Ain't Myth-Behaving

by Katie MacAlister

  “Yes, I bellowed. Henceforth, all needles, pins, and tacks are to be banned from the castle grounds.”

  Stewart blinked at me. His silence was profound.

  “That’s it,” I said, giving him what I hoped was an airy wave of dismissal. I avoided looking directly in his eyes. The expression in them wasn’t pretty.

  “Might I inquire why you wish to have all needles, pins, and tacks banned?”

  “She”—I pointed to Elfwine. “She used hot needles in one of those horrible summoning dolls she keeps of me. Hot needles! Down my back!”

  “I should have stuck them somewhere else,” she muttered, glancing at my crotch.

  “Ban them!” I ordered Stewart.

  “You want them banned because she used them to summon you?” he asked, obviously not getting the point.

  “Yes! Summoned me rudely, without my permission, interrupting me while I was conducting important business.”

  Stewart pursed his lips. “Summoned you as you just summoned me, from my own not inconsiderable workload, a workload you have dumped on me with a carefree gaiety that borders on the obscene?”

  “Er…” I cleared my throat. Elfwine’s lips curled into a sour smile. “That’s entirely different. I am your employer. You are my steward. I have a right to summon you whenever I like.”

  “May I go now?” he asked, casting his eyes skyward.

  “Yes.” By concentrating, I sent Stewart back from whence I had summoned him. As lord of the hunt, I didn’t have too many powers that weren’t related to game, which meant those I didn’t use often—like the summoning of minions—were lamentably a bit rusty. I turned back to Elfwine. “And as for you…no more needles!”

  “You ignored my summons. I was fully justified in taking whatever means necessary to ensure your participation in the ceremony.”

  “You thought torturing me was justified?” I stomped around her, waving my hands to keep from throttling the annoying woman.

  “You ignored the summons!” she repeated, both the volume and emotional intensity in her voice rising. “Yes, Maeve? What is it?”

  I turned to see who it was she was addressing. One of the new druids, a young woman of probably around nineteen or twenty, stood clad in the traditional druid garb of linen and wool robe, leather sandals, and a wreath of leaves twined in her hair. I squinted, just a little. The robe seemed to be a particularly sheer one, of a pale eggshell color. If I looked hard enough, I could see the dark circles of the girl’s nipples beneath it…

  The woman’s glance slid to me for a moment before quickly jerking away. “Are we having the ceremony now, or not? It’s cold standing around in the ceremonial robes.”

  “I said we were. Get back to the altar, child. His lordship will be with you in a minute.”

  “Ceremony?” I asked suspiciously as the girl bobbed a little acknowledgment and trotted off to the main part of the druid camp. “What ceremony? There aren’t any ceremonies to be performed between my birth and the hunt, other than bringing forth the hellhounds, and you’ve already done that.”

  A brief, fleeting smile flickered across her lips. “I greatly enjoyed that.”

  “I’m sure you did.” The look I gave her could have curdled milk. “We will be having a little talk about you complaining to Taranis about my dogs, but not until after the wedding. What ceremony are you planning now?”

  “Why, the initiation, of course.”

  “What initiation?”

  She gave an exaggerated sigh, and grabbing me by the wrist, hauled me the way we’d come. “The goddess’s initiation, of course. Since you didn’t like Aoife, Maeve has volunteered for the position. She’s very sweet, and docile to the point of being submissive.”

  I jerked back from her. “Not another one of your virgins! I told you I want nothing to do with them!”

  “Excuse me, am I interrupting?” Megan’s voice cut through the madness that was a conversation with Elfwine. She stood next to the motor home, an odd smile on her face.

  “Megan!” I leaped to her side, taking her hand. “I thought you were having a bit of a rest?”

  “I lost the key to my room, and thought you could give me another one, but if you’re busy initiating virgins—”

  “No!” I interrupted, squeezing her hand in a meaningful manner. Elfwine evidently saw the gesture and took druidic umbrage with it. She grabbed my wrist again, displaying strength that would do a stevedore proud. I gave Megan my most charming smile. “You’re not interrupting at all. I was just having a chat with one of the druids.”

