Goddess of the Rose (31 page)

“Neither,” he said quietly as they approached the door to the next room. He cupped her face within his hands and let his thumbs trace the shadows under her eyes. “It is only that I do not like to see you looking weary, even though if I could choose, this evening would never end.”

Mikki looked up at him, surprised and pleased at his words and the gentleness of his touch. She wanted to say she was sorry she had misunderstood, or thank him, or—hell!—tell she was having a wonderful time, too, but he was already opening the ornate door. Her eager attention shifted to the new room and the wonders it held.

Everything within the room looked normal. Women sat around in front of large frames of cloth, their needles flashing in and out as they created exquisite tapestries. As usual, the women greeted her, but this time they did not ignore Asterius.

“Guardian, did you bring more thread?” one of the older women said in a businesslike, no-nonsense tone of voice.

“I have none with me. This evening I have been escorting the new Empousa through the dream-weaver rooms,” he said.

“Empousa, please do not think I mean any disrespect, but it is important that the Guardian collect more threads for us—tonight, if you would grant him leave to do so. While he was”—the woman paused uncomfortably for a moment before plunging on—“away from the realm, we had to make due with the threads the Elementals gathered. They sufficed but only just.”

“The tapestries are becoming frayed,” added a slightly younger woman with a thick mane of blond hair she had tied back in a braid. Several of the other women nodded in agreement.

Thoroughly confused—again—Mikki contained her frustrated sigh. “Of course I'll give the Guardian leave to, um, collect threads for you. We were just finishing here anyway.”

“Oh! Thank you, Empousa!”

Mikki waved off their thanks and retreated from the room with Asterius close behind.

“All right, you're going to have to explain that,” she said.

“Did you notice anything different about the scenes in that room?”

She frowned at him, not liking it that he answered her question with a question, but she thought about the scenes the women had been embroidering. There had been one with a mother holding a newborn child. Another had shown a man speaking in front of a huge crowd of people. Yet another had depicted a woman sitting at a writing desk chewing thoughtfully at a pencil. Mikki shrugged her shoulders. “I don't know. They all seemed totally normal.”

“That is because in that room the dreams woven into the tapestries are those that actually come true.”

“You mean they really happen! The things those women were creating in there actually happen in the real world?”

“Always,” he said.

“That's why the thread has to be different.” She spoke slowly, following her intuition carefully, as if it was a dimly marked trail. “They can't get it only from the stuff that the moon flowers suck in. Dreams that come true need something else . . . something more real.”

He looked pleased. “Exactly! Dreams that come true must be woven with threads gleaned from reality.”

“And you can do that?”

He nodded. “I can.”

“Will you show me?”

He started to protest that it was too late and that she was overtired, but she touched his arm gently and said, “Please, Asterius.”

“Very well. Come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“To the rose gate,” he said, leading her back along the hallway.

“We're going into the forest?” Her hand tightened on his arm.

“We must. Reality cannot be gleaned from the realm of dreams and magick.” Briefly, he covered her hand with his. “Do not be afraid. I would not let anything harm you.”

She smiled up at him. “I'm not afraid. Not as long as I'm with you.”

 

 

MIKKI thought the huge gate made of roses looked damn creepy at night. It didn't matter that there were torches nearby and lanterns hanging from the limbs of the ancient oak. It was still dark, and the rose wall seemed like something out of a book of fairytales by the sublimely twisted British author, Tanith Lee. Mikki liked Lee's weird fairy-tale retellings, a lot actually, but she absolutely did not want to walk into one. Ever.

“You could stay here. I'll go into the forest, gather the threads and then return as quickly as I am able,” he said.

“No! I'm not staying here by myself. I'm coming with you.”

With Mikki's hand wrapped tightly within the crook of his arm, he took the torch planted in the ground near the gate. After speaking the command that opened the gate, the two of them walked out of the Realm of the Rose.

Mikki shivered. “It's colder out here.”

He barked another command, and a royal purple palla materialized around her shoulders.

“You're really handy to have around,” Mikki said, trying to cover her nerves with a smile. Then she nodded toward the dark depth of the forest. “We're going in there?”

“Do not be afraid,” he told her.

“Easy for you to say; you have the claws,” she muttered.

His smile flashed white in the torchlight. “My claws are at your service, my lady.”

“You say the sweetest things,” she said with her best Southern accent, and Asterius's chest rumbled with a deep laugh.

They entered the tree line and were instantly swallowed in a blackness that completely blocked out the silvery light of the waxing moon. Asterius's torchlight cast eerie, moving shadows against the bark of the ancient trees. Mikki thought that if she hadn't been with Asterius she would have been scared shitless. As it was, she was just creeped out and looking forward to returning to the bright safety of the palace.

“This is far enough tonight. I need only collect a few strands to satisfy the women. Tomorrow I can return for more.” He stopped and shoved the torch back into the ground. Asterius glanced down at where her hand gripped his arm. “I have to have both of my arms free,” he said gently.

“Oh, sorry.” She loosened her death grip and took a short step away from him, glad that one good thing the darkness did was to hide her blush.

“Do not be sorry,” he said gruffly. “Your touch pleases me.”

She blinked in surprise. Had she heard him correctly? The words were nice, but the way he said them made him sound pissed off. It was confusing. Just like his hands were gentle, but his face always seemed to reflect something that looked almost like pain whenever he touched her. “Really?” she blurted.

His sigh was like a storm wind. “Really.” Then he enveloped her shoulders with his hands and moved her a couple steps to the side. “Stand here. This won't take long.”

