
She grins at me, for the first time. "We'll see. Now, get gone." She cocks her head toward the Divine Portal, "I know he's a god, but that kid is not going to last forever. Can't believe I have to spell my own daughter's deflowering."
Sucellus laughs, I shoot him a lethal look. He covers it quickly with a choking cough. He pats Maeve on the shoulder. "The things a witch has to do, these days."
Maeve elbows Sully. "You slow or something, Sucellus? I was kidding. Just trying to make Cernunnos laugh one last time. That girl of mine's just like her mama—hot britches since she was fifteen."
Sully chokes for real now, and I find myself laughing, for real. It allows me to do the thing I dread most. I pick up Cerridwen's mortal shell—so light, so still. It's maddening, to feel how lifeless she is, but the echo of laughter gets me through it.
I walk toward the flaming bower.
My last look is to Sucellus. He's got an arm around Maeve. He waves. "Go. We'll mind the children."
I take one last look upon Cerridwen's form as I enter into Divine Space and know no more.
A/N: Oh my. What will happen now? Will we ever see or hear from Cernunnos again, or is he lost to oblivion?
Don't worry--I have the answers, but it make take a week or so for me to update with the last few chapters. Christmas holidays, you know....I'll do my best. Please follow me and add to your library so that you will get notifications when theconclusion comes out. Thanks!