Ain't Myth-Behaving

by Katie MacAlister

  A wave of frenzied black bodies washed over the crest of the path, white teeth flashing against savage red maws. I yelled and waved my arms, attempting to distract them from the scent of Megan’s tender mortal flesh, flinging myself on top of the hellish beasts with a battle cry that hadn’t been heard in four centuries. Instantly, the dogs were upon me.

  I braced myself for the inevitable pain of their first greeting, but rather than the familiar rending of flesh and abrading of tender parts by their teeth, soft, little moist dabs touched various parts of my body. I rolled onto my back and stared up in wonder.

  “These are…hellhounds?” Megan’s face came into view, her lovely alabaster brow furrowed with confusion. She held up a small, wiggling black creature.

  I frowned, and pushed several similar objects from my chest, glancing at Stewart. He picked up a hound that was wrestling with his shoelace. “I tried to tell you, Mr. Hearne. Elfwine felt the previous hounds were too aggressive, so she arranged for these to be your dogs this season.”

  I took the small, curly-haired bundle from him, and examined it thoroughly. Despite its petite size, its voice was that of a full-grown hellhound. “Poodles. She gave me poodles. Me, the lord of the hunt.”

  “Toy poodles to be exact, sir.”

  “You Irish sure have a strange way of treating your dogs,” Megan said, cuddling one of the beasts. “Hellhounds! Ha! Very funny. They’re adorable, although I don’t know many men who are big toy poodle fans. How many are there? Six? Shall we take them for a walk along the beach?”

  The hellhound poodles abandoned me when Megan snapped her fingers, all six of the little monsters bouncing around her in a curly-haired wave of excited enthusiasm as she headed down the rocky beach.

  “Toy—”

  “—poodles,” Stewart finished, helping me to my feet and dusting off bits of sand and dirt. “Elfwine said she was tired of your normal hellhounds killing the sheep she and the druids use for wool, so she asked Taranis for something less vicious this time.”

  “Poodles,” I said, under my breath, and made a mental note to wreak revenge upon Taranis at the earliest possible moment.

  Four

  I think we need to talk,” Megan said, then gave a self-conscious laugh. “Boy, I sound like I’m a girlfriend, huh? But I’m a firm believer in getting everything out in the open, and although I’ve been here just an hour or so, there’s already some things we need to talk about. Oh, dear—is the poor thing all right?”

  We were walking the perimeter of the castle grounds proper, which six hundred years ago had been a massive eight-foot-thick wall of stone, hand cut and hauled by local serfs.

  “If I’d known then that the mortar used to hold the stones together would last only a few hundred years, due to the constant sea spray, I’d have done a few things differently,” I said absently, picking up the poodle that had evidently stubbed its toe on a rock and was now baying loudly enough to disturb birds three miles inland. I looked at the paw it held up, removing a splinter of stone that was wedged into its pads.

  “Is it all right?”

  “The hound? Yes, they’re remarkably indestructible,” I said, putting the beast down. It bared its minute lips at me in the traditional snarled greeting before trotting over to its brethren and resuming its patrol.

  “They have very…er…unusual voices, don’t they? So loud and deep for such little dogs. I don’t think poodles are hounds, though,” Megan said slowly, giving me an odd look from the corner of her eyes. She giggled a little. “And they’re certainly not hellhounds.”

  “It’s a misnomer since hell doesn’t exist, as such,” I agreed, and used the opportunity of helping her up a slight incline to take her hand again. I liked the feeling of her hand in mine—the fingers strong and warm, twitching slightly when I stroked my thumb across her palm. “There’s Abaddon, of course, and the Underworld, but hell? It’s more of a generalized idea than an actual place. Mind the ditch; it’s what’s left of the moat. That was another mistake, but we’ll leave that story for another day.”

  Megan was silent for a few minutes, her eyes frequently peering up at me with an endearing expression of confusion. I smiled to myself, pleased the wooing was going in accordance with my plans.

