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The panel had gone through Cybele's hut, searched it roof to hearth and then the two bodies had been taken for burial. It had all been disturbingly cold and factual. Beside the graves, only one had shed tears. Thomias. The lame old Priest had shuddered with silent, heaving sobs as Jenna's body had been lowered into the earth. Certainly none owned to grief for Fionna, but then such is the way at a murderer's funeral. After the bitter service, Attis and Cybele had returned to their hut. Bron had made her best efforts to scrub Fionna's blood from the flagstones beside the fire, but there was still a deep dark stain where the blood had penetrated the very pores of the stone. Cybele sunk onto the bed and buried her face in the pillows. "You look weary, my sister," said Attis. "Must you call me that?" she replied tersely. "I thought you minded not our deepest bond." he said in amusement. "I do not need to be reminded of it every time we are alone together. It makes me worry a little that I share your blood." "But you do, sweet sister, you do." "Only in half," she hissed, turning her head to face him. "Think you my dark afflictions come from my humble fisherman father?" "I am sure our mother would not have shared your love of Cerridwen." "Who are you to tell me of our mother? It is I who knew her, remember, not you. And you know me hardly more." "I have known you well for three seasons, Attis. You have shared my bed, my home, and my innermost thoughts." "And still you know me so little. Think you honestly that I support Cerridwen? Do you know what it is she seeks from me? It would be easily given, believe that." "What is it she wants from you?" Cybele demanded. "For me to beget a whole litter of wolf-cubs to continue the line." "Like this?" she asked, patting her protruding belly. "I think Brigit carries not the dark blood, but I am not sure. It is clear that you show it not yourself, but it may be carried hidden deep within your veins. If so, breeding with your brother was an unwise move." "We neither of us knew then you were my brother," Cybele said dismissively. "Perhaps the voice which told me to mate with you by the Harvester Moon was the third face of the Goddess," he said. "Or perhaps it was simply Priapus telling you to bury your phallus within me," Cybele said lightly, then turned away. "I want you to wear this," Attis said to her, taking the amulet from around his neck. "Brigit is more important than I." Cybele turned back to him. "No," she said with finality. "You know how I feel about sorcery." "It may save your life," he offered. "And what of yours?" she said, but with little evidence of real concern. "My life means nothing now that I have got you with child. I could die today and have accomplished what I was born to do." "You believe that?" she said sceptically. "You honestly believe that destiny is so fixed?" "Fixed? No. But we all have a purpose, and mine has been met." "What about this wolf-litter, then?" she asked cruelly. "It is true I worry that I have a darker destiny too, but I believe that can be denied." "You came close to fulfilling it that night we were attacked," she said simply. "And again last night with Fionna," he admitted. Cybele propped herself up on one elbow. "Truly? You made no mention of that to the panel." "It would hardly seem innocent, would it? Me with the wolf-brand on my chest, coupling with her unrestrained." "But spellbound," she offered fairly. "Perhaps. I do not in all honesty know. Yes, she cast a spell, but if it had taken at all, would I have been able to break it and strike her? I begin to fear that the wolf lurks within me, waiting only for a she-wolf on heat to come near me before taking over." "But twice it has happened, and twice you have broken the spell before giving the seed they so seek." "You know well my power to hold my spillage, Cybele. Perhaps that at least stays with me when my mind is under their power." Cybele smiled at him indulgently. "Why do you laugh at me?" he cried defensively. "Because you are so amusing." He pouted like an angry child, and she held out her arms to him. "Come here, my darling brother." He crossed the room and nuzzled into her chest, then raised up his head to look at her through thick eyelashes. "I love you," he said in a deep resonant voice. Her body tensed as though she had been struck. "Do you not wish me to say that?" he asked. "Not if it is not true." "I do not lie," he said simply. "I cannot lie." "Then why are you so often cold with me, as though you detest the very sight of me." "Cybele, nothing can last. One day, I will be gone from your bed, and you would do well to learn to hate me before then." "What mean you? Do you intend leaving me?" He did not answer, but pressed his lips hard against hers and slipped his tongue deep into her mouth. Her jaw slackened as she surrendered to his probing kiss. Attis pulled away for long enough to slip the talisman around Cybele's neck. "Wear it, please," he pleaded. She smiled in acceptance and he ran his strong hands over her shoulders, pulling down her gown. As he kissed her tenderly on her throat and shoulders, she searched below with her hand to grasp his manhood. It was already swollen, she could feel through his gown. He moaned deeply as she gripped it through the coarse fabric and pulled on it gently. "Cybele..." he murmured. In the semi-darkness of the unlit hut, she saw his eyes close as he writhed against her eager hand. The amulet felt warm against her throat, almost as though it were burning her skin. He moaned her name again as he thrust against her. Cybele gradually became aware that the hut was changing around them. It was still the same hut, but the furniture was different, heavier and rougher with a large stone altar on one side. It was the altar from the Temple, flanked by the Sheila na Gig and Herm, with his phallus still intact. Attis lifted her from the bed and carried her to the altar with her bedcovers still draped around her. He let her feet fall to the floor and she bent forward over the altar. The covers fell to the ground, and she felt the deep chill of the stone against her swollen belly and breasts. She realised that the altar was covered in blood, but felt no horror. The spell held her firmly, and the talisman around her neck seemed to glow. She lifted up to smear the blood over her breasts. Attis turned her to lick the red salty fluid from her nipples, and nipped them with pointed teeth. He then turned her back around and entered her from behind, pushing her against the cold stone. She felt him against her, but it was not his familiar skin. He was covered in soft fur. It was the belly of a wolf that grazed against her back as he entered her. Cybele moaned in pleasure, and whispered to him, "Whose is the blood?" "Mine," he replied, his familiar voice racked with passion. "It is my blood, Cybele." The past and future seemed swirled together, making her feel as though she were falling, plummeting through some unknown void. "Are you dying, Attis?" she asked him as though in a dream. "It does not matter, Cybele. It is only blood." He ridged up against her, his muscled thighs shuddering as he slowly started to spill. "I have died before and will die again." With one final thrust, he drove his phallus deeper than ever into her, and she felt his blood trickling down her thighs from the gushing artery below his erection. He fell forward over her body, and as he softened within her, he seemed to disappear altogether. She turned around, and felt the fog of the spell lift from around her like a veil. The altar was gone, the hut returned to normal. There was no blood, and Attis lay in their bed unharmed. She shook him desperately and he opened his eyes. She burst into tears and held his face in both her hands. "I have had the most terrible dream," she cried. He kissed her palms and looked at her with an aching tenderness. "It was no dream," he said gently. "A spell?" she sobbed, and clutched at the talisman to pull it from her body. He grasped her hand, and stopped her breaking the thing from her throat. "Get it away," she cried. "Let me throw it in the fire." He soothed her and kissed her tear-stained cheeks. "You cannot change the past, Cybele," he whispered. "The past?" she asked between heaving sobs. "Yes, the past. I know you are unused to visions, but it was only the past, and cannot hurt us here and now." "How do you know?" she demanded. "Did you see it too?" "I have seen it many times, this hut as it was fifty Winters ago. I was there with you, was I not?" "Attis, I do not understand," she sobbed. He held her and patted her soft hair comfortingly. "No, we neither of us understand fully, but we cannot escape our fate." "What do you mean? You said it was all past, that it could not hurt us here and now." "It is nothing to fear, Cybele. The wheel will always turn." She shook her head without comprehension, then softly sobbed herself to sleep in his arms.
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