Goddess of the Rose (13 page)

CHAPTER TEN

T
HOROUGHLY confused, Mikki stood alone, blinking away the bright spots of the goddess's light from her eyes. She was supposed to cast a circle? Wasn't that witch stuff? And if she managed to bumble her way through that, without being struck by lightning or swallowed up by Satan or who/whatever, she was supposed to listen to her blood to know how to perform a self-initiation ritual because she was an Empousa, a Priestess of Hecate. How?! What the heck was she going to do?

Girlish laughter drifted from the open doors of her room. Mikki sighed. She was also supposed to be getting dressed. And deciding on her destiny.

“Damn, my head hurts.” She rubbed at her throbbing forehead. The newly illuminated temple tugged at her gaze, and she found herself staring across the dimly lit gardens at the domed building. A little rush of excitement fluttered through her stomach. If this was real . . . if all this was actually happening, then she was being offered the opportunity to be High Priestess of a powerful goddess—a goddess who had watched over the women in her family for generations. Mikki couldn't deny that the possibility fascinated her.

And if none of this was real? If she had fabricated all this and the world and the goddess were nothing more than figments of her delusion?

If that were true, then it didn't matter whether she chose to stay or return. Either way she was screwed—figuratively speaking.

So why not ride it out? Why not choose to become High Priestess of Hecate over being a psych patient?

She thought about the goddess. Hecate was powerful and intimidating. What would it be like to be her priestess? The thought was like a bright flame, and it drew her with its exotic warmth. Hecate had said that her first duty as Empousa would be to care for her roses. Mikki stared out across the dark expanse of gardens. The soft night breeze swirled around her, carrying with it the compelling and familiar scent of roses. She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath.

It smelled like home.

The thought startled her. Could it be possible that she belonged here? Was she brave enough to consider believing this was her reality . . . her future . . . her destiny? She was many things—stubborn, opinionated, too cynical—but she was not a coward. Resolutely, she crossed the wide balcony and entered the beautiful, rose-themed room.

Like a small school of exotic, silk-finned fish, the young women turned to her and bobbed down and up in quick curtseys.

“Empousa! Your ceremonial dress awaits,” said the brunette. She gestured to a fabulous length of glittering purple silk that cascaded over the edge of Mikki's bed.

“Thank you,” Mikki said automatically and then her mind caught up with her words. “But before we go on, I think introductions need to be made. My name is”—she paused for only an instant—“Mikado. As you probably already know, I've been brought here by rather unusual circumstances, and all of this is new and more than a little overwhelming to me.”

The brunette frowned. “Are you not Empousa in your own land?”

“No,” Mikki said.

The four young faces registered mirrored expressions of shock.

“If you were not Empousa, then what did you do?” the brunette asked.

“I was . . .” Mikki hesitated, carefully choosing her words. “I was an assistant to a very important woman. She made sure sick people were cared for.”

The brunette's frown deepened. “This woman could not have been as important as Hecate.”

“No!” chorused the others.

They had her there. “Maybe working for a less important, uh, goddess”—Mikki's lips twitched at what her boss would think of being called a goddess—“was preparing me for this job.”

“Job?” the flame-haired girl tittered. “Empousa is not a job; it is a destiny.”

“A divine privilege!” added the handmaiden dressed in buttercup silk.

“Yes, I'm beginning to understand that.” Mikki felt like she was futilely trying to hold the reins on a runaway horse. “But where I'm from, things are a lot different. It's going to take some time for me to get used to my destiny.”

The brunette suddenly gasped, green eyes bright with understanding. “You are from the mundane world!”

“Yes, yes I am,” Mikki said.

Clearly horrified, the handmaidens stared silently at her. The golden blonde pressed her hand against her mouth as if to hold back a sob.

