Very least, forced me back to face Hecate’s wrath. Instead, he said one small thing and then stepped aside and

let me go free.”

“He thought he loved you,” Mikki said woodenly.

Sevillana finally met her eyes, and Mikki could see the surprise there. “That is the one thing he said—that he

loved me. But it made no sense. How could a beast love a woman?”

“He is not a beast!” Mikki hissed under her breath, anger making her face pale. “And you’re not good enough

for his love if you couldn’t see the man within him.”

“You love him!”

“I do.”

Sevillana stared at Mikki for a long time without speaking and then she bowed her head slightly to the

younger woman. “Forgive me for speaking so cavalierly. I was a young girl then. I have come to understand

since that I was wrong about many things, this, then, is simply one last lesson for me. You have my

admiration, Mikado, as well as my respect. I have never known such courage as yours.”

Mikki took several deep, calming breaths. There was absolutely no point in getting so pissed off at the old

woman. What she’d done had happened two centuries ago. It was over. Finished. And she didn’t want to

alienate her. Sevillana Kalyca Empousai was her ticket back to Asterius.

“I forgive you. I think Asterius does, too. And what I did wasn’t that courageous. I didn’t have any choice.

Asterius had gotten rid of the Dream Stealers, but it was too late. They’d already poisoned the roses—all of

them except the ones I’d bled on. I tried to stop the blight another way, but nothing worked. I knew it

wouldn’t. The only way to save the roses was by my blood.”

“And you do not think it courageous that you went to your lover and allowed him to sacrifice you? It was not

even Beltane, yet you met your destiny early and saved the realm.”

Mikki frowned. “Asterius didn’t sacrifice me. He didn’t even know what I’d planned. I knew he’d try to stop

me, so I snuck out. And what’s this you keep saying about Beltane? That’s in the spring, right? What does

that have to do with anything?”

“You truly do not know?”

“No!” she said, exasperated and thoroughly sick of mysteries.

“They must have been afraid to tell you. Afraid that you, too, would leave them. Mikado, the Empousa serves

one true purpose. She is there for the roses.”

“Yes, yes, yes! I know that.”

“You also know that Hecate’s Empousa is bound to the roses through her blood. What you do not know is

that every Beltane night the Empousa is sacrificed by t he±Ђ†he Guardian, because her blood insures that the

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realm thrives for another year.”

Mikki felt everything within her go very still. “They were going to kill me?”

“Not they. He was. It is the Guardian’s duty to protect the roses.”

It all made horrible sense. Asterius’s behavior when they first met and were attracted to each other . . . How

he had said they could not be together . . . how he had struggled against loving her. It had been more than

disbelief that she could ever see him as a man—more than the rejection of Sevillana. He’d known he would

have to kill her.

The thought made her physically ill.

Sevillana’s warm hand on her cold, numb one was a physical shock.

“He had no choice.”

“And Hecate, she meant all along for me to die,” Mikki said.

“Life and death is different for the gods. Hecate is stern and powerful, but she is also a loving goddess. She

would see your sacrifice as just another link in the great circle of life. The goddess would not forsake you,

Mikado, even in death. Had you met your destiny at Beltane, Hecate would have made sure you spent

eternity in the endless beauty of the Elysian Fields. The goddess cares for those who belong to her; she only

turns away from those who betray her.”

“It’s a hard concept for my mind to grasp. Everyone I cared about, everyone I loved, they all knew I was

going to die.” She paused as the enormity of it hit her. “So even if you could help me figure out a way to get

back, I’d just be returning to die again.”

“Yes. Do you still wish to return?”

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CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

DID she still want to return? It was already the end of February. Wasn’t Beltane the same day as May first?

So she’d have a couple months and then Asterius would kill her.

The thought was impossible to believe. Yet even in the middle of her disbelief, intuition told her Sevillana was

speaking the truth. It all fit, and she suddenly felt like the piece outside the jigsaw puzzle. She knew where she

belonged, and it wasn’t in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

“I want to go back, but I don’t know if I’m brave enough.”

“Listen to your instincts, Mikado. Trust what they tell you.”

“They tell me that I don’t belong here.”

“Then perhaps you should return home,” Sevillana said.

“Do you know how to get me there?”

“I can give you the anointing oil, but the rest you already hold within you. You sacrificed yourself for the

Realm of the Rose, and you were selfless enough to love its Guardian. You were, my dear, the exact opposite

of the realm’s last Empousa. I believe Hecate will hear ret sizady your call, and honor it.”

“But how—” Mikki stopped herself. She knew what she must do. She had to listen to her intuition and follow

her instincts. She glanced at Sevillana, who nodded approval at her introspection. Calm down and think. I’m

Hecate’s Empousa. There has to be a way for me to return. Suddenly Mikki smiled. “That’s it! I’m still

Empousa. Hecate said I carry her power—that can’t have completely gone away, not even here. I mean, look

at you! You’ve lived two hundred years, and you walked away from the goddess.”

“Her power should still be yours to wield,” Sevillana said. “Even in the mundane world.” The old woman

reached into her leather clutch and pulled out a glass rose stem, exactly like the first one she’d given Mikki.

