Goddess of the Rose
Chapter Twenty

SHE'D wanted dinner to be easy and casual, but in truth, there were several awkward moments. The Guardian was silent and clearly self-conscious and uncomfortable. Which made total sense. He always ate alone. The entire realm considered him an animal, an outsider. How was he supposed to know anything about polite dinner conversation?
She was careful not to stare at him, because whenever she looked his way, he quit eating. Trying to make him more comfortable, she dispensed with the niceties of using knife and fork and picked up the meat and cheese with her fingers, purposefully chewing more noisily than was her norm. Still, he sat stiff and silent, eating little and drinking only when her attention was elsewhere.
Mikki glanced across the table and awkwardly met his eyes, then looked away quickly, for what seemed like the thousandth time. Too bad they didn't have a TV they could sit in front of or, at the very least, other diners they could eavesdrop on. He needed something to get his mind off the fact that he was sitting at dinner with her. And then she had it!
"The map of the gardens," she said. "While we're eating, you could sketch one for me." Her mind was racing. "I'll bet those little servants who bring dinner and such could scare up some paper and a pencil." She'd stand by the door and not let them come in her room. They wouldn't even know he was here.
"I created it while I awaited your call." He held out one massive hand and spoke a word that sounded like a growl mixed with vowels, and a rolled-up parchment burst into being in his hand. He offered it to Mikki, and she took it from him gingerly, half afraid it would disappear at her touch.
"You know, it's amazing the way you can make things appear like that." She cleared her throat and, only half kidding, added, "Could you teach me to do it?" It didn't seem possible, but in this world, who knew?
"I'm afraid you must be born the child of a Titan to have the ability to conjure inanimate objects."
"That's too bad. It'd come in handy to be able to conjure up a hoe or pruning shears whenever I needed them instead of lugging them around."
His lips tilted up in the hint of a smile. "But I do not have the ability to call the Elements to me, or to cast Hecate's sacred circle."
She smiled. "There are definitely good things about being Empousa."
"Agreed." He lifted his wineglass to her again, and this time seemed more at ease holding the crystal goblet.
Mikki pushed some of the dishes to the edge of the table, making room for the wide parchment paper. She unrolled the Guardian's map and placed four of the smaller plates at each of its corners so she could study it. It was all done in what looked like quill and ink. He'd drawn a thick, wide, spherically shaped circle, which clearly represented the rose wall boundary. Within the boundary, created with amazing attention to detail, was the garden's blueprint. The palace was placed in the north. He'd even sketched in the southern-facing balcony on which they sat, as well as the cliff behind the palace where the springs were located and the unique beds of roses it looked out on, which were Mikki's private gardens.
Hecate's Temple was drawn in as a domed shape, with the enormous fountain beside it, which Mikki could see was, indeed, situated in the geographical center of the gardens. Spiraling out, like spokes on a wheel, he'd drawn bed after bed of roses nestling within a labyrinthine series of interwoven pathways.
She had expected the crude map equivalent of a stick-figure drawing, but he'd created something filled with detail and rich with beauty. Completely caught off-guard, she looked from the map to the creature who had drawn it with such obvious care and unexpected talent.
"Guardian, this map is wonderful! Not only does it have everything on it, so I can easily divide it into fourths and show the handmaidens exactly which area of the gardens I want each of them to be responsible for, but it's a great resource for me. Now I don't have to worry about not knowing my way around." She couldn't help looking at his hands, which more closely resembled massive paws than an artist's delicate tools. "How did you do it?"
For a moment he didn't answer and then, slowly, he lifted his left hand. It was man-shaped, but bigger, with thicker, more powerful fingers than even what she imagined would be normal for a pro football linebacker.
"They're really more dexterous than they look," he said. "I have spent centuries learning to wield them."
Spreading his fingers, his hand quivered, and from each fingernail bed a long, pointed, talonlike claw extended.
"Shit on a shingle!" she gasped.
He barked a rough laugh. "Is that a curse?"
