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,

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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 lied ‘the womanke 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.”

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CHAPTER NINE

“HECATE?” Mikki’s mouth felt numb again. There was something unnamable about the woman that caused

her knees to go to liquid as she automatically moved back until she was pressed against the marble railing.

“Medea’s Hecate?” she rasped, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Indeed, I am Medea’s goddess.” Hecate spoke in hard, sharp words. “If you faint like a typically weak

woman, I will be very displeased, Mikado.”

“I’ve never fainted before.” Mikki blurted the first thing that came to her amazed mind.

“Do not start now,” the goddess said.

Mikki could only nod with a jerky motion of her head.

Hecate studied Mikki silently. Her strong face was inscrutable, and Mikki had a childish, nerve-filled desire to

wring her hands and fidget, but she forced her arms to her side and stood still, even though the goddess’s gaze

was so sharp she imagined she could feel its touch.

“I am not simply Medea’s goddess.” Hecate broke the silence suddenly. “I am Goddess of Beasts, Magick

and the Ebony Moon. I have dominion over the dark of night, dreams and the crossroads between the known

and unknown.” The goddess’s words rang with authority, and Mikki felt the power of them slide over her skin

like hungry, searching snakes. Then Hecate’s voice lowered dangerously, and Mikki had to work hard not to

cringe away from her in fear. “I knew your mother, Mikado, and her mother before her, and hers before that .

. . for generations I have watched the women of your family. I continued to watch and stay faithful to them,

even after the women all but forgot me.”

Complete surprise had Mikki crying, “My mother! My grandmother! How? I don’t understand any of this.”

Almost imperceptibly, the goddess’s expression softened. “Havwidred dryie you never wondered at the origin

of the gifts you’ve been given, Mikado?”

“Gifts?”

“Yes! Think!” the goddess snapped. The dogs at her feet growled restlessly. “Do not stand there stupidly as if

you are a man and can think with naught but the flesh that hangs between your legs! Acknowledge your gifts,

Empousa!”

Mikki responded automatically to the goddess’s command with a voice that shook only a little. “My blood

makes roses grow. I mix my blood with water and during the new moon . . .” She paused, eyes widening as

she realized what the title, Goddess of the Ebony Moon, implied. “During the new moon I feed my roses with

my blood.”

“And your roses always grow,” the goddess finished for her.

“Always,” Mikki whispered.

“That is one gift. The other is also something the women in your family have carried with them from

generation to generation,” Hecate said.

Thinking, Mikki frowned. Then her face cleared. “My last name! All the women in my family always keep

their last name, Empousai. We never change it—no matter what. It’s tradition, an unwritten rule that we’ve

followed for generation after generation. Even when it was unheard of for a woman to insist that she keep her

own name and not automatically take her husband’s, the Empousai women stuck to their tradition. Trust

funds have been set up and whole wills have been written under the strict provision that the Empousai women

always retain their name. My mother told me stories about Empousai brides who broke off engagements when

men refused to follow the tradition.” Mikki clamped her mouth shut suddenly, certain that she was babbling

like a hysterical fool.

Hecate dipped her head in brief acknowledgment. “That is because within the veins of the women of your

family runs the rich blood of the Empousa—my most cherished priestesses. It has been a long wait, but it

gladdens my heart that finally you have rekindled the goddess flame within you, anointed yourself, mixed

blood and water, and called upon my name.” For an instant the goddess’s formidable face almost looked kind.

“You can see that I rewarded your faith. You awakened my Guardian, and you have returned to the Realm of

the Rose.”

“But it was an accident! I didn’t do any of it on purpose.” Mikki felt like sobbing.

“Explain yourself. How could you possibly have anointed yourself and invoked me accidentally?” The

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goddess spat the word like it had a foul taste.

The marble of the balcony railing felt like cold iron as it pressed through the back of Mikki’s sheer nightdress.

The huge dogs at the goddess’s feet pricked their ears at her, as if they, too, were curious about her answer.

Mikki wondered semi-hysterically if Hecate would command them to eat her when she found out that this

whole thing had been nothing but an insane mix-up.