  “We’re just about to have a ceremony,” Elfwine said briskly. “A private ceremony.”

  “Not with me, you aren’t,” I said, pulled against my will toward the blazing fire pit. Desperate not to lose Megan, I grabbed her by the arm and towed her behind me.

  We must have made quite a sight, because the people we passed stopped and stared.

  “Elfwine, this is ridiculous. Release me at once.”

  “Not until you’ve done what you must do. It’s the law. You must marry by Beltane, you must have a virgin, and you must consummate the relationship under the eyes of the lord son and lady moon.”

  “Oh, my. It really does sound like I am interrupting…” Megan’s voice was rife with amusement.

  “You should know that by now,” Elfwine continued. “We will chant while you deflower Maeve. Everyone, gather around and take your places; we will recite the druid’s prayer.” She dropped my hand and bent to pick up her staff.

  “I have nothing to do with this,” I assured Megan.

  She looked around the camp. “I can see you don’t. Where do they sell the I CERNUNNOS T-shirts? I’ll want to be sure I get one as a souvenir.”

  One of the male druids by the name of Patrick was hurrying past us, but he paused at Megan’s words. “Miriam handles the T-shirt sales. She also has a nice selection of mugs, mouse pads, and thongs.”

  I groaned and closed my eyes for a moment.

  “Thongs?” Megan asked in disbelief.

  I wondered if I could go back to the Underworld for another few months.

  “Oh, yes. They have a picture of his lordship’s face on…” Patrick gestured toward his crotch. “Very popular items, our Cernunnos thongs. You won’t want to miss the commemorative deflowering tea towel, either. It’ll have both the god and goddess on it, in a border of red to symbolize blood.”

  “Blood?” Megan imbued as much horror in the word as was humanly possible.

  “Aye, from the deflowering. Goddess’s blood is much prized. We hope to raise enough by selling the tea towels on eBay to finance a streaming video hookup for our grove website.”

  “These people are total strangers to me,” I said quickly to Megan, taking her by the hand again. Her fingers sent a little thrill of excitement up my arm. “Normally I have no interaction with them at all. I don’t know any of them well.”

  “Hi, Daneykins,” a sloe-eyed, sultry-voiced woman said as she strolled past, her hips swaying provocatively. The look she gave me could have set the stone walls of the tower on fire.

  I cleared my throat. “Except Jen. Er…that was over two years ago. She’s married, now. Happily.”

  “Is she.” Megan’s lips tightened. “It really is none of my business.”

  “That’s right, it isn’t,” Elfwine agreed, pushing between us. “People! It’s time!”

  The rest of the group came running from their various abodes, their faces shining with druidic anticipation. There were supposed to be only twelve druids in the grove that worshipped me, but over the twenty or so years that Elfwine had been elder, their ranks had grown until now there were over two dozen of them running around in robes, waving their staves, and burning bundles of sage at every possible moment.

  In the center of the camp, next to the fire pit, a long piece of stone rested on several smaller supports. Although most druid ceremonies did not call for an altar, this particular order had always used it for their most sacred of
acts. Laid across it now, like something out of a Botticelli painting, the virgin Maeve reclined, her eyebrows waggling at me in what was surely a come-hither look.

  “I am ready for you, my lord. I am ready to become your goddess. Plant your stave of life deep within my womanly depths.”

  “Good Lord, I had no idea people really talked like that,” Megan said, watching Maeve with a fascinated eye. “I must take some notes; this stuff is priceless. I wish Pam and Derek hadn’t crashed for the night—they could get the deflowering on film.”

  “There will be no deflowering!” I bellowed.

  No one paid me the least bit of attention. Elfwine was directing a chorus of druids to stand in a semicircle around the virgin, Megan had a notepad out and was taking copious notes as she talked with Maeve, while another man pulled out a digital camcorder from his robes, and with a whispered “I’ll get it all for the website,” began filming everyone.