  “I think there are even more issues we need to talk about,” she finally said as we stopped at what used to be the gate leading into the castle. “Those dogs, for one. And some of the things you’re saying—they’re very confusing. But most important is this attraction thing you seem to think is happening.”

  “Oh, good, I was hoping you were going to bring that up,” I said, pulling her into a loose embrace. The scent of her, subtle but heady as the oldest wine, sank deep into my awareness. “I suspect the effect you have on me is going to be one of my favorite subjects.”

  “I’m willing to concede that you’re an incredibly handsome man, and I’m flattered you seem to find me attractive as well,” she said breathily, her eyes losing a bit of their focus as I fitted her to my body. “But this isn’t why I’m here. I have a job to do.”

  If my time with Fidencia had taught me anything, it was that women liked to be nurtured in their little projects. “A job I will be happy to help you with. I know the history of the entire county. Ask me anything you’d like to know.”

  “You will?” she asked, her voice soft and dreamy as my lips brushed hers. A little tremor shook her as her body yielded to mine. “You do?”

  “Oh, yes.” The scent of her, the feel of her, the rightness of everything about her, made my senses reel. “I want you, dearling. Right now, right here in the grass. I want to lay you down and love you until your toes curl. I want to take you with the sun shining down on your hair, your cheeks flushed with arousal, your glorious breasts bared for my attention. I want to see your eyes go the same lovely misty blue they are now, and when I finally make you mine, when I take everything you have and give you back myself in return, I want to hear your cries of ecstasy mingle with the birds overhead. I want you, Megan, more than I’ve wanted any woman before.”

  “Oh, my God, you talk like someone out of a romance novel,” she said, her breath as ragged as my own.

  “To love, and to be loved, is the reason for existence,” I murmured against her mouth.

  “Who are you?” she whispered as I gave in to my raging desire and kissed a hot, wet path along her jaw to her ear.

  “Dane Hearne, lord of the hunt, and of the fifth hour of the Underworld, also known as Cernunnos. Marry me.”

  “What?” she all but shrieked, putting both hands on my chest and shoving backward.

  “Was that too soon?”

  Her eyes had a wild cast to them that I took as a yes.

  “We’ll forget the marriage part for now—we have six days for that, anyway. Let’s go back to what we were doing. I was just going to nibble your ear, and you were about to demand I rip off your clothes and have my manly way with you. Which, I should warn you, the schedule says I can’t do until tomorrow at the soonest, but we can do everything else until then.”

  She stepped back, holding out a hand to keep me from sweeping her back into my arms where she belonged. “You’re…you’re insane!”

  “Only half the year, and that’s mostly due to trying to keep the fitness instructors and televangelists from destroying my section of the Underworld.”

  “Okay, this has to stop right now,” she said, taking two more steps back.

  I wanted nothing more than to hold her and reassure her that I wasn’t quite as deranged as she imagined, but the flight instinct was running hot with her, so instead I sat down on a large boulder and gestured toward one a few feet away. “I apologize.”

  She took the seat, running a rather shaky hand through her glossy blondish-brown hair. “You do?”

  “Of course. I overwhelmed you, which is inexcusable. I’m not normally like that, but given the circumstances…it’s regrettable.”

  “I think we need to get a few things straight,” she sai
d, taking a deep breath.

  “Absolutely. May I hold your hand while we’re doing so?”

  “No!”

  I frowned. “You don’t want me to hold your hand? You don’t like touching me?”

  “On the contrary, I like touching you all too well, but that’s the problem.” She took another deep breath, and spread out her hands. “I’m not what you would call a normal tourist, all right? For one, I’m here to do a job. I have to win that contest so I can quit my job and do travel writing full-time.”

  I held my tongue. I wanted to tell her that I would support her in whatever style she demanded, but I sensed that now was not the moment to inform her of her good fortune.

  “Also, I’m not looking for a vacation fling. You’re incredibly handsome, and your accent makes my legs go all rubbery, and I have to admit, the things you do and say tend to make me forget about everything else. But I am not looking for a casual relationship.”

  “Good. Neither am I.”

