ALL TWELVE GUESTS had already arrived at Mary Ann Evans's mansion, a Victorian estate surrounded by centuries-old oak trees and protected by high ivy-covered walls. Like their hostess, they all wore black robes made of thick, heavy fabric, with the same golden pendant hanging over their chests—a symbol of the ancient god they worshipped in secret.
The grandfather clock struck nine-thirty when Meggie lit the fireplace and, with a solemn gesture, extinguished the lights.
The main hall sank into twilight, illuminated only by the flickering flames that cast dancing shadows across walls covered in tapestries. At the center, thirteen red candles—one for each participant—encircled a small altar draped in blue velvet.
The air was thick with the scent of myrrh, incense, and cypress oil.
— Before the feast, let us honor Cernunnos — Meggie declared firmly, unveiling a statue of a naked man with a muscular physique seated in the lotus position. His long beard and curly hair fell over his shoulders, while two horns rose from his head. From his pubic region emerged a serpent, seemingly alive and symbolizing the power that set him apart from mortals.
— Hail the Lord of the World! — the young English women replied in an almost hypnotic chorus, their voices echoing through the room with devotion and lust.
Meggie took a wand and, with slow movements, lit each candle while murmuring words in a language none of the women fully understood. With every flame ignited, the temperature seemed to rise.
— Let us make our offerings — ordered the American witch.
She untied the knot of her robe, allowing the fabric to slide down her body until it touched the floor. Anointing her hands with sandalwood oil, she approached the statue. With slow, almost reverent movements, she caressed Cernunnos as though bringing him to life, until the air itself seemed to vibrate around the altar. The women exchanged fascinated glances, and then Meggie solemnly announced:
— The sacred union.
With her back to the group, she grasped the god's horns and lifted herself onto the lap of the carved figure. In silence, she lowered herself slowly, and a moan escaped her lips like a primitive chant. The scene was wild, pagan, and powerful. The rhythm of her body quickened, and even the crackling flames seemed to accompany her movements.
— Take me! — she cried in ecstasy, as though the god himself were answering her call.
Aroused by the spectacle, two of the guests threw themselves at the foot of the altar and began kissing, their bodies entwined in a frenzy. The scent of sweat and desire mingled with the incense. After fifteen minutes of intense pleasure, Meggie screamed, arching her body in an orgasm so profound that the entire room seemed to tremble.
MEGGIE REMAINED STILL for a few seconds, her eyes half-closed as she breathed deeply, sweat running down her chest. When she finally stood, a broad smile spread across her face. Though her breathing was still uneven, she could not resist joking:
— I've never slept with a man, and I doubt there's one alive who could make me feel that good.
The remark drew laughter from the audience.
— That's why I'm a lesbian — replied an Englishwoman with long black wavy hair, her lips still moist. — Sabrina's tongue is powerful.
— Now you're making me blush — answered the woman with very short black hair, her green eyes gleaming in the firelight.
Still naked, Meggie wrapped herself partially in the blue cloth and sat beside them.
— Tell them what you did today, dear.
— I worked as a massage therapist at L'oscar London — Sabrina replied casually.
— You've been doing that for years — mocked a blonde woman in her twenties, blue-eyed and insolent.
— But this time I made good money — Sabrina said, crossing her legs. — All I had to do was sleep with an Italian businessman.
— Was he at least handsome? — Meggie asked, arching an eyebrow.
— He had a scar through his left eyebrow, very attractive, and he acted like he'd never had sex in his life.
— Maybe he was a virgin... like Meggie — teased the blonde, provoking another round of laughter.
Sabrina continued:
— It went beyond desire. It was hunger, as if he knew it might be the last time he'd ever have sex.
— Some people really are passionate — commented a tall, elegant Black woman, watching them with an amused smile.
— Tell me about it — Sabrina replied. — I thought he'd last two minutes, but after the first climax he didn't want to stop.
— And how much did you make from that little adventure? — asked the Black woman curiously.
— A man paid me five thousand pounds.
A chorus of astonished exclamations filled the room.
— I'll admit this, though — Sabrina added. — The man who paid me... I would have slept with him for free.
The collective laughter lightened the atmosphere once again.
— THIS IS OUR FIRST GATHERING, and we already feel like a family — Meggie observed, taking a sip of red wine.
— Three years of virtual meetings had to be good for something — Sabrina remarked.
— And our past lives helped too — added her girlfriend, resting a hand on her shoulder.
Meggie raised her glass and declared solemnly:
— I officially declare our Coven established. Meetings will be held every Friday starting at nine o'clock. We'll begin with the feast and leave the sex for midnight, just as they did in the old sabbaths.
— I adore traditions — said the Black woman, laughing.
— Are you really a virgin, Meggie? — asked the only woman of Asian descent in the group, tilting her head curiously.
The hostess smiled, almost shyly.
— Until today, I've been faithful only to him — she replied, pointing toward Cernunnos.
The group released a collective "wow."
— But I might change my mind in the next few days...
— What do you mean? — asked the redhead, raising an eyebrow.
— I'm dating my boss — Meggie explained with amusement. — He's handsome, refined, wealthy, and intelligent. I don't think the horned god will mind sharing this — she said, placing a hand over her own pelvis.
— After all, he already has horns — joked the Indian woman, triggering another wave of laughter.
Everyone laughed except Meggie, who merely forced a smile and turned her gaze toward the fireplace, where a log crackled slowly, as though sensing something the others could not.
THE DOORBELL RANG, breaking the spell. Before answering, the journalist extinguished the candles one by one, covered her consort with the dark-blue cloth, and put her black robe back on.
She walked down the corridor and opened the door. On the other side stood three women: one short and stocky, clearly overweight, flanked by two tall, pale, thin companions. All three wore white clothing and carried steaming serving trays.
— Good evening, ma'am. I'm Lucy, the personal chef — introduced the shortest woman with a professional smile.
Meggie pulled back the curtain and opened the door fully.
— Come in, my dears. We're starving and eager for the feast.
The steam rising from the trays mingled with the scent of incense and wine, and for a fleeting moment the air inside the house seemed to vibrate once more—as though Cernunnos himself, silent beneath the blue veil, had awakened.