Mikki drew a deep breath and met the goddess’s icy gray eyes. “You say I anointed myself—by that I assume

you mean the perfume I’m wearing.”

Hecate raised both brows. “Perfume? Indeed. And how did you manage to acquire a perfume that is the

exang Ўt is the ct fragrance of my High Priestess’s ceremonial oil?”

“It was given to me by an old woman I met earlier today . . .” She paused. Had it been earlier today, or had

several days, or for that matter years, gone by? She couldn’t think about that now; it really didn’t matter. The

only thing that mattered was that Hecate understand that she didn’t belong here. Or none of this mattered at

all because she was wrong about this place being her new reality, and she had really gone stark raving mad

and was curled up in a fetal position in the middle of the Tulsa Rose Gardens drooling on herself.

“I told you before that you are not suffering from hallucinations or delusions, Mikado. Nor are you mad,”

Hecate said firmly.

“Can you read my mind?”

“I always know the deepest fears and the most passionate desires of my Empousa. Now, Priestess, continue

to explain this accident to your goddess.”

Your goddess . . . an unimaginable thrill shocked through Mikki’s body when Hecate spoke those two simple

words. It was as if a memory, long forgotten, had begun to stir, restless with the possibility of new life.

Your heart remembers, Empousa, as does your blood. The goddess did not speak, but the echo of Hecate’s

voice whispered through Mikki’s mind.

A voice in her mind? Mikki shook her head, suddenly afraid again. She spoke quickly, hoping the sound of

her voice recounting events she knew had happened in “the real world” would anchor her shifting sense of

reality.

“An old woman gave me the perfume. She and I hit it off because she had been named after a rose, too.”

“And what was this crone’s name?”

“Sevillana Kalyca,” Mikki said, noting how Hecate’s eyes immediately narrowed. But the goddess didn’t

interrupt her again, and Mikki continued. “I had a date that night, so I thought I’d wear the perfume,” she

grimaced, remembering the arrogant Professor Asher. “But the guy turned out to be awful. I left and walked

home.”

Hecate nodded thoughtfully. “Few men are worthy of an Empousa.”

Mikki looked into the goddess’s eyes and was surprised to see understanding there. She smiled tentatively at

Hecate. “I’ve definitely not been lucky in love.”

Hecate snorted. “Men are inconsequential.”

Mikki felt some of the tension in her shoulders relax. They had certainly been inconsequential in her life.

“Well, I decided not to go straight home, so I cut through the park because I wanted to walk in the rose

gardens.”

“You live near rose gardens?” the goddess asked.

Mikki nodded. “Right across the street from the city’s rose gardens. I volunteer there year round.”

Hecate looked pleased. “It is proper. As Empousa, your most important duty, after honoring me, is to care for

your rosesow Ўr your ro.”

“I have always cared for roses. So did my mother and my grandmother—”

Hecate’s impatient gesture cut off her words. “The women of your family are tied by blood to the roses. I

know that. What I do not know is how you invoked my name.”

“It really was an honest mistake. I was walking through the park to get to the rose gardens, and they were

rehearsing the play Medea. They needed someone to step in for the actress who was supposed to play Medea

at the same time I happened by. The director asked if I would read a few lines, and I did . . .” Mikki’s words

trailed off as she remembered how the lines on the script had blurred, glowed and then seemed to be spoken

of their own accord. “It was like once I said the goddess’s name, everything changed.”

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She hadn’t realized she’d spoken the thought aloud until Hecate’s stern voice answered her.

“Your soul and the very blood that pounds through your heart know my name, and they called for their

goddess, even though your mind has forgotten me.”

“It seems so impossible . . .” Mikki shook her head and wiped a shaky hand over her face.

“But there was no blood sacrifice made. The wind would have stirred at your words, the earth would have

trembled, and the waters wept as flame blazed, but you could not have awakened the Guardian and been

carried to my realm without the letting of your blood.”

“I fed the roses,” Mikki said faintly, remembering the cacophony of sound that had swelled around her as she

had read the goddess invocation. Wind . . . earth . . . water . . . fire . . . had they really all responded to her?