“It's really not that bad there,” Mikki said, feeling the need to stand up for, at the very least, Tulsa. “It's filled with interesting people and things. Like the Internet and”—she grasped at straws—“and some really excellent restaurants. Especially around Utica Square.” Far from convinced, they continued to stare at her. “So,” she said, purposefully changing the subject, “how about you tell me your names and then I'll get dressed and you can give me some pointers about how to handle the rest of the night.”

“How incredibly rude of us, Empousa!” the brunette said quickly, giving the other three girls a hard look. “I am Gii.”

“I am known as Floga,” said the striking redhead.

“You may call me Nera,” said the blonde who had been there to welcome her with Gii.

“And I am Aeras,” said the final girl.

“It's nice to meet the four of you,” Mikki said, smiling warmly at them and mentally crossing her fingers that they would become her allies as she took in the unusual names.

“Shall we dress you, Empousa?” Gii asked.

Mikki wanted to say “Thank you very much but
no.
” Then she looked at the long length of silk and realized she had not one clue about how to put it on. Did it wrap like a toga? What held it together? (And where were her panties?)

“Fine. Let's get me dressed.”

 

 

“I cannot go out in public in this. Really. There has to be another piece to it.” Mikki stared at herself in the full-length mirror. The royal purple silk was caught in a braided silver tie over her right shoulder. From there it swept down her torso in a graceful drape, leaving her left boob and her right leg, from waist to ankle, completely, utterly, totally bare.

Gii's frown was back. “But Mikado, this is the traditional dress for the Empousa's ebony moon ritual.”

“Why would you want to add anything to it? You look quite lovely,” Nera said, confusion wrinkling her smooth brow.

Mikki pointed at the reflection of her bare breast. “I'm half naked!”

Like those little bobbing-headed figures that sat on the dashboard of tacky cars, the four handmaidens nodded at her.

Mikki sighed and tried again. “How can I walk around with one of my breasts exposed?” Not to mention her entire right leg and part of her pantiless butt. “It just can't be right.”

“Of course it is right,” the redheaded Floga said, clearly disconcerted by Mikki's negative reaction. “It is how Hecate's Empousa has always dressed for this ritual.”

With a sudden flash of understanding Gii said, “Is it not normal in the mundane world for a priestess to perform rituals with her breast bared?”

“Actually, in the mundane world it's very abnormal to be seen in public with a bare breast—at least in my part of the world.”

Gii shook her head sadly. “Women must be horribly restricted in your old world.”

Mikki opened her mouth to set Gii straight—to tell her that women in modern, albeit mundane, America had equal rights with men and . . . But the image of the last rape victim she'd read about in the
Tulsa World
surfaced in her memory. The girl had been young, only twenty-one or twenty-two, and she had been attacked while she had been clubbing downtown. The newspaper report had made several slanted references to the seductive way she had been dressed, vaguely implying that she had caused her own rape. Hot on that memory came the voice of the newscaster she'd listened to as she'd dressed for work that morning. Seems a serial molester had attacked yet another Tulsa woman. As in the other instances, he'd come in through the woman's open bedroom window. Police and the media advised the public—the female public—to be more careful about locking their doors and windows. Mikki felt the stir of anger low in her gut. Women had been lectured, judged, and warned. Neither of the men had been condemned as the animals they clearly were. She met Gii's gaze.

“I think you might be right, even though on the surface it doesn't appear that way.”

“Like hidden thoughts, it is the world beneath the easily seen one that most often controls us,” Gii said.

Mikki nodded slowly. Then she turned back to her reflection in the mirror, straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. The woman who stared back at her looked exotic and incredibly feminine draped in liquid purple with her hair hanging free around her shoulders and her bare skin flushed a delicate blushing peach in the flickering candlelight. On an impulse, she swung out her bare leg, pointing her naked toes. The soft material of the ceremonial dress fluttered attractively in response. Sexy . . . she was definitely sexy—and that ten pounds or so she always seemed to battle with only added to her sensuous look. She was curvy and full-bodied and more beautiful than she had ever thought possible.

