Author's Note: Well, somehow in the chapter, my boy Finn becomes a main character. What can I say? I kind of have a thing for assholes. Wink! I love what he has to say in this chapter. I also love his commentary on drunk Hearne and Carrie, who are both hilarious and tender in the latter half of this chapter.

Song for this Chapter: Deep Inside Of You by Third Eye Blind. This song is perfect for the vibe in this chapter. It represents both how Finn feels about Lana when he describes how they got together, and also how Hearne gets lost in Carrie later on in the chapter.

Finn' s POV:

I should have told my father to shove his money, and gone to Duke on scholarship.

Sabit is going to be the death of me.

Sabit is a family tradition, my father had said, You have to learn the Golden Rule, boy. Know thy competition. I know Sabit is a backwoods shithole, but it's what we do. We go to Sabit to slum. We learn how the little pagan mountain folk live, how they think. And we use that knowledge to stay a step ahead of an uprising. You don't need a fancy first-class education. The family business isn't going anywhere. You'll go to Sabit. It will be entertaining.

And I almost coasted through. I'm a senior—one more year and I would have my piece of paper with the Sabit Seal on it, and my father's goodwill and the full release of my trust fund, and, except for the occasional moral difficulty of having to do some completely awful thing in service to the damn Family, I would be set for life. I could ease my troubled conscious with the finest bourbon while I float down the River Styx on a luxury barge, guaranteed a decent afterlife, just for being born to the right family.

But no, Lana MacBane blew me completely out of the water. She snagged that fifth of bourbon from my back pocket at the Welcome Back Festival. I chased her down and fought a little and flirted a lot to try to get it back. She drank the whole damn thing anyway, and while she was doing it, she stole something else from me—my heart.

Damn hillbilly witch. I knew she was a witch from our first kiss. One of the perks of the family business is that we get a little magical instruction about pagan witchcraft. I mean, Romans are pagan too, but the Family says that witches are more often than not, pagans from the wrong side of the aquaducts, and we need to know how to defend ourselves from their manipulation. So they teach us to recognize them and to combat their magic. Kind of like, a self-defense course. But it was too late for me take precautions with Lana. I was hooked on her the day of the Welcome Back Festival-- weeks before she ever let me kiss her.

Ever since I met her, I don't even know myself anymore. I'm always doing crazy shit I would never have done before. Half the time I'm acting like a complete asshole, just because I'm freaked out by the way everything I always thought I wanted...I hardly care about anymore.

I had plans, man. I was going to bypass the Southern Branch, and head to straight to the New York office. I was going to get a place in Tribeca and get drunk with my celebrity neighbors and becomes a Somebody in New York Society. Acquire a twitter following. I even had an image I was cultivating...I was going to be the cultured Southern Gentleman...a stand-out. Unapologetic for my roots...after all, money talks, no matter what accent you use.

Now, as I stand here, handing out backstage passes to my divine forebearer Mercury, who plans to hurt people at this concert, I'm quite apologetic for my roots.

Lana was right all along. I'm scum.

I'm scum that's bound by the wings on my shoulder to the Cult of Mercury, and if he finds out I'm backstabbing him, my life as I planned it is over.

Do I even care anymore?

Well, yeah. Kind of. It's very fucking scary to think all my resources could just be ripped out from under me. Shit, I never even thought about what I might do, if I didn't have a trust fund and an easy gig with the family business. I mean...I majored in philosophy, for fuck's sake.

What the hell am I supposed to do with a degree like that?

Ha. I guess I'm supposed to reason my way out of this mess.

Reason is based on experience. And I know from experience what happens to Roman godspawn that don't fulfill their obligations. It's not just about losing my free ride, and my guaranteed job. They'll ruin my chances for striking out on my own. They'll falsify criminal charges, take over my social media and put photoshopped shit to make me look like a white supremacist or some equally unacceptable kind of asshole. I am two months from graduating, and if I go against the Romans, I'm in chains, career-wise. Even if I could get a job without any marketable education or experience, I'd never pass a background check of any kind. You go against the gods, and you become...an untouchable. And my dad, my grand-father? They would never stand against Mercury to help me. They are deep in his pocket.

There's no reasonable choice, but the Roman way.

