Goddess of the Rose (12 page)

“But it was an accident! I didn't do any of it on purpose.” Mikki felt like sobbing.

“Explain yourself. How could you possibly have anointed yourself and invoked me
accidentally
?” The goddess spat the word like it had a foul taste.

The marble of the balcony railing felt like cold iron as it pressed through the back of Mikki's sheer nightdress. The huge dogs at the goddess's feet pricked their ears at her, as if they, too, were curious about her answer. Mikki wondered semi-hysterically if Hecate would command them to eat her when she found out that this whole thing had been nothing but an insane mix-up.

Mikki drew a deep breath and met the goddess's icy gray eyes. “You say I anointed myself—by that I assume you mean the perfume I'm wearing.”

Hecate raised both brows. “Perfume? Indeed. And how did you manage to acquire a perfume that is the exact fragrance of my High Priestess's ceremonial oil?”

“It was given to me by an old woman I met earlier today . . .” She paused. Had it been earlier today, or had several days, or for that matter years, gone by? She couldn't think about that now; it really didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was that Hecate understand that she didn't belong here. Or none of this mattered at all because she was wrong about this place being her new reality, and she had really gone stark raving mad and was curled up in a fetal position in the middle of the Tulsa Rose Gardens drooling on herself.

“I told you before that you are not suffering from hallucinations or delusions, Mikado. Nor are you mad,” Hecate said firmly.

“Can you read my mind?”

“I always know the deepest fears and the most passionate desires of my Empousa. Now, Priestess, continue to explain this
accident
to your goddess.”

Your goddess
. . . an unimaginable thrill shocked through Mikki's body when Hecate spoke those two simple words. It was as if a memory, long forgotten, had begun to stir, restless with the possibility of new life.

Your heart remembers, Empousa, as does your blood.
The goddess did not speak, but the echo of Hecate's voice whispered through Mikki's mind.

A voice in her mind? Mikki shook her head, suddenly afraid again. She spoke quickly, hoping the sound of her voice recounting events she knew had happened in “the real world” would anchor her shifting sense of reality.

“An old woman gave me the perfume. She and I hit it off because she had been named after a rose, too.”

“And what was this crone's name?”

“Sevillana Kalyca,” Mikki said, noting how Hecate's eyes immediately narrowed. But the goddess didn't interrupt her again, and Mikki continued. “I had a date that night, so I thought I'd wear the perfume,” she grimaced, remembering the arrogant Professor Asher. “But the guy turned out to be awful. I left and walked home.”

Hecate nodded thoughtfully. “Few men are worthy of an Empousa.”

Mikki looked into the goddess's eyes and was surprised to see understanding there. She smiled tentatively at Hecate. “I've definitely not been lucky in love.”

Hecate snorted. “Men are inconsequential.”

Mikki felt some of the tension in her shoulders relax. They had certainly been inconsequential in her life. “Well, I decided not to go straight home, so I cut through the park because I wanted to walk in the rose gardens.”

“You live near rose gardens?” the goddess asked.

Mikki nodded. “Right across the street from the city's rose gardens. I volunteer there year round.”

Hecate looked pleased. “It is proper. As Empousa, your most important duty, after honoring me, is to care for your roses.”

“I have always cared for roses. So did my mother and my grandmother—”

Hecate's impatient gesture cut off her words. “The women of your family are tied by blood to the roses. I know that. What I do not know is how you invoked my name.”

“It really was an honest mistake. I was walking through the park to get to the rose gardens, and they were rehearsing the play
Medea.
They needed someone to step in for the actress who was supposed to play Medea at the same time I happened by. The director asked if I would read a few lines, and I did . . .” Mikki's words trailed off as she remembered how the lines on the script had blurred, glowed and then seemed to be spoken of their own accord. “It was like once I said the goddess's name, everything changed.”

She hadn't realized she'd spoken the thought aloud until Hecate's stern voice answered her.

“Your soul and the very blood that pounds through your heart know my name, and they called for their goddess, even though your mind has forgotten me.”

“It seems so impossible . . .” Mikki shook her head and wiped a shaky hand over her face.

