Goddess of the Rose (44 page)

“Her power should still be yours to wield,” Sevillana said. “Even in the mundane world.” The old woman reached into her leather clutch and pulled out a glass rose stem, exactly like the first one she'd given Mikki. “This is the anointing oil of Hecate's Empousa. It is the one step in the invocation ritual with which I can aid you.”

“Thank you, Sevillana.” Mikki took the stem, carefully folding it in a napkin before sliding it into her purse.

“I ask only one thing of you, Empousa,” the old woman said. “I ask that you petition Hecate's forgiveness for me. I know I cannot return to the realm, but I am weary and I would like to be allowed to shed this life and embrace my eternity in the Elysian Fields. I cannot do so without Hecate's forgiveness.”

“I'll ask her. But why not ask her yourself?”

“I wish I could, but I cannot return. I have tried, many times over the long, silent years. The goddess will not hear me. She has turned her face from me.”

“But Hecate hasn't turned her face from me!” she said in a rush of understanding. “Why do you think I'm not a ghost in the Elysian Fields? I died. I should not have woken up back in Tulsa—unless there was a damn good reason Hecate wanted me to return here.” Remembering, Mikki sat straight up. “She knew you were here. I told her your name when she asked me how I'd ‘accidentally' gotten my hands on the anointing oil of an Empousa. I remember the look on her face now—she knew it even then.”

“The Guardian Statue—the goddess did put it here so I would find it—and find you,” Sevillana said through a voice thickened with tears.

“Hecate meant for me to come back so I'd see you.” This time it was Mikki who took the old woman's trembling hand in hers. “Hecate's forgiven you, Sevillana.”

“Oh, my dear, if only that was true . . .”

“Let's find out. Tonight is the night of the new moon. Come to the rose gardens. Stand inside the sacred circle with me. Let's try to go home, Sevillana.”

 

 

 

MIKKI was glad for the rainy night. It was cold and miserable, but it was also so dark that even the illuminating lampposts in Woodward Park cast only the smallest halo of weak, iridescent light in limited bubbles around the park. It was easy for someone who knew the park well to avoid the lights. And Mikki knew the park well.

She clutched her briefcase in one hand and held tightly to Sevillana with her other, helping maneuver the old woman through the darkness. They didn't speak; they didn't need to. Mikki kept up a running commentary in her head that prayed over and over that no one would be in the park or the gardens. By the time they'd reached the boundary between the park and the gardens, Mikki had relaxed a little. Clearly no one was crazy enough to venture out into the park on a night like this, especially a couple hours past midnight. Still, Mikki didn't say anything until they passed beneath the rock archway and stepped lightly onto the third tier of the gardens.

The illumination from the fountain lazily lit the area surrounding it in a watery light that, coupled with the drizzly mist that hung in the cold air, washed the tier with dreamlike color.

“It's appropriate,” Mikki said softly.

“Yes. The lighting evokes dream images,” Sevillana said in perfect understanding. “It is a good omen, Empousa.”

“Let's hope so,” she muttered. Then she looked at the empty pedestal. She hadn't been back since that horrible morning they'd found her. She couldn't bear it. Mikki hadn't quit as a volunteer; she'd asked for a leave of absence, which was granted immediately. Everyone said they understood how hard it must be for her to come back into the gardens where she'd been attacked and left for dead. But of course, they didn't really understand. How could they? They'd never know the truth.

“Mikado?” Sevillana touched her arm gently.

Mikki turned her back to the empty pedestal. “You're right. We need to hurry. This will definitely be impossible to explain if we get caught.”

“Then we must not get caught,” the old woman said firmly.

“Agreed. Let's get busy.”

Mikki chose a place near the fountain. She opened her briefcase, and Sevillana helped her place a candle in each of the four Elemental positions of the circle: yellow in the east for Wind; red in the south for Flame; blue in the west for Water; green in the north for Earth and, finally, purple in the center of the circle for Spirit. Then she took the long, narrow fireplace matchbox from the briefcase as well as the little razor-sharp knife that usually stayed hidden in her apartment, and placed them beside the spirit candle.

