MIKKI stretched out on the pallet beside Asterius. The softness of the thick pelts was soothing against her flushed, sweaty skin. Absently, she traced a finger along the ridges of his abdominal muscles, prominent even as he lay there completely relaxed with his eyes closed. They'd made love twice. Once in his bathing pool again. It had been rough and fast, and Mikki knew her skin still showed raised marks where his claws had shallowly pierced her ass during the climax of their passion. The second time had been long and slow and incredibly gentle. He'd brought her to climax with his tongue twice before he'd entered her and slowly, slowly, rocked them to repletion.

Mikki couldn't imagine leaving him. Couldn't imagine never feeling his touch again - never talking with him again, or never seeing the uninhibited joy and wonder in his eyes when she reached for him. She couldn't imagine it, and so she refused to think about it. She would do what she had to do when the time came. Until then, she wouldn't waste the hours she had with him mourning the future.

"I want to paint you."

Mikki jumped and made a little "squee" sound.

Eyes still closed, his chest vibrated with his low laughter. She smacked his belly. "I thought you were asleep."

"I cannot possibly sleep with you touching me like that," he said.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't realize . . ." She started to pull her hand back, and he caught her wrist.

"I do not mind." He let loose her wrist and smiled when she continued to trace a soft path over his stomach. "I still want to paint you."

"You already sketched me."

"Yes, but I want to paint you, too. Just as you are now. I want your image on the walls of my bedchamber."

He didn't say "so I can remember you when you're old and/or dead," but Mikki's mind shouted the words in her head, along with words that whispered that he might need the painting to remind him of her much sooner than either of them expected. She pushed down her morbid thoughts, but suddenly she wanted desperately for him to paint her - for him to capture even just a piece of what they had so he would remember . . .

"Would you do it tonight? Now?" she asked.

Asterius opened his eyes and studied her. "Yes," he said slowly. "I will paint your portrait tonight."

Mikki watched as he left their bed and began gathering bowls and brushes from niches that had been carved into the walls of the cave and lighting more torches until the bedroom was alive with warmth and light. He hadn't bothered to get dressed beyond the linen wrap he'd slung haphazardly around his hips. She was struck again by the raw power and untamed beauty of his body. He was beast, man, and god, all mixed together to form a miracle, and there was only one thing she wanted more than to spend her life by his side.

When he had readied the paints and had a brush in his hand, she sat up and smiled at him. "Okay, how do you want me to pose?"

He walked over to the sleeping pallet and gently pressed her back so she was lying on her side as she had been when he'd been beside her. He spread her hair out around her so it made a copper veil on the cream-colored pelt. He positioned her hands so one was draped over her head and the other lay, palm down, on the pallet next to her, as if she had just caressed him. Then he pulled the blanket that had been covering her from her waist down off her, leaving her naked. She raised an eyebrow at him.

His lips tilted up. "Are you cold?"

"If I am, will you warm me up?"

His laugh rumbled between them. "When I am finished. For right now, just lie still and close your eyes." He went back to the clay pots and brushes.

"Do I have to close my eyes? I'd rather watch you."

He looked over his shoulder at her. "It will forever be a surprise to me that you enjoy looking at me."

"I like to do more than look." She smiled seductively.

"Do not move," he chided, but his smile was clearly indulgent.

He began painting, working with bold, fast strokes, which he painted right over the top of the Tulsa Rose Garden scene, causing the garden to be cast in the background, as if he was superimposing one view of reality over another.

"Can I talk to you while you do that, or do you need to concentrate?" Mikki whispered, a little awed by the beautiful, glistening version of her that was taking form.

"You may talk. I may not answer, though. Sometimes I forget where I am when I paint."

"In my old world they call that The Zone. I read an article on it once. It happens to artists and authors and athletes. Something about brain endorphins. It's supposed to mean you're doing something right if you can find The Zone."

Asterius grunted.

"Do you always get in The Zone when you paint?" she asked.

"Yes. Usually." He squinted as he studied her and then turned back to the cave wall and drew the long, curving line of her waist, hip and leg.

She watched him paint and thought about his talent and the beauty he seemed to so easily create, even though he had, for centuries, been an outcast. Please, Gii, keep your word. Then she pulled her mind from the handmaiden's promise, afraid Asterius would study her face too closely and be able to read her melancholy thoughts.

She needed to think of him instead. As he was then - as he had been earlier - passionate, tender, loving and full of surprises like the exquisite paintings he could produce. Which reminded her . . .

"Asterius, who is the woman you drew on the wall of the front room?"

His hand stilled mid-stroke. Without looking at her he said, "It is Pasiphea, my mother."

"I thought so," she said. And she had. Asterius wasn't adding her picture to his wall as he would a trophy. He wouldn't do that - he wouldn't even think that way. "She's very beautiful."

"That is how I remember her."

Mikki wanted to ask him to please remember her as beautiful, too. To please forget her faults and the pain of their parting after she was gone. To just remember how much they loved. But she knew she couldn't. All she could do was to hope that when the time came he would forgive her for being mortal. Mikki closed her eyes, afraid if she kept looking at him she would blurt out what she was thinking - admit everything and beg him to help her find another way out of this mess.

Somehow, Mikki slept. She only knew it because the next time she opened her eyes the room was much dimmer and Asterius was sleeping beside her. She lay there for a few moments, listening to him take deep, regular breaths. Then, tentatively, she eased up from their bed. Quietly, she wrapped herself in a length of chiton she'd discarded earlier. She didn't look at the wall until she had the material fastened at her shoulder. Then she stared, pressing her hand to her mouth to stop her gasp. He had made her look like a goddess! Her painted image was sleeping, with a slight upturn to her lips, as if she had been having a lovely dream. Her skin looked touchable, her body lush and inviting. And he hadn't painted her lying on his pallet. He'd painted her sleeping on a bed of rose petals - specifically, Mikado rose petals.

She turned back to the bed and looked at him, wishing she could wake him up and make love to him. But she couldn't take the chance. She had to check on the roses. If my instincts are wrong, she promised herself, I'll come back and wake him up and make love to him all morning. Without looking at him again, Mikki padded on bare, silent feet from the room.

The sun hadn't risen yet, but the eastern sky was starting to turn from night's black to a gray that would soon welcome dawn. The grass was cold and damp under her bare feet as she followed the path around the base of the cliff to the stairs that would lead her up past the hot springs baths, around to her balcony, and then down into the heart of the gardens. Mikki didn't allow her mind to wander. She hurried up the stairs, barely glancing at the steaming baths, not wanting to remember how wonderful it had been to soak there in the company of her handmaidens and how much she had been looking forward to doing so again. Her balcony was empty, as was her room, but she could see a welcoming fire burning in the hearth and a candelabrum tree still lit beside her bed. She bit her lip and turned away from the homey sight.

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.

I was right. I wish I hadn't been, but I was right.

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.