But me and Lana, we defy reason.

Fuck, I don't even know why I'm pretending I haven't already made my choice. I know it. Carrie knows it. It's Lana. I wonder if my wild-ass witch will still want me when I'm penniless and homeless. I don't even own the crappy ass gas-station I live in. It's titled to the Olympus Corporation.

I wonder what Mystic Mountain is like, what kind of lifestyle Lana is really used to.

When I met Lana, I didn't see her coming. She came up from behind on Main Street at the Welcome Back festival, took my bourbon and then slid past me, turning to give me the most mischievous smile I have ever seen. Then she sauntered away, swinging her hips in that way that was begging me to notice her very nice ass. I decided right then and there I wanted her naked  immediately. I'm not really ashamed of that-my immediate attraction to Lana's wicked body and attitude. Who wouldn't want to be with a woman like Lana?

But I am ashamed of the fact that when I noticed that most of her clothes looked like they came from Hot Topic, and that her black nail polish was chipped, and that her boots were scuffed and dirty, I figured banging Lana that night was a done deal. I took her for a girl that was both needy and easily impressed. The kind that would ride me in my Expedition at the end of the night if I bought her a few beers and threw her a couple of insincere compliments. Hell, I'd even spring for a funnel cake at the festival.

And over the next two hours that I followed her around the festival, she turned me down flat. While she was explaining how I didn't even realize what an arrogant, privileged, meritless legacy student I was—I loved the way she said legacy like it a cuss word— I was admiring how she didn't let the cool words sour her pretty face, and honestly I was a little disapointed she didn't use one colorful hillybilly expression. She might be from the mountains, but I'm a Southern Boy, too, and I thought we could trade barbs. But no, she went high-brow and berated me with three-syllable words that she pronounced perfectly, despite the bourbon.

And then we met Faraday in the street and he whined that he had been looking for her everywhere. He tried to convince her to come to the concert with them, and she flat out refused, hooking her arm in mine, telling him to go find her new roommate.

"Dru's nice. You'll like her, way more than you like me," Lana said with a wink.

When he argued, she waved him a way with a casual "Fuck off, Sean." He left—pissed. I asked her if he was her old high school boyfriend or something. 

She laughed and said, "That dog don't don't hunt."

I was intrigued by that...the way she could switch from three syllable words one minute to downhome expressions the next. I mean, I know something about living in two worlds, too. So, I followed her around the whole festival, playing the Southern Gentleman, but really I was trying to show that I was too good for her with my fancy bourbon, genteel manners and my wad of cash. She was still unimpressed. So then, I tried talking to her...but really...talking down to her...trying to impress her with superior knowledge.

And she grinned and asked me if I was philosophy major. How did she know that? She must have asked around about me. I thought I was getting somewhere, so I said yes, and she said, "They muddy the water, to make it seem deep."

It sounds like another colorful Southern expression. It's not. Nietzche said that. She fucking quoted Nietzsche to me. That's when I realized she wasn't just a piece of ass, she was also intelligent. 

Two weeks later, I realized she wasn't just smart, either.  She stroked my temples with her thumbs  while I was kissing her--our first time making out  and I was trying to be gentlemanly and gentle, because we were both a little buzzed--but  even that lightest magical touch of hers  felt like a direct current to my dick. That's when I knew she was the kind of witch my Romans warned me about.

So to sum up, Lana MacBane is a highly intelligent smart-mouthed witch with the best ass and the baddest attitude I've ever seen.

I think I love her.

And a girl like Lana, she couldn't have grown up quite like my snobby mind had imagined. I know her family doesn't have wealth like mine, but to produce a first-class, intelligent, self-confident witch like Lana, they have...standards. Standards higher than the ones I was raised with. And how will I live up to Lana's standards, when I'm ruined? I know she's a freshman, she's not that worried about life after college yet...but what could I offer her, if I'm put out by the family?

Carrie says I can join their Pantheon, but as far as I can tell, it's defunct. It's definitely not...profitable. They're fucking gods and Lana says Hearne lives up in the woods like some kind of doomsday prepper and Carrie's place above Malone's has a mattress on the floor and no furniture. He's actually working this job as a Professor—he busted his ass for this festival, so I can assume he needs the paycheck. Carrie has a tip jar, when she plays at Malone's, though mostly she turns around and buys drinks for the crowd.

