[Author's Note: I had not planned to reprise my characters from the April Fools Contest entry, which I wrote as a standalone. However, any author can verify that one of the most enjoyable things about writing is how often your characters surprise you. When I decided to write a Beltaine story, they volunteered immediately and I was happy to see them. I hope some of you are too.]
Beltaine: Bright Fire [aka That Fucking Holiday]
Beltaine is one of eight main holy days for many pagans, including Druids and Wiccans. It marks the zenith of Spring and beginning of Summer; it's most often celebrated May 1
st
with familiar rituals like the Maypole, as well as more taboo, ancient rituals centered around fertility. The birds, the bees, all of Nature in the mood for love. In other words, it's a holiday to celebrate Fuckery. All kinds of fucking is what's up.
Morgana struggled to shift the huge Ash branch she'd discovered on the forest floor that morning. It had broken off near the trunk of its tree and fallen after a winter of heavy snow punctuated by a thorough coating of ice during an early-Spring storm. It had already been stripped of bark by efficient woodland decomposers and was therefore a perfect candidate for this year's Maypole.
It was almost twice as tall as Morgana, which hampered her in maneuvering it. She and the others had already attached the cluster of ribbons at the top for the Maypole Dance the next day; that had been the easy part. She was now trying to slide its base into the slot carved out of an enormous foundational stone so it could be anchored properly.
Morgana cursed fluently as a playful gust of wind dragged the long pole off to one side again, and her with it, making the crowd of watching children giggle and prompting High Priestess Dionne Toussaint to rebuke her despite the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
"Girl, you better control your mouth around these kids before I slap it shut," the priestess said. "Leave some cusses for them to learn as adolescents, when they really need somethin to say that hasn't been echoing in their ears since they heard it roll out your filthy mouth at a ritual."
"This doesn't count, it's just prep. I would
never
sully ritual with cussing, Aunt Dee!" Morgana protested, her voice strained as she pushed and lifted simultaneously. For such a slender thing, this pole was shockingly heavy, she thought.
"Uh-huh. Course you wouldn't," Dionne said, each word dripping with affectionate sarcasm as she helped guide the pole into position above the slot. "Better cleanse the space again before we start, then. Gonna need Dragon's Blood, sage ain't enough after that nasty shit you just said. What you fussin about anyway, can't handle a big hard stick by yourself?"
The pole finally dropped into its appointed position, and Morgana let out a gasp that was part relief, part indignation. "As if!" she exclaimed, aiming a scandalized look at the elder priestess. "There's no stick in nature I can't handle with ease."
"That may be, but Dru tells me you up and lost your taste for every stick in mankind but one. Those trickster gods got deep in your business this Fools' Day, I hear. You ok to do May Queen after all that?" Dionne's deep reddish-brown eyes appraised the younger witch thoughtfully.
Morgana shrugged, blushing. "I'm fine. I promised Dru I'd fill in for her and do it, unless she got back on time from wherever she had to go," she said in a small voice, not meeting Dionne's discerning eye.
"Mm-hm," Dionne murmured, nodding as if confirming to herself a previously held suspicion. "Get on over to Costumes, then. You're done with setup, and they gonna need hours to clean you up right," she said, shaking her head pessimistically at the sweaty state of Morgana's red hair, sticking out from her scalp in wild tangles full of leaves and twigs.
"Yes ma'am!" Morgana said with a mock salute and a bright smile; Dionne was one of her most beloved mentors, and there wasn't much Morgana would not do cheerfully at a word from her.
***
It had been almost a month since Kenzo Futaba's life had changed forever; a mere few weeks. A new month was about to begin, and he was restless. He needed to see Morgana again; but she had left him no way to contact her.
Drusilla had approached him on the morning of April 3
rd
, just two days after Morgana had launched her surprise attack and conquered him; he was on his way to officially resign his position and renounce the priesthood. That would be easy to do apart from the nuisance paperwork involved, now that he finally acknowledged it had never been the right path for him. He already had a few leads on potential jobs with secular law firms, one or two of which were more interesting than anything he'd done with the Vatican.