The thought thrilled and overwhelmed her. Then the goddess’s impatient frown brought her quickly back on

track. “Some workers in the gardens had trampled the roses. It was the night of the new moon, and I’d

already fed my roses—the ones on my balcony at home. It was a simple thing for me to reopen the cut in my

hand and help them, too. I guess I went a little overboard, because I was sprinkling water everywhere. I even

got some on the Guardian statue—” Mikki sucked air and stared at Hecate. “The statue. That creature. It . . .

It . . .”

“He,” Hecate corrected her. “The Guardian is male. And, yes, your call to me—coupled with the sacrifice of

your blood—awakened him. He brought you here. It was his duty to return my priestess to her proper place.”

Mikki’s eyes darted from the goddess to the shadows that were lengthening with the thickening of night.

“He is not near. He has been absent from his charge for too long. There is much that he must correct; many

things are amiss to which he must attend. You are not to concern yourself with him. And you have nothing to

fear from him. The Guardian’s only purpose is to protect the Realm of the Rose, to make sure the threads of

reality are woven into dreams and magick.”

Mikki shook her head. “Threads of reality? How does he—”

The goddess cut her off. “It is not important that you understand his purpose. Just know that he is not a

danger to you. He guards all who reside within my r baЎ within mealm.”

“If he’s your Guardian, then what was he doing being a statue in the Tulsa Rose Gardens?” And, Mikki’s

mind shrieked, what was he doing seducing me in my dreams?

Hecate’s gaze shifted from Mikki, and the dark goddess stared out over the flame-lit gardens that stretched in

a seemingly limitless expanse of beauty before them. When she spoke, it was more to the shadows than to the

woman who stood beside her.

“I am a goddess, but I am also fallible. It was through an error of my own judgment that my Guardian was

banished. It is my desire to correct that error.”

Mikki didn’t know what to say. If she had thought about the ancient gods and goddesses before today, her

basic assumption would have been that they were powerful, omnipotent beings who were immune to simple

mistakes in judgment. And now she was standing before a being who proclaimed herself Hecate, who radiated

power and authority, and this same goddess was admitting to having made a mistake? It made no sense. But

then, none of what was happening to her made any sense.

Again Hecate spoke without looking at Mikki. “Yes, a goddess can err. I have a heart and a soul. I have

passions and dreams. I love and I hate. How can I be a wise goddess, worthy of worship, if I do not intimately

understand the mistakes of humanity? To understand those mistakes, I must experience some of them,” she

concluded in a somber voice.

“I’m sorry,” Mikki said softly.

Hecate’s gray eyes returned to rest on her. “I have missed the presence of my Empousa in the Realm of the

Rose. Even though your return appears accidental,” this time she added a touch of humor to her voice when

she said the word, “I am pleased you are here. I have grown weary of waiting.”

“But I still don’t know why I am here.” Could she really be priestess to this amazing goddess?

“You are here for the roses!” Hecate spread her arms in a magnanimous gesture to include all the gardens

before them. “You will reinstate my rituals and bring health and life renewed to my realm.”

“Hecate, I don’t know how,” Mikki said.

“Of course you do!” she said fiercely. “The knowledge has been written in your blood. All you need do is

turn your eye inward and learn to read what my hand printed there generations past.”

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The patter of slippered feet running on marble interrupted Mikki’s reply. She and the goddess peered down on

the gardens as four women hurried up the nearest path to the staircase that led to Mikki’s balcony.

“Your handmaidens approach.” Hecate glanced at the darkening sky. “I see that at least they haven’t

forgotten the proper order of things, though the Realm of the Rose has suffered with the absence of its

Guardian and my Empousa.”

Like a wave lapping eagerly on a thirsty beach, the four women rushed as one onto the balcony and instantly

fell into deep, graceful curtseys, heads bowed, with their long, unbound hair falling forward to shade their

bright faces. The handmaiden who oddЎdmaiden wwore buttercup yellow silks, a perfect compliment to her

golden hair, spoke first. She lifted her face to the goddess and cried in a voice filled with gladness, “Hail

Hecate! Great Goddess of the Ebony Moon!”