  Her eyes were wary. “I’m sure you use that marriage line, and all the taking me under the sun business, and the mystical lord of the Underworld story with all the tourists, but I don’t put up with bullshit, all right? When I was younger, I had ovarian cancer. I beat the odds and survived it, but one of the results was that I cut out everything in my life that wasn’t really important. So why don’t we start over again, and do this without all the crap, okay?”

  My admiration for her rose, and with it, the certainty that this time, I had found the right woman. She had been tried, and conquered adversity. She was a worthy woman to be my goddess. I would spend the rest of my life in happiness with her. Fate had finally given me what I’d been searching for.

  I knelt at her feet, taking one of her hands in both of mine, pressing my lips to the back of it in homage. “You are magnificent. I can’t wait until our first quarrel to see your eyes spit blue fire at me, and to watch them turn soft with desire as we make up. You have captured me, Megan. I am yours. We will spend eternity together learning all there is to know about each other.”

  “Why are you doing this?” she said in a near wail.

  “Because I am Cernunnos, and come Beltane, you will be my goddess.”

  Her fingers tightened in mine. “Wait a second—now you’re saying you’re a…god?”

  “A minor one,” I answered quickly, not wanting her to get the wrong impression. “I do not possess great powers, Megan. I am not high-level deity, despite the druids worshipping me. I’m just a simple man, really, but I will make it my life’s work to ensure you are as happy as I can possibly make you.”

  “A lot of men think they’re gods, but you’re the first one I’ve met who’s actually come right out and admitted it,” she said with a hint of laughter in her voice. “Tell me again who you think you are? Kerwhosit?”

  “Cernunnos,” I said patiently, getting to my feet and pulling her with me. Explanations of who and what I was had never been my strong point, and I was relieved this tricky part of the wooing was over. “Although only the druids use that name. I prefer Dane.”

  “Druids,” she said, biting her lower lip as I escorted her up the slope that led to the standing parts of the castle. Her shoulders trembled beneath the guiding hand I had placed there. I wondered briefly if she was cold. “Druids worship you?”

  “Not all, only one sect. Neo-druids, to be exact. You can see their camp over there.”

  She looked where I had pointed. Elfwine and her clan set up camp every year with a collection of caravans, tents, and two motor homes, all arranged in a half-moon around a fire pit. “Those are druids? I thought that was a camping area.”

  “I don’t allow camping on the castle grounds by anyone but the druids. Erm…it may be best if you give the druids a bit of a miss until after Beltane. They’re usually high strung until the wedding.”

  She stopped, her hand pulling in mine, and I turned to see what was the matter. The smile had faded from her delectable lips, her eyes back to being wary again. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You believe everything you just told me?”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t lie to you, Megan. There will be no deception or falsehoods between us.”

  “You’re…you’re a god.” She extricated her hand and made a wide circle around me, turning so as to keep me in front of her.

  “Minor, yes.”

  “You’re god of the hunt?”

  “Exactly. It’s not every woman who could take in all of this at once, but you have mastered it quite quickly.”

  “And the Underworld?”

  I hesitated. If there was a part of her future I wanted to keep hidden, it was the bit about death and the time spent in the Underworld. “The fifth hour, to be exact.”

  “Hour?”

  “The Underworld is divided into twelve hours, or sections. I rule the fifth one.”

  She opened her mouth to say something, shook her head, and closed it again. She also took a couple of steps backward.

  The hellhounds galloped past, continuing their endless patrol.

  She pointed at the furry little black bodies as they spilled down the rocks to the road leading out of the castle. “And when you said those were hellhounds—”

  “I meant it. Technically, they come from the Underworld, not Abaddon, but they’ve been called hellhounds for so long, it’s difficult to call them anything else. Their job is to patrol the perimeter, guarding against potential attack.”

  One of her delicately shaped eyebrows rose in question. “You have six toy poodles guarding a castle.”

  “Yes, well…unfortunately, the druid leader takes her job too seriously. When she summoned the hellhounds, she requested they be a bit less formidable than is normal.” The back of my neck itched. I ran a hand over it.