Stepping outside the ring of candles, Mikki took one last thing from the briefcase before she placed it in the shadows beside the empty pillar. She pulled free the cork that closed the end of the delicate glass stem and then applied the perfumed oil liberally to the pulse points at her neck, wrists and breasts. Then she handed it to Sevillana. With only a small hesitation, the old woman took the bottle and applied the perfume to her own body. The scent of roses and spice was heavy in the damp air, and Mikki's stomach clenched with remembrance.

This had to work; she had to return.

“Are you ready?” Mikki asked.

The old woman nodded and tugged two long hair pins from her elegant French knot, setting her waist-length fall of silver hair free. Then with a flourish that showed grace and beauty that belied her years, Sevillana whirled off her long raincoat, under which she was wearing a beautiful silk chiton the color of lilacs.

Mikki discarded her own coat and ignored the cold as she, too, was now dressed in a violet-colored chiton. The only difference between her chiton and Sevillana's was that Mikki's was a shade darker, and, as was proper for a new moon ritual, it left one of her breasts bare.

“One thing you can say about chitons is that they are definitely easy to make,” Mikki said.

“I have missed them dreadfully.” Looking down at herself, Sevillana smiled. Then she glanced at Mikki and dipped into a fluid curtsey. “Shall we continue, Empousa?”

“Absolutely.”

Together the two women walked to the center of the circle. With the purple candle between them, they faced north. Then Mikki picked up the box of matches, thinking how much she missed the company of the Elementals, especially tonight. Shaking off doubts, Mikki approached the yellow candle and lit the match.

“Blowing winds, strong and everywhere, even in the realm of the mundane, I summon you, Wind, as the first element in the sacred circle.” Mikki touched the match to the candle and held it there until it lit. Without letting herself worry about whether or not the element actually heard her and would answer her call, Mikki moved quickly to the red candle. “Blazing force of cleansing fire, dancing flame of light, even in the realm of the mundane your power is rich and true. I summon you, Flame, to the sacred circle.” When the match touched the red candle's wick, the flame burst into being and Mikki felt a surge of hope. Without hesitation, she moved to the blue candle. “Sparkling, glimmering tide of life, you bathe us, cool us, quench us, even in this realm of the mundane you cover more than half our world and give us life. I summon you, Water, to the sacred circle.” Through the lit wick, Mikki thought she saw the blue candle waver and shimmer like waves. Then she was facing the green candle. “Lush and fertile, familiar and wild, even in this realm of the mundane you hold us and care for us. I summon you, Earth, to the sacred circle.” Mikki moved back to her place beside the purple candle. “I summon you, Spirit, to the sacred circle with the two words that bound me to my goddess—‘love' and ‘trust.' ” She lit the purple candle and then dropped the match. Staring around her, she was disappointed that she saw no luminous threads weaving together to bind the elements to the circle.

“Do not despair that you cannot see them in this realm,” Sevillana said as if she could read Mikki's thoughts. “See them within your mind. Believe they are there. The power of an Empousa's belief is a magick all its own.”

Mikki nodded, and within her mind she imagined the gossamer threads outlining the circle.

“Now, let's finish it,” Mikki said resolutely. She bent and picked up the knife. She looked at Sevillana, and the old woman gave Mikki her hand, palm up. With a quick, practiced movement, Mikki pressed the sharp blade against Sevillana's thin skin and drew a long line across her palm. As her blood welled, Mikki handed the knife to Sevillana. The ex-Empousa took Mikki's hand firmly, and with one quick stroke, cut a similar line in her palm. Then she dropped the knife and the two women clasped their hands together, palm to palm, mingling the blood of generations of Hecate's High Priestesses.

Mikki closed her eyes and cleared her mind. When she spoke, she gave no mind to lowering her voice. If it worked—if the goddess was really invoked—the circle would hold and no mortal would be allowed to intrude. And if it did not . . . if it did not, then Mikki didn't care what happened to her.