It would be a lot more uncomfortable for him at dinner when he joined his adoptive parent, Cardinal Soria, to give him the news. He owed the man that much for raising him, he supposed; after that, he could sever all ties without a backward glance.
At least, that had been his plan before Drusilla intercepted him. She had caught him off-guard, lost in thought, addressing him unexpectedly in his native language.
"Futaba Kenzo-san,"
she began, stepping out from beneath the oak tree and offering a polite bow.
"Hajimemashite! Namae wa Drusilla desu,"
she greeted him and introduced herself fluently, though with a slight accent from her native Creole-English.
"Drusilla-san, ohayo gozaimasu."
He wished her good morning politely, measuring her with an assessing gaze. She was shorter than he, but not by much; that might make her about 5'9", a stunningly statuesque young woman with dusky brown skin and glorious dreads that hung well past her waist. And although Drusilla was almost Morgana's physical opposite, he knew intuitively that they were connected. It piqued his interest; he glanced at his watch, saw he was early, and asked if she cared to join him for coffee.
"Yoroshiku onegaishimasu,"
Drusilla accepted with another polite bow.
After they ordered and sat at a small table, Kenzo finally asked what he'd wondered from the moment she first spoke to him. "Do you have a message from Morgana for me?"
Drusilla blinked in surprise. "How did you guess that I know her?" she hedged, still a touch cautious despite everything Morgana had poured out to her in a tearful unburdening after the night of Fools that had unexpectedly reunited her with Kenzo.
He shrugged. "It wasn't difficult," he said, raising one dark eyebrow.
"Must be the family resemblance," she retorted sarcastically.
"No doubt," he agreed. "And somehow, I think you know there really is one. Blood doesn't always make a family."
"Well, amen to that!" she exclaimed with an infectious laugh, then quickly grew serious and leaned toward him, lowering her voice. "Listen, I know what you're about to do; quit the Church, quit your job, and walk away from all of it. I also know why. I'm here to ask you to change your mind on that for now."
Kenzo was glad of the reprieve when the barista called his name at that moment and he went up to get their coffee. This was unexpected as well as unwelcome. He always hated changing his plans once he decided on a course of action, and he was especially impatient to get on with the rest of his life after all the years of mistakes and wrong turnings.
"I trust you have very good reasons for such a strange, personal request," he said, handing her the latte she'd ordered and retaking his seat.
"Oh, I do," she agreed. "I know it seems rude and invasive; for that I apologize. I should also let you know that Morgana knows nothing about this; I haven't told her what I know about your plans or that you might be looking for her soon."
He wondered how Drusilla was privy to all this information, especially if she had not discovered it to share with Morgana - but decided to let that pass for the moment. "Aren't you betraying her wishes by asking me to stay in the Church she hates so much?" he asked instead.
"She might see it that way at first, but she would definitely hear me out before leaping to conclusions about betrayal," Drusilla replied, letting a rim of frost cling to the edges of her tone.
Kenzo narrowed his eyes at her and considered this for a tense moment. "I'll do the same, then," he finally agreed.
"Thank you." With that, Drusilla wove a quick spell into the airwaves to make their conversation impossible to understand for casual eavesdroppers. "We want you to be a double-agent," she began, holding up a hand to cut off his instinctive refusal. "I already know how much you don't wanna do it. I know you despise everything you were up 'til Morgana made you see sense the other night, and
we
won't try to coerce you one way or another - we'll leave that to her," she winked here, making him blush.
"That said, it ain't every day a chance like this comes around; we've never infiltrated as far up our Enemy's ranks as you are right now. If you want to show remorse, try to heal some of the damage you done, this is the fastest, best way to do it. I'll even be your wingman with Morgana if you do. I can help you win her trust, and this would sure help prove you deserve it."