She drew her spine up straight. "Yes. A very bad one. I should watch my language, but you . . ." Her words ran out and she could only gaze at the five dangerous knives his fingers had become.
"I frightened you," he finished for her.
"No," she said quickly. "You didn't scare me, you just surprised me." She met his eyes. "May I touch them?"
"Yes . . ." The word rumbled from deep within his chest.
She touched one of the gleaming claws. "You're like Wolverine."
"I'm like a small, mean-tempered animal?"
"No." Fascinated, she stared at the claw. It felt cold and hard against the pad of her finger. "It's the name of a fictional character who was created for something called comic books in my old world. Actually, he probably was named after the animal. He's a man who has special abilities. One of which is that he can make claws come out of his hands, like you can."
The Guardian didn't take his eyes from his hands, where she was still tracing his claw with the soft warmth of her finger.
"And is this Wolverine a demon, shunned and rejected by the rest of the comic book characters?"
"He seems to get himself in more than his share of trouble, but he's really a man with a good heart who tries hard to do the right thing." She finally raised her eyes to his. "After you get to know him you understand that the only demon within him is the one he imagines in his own imperfections." Mikki couldn't look away from him. His dark eyes devoured her sense of reason. Reality bent until it wasn't important what he was, as long as he kept looking at her like that - like she was his world.
With a little tremor, she felt his claws retract and she realized that her hand was resting within his. With a nervous laugh, she pulled her hand quickly to her side. "So you actually use your claws as quills?"
"Yes, Empousa." His expression hardened into unreadable lines again.
Mikki's stomach clenched. She didn't want him to retreat from her, so before she sat back down she reached over and placed her hand gently on his forearm. His eyes shot to hers, but he didn't speak, nor did he pull away from her touch.
"Thank you for this beautiful map. It is exactly what I need to organize the women tomorrow."
"You are most welcome, Empousa."
She smiled and then returned to her chair. "I wish you would call me Mikki. I like being High Priestess, but there are times when I just want to be me."
"If you would not mind," his deep voice rumbled between them, "I would prefer to call you Mikado. It is a lovely rose, and I find that it reminds me of you."
She felt a thrill of pleasure at his compliment. "I don't mind. I like the way my name sounds when you say it - like there's some kind of secret hidden within the word."
"Perhaps there is," he said.
"Perhaps . . ." she said. She was falling into his gaze again, losing herself . . .
"I should go," he said abruptly, breaking their gaze and beginning to stand.
"Not yet!" Leaning forward, she caught his hand and felt the jolt that went through him when their flesh touched. "Stay a little longer and have one more glass of wine with me." When he relaxed back into his chair, she reluctantly released his hand and then busied herself refilling both of their wine goblets. "I know I should be exhausted, and my body is, but my mind keeps going around and around with all the things I need to do tomorrow and all the things I should have gotten done today."
"You accomplished much today. You should be pleased."
"I am. I'm just impatient to get to work on the rest of the gardens." He nodded. "It is important that the roses heal and thrive. They are the foundation of our realm and its strength. It is dangerous for them to be unwell."
"Can you tell me what it is in the forest that you're so worried about?" she asked quietly.
"Dream Stealers."
"That's what Hecate called them, too, but I have no idea what that means. All I know is that you and she, and by the way the women who went into the forest stayed quiet and frightened looking, everyone in this realm believes they're dangerous. I get that, but I don't get what they are."
"Dream Stealers take different forms, depending upon their victim. That is one reason they are so dangerous. The face they would show you would be different from the one they would show one of your handmaidens."
"So they're physical beings?"
"They can take physical forms, yes." He paused and studied her carefully. "In your old world, there must have been Dream Stealers. Perhaps they just chose to personify yet another form there."
She thought about the young gang members who were regulars in the ER until they inevitably ended up in the morgue or the state penitentiary - about the statistics that reported Oklahoma as one of the states with the largest number of teen pregnancies, as well as reports of child abuse - and about the ridiculously high number of Oklahoma women who lived in poverty.
