Goddess of the Rose (Goddess Summoning #4)

Goddess of the Rose (Goddess Summoning #4) Page 8

Part Two

Chapter Eight

SOFTNESS ... she was surrounded by softness. Curled on her side, her face rested against a pillow. Mikki rubbed her cheek against its sleek surface. Silk. It had to be silk. She snuggled more deeply into the thick comforter, breathing in the rich scent of expensive, down-filled bedding.

While she lay there, someone combed through her hair with a wide, soft-bristled brush. Mikki sighed happily and rolled over on her stomach so the someone could have better access to more of her hair. Dreaming . . . she had to be dreaming.

And, she told her sleeping self, her dreams had certainly been wonderful lately. She should just relax and enjoy.

The person hummed a wordless tune while she brushed Mikki's hair. Her voice was a gentle waterfall of notes that blended with the soft strokes of the brush lulling Mikki into an almost hypnotically relaxed state.

Mikki sighed with perfect contentedness.

Somewhere in the lullaby-like humming, the whispered words Welcome, Priestess echoed in her sleep-heavy mind.

Mikki breathed another dreamy sigh; she was definitely going to have to do more sleeping.

Another pair of hands touched her. These new hands focused on rubbing her feet. With the confidence of a master masseuse, the hands drew firm, soothing circles across her insteps.

Mikki felt like she was liquefying. Well, she certainly deserved an excellent dream, especially after the night she'd had. Her mind traveled languidly back. The crappy blind date . . . humiliating herself by screwing up the lines of that play . . . then being stalked by some terrible imaginary beast through the rose gardens . . . cutting her fingers on the broken perfume bottle . . . the deafening roar and the horrible sense of suffocation . . .

Memory tried to break through the dam of contentment her dream had built. She had to be dreaming, but how had she gotten home? Just what exactly happened before the weird dizzy spell that had overwhelmed her in Woodward Park? A sliver of unease skittered spiderlike through her body. She needed to wake up.

Mikki opened her eyes.

A flutter of activity sounded behind her. Mikki spun around. Two women stood next to her bed.

No - it wasn't her bed.

Mikki snapped her eyes shut.

No. No. No. This wasn't right. It was the bed from her dreams. The huge canopy bed in the enormous bedroom, to be precise. Mikki pressed the palms of her hands against her closed eyes. Then she rubbed her face vigorously. She could feel her body, too damn well. The feeling was distinct, not like the sweet, erotic fog that filled her dreams. With her eyes still closed, she slapped her own cheek. Hard.

"Ow, shit." Mikki flinched. It definitely hurt. She was certain she was awake now.

She opened her eyes.

Sticky tendrils of fear laced their way through her stomach. Nothing had changed. The bed was still there, as was the bedroom and the two women. They were wearing long shimmering robes that wrapped toga-like around their bodies and brushed the lushly carpeted floor. They were young and beautiful, especially silhouetted against the wall of mullioned windows behind them.

"Shit on a shingle!" Mikki automatically used her favorite curse as her breath left her body and her heart slammed against her chest. "Who the hell are you?" she squeaked. Fear clenched her. Had she been attacked in the park and killed? "Am I dead? Are you ghosts?" she blurted.

The women's eyes widened, and the brunette held out a delicate hand in a gesture that was probably meant to have been reassuring, but the fact that she was there at all, and that she could respond to Mikki's question, was definitely not comforting. Mikki immediately shot backward, crablike, over the bed until she was pressed firmly against the headboard.

"My Lady! We are of the living. You have nothing to fear." Her voice was soft and melodic, and Mikki recognized it instantly as the one that had recently been humming the lullaby to her. "We are here to welcome and to serve you, Priestess."

The other woman, the one with the lion's mane of wheat-colored hair, nodded in agreement. "Yes, Priestess. We are all very much alive."

Clutching the comforter to her chest, Mikki tried to control the shaking in her voice. "Wh-where am I?"

"You are home, Priestess!" The brunette smiled magnanimously.

"And just exactly where is 'home'?" Mikki asked, feeling numb around her mouth, like she'd eaten a Popsicle too fast and was having a hard time making her lips work.

"You are in the Realm of the Rose," the blonde assured her.

"I have finally done it," Mikki moaned. "I have finally gone stark raving, totally fucking crazy." She buried her face in her hands.

