Satisfied that the hole was deep enough, he set the tool aside. He’d selected the maypole himself, a narrow, young oak with the straightest trunk. He’d felled and stripped it of branch and bark with his own hands. His labor, his direct connection with the sacred object, would enhance the power of the sacrament. He hefted it to the hole and let the end fall in, then packed dirt around the base. Ropes from the top secured the pole on four sides to anchors in the earth. Picking up a length of rope, he tested its strength between his hands. Definitely substantial enough to hold Mandy. As much as he hated the thought of shackling her, or risking any injury to her delicate skin, she mustn’t be able to break free. She wasn’t going to come to him willingly. He knew that. He’d made too many mistakes to expect her immediate forgiveness. But by the end of the ritual he would have proved his devotion. Then she would be his forever. He slipped a hand into his pocket and withdrew the ancient silver ring. Once it went on her finger, their eternal bond would be sealed.

He walked into the barn, past the woodpile and the offerings his assistant had provided. The chest of ancient coins gleamed dully in a sunbeam. Nathan scooped up a handful of the golden discs then let them fall through his fingers. They landed on the pile with a soft clink. He stroked a dent in the muted bronze of a warrior’s shield. An ancient Celt had gone to war with this shield. Perhaps the soldier had fought the Roman invasion of his land, thus defending his people against the eradication of their way of life. Belenos would be pleased. The objects of this offering had value beyond their monetary worth. They represented the history and tradition of his faith, the very same culture that Nathan was calling upon for salvation.

But his material offering wasn’t enough payment for the salvation Nathan was seeking. The price for the lives of Nathan, his son, and all future generations was greater than the symbolism. A request of this magnitude required direct and equal payment.

Nathan needed to make the gods an offer they couldn’t refuse. Six deaths, threefold the number of lives he was seeking, surely would convince Belenos to lift the curse from the family. Three was the holy number, the Druid trifecta. One sacrifice each for past, present, and future. Maiden, mother, and crone.

He moved his gaze to the structure he’d painstakingly constructed. Two sacrifices slept deeply on the bottom level. The upper cages sat waiting to be filled. Four more.

Time was running out. Tomorrow night was Beltane Eve.