"You're right. There are Dream Stealers in my old world. Young men throw away their lives; girls repeat cycles of abuse until they can see no way out; terrible things happen every day."
"And what causes those things to happen? What is at the heart of those tragedies?"
"Hatred, ignorance, apathy," she said.
"Exactly. And those are just some of the Dream Stealers that lurk in the forest of the crossroads between worlds. If they would enter our realm, they would be able to not simply destroy people's lives, but the dreams on which generations survive."
"You'll keep them out, won't you?"
"I have sworn a life oath to do so."
"You should have told me all this earlier." Mikki shivered, feeling sick at the thought that she'd insisted he open the gate and let the women go into the forest. "No, it's not your fault. You tried to tell me that it was dangerous; I should have listened to you."
"You did what you believed was best for the roses. No harm was done; I was there to guard the gate. I will always be there to guard the gate."
"But if those things are in the forest, why is there a gate at all? Shouldn't we seal it up and be sure it's never opened again?"
"We cannot. Mikado, not everything in the forest is evil. You should know that even dreams must be tempered with reality from time to time. Our reality comes from the forest and the threads of reality that drift there from the worlds beyond."
"First thing tomorrow you'll check all the rest of the hedge to be sure no other area has been weakened by the roses being sick?"
"I will. You may rest easily, Mikado. The realm is safe under my protection."
She knew what he said was the truth - she knew it because she felt it deep within her blood. All her intuition told her that this incredible man-beast would give his life to keep the Realm of the Rose, and its Empousa, safe.
"Thank you."
This time instead of bristling at her appreciation, he simply bowed his head slightly.
For a while they sipped their wine, each lost in their own thoughts.
"May I ask you another question?" Mikki said.
"You may." He was looking at her with an open, interested expression.
"When I asked you if you could teach me to conjure things, you said you couldn't because only someone born of a Titan had that ability. Just exactly who were your parents?"
He didn't respond to her question for a long time, weighing whether he should tell her his story, or whether he should stay silent and remain a mystery to her - a mystery that she would eventually tire of trying to solve.
The thought made him feel crushingly alone.
When he began to speak, his powerful voice was unusually subdued, and he could not look at her. Instead, he stared blankly out into the night.
"My father is the Titan Cronos. One day he visited the ancient island of Crete and was struck by more than the beauty of the land amidst sea. He saw and instantly fell in love with the fair Pasiphea. But she was no mindless maiden. Pasiphea knew that mortals who become lovers of the gods usually come to tragic endings, so she refused the Titan. Cronos was not dissuaded by her rejection - he waited and watched. When Minos, king of Crete, chose Pasiphea as his bride, my father saw his opportunity. On Minos's wedding night, he drugged the king and took his likeness, as well as his bride's virginity. Minos was fooled, as was Pasiphea. But Cronos's wife, Rhea, was not. She suspected her husband's infidelity and confronted Cronos. He denied loving Pasiphea. And in truth, he did not lie. Once he'd sated his desire for the mortal woman, his love faded. Still, Rhea was not satisfied. She watched Pasiphea, discovering that the new bride was pregnant. In a fit of jealous anger, Rhea cursed Pasiphea's child. If, indeed, it was the son of a Titan, the child would be born not man or god, but an abomination, a creature like none other in the ancient world. That is how I came into being."
"You are what the myth of the Minotaur was based on!"
Bottomless and empty, his eyes found hers. "That is the name Minos gave me. He loathed me from the moment I was born."
"And your mother?"
"Pasiphea was kinder than her husband. She even used to secretly visit me, and I remember when I was young, she sometimes sang me to sleep." He paused, struggling to control his emotions.
"Your mother loved you."
He flinched and felt as if her words physically hurt him. "I like to believe that she tried to love me. She named me Asterius, refusing to call me by the name Minos had given me, but even in her kindness she could not forget that I was a beast. She knew that because of my monstrous form, Cronos had somehow been successful in entering her bed, the very thought of which was abhorrent to her. The sight of me was a constant reminder that the Titan had tricked her and invaded her body. So she persuaded Minos to build an enormous labyrinth, saying that in the center of it was where he should hide the fortunes of Crete, and that I would guard it for him. The labyrinth on Crete is where I lived, away from my mother's eyes and those who would hunt me for sport. It is where I would still be today if not for Hecate."