“But there was no blood sacrifice made. The wind would have stirred at your words, the earth would have trembled, and the waters wept as flame blazed, but you could not have awakened the Guardian and been carried to my realm without the letting of your blood.”

“I fed the roses,” Mikki said faintly, remembering the cacophony of sound that had swelled around her as she had read the goddess invocation. Wind . . . earth . . . water . . . fire . . . had they really all responded to her? The thought thrilled and overwhelmed her. Then the goddess's impatient frown brought her quickly back on track. “Some workers in the gardens had trampled the roses. It was the night of the new moon, and I'd already fed my roses—the ones on my balcony at home. It was a simple thing for me to reopen the cut in my hand and help them, too. I guess I went a little overboard, because I was sprinkling water everywhere. I even got some on the Guardian statue—” Mikki sucked air and stared at Hecate. “The statue. That creature. It . . . It . . .”

“He,”
Hecate corrected her. “The Guardian is male. And, yes, your call to me—coupled with the sacrifice of your blood—awakened him. He brought you here. It was his duty to return my priestess to her proper place.”

Mikki's eyes darted from the goddess to the shadows that were lengthening with the thickening of night.

“He is not near. He has been absent from his charge for too long. There is much that he must correct; many things are amiss to which he must attend. You are not to concern yourself with him. And you have nothing to fear from him. The Guardian's only purpose is to protect the Realm of the Rose, to make sure the threads of reality are woven into dreams and magick.”

Mikki shook her head. “Threads of reality? How does he—”

The goddess cut her off. “It is not important that you understand his purpose. Just know that he is not a danger to you. He guards all who reside within my realm.”

“If he's your Guardian, then what was he doing being a statue in the Tulsa Rose Gardens?”
And
, Mikki's mind shrieked,
what was he doing seducing me in my dreams?

Hecate's gaze shifted from Mikki, and the dark goddess stared out over the flame-lit gardens that stretched in a seemingly limitless expanse of beauty before them. When she spoke, it was more to the shadows than to the woman who stood beside her.

“I am a goddess, but I am also fallible. It was through an error of my own judgment that my Guardian was banished. It is my desire to correct that error.”

Mikki didn't know what to say. If she had thought about the ancient gods and goddesses before today, her basic assumption would have been that they were powerful, omnipotent beings who were immune to simple mistakes in judgment. And now she was standing before a being who proclaimed herself Hecate, who radiated power and authority, and this same goddess was admitting to having made a mistake? It made no sense. But then, none of what was happening to her made any sense.

Again Hecate spoke without looking at Mikki. “Yes, a goddess can err. I have a heart and a soul. I have passions and dreams. I love and I hate. How can I be a wise goddess, worthy of worship, if I do not intimately understand the mistakes of humanity? To understand those mistakes, I must experience some of them,” she concluded in a somber voice.

“I'm sorry,” Mikki said softly.

Hecate's gray eyes returned to rest on her. “I have missed the presence of my Empousa in the Realm of the Rose. Even though your return appears
accidental
,” this time she added a touch of humor to her voice when she said the word, “I am pleased you are here. I have grown weary of waiting.”

“But I still don't know why I am here.” Could she really be priestess to this amazing goddess?

“You are here for the roses!” Hecate spread her arms in a magnanimous gesture to include all the gardens before them. “You will reinstate my rituals and bring health and life renewed to my realm.”

“Hecate, I don't know how,” Mikki said.

“Of course you do!” she said fiercely. “The knowledge has been written in your blood. All you need do is turn your eye inward and learn to read what my hand printed there generations past.”

The patter of slippered feet running on marble interrupted Mikki's reply. She and the goddess peered down on the gardens as four women hurried up the nearest path to the staircase that led to Mikki's balcony.

“Your handmaidens approach.” Hecate glanced at the darkening sky. “I see that at least they haven't forgotten the proper order of things, though the Realm of the Rose has suffered with the absence of its Guardian and my Empousa.”