It really doesn't look like the Celts are in a position to offer me a job with a benefits package.

"Finn!" Mercury's voice is sharp. He's snapping his fingers, bringing me back from my musings to the present. "The schematics. For the stage structure. Do you have them?"

Fuck no, I don't have them, and I wouldn't give them to him if I did. He wants to collapse the stage as a grand finale to his ruination of the festival. He's dead set on it, because so far, his sabotage has been mostly thwarted by Carrie and Hearne. He said the poison in the eggs wasn't strong enough to kill kids, but now he's talking about toppling a stage on people.

"There are no schematics, Mercury." I say patiently. "This is the mountains...a semi-professional outfit put this stage up, and Hearne bribed the licensing agent. It's possible it could collapse on itself," I add helpfully, although everything I just said was a lie. Hearne did all the shit by the book and I'm sure this newly built stage is stable. It's a permanent structure...a real upgrade to the festival facilities.

"Hmmm..." Mercury is looking up at the towers that hold the light rigs outfront. "No matter, I came prepared. He gestures at two of his entourage, and they start snapping pictures of all the supports. "Send those pictures straight to the President."

Well so much for my lame-ass attempt at running interference. He's not going to have these henchman unloosen a few bolts that I could sneak to retighten. He's still planning on Executive Action.

"Let me get you a drink," I say, ushering him over to Leander. "The case of wine I asked you to put back?" I remind Leander. He looks suspiciously at Mercury. He knows he's Carrie's ex, from the night at Malone's.

I leave Mercury with Isabel and Reece...they are slightly more friendly than Leander, if only because they are curious to get the dirt on Carrie's ex-boyfriend.

On the way to see what Lana and Sean are arguing about now, I text Carrie.

911, Goddess.

No reply.

I haven't seen her or Hearne since I left for the second beer run, six hours ago. Where the hell are they?

Lana and Sean clam up the minute I approach them, but I'm not that worried. I'm still jealous of Sean, but not like I was. Lana finally sat me down after the night he punched me, and explained shit to me. I get it now, but I still feel...a little intimidated by their history.

And it doesn't help that Faraday appears to be cultivating a fucking harem lately. What's up with his magnetism, anyway? He's with Dru during the week, and he's got Carrie hanging on him every weekend...he just needs to leave Lana to me.

But I know that's not going to happen. It's not even his fault. Lana won't let it. She's buried like a maternal tick into Sean. I'm trying to look on the bright side of their relationship. It diverts Lana's hellcat aspect, to a certain degree. He mostly gets the scoldings, and I get the lovin'.

I give him the usual shit, and for once he doesn't take the bait. I grin, realizing Sean is a little stoned. And that's not the first time this week, either, according to Lana. That explains why she's laying into him. I don't know why she's so worried about him doing what practically everybody does, and frankly it's a little bit hypocritical of her. I don't lay up a huge stash or anything, but she and I have smoked together at parties and she's fine with that. Hmmm...maybe Sean had a problem with it, before coming to Sabit. I don't really give a shit, I actually like him a little better, thinking he might not be so fucking perfect.

"Who are those guys you gave passes to?" he asks.

"A Sabit donor and his friends," I lie. "I got an email from the Board about their passes."

"Has Dru picked up her pass yet?" he asks, looking around.

"She went back to the dorm to change," Lana tells him. He nods.

He steps to the side and scans the skyline. Weather's rolling in. He checks a radar app. "It's weird. This radar is totally wrong. I've gotta talk to the crew about lightening protocols," he mutters and starts to walk away.

Damn, even stoned, Sean is on top of his shit.

He turns back and gestures at her clothes. "Lana...you look so...Asheville."

She growls. He grins.

He snaps a pic of us. "Should I send this to...your mama? Does she know about him?" He tilts his head toward me, teasing her.

"I'm sure Maeve would love to see the one Finn took of you dry humping Dru behind that wall today," she snarls.

"Settle down, Darlin," I laugh at her. "She's kidding," I tell Sean. She's not, I really did take a picture. It was just...a reflex.

"She's not. You're a real prick for taking a picture of Dru like that."