"My God! They tell stories about you. Stories that say maidens and boys were sacrificed to you."
The stunned expression on her face made him feel hot and cold at the same time.
"You should know that I have not always been as I am now. Before I answered Hecate's summons, I was as Rhea cursed me to be - an abomination, of both body and soul. When I pledged myself to the goddess, she lifted Rhea's curse and gave me the heart and soul of a man, though there was nothing even the Great Goddess could do to alter my physical form."
His hand was resting on the table near the open map. The Empousa reached out and put hers on top of his. He looked down at her hand.
"I don't see an abomination when I look at you," Mikki told him.
"Perhaps you should look deeper. There is still a beast within me."
"I'd like to believe in the man, if you'll let me, Asterius."
"The man . . ." His words were barely audible. He looked from her hand into her eyes. "The man hears you, Mikado, even if it seems your voice is speaking from his dreams."
"Maybe I am." She smiled softly. "You and I have been in each other's dreams before."
He turned her hand over in his and let his thumb trace the delicate lifeline that bisected her palm, following it until it met the pulse point at her wrist. Then, with a caress softer than the brush of a butterfly's wings, he smoothed his thumb in sensuous circles over her pulse.
"I can feel the beat of your heart," he murmured.
"Can you feel that it's beating faster?"
He lifted his eyes to hers. "I can." Her face was so close to his that he could feel the warmth of her breath on his skin. Her eyes had gone soft and her lips were parted. He wanted to taste her! He wanted to drink her in and lose himself in her sweetness. With a low growl he bent his head, replacing his thumb with his lips. He could feel her life's blood pulsing, and he tasted the salt of her skin. She shivered under his touch, and he let his lips move to the delicate indentation of her elbow. Then he lifted his head. Her breathing had deepened, and she was staring at him with wide, liquid eyes. Before reason and common sense could make him change his mind, he leaned forward and touched his lips to hers. She made a little gasping sound that seemed to call to his soul, and he deepened the kiss.
Pain lanced through his body. His blood had turned to white-hot lava, and it pounded with ferocious intensity within him. For a moment he was so disoriented that his claws automatically shot from his skin and he bared his teeth in a snarl, ready for the stealthy enemy that had attacked him. Then he understood. Hecate's spell!
The Empousa did not love him; therefore, her passion would not be allowed.
He raised tortured eyes to hers. Mikado looked pale and shocked, and she had scooted back in her chair as far away from him as she could get.
Abruptly, he stood, knocking over his chair and causing the little table to rock dangerously. "This was unwise. I should not be here with you."
"What's wrong? What's happened? You look like you're in terrible pain."
She reached one hand hesitantly toward him, but he lurched away from her, not able to bear her gesture of kindness.
"You must not touch me!"
"Okay!" She dropped her hand shakily to her side. "I won't touch you. Just sit down and tell me what's going on."
"No." He took another step back. "I should have obeyed your command to create the map, delivered it to you, and returned to my lair."
"I didn't command you to make the map. I asked you to, just like I asked you to have dinner with me. You didn't do anything wrong - we didn't do anything wrong," she said, looking utterly confused by his sudden change.
"That is where you are mistaken. You did nothing wrong, but I did. Today I began to twist the threads of reality into a waking dream, something that, even in this realm of dreams and magick, is as impossible as it is dangerous. This cannot happen again."
The Guardian flung himself from the balcony. With the agility of a beast and the power of a god, he distanced himself from her, and as he did the pain in his body subsided, leaving him exhausted and empty.
So this was what his life had come to. This was what it was to be. He was a man within a beast, tethered by a goddess. He was to know desire but not surcease. Like Tantalus, he was to live in torment - his relief in sight, but unattainable. Asterius stumbled to a halt, threw back his head and roared his agony to the deaf heavens.