Goddess of the Rose (42 page)

Mikki descended her stairs and stepped into the garden proper. She chose the path that would lead her most directly to the center of the realm and the temple and fountain that awaited her there. She was careful to keep her thoughts on the roses and away from the Elementals or Asterius. She didn't want them to misunderstand and think she was calling them. What she needed to do she could only do alone. And it was easy to keep her thoughts on the roses. They seemed to be consuming her.

Sick . . . God, she felt sick. The closer she got to the center of the realm, the worse she felt. Two or three times she stopped and inspected beds of roses that just hours before had been already responding to the care and feeding she and the women had given them. Now they were black with the Dream Stealer blight and smelled of death.

Her instincts had been right, but it was even worse than she'd imagined. The blight had spread at an impossible rate. No mortal sickness could have decimated a garden like this. But the blight wasn't mortal. It was the manifestation of evil, and intuition told her there was only one way to combat it.

Hecate's Temple was like a torch-lit dream, and the sound of the huge fountain's flowing water was the accompanying magickal soundtrack. But Mikki didn't pause there. She kept walking until the lights illuminating the rose wall blazed before her. It was easy to find the bushes her blood had touched. They were the only color in the midst of darkness, death, and disease.

Mikki retraced her path back to the temple, pausing only long enough to find the newly sharpened shears she'd hidden at the base of a rosebush. She climbed the steps to the temple and stood before the spirit flame.

“Hecate,” she said softly, looking into the yellow-orange flame. “I know you're far from your realm, but I'm hoping you're still attached enough to it . . . to me . . . that you will somehow be able to hear me. I need to talk to you before I finish this. I want you to know how much I have loved being here. For the first time in my life, I know I'm where I belong. The four Elementals are good girls, especially Gii. If you could, please tell them that I appreciate everything they've done for me.”

She drew a deep breath and wiped silent tears from her cheeks.

“I love Asterius. You probably don't like that, but you did tell me to follow my instincts, and everything inside of me led me to him. He's not a beast, you know. And he needs what we all need—acceptance and someone to love.” Mikki had to stop and press her hand against her mouth to stifle a sob. When she had her emotions under control, she continued. “He's why I'm doing this—him and the girls and the Dream Weavers. I finally know the real reason I'm here, and it
is
for the roses. I can save them. I don't really have any choice. I've seen what waits in the forest, and I can't let those creatures destroy everything I love.”

Mikki stared into the fire, wishing she was more articulate, wishing she had more time to learn the special words to prayers and rituals so she could do this right.

“When I pledged myself to you, I did so with two words, ‘love' and ‘trust.' And it's those two words that bring me full circle here. What I do next I do willingly because I want to preserve the love I've found within this realm, and I believe I'm doing the right thing, because through that love I've learned to trust myself—to believe in my own instincts, intuition and judgment. So if you can, Hecate, I ask that you be with me for what comes next. So mote it be,” Mikki whispered.

Resolutely, she left the temple and approached the fountain whose water fed the realm. The graceful fountain was really very beautiful. It had been formed by a series of huge marble dishes that eventually ran from a pool-size basin to a series of troughs that spoked off into the gardens. Mikki dipped her hand in the water and was surprised at its soothing warmth.
An odd coincidence,
she thought as she took off her chiton and folded it neatly on the ground beside her.
No. There are few coincidences here. I'll just consider it a parting gift from the goddess.
Naked, with nothing except the shears in her hand, Mikki stepped into the fountain.

The water welcomed her and she sat, settling comfortably on the bottom of the basin, which was deep enough that she was covered almost to her shoulders with clear, warm liquid.
Get it over with. Do it quickly. It's only going to hurt for a second.