"Sell it to ya?"

There's a half-grin on his face as flips me off and he strolls away. "Delete that shit, Finn. I mean it."

Yeah, I guess he's not quite as much of an uptight asshole as he used to be. I wonder if its the pot, or...

"Is he sleeping with both of them?" I ask Lana, curiously.

She groans. "God, I hope not."

Just as I'm about to make a dirty joke, from the side of the stage I notice two people entering the large field behind the amphitheater, which serves as a parking lot for the festival goers. I duck behind the canopy that is the back "wall" of the backstage to make sure I'm seeing what I think I'm seeing, and then I pull Lana with me.

"What the hell?" she murmurs.

Don't ask me, darlin'. They are your God and Goddess.

"Come on," I say. "Before they hurt themselves."

Can they hurt themselves? Maybe. They are very damn old.

We rush down the backstage stairs and weave through the cars in the field. It's full already, and there are no people among the packed lot of cars except Hearne and Carrie. Which is a good thing because Hearne is leaping from hood to hood, carrying Carrie piggy-back style as she shrieks hysterically with laughter. A long line of dented hoods is behind him.

"Okay...alright. Listen. This time... Imma jump THREE this time...no four. Four. Imma jump FOUR. You see that ole rusted Suburban? That's our target, baby." Hearne is completely smashed. He's swaying from side to side and taking a tentative step forward and back, trying to gauge the right force to leap with, as he holds Carrie's thighs.

She slaps him on the head over and over like his head is a bongo drum. "Horny. Horny! Listen to me...you can't jump three. I mean..." she hiccups..."Four. No way. Bad idea."

"The hell you say, woman. Now hang on."

Carrie laughs and grabs two handfuls of braids. "Okay, giddey-up, then!"

Before Hearne can jump and crush another hood, I lean against the car in front of him, pulling Lana into his field of vision. I doubt he wants to embarrass himself like this in front of his new priestess.

"Hi, Professor Hearne! Urrr...how ya feeling?"

Hearne looks confused. I can't tell whether his confusion is because of our sudden appearance, or because he can't answer my question—probably the latter. He's so drunk he probably can't feel anything at this point.

"Horny! Horny!" Carrie attempts and fails to whisper as she slaps his braids against the back of his head like reins. "That's Finn. He knows. About us. He knoooooooows. Horny, did you hear me?" She tugs on his braids, jerking his head back.

"Oww, fuck. Yeah, I heard you." He reaches back to pull his braids from her hand and nearly stumbles off the hood. Carrie shrieks again, but he shuffles and regains his balance. Then his eyes float down to meet Lana's. "Well, she didn't tell him. She's got a boil...a boilty..." he laughs at his own mistake, "a fucking loy-al-ty binding."

Lana twists from my grasp, suddenly nervous. "They are really, really drunk, Finn. I'm not sure they know what they are saying..."

"Lana..." Carrie whispers again. "Lana...ssshhhh it's okay. Finn knows about gods and goddesses. And he's on our side. He loves you." Carrie tightens her arms across Hearne's neck and pulls herself forward to his ear, then whisper-screams. "Cernunnos, he really does. You have to remember that, okay? He loves our priestess. They aren't all bad. I know you hate them, but don't kill him. He's not like Mercury. Finn's a good Roman."

Hell, that drunk witch just outed me. I haven't actually said the words "I love you," to Lana, and I'm not sure she knows it. To be honest, I'm not sure she loves me. I know she loves the way I give it to her, and beyond the sex...we get along really well, too—we have a lot of laughs, and a lot of good debates. But she's got a lot of people that come before me in her priority list...Faraday, the Mystic Mountain Witches, her God and Goddess, hell...maybe even Dru. I eye Lana nervously, but she's not looking at me, of course. She's looking at Hearne.

The Horned God has stopped sniggering with Carrie. He's looking at me with extreme dislike. I realize she's outed me in a different way, too. Hearne didn't realize I was Roman godspawn. Fucking hell.

He leaps down from the car and dumps Carrie on her ass on the hood.

"Owww!" she screeches.

"Oh hush. You're unbreakable, goddess," he replies automatically, but he's still advancing on me.

Lana's between us and I snatch her arm and literally throw her up