“Hecate, Great Goddess of the Ebony Moon, Crossroads of Mankind and Beasts. I am Mikado Empousai, High Priestess and Empousa of the Realm of the Rose. In a land far from you I have anointed myself, cast your sacred circle and by the right of my blood I call upon your name. We have a pledge between us, an oath sealed with love and trust. And by the power of that oath I invoke your presence and ask that I be heard.”

Suddenly, wind whipped around them, causing the candles to shiver madly. The mist swirled, and as Mikki watched, it became filled with glitter until from the center of the vortex of wind and sound and light, Hecate appeared. The goddess was dressed in full regalia—robes of night, the headdress of stars and the golden torch. At her feet the massive hounds snarled and snapped at the misty garden.

Mikki started to cry the goddess's name, but Sevillana's tearful voice interrupted her. The old woman pulled her hand from Mikki's and fell to her knees.

“Great Goddess! Forgive me!” Sevillana sobbed, tears falling freely down her well-lined face. “What I did was wrong. I have spent lifetimes trying to atone for my unforgivable error. The foolish, selfish girl who betrayed you no longer exists.”

Hecate's face was unreadable, but her voice was soft. “What is it you have learned, Sevillana?”

“I have learned that there are things more terrible to lose than my life.”

“And what are those things?”

“My honor . . . my name . . . and the love of my goddess.”

“You never lost the love of your goddess, daughter.”

Sevillana pressed her hand to her mouth, trying to stifle her sobs. Mikki put her hand on the old woman's shoulder, lending her strength through touch.

“Will you forgive me then, Hecate?” Sevillana was finally able to say.

“Child, I forgave you long ago. It is you who have not been able to forgive yourself,” said the goddess.

Sevillana bowed her head. “May I rest now, Goddess?”

“Yes, Sevillana. All you ever needed to do was to ask. I would never turn my face from my Empousa—even an errant one. Behold!” Then Hecate swept out her hand and a section of the mist opened, like a door made of night. Suddenly a lovely scene came into view. It was a beautiful meadow, filled with clover and ringed by tall pines whose needles looked like giant feather dusters. As they watched, a lithe figure skipped and danced into the meadow, followed by a group of young, beautiful women. Their flowing chitons were draped alluringly around their bodies, which looked strong and young, even though each of them had an odd, semi-substantial look.

And then Mikki felt a jolt of shock as she recognized one of the women.

“Mama!” she cried.

Before Mikki could rush forward, Hecate said softly, “It is not your time, Mikado. Your destiny is not complete yet.”

Through streaming tears, she stared at the goddess. “But it is my mother, isn't it?”

“It is, indeed. And look closely. You will see your grandmother, as well.”

Mikki watched breathlessly. Yes—she did recognize the stunning young woman who danced holding her mother's hand. She had looked into that beautiful face countless times, only when she'd known her it had been lined by life and wisdom.

“Where are they?”

“The Elysian Fields,” Sevillana said, her voice filled with awe.

“There they will be eternally young and happy and free.”

“Take your place beside them, Sevillana. Your banishment is over.” Slowly, the old woman stood. She turned to Mikki and hugged her tightly. “Have a blessed life, my dear,” she whispered.

“Tell my mother and grandmother that I love them,” Mikki whispered back to her.

“I shall. They will be as proud of you as I am, daughter.”

Sevillana walked through the boundary of the sacred circle to the goddess. She stopped before Hecate, and, sobbing again, she curtseyed deeply. The goddess reached out and embraced her, kissing each of the old woman's cheeks.

“Enter Elysian with my blessing, Sevillana.”

The old woman walked through the door the goddess had opened to paradise, and as she did her body changed. Old age fell from her like a discarded cloak, until with a shout of joy the beautiful young Sevillana took her place with the group of dancing maidens. Then the door faded and was once again nothing more than rain-heavy mist and darkness.

“I am pleased to see you again, my Empousa,” Hecate said.

Mikki wiped the tears from her face and smiled at the goddess. “I'm unbelievably glad to see you, too. If I had known I could do this—invoke you here—I would have cast the circle and called you months ago.”

“Ah, but then you would have been missing one piece in the invocation—the anointing oil of an Empousa. You needed Sevillana for that.”