“This is the anointing oil of Hecate’s Empousa. It is the one step in the invocation ritual with which I can aid

you.”

“Thank you, Sevillana.” Mikki took the stem, carefully folding it in a napkin before sliding it into her purse.

“I ask only one thing of you, Empousa,” the old woman said. “I ask that you petition Hecate’s forgiveness for

me. I know I cannot return to the realm, but I am weary and I would like to be allowed to shed this life and

embrace my eternity in the Elysian Fields. I cannot do so without Hecate’s forgiveness.”

“I’ll ask her. But why not ask her yourself?”

“I wish I could, but I cannot return. I have tried, many times over the long, silent years. The goddess will not

hear me. She has turned her face from me.”

“But Hecate hasn’t turned her face from me!” she said in a rush of understanding. “Why do you think I’m not

a ghost in the Elysian Fields? I died. I should not have woken up back in Tulsa—unless there was a damn

good reason Hecate wanted me to return here.” Remembering, Mikki sat straight up. “She knew you were

here. I told her your name when she asked me how I’d ‘accidentally’ gotten my hands on the anointing oil of

an Empousa. I remember the look on her face now—she knew it even then.”

“The Guardian Statue—the goddess did put it here so I would find it—and find you,” Sevillana said through a

voice thickened with tears.

“Hecate meant for me to come back so I’d see you.” This time it was Mikki who took the old woman’s

trembling hand in hers. “Hecate’s forgiven you, Sevillana.”

“Oh, my dear, if only that was true . . .”

“Let’s find out. Tonight is the night of the new moon. Come to the rose gardens. Stand inside the sacred circle

with me. Let’s try to go home, Sevillana.”

MIKKI was glad for the rainy night. It was cold and miserable, but it was also so dark that even the

illuminating lampposts in Woodward Park cast only the smallest halo of weak, iridescent light in limited

bubbles around the park. It was easy for someone who knew the park well to avoid the lights. And Mikki

knew the park well.

She clutched her briefcase in one hand and held tightly to Sevillana with her other, helping maneuver the old

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woman through the darkness. They didn’t speak; they didn’t neet hБЂ†d to. Mikki kept up a running

commentary in her head that prayed over and over that no one would be in the park or the gardens. By the

time they’d reached the boundary between the park and the gardens, Mikki had relaxed a little. Clearly no

one was crazy enough to venture out into the park on a night like this, especially a couple hours past

midnight. Still, Mikki didn’t say anything until they passed beneath the rock archway and stepped lightly onto

the third tier of the gardens.

The illumination from the fountain lazily lit the area surrounding it in a watery light that, coupled with the

drizzly mist that hung in the cold air, washed the tier with dreamlike color.

“It’s appropriate,” Mikki said softly.

“Yes. The lighting evokes dream images,” Sevillana said in perfect understanding. “It is a good omen,

Empousa.”

“Let’s hope so,” she muttered. Then she looked at the empty pedestal. She hadn’t been back since that

horrible morning they’d found her. She couldn’t bear it. Mikki hadn’t quit as a volunteer; she’d asked for a

leave of absence, which was granted immediately. Everyone said they understood how hard it must be for her

to come back into the gardens where she’d been attacked and left for dead. But of course, they didn’t really

understand. How could they? They’d never know the truth.

“Mikado?” Sevillana touched her arm gently.

Mikki turned her back to the empty pedestal. “You’re right. We need to hurry. This will definitely be

impossible to explain if we get caught.”

“Then we must not get caught,” the old woman said firmly.

“Agreed. Let’s get busy.”

Mikki chose a place near the fountain. She opened her briefcase, and Sevillana helped her place a candle in

each of the four Elemental positions of the circle: yellow in the east for Wind; red in the south for Flame; blue

in the west for Water; green in the north for Earth and, finally, purple in the center of the circle for Spirit.

Then she took the long, narrow fireplace matchbox from the briefcase as well as the little razor-sharp knife

that usually stayed hidden in her apartment, and placed them beside the spirit candle.

Stepping outside the ring of candles, Mikki took one last thing from the briefcase before she placed it in the

shadows beside the empty pillar. She pulled free the cork that closed the end of the delicate glass stem and

then applied the perfumed oil liberally to the pulse points at her neck, wrists and breasts. Then she handed it

to Sevillana. With only a small hesitation, the old woman took the bottle and applied the perfume to her own

body. The scent of roses and spice was heavy in the damp air, and Mikki’s stomach clenched with

remembrance.

This had to work; she had to return.

“Are you ready?” Mikki asked.

The old woman nodded and tugged two long hair pins from her elegant French knot, setting her waist-length

fall of silver hair free. Then with a flourish that showed grace and beauty that belied her years, Sevillana

whirled off her long raincoat, under which she was wearing a beautiful silk chiton thes gБЂ† color of lilacs.

Mikki discarded her own coat and ignored the cold as she, too, was now dressed in a violet-colored chiton.

The only difference between her chiton and Sevillana’s was that Mikki’s was a shade darker, and, as was

proper for a new moon ritual, it left one of her breasts bare.