Instantly, the two women rushed to her, patting her shoulders and stroking her hair. Mikki jerked back from them.

"Don't touch me!" she yelled. "You're only making it worse. I can damn sure feel you when you touch me, even though I should be sleeping and this should all be a dream, and . . ." She broke off her babble. Breathing hard, she just shook her head at the women. "No. Stay back. You're just giving me more proof of how kooky I am!"

The women took nervous little half-steps away from her.

Obviously the leader, the brunette spoke quickly. "Let me assure you, Priestess, you are of your right mind. We are not imaginings, nor are we deranged fantasies." Her smile was hesitant but sweet. "I know this must seem very odd to you" - she glanced at her partner, who mirrored her smile - "but you truly are in the Realm of the Rose, and we are your handmaidens."

The blonde nodded her head, the waves of her hair bouncing in perky agreement.

Mikki felt her right eye begin to twitch.

"Maybe I'm drunk," she muttered, trying to remember how much she'd had to drink before she'd dumped her date. Three, or had it been four glasses of that fabulous chianti? Oh, Lord . . .

"We would be happy to bring you wine, Priestess," the blonde chirped.

"Oh, be quiet and let me think," Mikki snapped. "And stop calling me priestess. It's not my name, nor is it my job title." Then she rolled her eyes at herself. What a totally moronic thing to say. Not her job title? Being a kook was bad enough. Being a stupid kook would be completely humiliating.

But the handmaidens seemed oblivious to her idiocy. They were busy exchanging startled glances.

"But," the brunette began hesitantly, "you must be our priestess. You awoke the Guardian."

Mikki made an exasperated sound in her throat. "The only thing I must be right now is crazy."

The women went on talking to each other as if she had not spoken.

"She is beautiful," the blonde said. Studying her carefully, she sniffed in Mikki's direction. "And she has been properly anointed."

The brunette squinted at Mikki. "But she is not as young as the other priestesses who were Chosen."

Her partner nodded silently, her brow wrinkling in concern. "Perhaps that is for the best." Her voice dropped to a whisper, and Mikki had to strain to catch her words. "You know how badly the last one turned out."

"Silence!" the brunette snapped.

The blonde paled and clamped her lips together.

"You are a maiden, are you not?" the brunette asked Mikki matter-of-factly.

"That's it!" Mikki swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up so abruptly that the two women each took a startled step back. "It's bad enough that I'm having some kind of psychotic break with reality, but I really have to draw the line when my delusions begin talking about my age and questioning my sexual history." Mikki made little shooing motions at them. "Go on. I prefer to sink into psychosis by myself."

"We did not mean to offend, Priestess," the brunette said, instantly contrite.

The blonde nodded again - vigorously.

"You didn't offend me. My mind, or more accurately, my lack of it, offended me." The women blinked at her like Kewpie dolls. "Oh, just leave me alone for a while. I have a lot of thinking to do."

"You have only to call for us if there is anything you desire," said the brunette. "Of course, Priestess, we will return when the sun has set to prepare you for the goddess's evening ritual. We all hope that once again - "

Mikki's raised hand cut off her gushing words. "No! Nothing else right now. To quote an idiot accountant I once had the misfortune to date, 'My bucket is too damn full right now to deal with anything else.' Just leave." At their hurt looks she added, "Please." They were fabrications of her mind, but (as she was sure her mother would have reminded her) there was really no reason to hurt their feelings and be impolite. They couldn't help her kookiness.

Reluctantly, they walked gracefully across the room. Mikki expected them to pass through the wall like proper figments of imaginations, but the blonde opened the large, ornately carved door, which clicked closed softly behind them. Even her hallucinations didn't behave properly.

"Insane," Mikki said firmly. "You are completely insane."

Her legs felt weak, and abruptly Mikki sat back down on the bed. The thick down comforters billowed around her like clouds of hand-spun gold. Unable to help herself, she ran her hand over the rich, silk surface of the duvet.

"Unbelievable," she muttered. The bedding was sumptuous and incredibly beautiful, richer than even the linens from The Blue Dolphin, the expensive boutique she liked to browse through at Utica Square. And browse was the key word - she could never have afforded to buy her bedding there. Now she was surrounded by material that made The Blue Dolphin look like K-Mart.

At least she was having an expensive delusion.