Mikki lifted her left wrist. She opened the shears and pressed the blade against her skin. She shut her eyes and sliced—quickly—sucking in her breath at the sudden pain. Then, she changed hands. This time it was more awkward but no less effective. Mikki dropped the shears over the side of the fountain. She winced as she submerged her wrists, but she had been right. The pain wasn't bad, and it didn't last long. Mikki rested her head back against the lip of the basin. Gazing up at the sky, she thought how right it felt that the moon had set and the sun had not yet risen. Hecate . . . Goddess of the Ebony Moon . . . perhaps the absence of light in the sky was a sign that the goddess approved of her sacrifice. She had done the right thing. The roses would live. The dreams of mankind would be safe, as would her love. Mikki closed her eyes. She was so sleepy, and the water was so comfortable . . . soft . . . like a big feather bed . . . a warm raft on a summer lake . . . her mother's arms when she was a small, frightened girl who'd had a bad dream. She sighed. There shouldn't be any bad dreams . . . there should only be love and beauty and roses.

She wasn't afraid. But she would miss Asterius. As her mind blackened softly, Mikki's final thought was of how much she loved him.

 

 

ASTERIUS woke up suddenly. Something was wrong. He shook off sleep as he always had—instantly—and sat up, already reaching for his clothes. Then, thinking he should wake Mikado, he turned and . . .

She wasn't there. At first that didn't trouble him. She could be in the bathing chamber. He pulled on his tunic and strode through the tunnel. She wasn't there, either. Foreboding had him lengthening his stride as he made his way back to the bedchamber and the room beyond. Still, she wasn't there. He buckled his cuirasse as he left his lair. The sun had risen, but it was still early morning. An unusually warm breeze was coming from the gardens, bringing with it—

Asterius stopped, testing the wind. Yes, he'd been right. The wind brought with it the rich and heady scent of blooming roses. He picked up his pace, and soon he burst into the gardens.

They were abloom. Clouds of color filled the beds, like the goddess had taken a divine brush to the realm and painted in life and health. But instead of feeling relief and happiness, worry broke over Asterius, and he ran, letting his instinct guide him.

Hecate's Temple was in sight when he heard the first cry of lamentation. The sound of it was an icy fist closing around his heart. Then another cry met the first, and another and another, until the gardens echoed with mourning.

His mind was screaming
No!
even though he knew what he would discover. Asterius thundered up to the temple. The four Elementals were standing beside the fountain, clinging to one another and weeping openly. Between them he caught sight of wet copper hair and the side of her colorless face. Slowly, as if he was moving through a bog of sinking sand and mud, Asterius approached the fountain. She was there, of course.

Mikado was dead.

Asterius, Guardian of the Realm of the Rose, fell to his knees and roared his grief over and over and over. One by one, the Elementals, led by Gii, moved to him and placed their hands on his shoulders, until the five of them, connected by their grief, mourned their Empousa.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

G
OD, her mouth was dry. And she felt like shit. Mikki tried to roll over, but she was too weak. All she did was twitch and make a muffled moan.

“Oh, fuck! Call 911—she's alive!”

Huh? Call 911? There weren't any phones in the Realm of the Rose. Nor did anyone besides her say “fuck.” So what the fuck? She tried to move again, and this time she felt the strong hands that held her in place.

“Don't try to move, ma'am! It's going to be okay. I've called for help.” Then he yelled, “Over here! Bring the EMTs over here!”

Mikki could hear the hurried tread of heavy feet, accompanied by a vaguely familiar voice.

“Oh, Christ! It's Mikki. Ah, shit, look at all that blood!”

Mikki's breath was coming in panting gulps. She placed the voice. It was Mel, the security guard at the Tulsa Rose Gardens. But it couldn't be Mel—she couldn't be at the rose gardens. She was . . .

Oh. She'd forgotten. She was dead.

“Mikki, hang on. The EMTs are here. You're going to make it.”

She tried to say that she didn't want to make it. That her intention had been to save the roses, and the only way she could do that was to give them her blood. Unfortunately, it was a damn big realm, and a few drops in a bucket weren't going to do it.

But she couldn't speak. Her mind was working, but her body felt heavy and not her own. And she was wet, which made sense, because she was supposed to be in the fountain.

“Okay, on three roll her over.”