  “It wasn’t like this in the old days, you know,” I told Maeve as I nudged Megan aside and held out my hand for her. Maeve glanced over to Elfwine for a moment before putting her hand in mine. “In the old days, druids knew what the word ‘worship’ meant. They scurried out of my sight when I rode past. They never bothered me, never demanded I do anything. They worshipped quietly, and they never, ever used hot needles on me. Get up.”

  “Get up?” she asked, confusion writ upon her face.

  “Yes. Up.”

  “You intend to take her virginity in a standing position?” Megan asked, eyeing me from crown to toes. “How very enterprising.”

  “I’m not taking anyone’s virginity,” I said, more and more exasperated by the whole situation. This was not how I’d planned to introduce Megan to the druids, or the issue of marriage.

  The tingle was back in my forehead.

  “My lord, if Maeve does not please you—although I can’t imagine why, she’s a charming girl, has wide childbearing hips, and ample breasts—I will bring forth the third virgin.” Elfwine marched toward me.

  “No more virgins!” I thundered, pulling Maeve from the altar since she didn’t seem to be inclined to move on her own. I set her down on her feet and gave her a gentle shove toward one of the tents. “Go put some clothes on, girl. I can see your tits through that robe.”

  Maeve gasped and covered her breasts before spinning around and running for a tent.

  Megan’s eyebrows rose as she made another note.

  The tingle in my head changed to a burn and I struggled to calm myself. My heart beat a furious tattoo, sending a dull roar of blood into my ears.

  “This is unacceptable!” Elfwine stood next to the altar, her anger unmistakable. “You cannot change the laws to suit your whims!”

  “I’m not trying to change the laws,” I answered, rubbing the increasing burn in my forehead. “I’m just not interested in any of your virgins. I’ve found the woman I’ve been looking for, and she will become my goddess.”

  “Who?” Elfwine shoved her face in mine. “Who is it? Who have you chosen, if not one of my virgins?”

  The blood roared in my ears now. I fought to maintain control over my ever-volatile emotions, knowing now was not the time to manifest in front of Megan. “None of your damned business.”

  “WHO?” She bellowed, her eyes sharp little shards of onyx that seemed to pierce my very being.

  “I am Cernunnos! You will not speak to me in that man—”

  “WHO IS THE GODDESS?”

  Elfwine’s screech made me lose my temper, and we all know where that leads.

  “HER!” I answered in a deafening roar, pointing at Megan. The anger I’d been struggling so long to control burst forth, manifesting in its usual method.

  “Who? Me?” she asked, looking up from her notepad. “What do you mean I’m your…Oh my God. Oh my God! OH MY GOD! Are those…antlers?”

  Six

  T he manifestation normally startled women, a few going so far as to faint. Megan didn’t look horrified as some of the other women had. She just looked startled and confused, her eyes wide with disbelief.

  “You have…antlers…growing from your forehead,” she said slowly, her gaze fixed on the manifestation.

  “I’m Cernunnos. Lord of the hunt. Sometimes, I have antlers. Most of the time I don’t.”

  “This cannot be,” Elfwine interrupted, her face pinched and red with anger. “You cannot make her your goddess!”

  “Whoa! I’m really not on board with this whole goddess business. I’m just a tourist.”

  I smiled at Megan to let her know I heard her, but directed my question to the annoying druid in front of me. “And why the hell can’t I?”

  “For one, she’s American,” Elfwine said.

  “I like Americans.”

  “Thank you. I think,” Megan said, her gaze still roaming over the manifestation.

  “She’s not a virgin!”

  One of Megan’s eyebrows rose, but she said nothing.

  “She said she was a virgin to Ireland. That’s good enough for me,” I answered.

  “That was just a joke, you know. Er…” Megan reached out a tentative hand. “May I touch it?”

  “You may touch anything your heart desires, although I was wondering if you wouldn’t care to go inside now? I can deal with this troublesome business on my own, if you are still feeling tired.”

  “Sleep is suddenly the furthest thing from my mind,” she answered, lightly rubbing her fingers over part of the manifestation.

  A jolt of electricity ran through me, causing me to tremble a bit.