  “Just out of idle curiosity,” she said, giving a rueful little laugh. “I know I’m going to regret asking this—who exactly does a god have to fear attack from?”

  “Anyone who wants my job,” I said with a shrug. The skin between my shoulders tightened uncomfortably, and I flexed them to ease the feeling. “That bastard Taranis has tried for centuries to get one of his sons into my place, but don’t let it worry you. I may only be lord of the hunt, but I protect what is mine.”

  She held up both hands. “Okay, I think I’ve reached my saturation point, because all of this is starting to sound perfectly reasonable instead of wildly insane, as it should. Clearly jet lag has left me without cognizant skills, so I think I’m going to have an early night and hit the hay.”

  An annoying burn ran the length of my spine, as if someone was poking red hot needles into my back—which is more or less what was happening. I needed to get rid of Megan before the situation worsened. “Why on earth would you want to hit hay? Not that I have any—as you can see, the stable has been converted into a dwelling.”

  “Sorry, an American expression. It means go to bed.”

  “How very odd. Of course you must rest if you are tired, but…” I cast a glance at the sky. There were still several hours of the day remaining, and I hated to waste them with nonwooing activities. On the other hand, the burning and itching and tightening were become too uncomfortable to ignore. It would be best if I got Megan out of the way for a few hours to deal with the situation. “Perhaps a little nap instead? I’m told dinner tonight is to be an event you won’t want to miss. Stewart excels in producing meals which both entertain and inform visitors about the history of the castle. You wouldn’t want to miss that.”

  She frowned and glanced at her wristwatch. “That does sound like something I should see—maybe a couple hours’ nap will be enough.”

  “I’m sure it will be more than sufficient,” I cooed, escorting her into the house and up the first flight of stairs. “I’ll call for you at dinner, shall I? Sleep well, dearling.”

  She paused halfway up the stairs, turning to look at me. “I don’t suppose you’d like to drop the love names?”

  The muscles between my shoulders jerked invo
luntarily. “I’m sorry, it goes with the job.”

  “You are such a strange man,” she said, shaking her head as she continued up the stairs.

  “Strange but intriguing,” I yelled up after her. “Don’t forget the intriguing part!”

  Stewart came out of the dining room, where he had no doubt been arranging for the evening’s event. “Did I hear a familiar bellow? Ah, my lord, there you are.”

  “Dane!” I snapped, hurrying out the front doors.

  “My apologies, Mr. Hearne. Would now be convenient for a few words about this evening’s show?” he asked, trotting alongside me as I headed for the druids’ encampment.

  “Not really. I’m being summoned.”

  He came to a stop in the middle of the road, glancing hesitantly toward the tents and motor homes. “I believe I’ll wait until you’re done, then. Elfwine was in a fury, earlier, when one of the maids told her you’d been seen kissing a tourist.”

  “When is she not in a fury?” I grumbled, and ignoring the itching and pain and discomfort, donned an austere and unmoving expression with which to face the formidable Elfwine.

  I had a feeling I was going to need every ounce of my charm to deal with her.

  Five

  M y lord Cernunnos, I bid thee welcome to our grove,” a voice said as I marched into the druids’ camp.

  “Might I have a word with you?” I asked, grabbing Elfwine by the arm.

  Her dark eyes glittered ominously as we came to a stop on the far side of the largest motor home. “Certainly, my lord. You know I am your humble servant.”

  Humble, my arse. “I thought we had an agreement about the hot needles, Elfwine! You know how I feel about needles, and hot ones doubly so! Needles have no business being stabbed into whatever horrible voodoo doll-like object you use to summon me. In fact, needles should be nowhere near it! STEWART!”

  The pull of power needed to summon Stewart made my forehead tingle, but I managed, by dint of thinking about the effects of the bubonic plague on the human body, to keep from manifesting. Stewart held a stuffed penguin in one hand and one of my old broadswords in another, and the annoyed expression on his face warned me I had disturbed him while he was busy. “You bellowed, my lord?”