“I'm ready,” she said firmly, more to herself than the four women who were watching her so intently.

Gii's smile was instantaneous. She grabbed Mikki's hand and tugged gently toward the open doors to the balcony. “Come! Hecate's Temple glows with light once more. Let us hurry and fill it with life, too!”

On a tide of silk and laughter, Mikki let herself be led across the balcony and down the pearl-colored stairs that emptied into the gardens. Another odd wave of dizzy sickness engulfed her as she followed the handmaidens. She gritted her teeth and did her best to ignore it, thinking that it was logical that changing worlds would be hard on one's system. Wide-eyed, she tried to take in everything as the girls hurried her along one of many curving marble paths that wound between row after row of roses. She could make out bubbling water features and benches, but everything was gently cloaked in night and shadow and the warm light of the fragrant oil lanterns that hung from the limbs of ornamental trees.

Then everything left her mind as the temple rose like a dream before them and Mikki stumbled to a halt. Torches blazed inside and out, illuminating tall, slim columns supporting the dome of a raised, open-air temple. In front of the temple sat a huge, multi-basin-shaped fountain. Crystal water cascaded from it, spilling all around its edges and into four marble troughs that appeared to carry the musical water out into the gardens.

The temple itself was elegant in its minimalist design. There was nothing inside the building except a single flame that burned brightly from the center of a broad, circular expanse of slick marble floor.

“Hecate's torch has been lit,” Floga said in a voice choked with emotion. The beautiful scarlet-clad handmaiden was the first to ascend the stairs and enter the temple. “I felt it in my soul, but to see it once again makes my heart leap with gladness!” And then to Mikki's astonishment, Floga walked straight to the fire and caressed the flame as if it was a beloved child. Instead of burning her, the fire appeared to rejuvenate her. Her hands glowed where it touched her, and her red hair crackled around her as if it was alive.

“She's touching the fire!” Mikki gasped. “But it doesn't burn her.”

“Of course it doesn't burn her,” Gii said. “She is Flame.”

With an effort, Mikki pulled her gaze from the scarlet handmaiden, turning her attention fully to Gii. “What do you mean ‘she is Flame'?”

Gii studied her carefully. “Empousa, do you not recognize your own handmaidens? I know you did not act as if you understood who we were when Nera and I welcomed you, but surely you know who we are now that you have seen the four of us together.”

“Gii, I've never had handmaidens before. How could I recognize you?”

“You truly don't know us?” Nera said sadly.

Mikki had the sudden urge to shout that she didn't even know herself anymore—how the hell could she know four women who were total strangers! But the hurt in their eyes made her check her words.

“In my old world I didn't worship any goddess.” Mikki carefully met each young woman's eyes. In the silence that followed her words, she heard Floga approach. Without speaking, the handmaiden rejoined her friends. Mikki continued, slowly and distinctly. “I have never cast a circle. I have never performed any ritual. I had no idea I was a Priestess of Hecate until the goddess told me so herself. So it's not just that I don't recognize the four of you, it's that I don't recognize anything in this world.”

The women stared at her, wide-eyed and shocked.

“There are no goddesses in the mundane world?” Gii finally said in a hushed voice.

Mikki considered her words carefully before answering. She remembered that Hecate had told her she had been watching over the women of her family for generations. And there was no doubt that the Empousai women had a magical something in their blood.
Goddess touched
. . . the thought flitted through her mind. The women in her family were goddess touched, which means that, acknowledged or not, goddesses must exist, even in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

“I think goddesses exist in my old world,” Mikki said, thinking of the women in her family and letting instinct guide her words. “But most people—most women—have learned to live without them.”

“How terrible,” Aeras whispered.

“So if you don't want to call me Empousa, I won't blame you,” Mikki said. “I don't really deserve the title.”

“Hecate named you her Empousa. It is the goddess's right to do so, and only she can remove the title,” Gii said. “If the goddess acknowledges you as such, then so shall we.”