Actually, expensive didn't begin to describe the room. It was more like obscenely RICH. Definitely spelled with capital letters.

The stuff of fairy tales, her mind prodded.

Mikki ignored her mind, which had already proven totally untrustworthy, and looked around. She knew the room. Her fantastic dreams always began in this very room, but the images her sleeping mind had retained had been fleeting. Typically, when Mikki awoke she could only remember that she had been in "the room" again and that the room had given her a sense of comfort, setting a pleasurable stage for the rest of her dream experiences.

What was it the brunette had said? You are home, Priestess!

Impossible. Home was a nice little apartment in a great location, not a room fit for a princess. Mikki's admiring gaze took in her surroundings. Princess, hell, the room had been made for a goddess. The light from the wall of windows was dim, but three huge crystal chandeliers hung suspended from the ceiling on golden chains. Their many candles mixed with the freestanding candelabrum that perfectly accented the corners of the room, as well as the enormous fireplace in which a fire crackled and popped cheerily - the entire effect was to cast the chamber in the warm glow of living flame. The gold and scarlet color scheme of the bed linens was reflected in the rest of the room. The carpet was plush, incredibly soft, and the color of untouched snow. The marbled walls were the color of clouds streaked through with delicate veins of gold and hung with ornate tapestries. Their intricate designs were all - Mikki grinned in pleased surprise - roses! Each tapestry was a woven marvel. Not able to stop herself, Mikki drifted over to the closest of the works of art and sucked in a sudden breath.

The tapestry rose was the Mikado.

Her eyes went from wall to wall. Each hanging was filled with artistic renditions of roses so real Mikki almost expected to be able to smell their delicate bouquet. And each and every one of them was of the Mikado Rose.

"Consistency should count for something, even if it's delusional," she said firmly.

Intrigued by what her mind was concocting, Mikki explored the room. Beautifully carved wardrobes rested elegantly between wall hangings, and a huge mirrored vanity was placed not far from the canopied bed. It seemed to be waiting for a fairy princess or goddess to sit before it and primp. The tinkling light of the closest chandelier caught Mikki's eye, and she looked up. The walls stretched to an incredible height. Mikki had to tilt her head back to see the domed ceiling far above, which was painted with delicate frescos of blood-and-gold-colored Mikado Roses.

Incredulous, Mikki muttered, "Where the hell am I?" How could her mind have fabricated such an amazing "reality"? Maybe I didn't fabricate this . . . maybe this is real and my old, boring, uneventful life was the dream. The thought, more elusive than smoke, drifted through her be-dazzled mind.

Trying not to feel like an interloper, she stood, wiggling her bare toes into the lush carpet.

Bare toes?

She looked down at herself. She was wearing a long, white robe that V-ed deeply to expose a generous amount of cleavage. The sleeves were trimmed in lace that circled her wrists. The entire garment was embroidered with tiny scarlet roses. Mikki rubbed a finger against the material; she had never felt anything like it. It wasn't exactly silk, but it was too soft and slick to be cotton. Expensive linen? Whatever it was, it was certainly flattering. It flowed in a diaphanous wave down her body, showing just enough flesh to be seductive without being sluttish. Mikki swung one long leg out in front of her, loving the richness of the fabric against her naked skin.

"Naked?" She froze. Then, holding the top of the dress away from her chest, she peered down at her body. "Very naked," she whispered, feeling her cheeks warm.

How had she gotten that way? Or more to the point, who had gotten her that way? Probably the little handmaidens, she told herself (please, oh please, her mind shying away from the memory of the beast that had so doggedly pursued her). Even though they were strangers, they were definitely female. Having talked herself into feeling relieved, she let one hand absently caress her sleeve. The tangible touch of the fabric soothed her frayed nerves. She lifted her hand to look more closely at the filigreed lace, and she noticed the pad of her hand was scabbed over but still sore when she pressed on it.

She clearly remembered cutting them when the perfume bottle had broken last night. Mikki pressed the healing scabs again and winced. The cuts were real. She breathed deeply and, sure enough, the scent of the exotic perfume she'd dabbed on her pulse points, as well as smeared all over her hand, wafted distinctly to her nose. Surely a hallucination couldn't include so many of her senses. Could it?