Next spoke the girl dressed in brilliant red whose fall of glossy scarlet hair blazed like fire. “Hail Hecate!

Wise Goddess of Beasts!”

Mikki realized that she recognized the two remaining girls when the handmaiden dressed in sapphire blue with

the waves of sea foam- colored hair lifted her head.

“Hail Hecate! Beautiful Goddess of Magick!”

Before the sound of her sweet voice had faded the brunette, who was tonight dressed in moss green silks the

color of her large, dark-lashed eyes, lifted her head, face glowing with obvious joy.

“Hail Hecate! Goddess of the Crossroads between reality and dreams and mighty proctress of the Realm of

the Rose.”

“Rise, daughters. Come! Kiss my hand. I have missed you.”

The handmaidens rushed to Hecate. Mikki realized that they were much younger than she had at first thought

—really, they looked little older than teenagers, especially as each of them pressed her lips to the goddess’s

hand, giggling and cooing like happy children. Hecate touched their heads and greeted them, clearly pleased

to see the youths. The enormous dogs at her feet wriggled, totally (and shockingly) puppylike, sniffing

enthusiastically at the girls, accepting kisses and caresses from each as was their due. Then Hecate raised her

torch high, and the handmaidens fell instantly silent.

“Handmaidens of Hecate, I bid you welcome the return of my Empousa!” At her proclamation, the torch

blazed, sending a cascade of sparks falling in a whirlwind around the goddess.

The handmaidens gasped, whispering excitedly to one another as they curtseyed to Mikki. She was sure she

heard the brunette hiss a clear “I told you she had returned!” to the others.

Hecate raised her hand for silence.

“Go within. There you will prepare the Empousa for the self-initiation ritual, which will be performed in the

heart of my realm.”

Once again Hecate lifted her torch, only this time she faced outward, looking over the vast gardens.

“Let the Temple of Hecate be lit once more!”

At the goddess’s command, lights suddenly blazed from deep in the gardens. The handmaidens reacted with

exclamations of excitement and joy. Wide-eyed, Mikki watched the silhouette of a columned temple suddenly

illuminate.

“Go now,” Hecate told the handmaidens gently. “The priestess will join you shortly.”

The girls curtseyed deeply to the goddess and then scampered across the wide balcony and into the bedroom

in which Mikki had awakened.

“You must do two things tonight, Mikado,” Hecate told her sternly. “Firsne Ўernly. “Ft, cast a sacred circle.

The handmaidens will aid you in this until you learn to listen to the knowledge that sleeps within your blood.

Second, you will perform a self-initiation ritual. In that ritual, you will dedicate yourself to a new life as my

Empousa, a Priestess of the Blood of Hecate.”

“But I don’t know how to perform an initiation ritual! I don’t know how to perform any ritual,” Mikki said,

exasperated at how inept she felt.

“Mikado!” Hecate’s gray eyes pierced her. “You invoked my presence. You awakened my Guardian. There

lives within your blood the knowledge of generations of my priestesses. If you do not have the courage to

partake of that knowledge, cast the sacred circle and then choose to step from within it. I give you my oath

that the moment you leave the circle, you will return to the life you left in that mundane world at the far side

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of my crossroads.” The goddess’s lip curled in disgust, and the flesh on Mikki’s arms prickled in response as

Hecate’s divine anger sizzled around her. “Perhaps you shall marry . . . perhaps you shall not. Doubtless, you

will produce a daughter, another Empousai, as you have come to call yourselves. You will live and die an

ordinary life. And I will look to other generations for the return of my priestess. But if you do not break the

sacred circle and instead choose to complete the ritual, know that as surely as your heart beats and your

lifeblood flows you will forever after be my High Priestess, Empousa in the Realm of the Rose.” Hecate lifted

her blazing torch once again. “Decide tonight, Mikado Empousai, and know you will never receive another

chance at changing your destiny!” Sparks showered from the torch, and with a great roar of wind, Hecate

disappeared.

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CHAPTER TEN

THOROUGHLY 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?