“One thing you can say about chitons is that they are definitely easy to make,” Mikki said.

“I have missed them dreadfully.” Looking down at herself, Sevillana smiled. Then she glanced at Mikki and

dipped into a fluid curtsey. “Shall we continue, Empousa?”

“Absolutely.”

Together the two women walked to the center of the circle. With the purple candle between them, they faced

north. Then Mikki picked up the box of matches, thinking how much she missed the company of the

Elementals, especially tonight. Shaking off doubts, Mikki approached the yellow candle and lit the match.

“Blowing winds, strong and everywhere, even in the realm of the mundane, I summon you, Wind, as the first

element in the sacred circle.” Mikki touched the match to the candle and held it there until it lit. Without

letting herself worry about whether or not the element actually heard her and would answer her call, Mikki

moved quickly to the red candle. “Blazing force of cleansing fire, dancing flame of light, even in the realm of

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the mundane your power is rich and true. I summon you, Flame, to the sacred circle.” When the match

touched the red candle’s wick, the flame burst into being and Mikki felt a surge of hope. Without hesitation,

she moved to the blue candle. “Sparkling, glimmering tide of life, you bathe us, cool us, quench us, even in

this realm of the mundane you cover more than half our world and give us life. I summon you, Water, to the

sacred circle.” Through the lit wick, Mikki thought she saw the blue candle waver and shimmer like waves.

Then she was facing the green candle. “Lush and fertile, familiar and wild, even in this realm of the mundane

you hold us and care for us. I summon you, Earth, to the sacred circle.” Mikki moved back to her place

beside the purple candle. “I summon you, Spirit, to the sacred circle with the two words that bound me to my

goddess—‘love’ and ‘trust.’ ” She lit the purple candle and then dropped the match. Staring around her, she

was disappointed that she saw no luminous threads weaving together to bind the elements to the circle.

“Do not despair that you cannot see them in this realm,” Sevillana said as if she could read Mikki’s thoughts.

“See them within your mind. Believe they are there. The power of an Empousa’s belief is a magick all its

own.”

Mikki nodded, and within her mind she imagined the gossamer threads outlining the circle.

“Now, let’s finish it,” Mikki said resolutely. She bent and picked up the knife. She looked at Sevillana, and

the old woman gave Mikki her hand, palm up. With a quick, practiced movement, Mikki pressed the sharp

blade against Sevillana’s thin skin and drew a long line across her palm. As her blood welled, Mikki handed

the knife to Sevillana. The ex-Empousa took Mikki’s hand firmly, and with one quick stroke, cut a similar line

in her palm. Then she dropped the knife and the two women clasped their hands together, palm to palm,

mingling the blood of generations of Hecate’s High Priestesses.

Mikki closed her eyes and cleared her mind. When she spoke, she gave no mind to lowering her voice. If it

worked—if the goddess was really invoked—the circle would hold and no mortal would be allowed to

intrude. And if it did not . . . if it did not, then Mikki didn’t care what happened to her.

“Hecate, Great Goddess of the Ebony Moon, Crossroads of Mankind and Beasts. I am Mikado Empousai,

High Priestess and Empousa of the Realm of the Rose. In a land far from you I have anointed myself, cast

your sacred circle and by the right of my blood I call upon your name. We have a pledge between us, an oath

sealed with love and trust. And by the power of that oath I invoke your presence and ask that I be heard.”

Suddenly, wind whipped around them, causing the candles to shiver madly. The mist swirled, and as Mikki

watched, it became filled with glitter until from the center of the vortex of wind and sound and light, Hecate

appeared. The goddess was dressed in full regalia—robes of night, the headdress of stars and the golden torch.

At her feet the massive hounds snarled and snapped at the misty garden.

Mikki started to cry the goddess’s name, but Sevillana’s tearful voice interrupted her. The old woman pulled

her hand from Mikki’s and fell to her knees.

“Great Goddess! Forgive me!” Sevillana sobbed, tears falling freely down her well-lined face. “What I did

was wrong. I have spent lifetimes trying to atone for my unforgivable error. The foolish, selfish girl who

betrayed you no longer exists.”

Hecate’s face was unreadable, but her voice was soft. “What is it you have learned, Sevillana?”

“I have learned that there are things more terrible to lose than my life.”

“And what are those things?”

“My honor . . . my name . . . and the love of my goddess.”

“You never lost the love of your goddess, daughter.”

Sevillana pressed her hand to her mouth, trying to stifle her sobs. Mikki put her hand on the old woman’s

shoulder, lending her strength through touch.

“Will you forgive me then, Hecate?” Sevillana was finally able to say.

“Child, I forgave you long ago. It is you who have not been able to forgive yourself,” said the goddess.

Sevillana bowed her head. “May I rest now, Goddess?”

“Yes, Sevillana. All you ever needed to do was to ask. I would never turn my face from my Empousa—even

an errant one. Behold!” Then Hecate swept out her hand and a section of the mist opened, like a door made

of night. Suddenly a lovely scene came into view. It was a beautiful meadow, filled with clover and ringed by

tall pines whose needles looked like giant feather dusters. As they watched, a lithe figure skipped and danced