Like a wave lapping eagerly on a thirsty beach, the four women rushed as one onto the balcony and instantly fell into deep, graceful curtseys, heads bowed, with their long, unbound hair falling forward to shade their bright faces. The handmaiden who wore buttercup yellow silks, a perfect compliment to her golden hair, spoke first. She lifted her face to the goddess and cried in a voice filled with gladness, “Hail Hecate! Great Goddess of the Ebony Moon!”

Next spoke the girl dressed in brilliant red whose fall of glossy scarlet hair blazed like fire. “Hail Hecate! Wise Goddess of Beasts!”

Mikki realized that she recognized the two remaining girls when the handmaiden dressed in sapphire blue with the waves of sea foam- colored hair lifted her head.

“Hail Hecate! Beautiful Goddess of Magick!”

Before the sound of her sweet voice had faded the brunette, who was tonight dressed in moss green silks the color of her large, dark-lashed eyes, lifted her head, face glowing with obvious joy.

“Hail Hecate! Goddess of the Crossroads between reality and dreams and mighty proctress of the Realm of the Rose.”

“Rise, daughters. Come! Kiss my hand. I have missed you.”

The handmaidens rushed to Hecate. Mikki realized that they were much younger than she had at first thought—really, they looked little older than teenagers, especially as each of them pressed her lips to the goddess's hand, giggling and cooing like happy children. Hecate touched their heads and greeted them, clearly pleased to see the youths. The enormous dogs at her feet wriggled, totally (and shockingly) puppylike, sniffing enthusiastically at the girls, accepting kisses and caresses from each as was their due. Then Hecate raised her torch high, and the handmaidens fell instantly silent.

“Handmaidens of Hecate, I bid you welcome the return of my Empousa!” At her proclamation, the torch blazed, sending a cascade of sparks falling in a whirlwind around the goddess.

The handmaidens gasped, whispering excitedly to one another as they curtseyed to Mikki. She was sure she heard the brunette hiss a clear “I told you she had returned!” to the others.

Hecate raised her hand for silence.

“Go within. There you will prepare the Empousa for the self-initiation ritual, which will be performed in the heart of my realm.”

Once again Hecate lifted her torch, only this time she faced outward, looking over the vast gardens.

“Let the Temple of Hecate be lit once more!”

At the goddess's command, lights suddenly blazed from deep in the gardens. The handmaidens reacted with exclamations of excitement and joy. Wide-eyed, Mikki watched the silhouette of a columned temple suddenly illuminate.

“Go now,” Hecate told the handmaidens gently. “The priestess will join you shortly.”

The girls curtseyed deeply to the goddess and then scampered across the wide balcony and into the bedroom in which Mikki had awakened.

“You must do two things tonight, Mikado,” Hecate told her sternly. “First, cast a sacred circle. The handmaidens will aid you in this until you learn to listen to the knowledge that sleeps within your blood. Second, you will perform a self-initiation ritual. In that ritual, you will dedicate yourself to a new life as my Empousa, a Priestess of the Blood of Hecate.”

“But I don't know how to perform an initiation ritual! I don't know how to perform any ritual,” Mikki said, exasperated at how inept she felt.

“Mikado!” Hecate's gray eyes pierced her. “You invoked my presence. You awakened my Guardian. There lives within your blood the knowledge of generations of my priestesses. If you do not have the courage to partake of that knowledge, cast the sacred circle and then choose to step from within it. I give you my oath that the moment you leave the circle, you will return to the life you left in that mundane world at the far side of my crossroads.” The goddess's lip curled in disgust, and the flesh on Mikki's arms prickled in response as Hecate's divine anger sizzled around her. “Perhaps you shall marry . . . perhaps you shall not. Doubtless, you will produce a daughter, another Empousai, as you have come to call yourselves. You will live and die an ordinary life. And I will look to other generations for the return of my priestess. But if you do not break the sacred circle and instead choose to complete the ritual, know that as surely as your heart beats and your lifeblood flows you will forever after be my High Priestess, Empousa in the Realm of the Rose.” Hecate lifted her blazing torch once again. “Decide tonight, Mikado Empousai, and know you will never receive another chance at changing your destiny!” Sparks showered from the torch, and with a great roar of wind, Hecate disappeared.