They rolled her from her stomach to her back. Mikki blinked, trying to clear her blurred vision. It was morning. From what she could see of the sky over the EMTs' shoulders, the sun hadn't risen long ago. Then her gaze shifted to a blob to her right. She managed to let her head flop to the side to bring it more fully into her view. It was a massive stone pedestal, and it was even more familiar than her old friend the security guard. It was the base that had supported the great Guardian statue. Only now it was empty.

Mikki screamed soundlessly inside her head. Then everything went blissfully black.

 

 

“You look better today, Mikki. How are you feeling?”

“Is that a professional question? A test? Or are you showing genuine concern?” she said sarcastically.

Nelly flinched. “I don't deserve that, Mikki, and you know it.”

Mikki chewed her lips and reached out to quickly squeeze her friend's hand. It was dead wrong for her to take out her shitty mood on her girlfriend. It wasn't Nelly's fault that nothing she could do or say would ever come close to making it “better” for her.

“Sorry. I'm just in a wicked bad mood today.”

“Did something happen? Have the dreams returned?”

Mikki couldn't meet Nelly's eyes. She didn't want her friend to see the desperation she carried around with her every day.

“No. My dreams have been completely normal, which is to say I don't remember them. Everything else has been normal, too. I don't know what the hell's wrong. I guess it's just the weather that's gotten to me. I'm tired of the rain and the cold.” She tried not to remember that once she'd commanded the rain to appear every fourth day, and that the first day rain had obeyed her it set up the circumstances that had brought her into Asterius's bed . . .

“Mikki?”

She turned her eyes and thoughts back to the present and lifted her cappuccino, trying half-heartedly to work up a thirst. “Just daydreaming. Sorry again. I'm not very good company today Nelly.”

“You're my friend; you don't have to entertain or amuse me. You know that.” The psychiatrist sighed. “Honey, what happened to you was traumatic. The men who attacked you and stole the statue from the rose gardens left you bleeding to death—and they have never been caught. It's normal to go through stages of anger and depression and resentment during your healing process, especially when you have no closure for the crime.”

Closure for the crime . . . Mikki had the insane urge to laugh, which she quickly stifled. She didn't want to do anything that might make her appear nuts. She didn't want her story questioned too closely.

“I know. I just—” Mikki rubbed her hand across her forehead. For the zillionth time, she wished Nelly was right, that what she was feeling was just a part of a healing process. “I just wish I felt normal again.”

“You will, Mikki.” Nelly glanced at her watch. “Oh, hell! I'm going to be late.”

Mikki managed to summon up a smile. “Is this a real kooky appointment, or just a kinda kook?”

Nelly laughed, standing and collecting her briefcase and purse. “Totally, absolute kook.”

“Good job security.”

“Exactly,” Nelly said. “Hey, call me later if you need to talk.”

“I will. Promise. See you tomorrow morning. Same time—same coffee place.” She grinned at Nelly and then proceeded to feel guilty as hell at the relief she felt when her girlfriend walked out the door. It was so damn hard to talk to Nelly! She couldn't tell her the truth: “Hey, girlfriend. I wasn't mugged, cut up by criminals who ripped off the statue from the Tulsa Rose Gardens and left to die. I actually committed suicide, although I like to think of it as a sacrificial act—I'm not big on suicide, which should prove that I'm not really nuts. Anyway, I had to do it because the magickal Realm of the Rose in the crossroads between worlds was in danger and only my blood could save it. It was my duty as Empousa. So really, you shouldn't say I committed suicide because I was just fulfilling my destiny. And by the by, I'm desperately in love with a man-beast and the reason I'm so damn depressed is that I'm stuck here without him.”

Uh, no. Nelly was her best friend, but even she would be sure to have her locked up in a lovely, yet totally exclusive, padded cell if she babbled the truth. She'd realized that as soon as she woke up in the hospital and
they
—social services and the police—had started to question her. The story that had evolved had come about more out of omission and accident than anything vaguely resembling the truth. But it still made her nervous to tell it, especially to her friend who just happened to be a savvy shrink who knew her too damn well.