  “I’m sorry,” Megan said quickly, pulling her hand back. “Did I hurt you?”

  “Not at all. The manifestation is extremely sensitive. Your touching it is very…sensual.”

  “Really? How very interesting…” She touched it again, and I closed my eyes against the wave of arousal that washed over me.

  Elfwine’s voice was like a cold bucket of water. “If you’re through rutting with the unsuitable American, can we return to the matter at hand?”

  “She’s not unsuitable, I don’t care that she’s American, and there’s not a single thing you can do to keep me from taking her as my goddess. Now, go hug a tree or something.”

  The druids in the circle gasped in horror at my comment. I glanced at Megan, a bit worried that she might not like my announcing her new position before I’d had a chance to finish wooing her, but luckily she seemed totally and completely absorbed in the manifestation, running her fingers along the various branches with little “Oh, wow!”s of amazement.

  Elfwine drew herself up and said, “You’re mad.”

  “Perhaps, but I’ll be happily mad.”

  She chewed that over for a minute, then spat out, “Very well. As you’ve chosen, however inappropriately, we will simply replace the eminently suitable and pure Maeve with this tourist.”

  “Hmm?” Megan murmured absently, her lovely blue eyes alight with intrigue as she continued stroking the manifestation. It was difficult to not react to the erotic pleasure she was giving me, but I knew it was too soon to introduce her to the more primal pleasures to be had in mating.

  “Nothing important, dearling. You like the manifestation, then?”

  “It’s so…wow. So different. So fascinating. So…male.”

  I waggled my eyebrows at her. “That’s not all I have that’s fascinatingly male.”

  “I bet,” she chuckled; then the smile faded from her face as her eyes met mine. Her fingers trailed from the manifestation down to my temple, and down along the line of my jaw. I leaned into her hand and kissed her palm. “You really are a god. What you said before—it’s real, isn’t it?”

  “Very much so. It’s a bit world shaking, hmm? When I first saw Cernunnos—the one before me, that is—I was a simple woodcutter. I had no idea the world encompassed so much that was hidden from mortal view.”

  “There was another Cernunnos?”

  “Oh, yes, there’ve been hundreds. It’s a position, not some
thing you’re born to. I am currently the third longest as far as reigns go, though.”

  She blinked a couple of times, the look of fascination in her eyes almost as arousing as the feel of her fingers on my face. “This is so amazing. I’m almost speechless, and that never happens to me. You have to tell me all about yourself, how you came to be Cernunnos, and…well, everything.”

  “What you do on your own time is your business,” Elfwine interrupted, grasping Megan’s arm and frog-marching her over to the altar. “Right now I have a ceremony to conduct. Can someone get me a proper robe? The next goddess is garbed in completely unsuitable clothing.”

  “Now, hold on here just one minute,” Megan said, digging in her heels and refusing to be hoisted onto the altar. “I’m willing to concede that somehow, by some means I haven’t yet figured out, that man over there is what he says he is.”

  “Your slave forever,” I said, giving her a particularly charming smile. “And might I say how adorable you are when you’re stubborn? It’s not a trait I’ve admired in the past, but on you it’s rather endearing.”

  “Stop that,” she said, pointing a finger at me.

  “Stop what?”

  “Confusing me. I can’t think straight when you smile like that.”

  I let my eyes twinkle at her. Her legs seemed to buckle slightly, forcing her to clutch the altar. I was pleased to see her response, but knew the battle wasn’t yet won. Her body might be very interested in exploring what it meant to be my goddess, but her mind was going to be more difficult to convince.

  “Now you’re playing dirty,” she muttered under her breath.

  “Only when absolutely necessary,” I answered as I strode to the altar. “This is finished, Elfwine. I have no idea why you expect me to engage in sexual acts in front of your lot of tree huggers, but I have no intention of doing anything of the kind. Megan and I will consummate our relationship alone.”

  “Hello, I’m standing right here! Stop making consummation plans that involve me. I told you I wasn’t interested in a fling, or becoming your little antler vixen, or whatever it is you people are talking about. Oh! What’s happening to the…er…”