Silently, he stretched out his hands. The firelight glinted off the claws that suddenly extended from his fingers. He closed his eyes and lifted his head, moving in a circle until he was facing into the slight breeze. Though he was half turned away from her, Mikki could see his lips moving, as if he was reciting a soundless prayer. He raised one hand and thrust it forward; it looked like he was clawing the wind. Then his hand twisted and closed in one inhumanly quick motion. And from the tips of his claws, the air began to glow, as long, thin threads suddenly took form, which he pulled, hand over hand, to pile in a glowing pool of luminous filigrees around his hooves.

Amazed, Mikki watched him work. He moved in a small circle, always staying close to her within the torchlight. But he didn't just pull the threads from the breeze. Sometimes he reached into the leaves of the ancient tree above them and plucked heretofore unseen threads from the leaves. Then he'd shift his focus and sweep his hands through the forest plants that pushed up through the verdant loam. All the while the pile of exquisite threads grew. She couldn't look directly at the threads for too long. They made her dizzy with their shifting and glowing. In the pile she thought she glimpsed the shapes of people, but they were all disjoined. It was like trying to study a Picasso through the warped glass of a carnival mirror.

So instead of the threads, Mikki watched Asterius. He moved with the grace of a warrior coupled with the strength of a big cat. Despite the horns and cloven hooves, he seemed more lion than bull-like, with his mane of hair; his dark, bottomless eyes and his feral grace. And suddenly those eyes were focused on her. He was breathing heavily, and his arms were damp with sweat.

“Of all the wonders you've shown me tonight, watching you pull the threads of reality from the darkness is what I think is the most incredible.”

“Would you like to try it?”

“Oh, yes,” she breathed.

“Then this time, you must come to me.”

With no hesitation, she walked to him.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Then turn your back to me.”

Mikki turned around. She felt him close the small distance that separated them. He bent so he could cup one of her hands in each of his. “Open your hands and press them against mine, so my claws become yours.”

Mikki spread her fingers wide, fitting them against his much larger hands. Then she pressed her arms to his until she was molded against his skin. Their bodies met, and she felt the sharp intake of his breath and the shudder that moved through him—her own body answered with a heat that made the inside of her thighs tingle.

“Now, move with me.”

And she did. Her hands combed through the night air along with his. She felt the tingle of the threads against her palms. When his hands closed on them, so, too, did hers, and suddenly the scenes within the threads were no longer dizzying. They focused in her sight and became clear. It was like she was watching a movie tape unreel as she pulled it from the darkness. She saw a woman whose back was turned to a man, as hers was to Asterius. The woman was naked, and the long, soft line of her back was only broken by her fall of copper-colored hair.
Like my hair . . . she has my hair
. . . Mikki thought dreamily. Then into the scene came two arms, thickly corded with muscles and covered with skin the color of burnished bronze. The arms cradled the woman, pulling her back so her body rested against his naked chest. The man tilted his head forward to nuzzle the woman's neck, and light glinted off his two ebony horns.

Asterius's growl fragmented the scene the thread was revealing. Mikki stumbled and almost fell as he lurched away from her. When she caught her balance and turned to him, he was standing beside the torch, with his head down, surrounded by piles of gossamer thread. She could see that he was breathing heavily, and as she watched, he wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. His hand was trembling.

“I need to take the threads back to the palace.” His voice had retreated to emotionless formality.

“Have I made you angry?” Mikki asked.

“No.”

“Then why are you being like this?”

He lifted his head and looked at her. Mikki thought she had never seen such haunted eyes.

“Did you see it, too? The scene in the thread?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

Suddenly, with choppy, violent motions, he started gathering the piles of thread. “I do not understand what has happened. These are the threads of reality. They are to be woven into dreams that will come true.”

Silently, she unwrapped the palla from around her shoulders and spread it on the ground near him so he could pile the threads on it.

“And?” she prompted when he didn't go on.

“And it is not supposed to show fantasies and falsehoods!”

The force of his voice caused the torchlight to flicker, but Mikki didn't flinch. Instead, she closed the two steps between them. She watched him fall suddenly very still. She reached up and let the tips of her fingers briefly caress the side of his face. He quivered under her hand, but he did not pull away from her.

“Do you dislike it when I touch you?” she asked him.

“No!”

“Do you want to touch me, too?”

“Yes,” he snarled through his teeth.

“Then I don't understand why you say the scene we just saw is a fantasy and a falsehood.”

“Because I am a beast and you are a mortal woman!”

“Stop it!” She glared at him. “You're the one making this impossible. I don't care about the beast! All of this”—she made two brusque gestures at his horns and hooves—“didn't stop me from wanting you way back in Tulsa when you started coming to me in my dreams—and I didn't even know the man within you then. Why would it stop me from wanting you now?”

“Mikado, you do not understand. There is more here at stake than what may or may not happen between the two of us. You are only—”

“Here for the roses! Damnit, Asterius! I know that. Do you think I'm incapable of doing my job and loving you, too? Jeesh! The people in this realm have said some ugly things about my old world, and some of it is even true, but I'm beginning to wonder about the priestesses who came before me. Were they not able to multitask?”

“Please. I beg you not to say things to me you do not mean.”

Mikki thought he sounded as if his heart had been rubbed raw.

“What are you talking about? I'm being completely honest with you.”

“A mortal woman cannot love a beast.”

“Who told you that?”

He looked quickly away from her.

Mikki walked to his side and let her fingers brush his cheek again. He closed his eyes as if her touch pained him. “Was it the last Empousa, the one who caused Hecate to get angry at you?”

His eyes shot open. “Who spoke of her to you?”