Mikki sighed and walked to the wall of windows. As she got closer to them, she realized that the middle panes had marble handles and opened outward to an enormous balcony. She pressed her face close to the glass, trying to see through the fading light. All she could make out was the distant outline of the balustraded balcony. Beyond that, she could only see vague, dark shapes. And then the glass fogged over with her breath.

"Don't be such a sissy," she told her reflection. Ignoring the fluttering of her heart, she turned the handle and stepped out into the cool evening.

The balcony seemed to stretch on forever. It was a smooth pane of pearl-colored marble that curved gracefully in an elliptical shape. On either side of her it wrapped out of sight around that section of the . . .

. . . Castle!

Mikki gulped and turned to face the imposing structure behind her.

"Ohmydearlord!" Stunned, she stared wide-eyed. The building was made of the same opaque marble as the balcony, and, on closer inspection, looked more like a huge palace than a traditional castle. It rose above her like a man-made mountain and stretched to either side of her as far as she could see. It appeared to be elevated, as if it had been built on a cliff. Mikki gawked, totally amazed. From where she stood, she could tell that there were several rounded wings that climbed above what appeared to be the basic palace structure. Through huge picture windows she glimpsed flickers of light. She gazed at the palace and a key turned within her.

"I couldn't have made this up," she said, letting the sound of her own voice reinforce her words. "If I was going to dream up a palace or a castle or whatever, I would have made up something like Cinderella's fairy-tale castle, and I mean straight out of Disney." She shook her head. "Not this - I could not have fabricated this." Her hands lifted and then fell helplessly. "I don't know where I am, or what has happened, but this can't be taking place only in my mind."

Behind her a sputtering, popping noise drew her attention, and she turned. Past the edge of the balcony, lights flickered. Swallowing hard, she started forward. It took her more than thirty steps to reach the carved balustrades that supported the balcony's edge. The flat marble top reached just above the level of her waist, and with a catch in her breath, she leaned against it as she gazed down upon the grounds.

"Roses!" Mikki cried in delight. The palace was surrounded by an enormous circle of mazelike rose beds intermingled with ornate trees, hedges, fountains and statuary. In the heart of the gardens she thought she saw the dark outline of another structure, but fading day had not left enough light for her to distinguish anything clearly, even though sprinkled throughout the grounds were winking sconces of open flame that were either suspended from branches of trees or held by thick torches that sprang from the ground. The muffled sputtering noise sounded again, and Mikki watched as the wispy outline of a silk-draped girl lit one of the torches. Soon, Mikki noticed many such girls moving soundlessly along the garden paths and, cometlike, leaving flickering tails of flame in their wake. Staring out at the unbelievable sight, she felt a rush of nausea.

"See!" Mikki waved her hand in a frustrated gesture, fighting back the dizzying sickness. "There's another thing I don't think I could have made up - little nymphlike servants lighting tiki torches."

"You are not fabricating what you are seeing, nor are you going mad, Mikado Empousai."

Mikki sucked in a breath and jumped as a woman's strong, throaty voice surprised her. Shock chased away the weird vertigo feeling that had gripped her. She turned quickly to a woman who had suddenly materialized and who no doubt reigned supreme over them all. Overwhelmed, Mikki couldn't find her voice. She could only stare at the woman like an awestruck child.

She was tall and wide shouldered with a statuesque, appealing body and a strong, intelligent face. Her lips were full and crimson, and her wide, watchful eyes were a startling, piercing gray. She wore a gown that was layer upon layer of shining black silk, draped to flowing perfection around her body; the curve of her waist was girdled with a chain of silver roses linked together by stems of rubies. Through a slit in the shimmery gown Mikki could see part of her long, slender leg - so perfect it appeared to be carved from living marble. Her feet were covered with golden sandals, and beside them reclined two of the most enormous dogs Mikki had ever seen. The black creatures unblinkingly met her gaze with eyes that glowed an unearthly red, and Mikki hastily looked away, her startled gaze skipping from the flaming torch the woman held in one hand, to the gleaming headdress that was wrapped around her head. Nestling in her dark, intricately braided hair was a waterfall of shining pinpoints of light. They twinkled like miniature stars in the night of her hair.

Then the woman spoke again, and the power that filled her voice sent a thrill of fear through Mikki.

"I am the Goddess Hecate, and I welcome you to the Realm of the Rose."