I walked over to the chair.
Remembering the beautiful, shimmering blue dress, I lifted the others out of the way until I found it. It was floor-length with a plunging neckline, made of a soft, lustrous material that might have been woven moonlight.
"This one will be fine. You know, I'm perfectly able to dress myself, so you and your friends can go and do whatever you need to do now."
"We are here to attend to you. It is the Master's wish. We shall remain."
Okay. Maybe we could have an informal consciousness-raising group here. These women must have slept through the '60s.
Nola draped the blue dress over her arm and floated over to the armoire containing the shoes and lingerie. The other women, all dressed in colorful, flowing gowns, posed like goddess statues in a semi-circle where they'd remained since they entered.
My newly acquired assistant opened the drawers, pulled out the shoe boxes and rifled through them. She seemed to be searching for something in particular and got excited when she found whatever it was.
Her voice raised in pitch. "Yes. These are lovely."
She held up a pair of open-toe, blue high heels, the same shade as the dress, and a strapless, satin corset with garters for silk stockings. Which, what a coincidence, were also available.
I waited next to her, watching. "Just out of curiosity, how do you know what's in there? Did you buy this stuff?'"
She nodded. "The Master asked several of us to observe you and to discern your clothing sizes. Then he told us what he had in mind and gave us free rein to purchase all manner of clothing from the Internet. It was very entertaining." What do you mean, 'observe me'?" 'Physically and astrally, of course. We watched you in your home and joined you in your dreams. The usual ways."
The usual ways?
My eyebrows shot up. "You spied on me?"
She nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, yes. You are very interesting. Come now. There is a room for dressing and hygiene."
Why does everyone around Devereux speak so strangely?
She stepped over to the nearest wall, touched a symbol carved in the wood and a panel slid aside, exposing an opening into yet another room. The "room for dressing and hygiene," or more commonly, the bathroom. But it was a very large, ornate bathroom.
She took my hand and pulled me, as if I was her little red wagon. The rest of the team remained behind.
Gee. Devereux's private bathroom. Should I genuflect or something?
The room was big enough to be a public restroom, but much too luxurious for the masses. There was a faint hint of his scent in the air, perhaps more easily recognized because no incense was burning to mask the fragrance. Mirrors lined each wall and opulent, silver-streaked marble counters were abundant. Multiple sinks with sparkling, modern hardware were interspersed along the counters and the floor was pristine white marble.
A huge silver bathtub sat on a raised platform, enclosed by glass etched with figures of nude men and women dancing. Next to it, in another glass-surrounded area, was a double shower.
Fluffy white towels sat in piles on the various counters and hung in artistic racks on the walls next to the bath and shower areas.
Painted along the top of the walls, like a happy little border, were more men and women, frolicking in all their na**d majesty.
This is unsettling. Devereux really seems to enjoy the nude human form. That makes me both anxious and excited at the same time. Back to my question about the nature of the ritual.
White leather chairs and a loveseat sat off to the side in an alcove, and a clothing rack stood next to a small mirrored makeup table with a fancy matching chair. On the table was a small box, wrapped in shiny paper with a rose pinned to the top instead of a bow. A small card had my name on it.
Nola watched me as I opened the gift. She rocked back and forth from heel to toe, smiling a cat-who-ate-the-canary smile.
Inside was a black velvet jewellery box containing a beautiful silver pentagram on a chain, identical to the one Devereux's mother wore in her portrait.
I was speechless. My mouth opened into an "ah" that remained silent. The weight and craft of the piece suggested it was high-quality and probably very valuable.
I turned to Nola and shook my head.
She cocked hers and raised one sculpted eyebrow. "Are you unhappy with your gift? The Master was very pleased to choose it for you."
"No. I'm not unhappy. I'm confused. Why would he give me something so valuable? He barely knows me."
She tilted her head to the other side and studied me. "Perhaps that is not true. You must dress now. The night awaits."
Just then, as if there'd been a silent signal, the other women filed into the bathroom. I decided to let all the rest of my questions wait until I could talk to Devereux.
After some initial stubbornness on my part, when I insisted on adjusting my own br**sts in the cups of the corset, I finally gave up and let them take over. It turned out they were pretty good with the makeup and hair stuff, and when they finally stepped away to survey their work, it was declared good.
They'd managed to enhance my features through their cosmetic witchery and kept my hair down long and curly. Subtle silver sparkles had been dusted on my curls and the lovely pentagram necklace was added as a last touch. It dangled in the cl**vage created by the low-cut dress and tight corset.
Although cl**vage was usually the least of my concerns. In fact, eliminating it had always been a thornier problem. Thinking about my genetic heritage from my mother made me wonder what she'd say if she saw me at the moment. If she and my father had thought I was strange before, now they'd probably move to another state and leave no forwarding address.
Suddenly, all the women raised their heads as if they were listening to something I couldn't hear, then Devereux's enticing voice floated through the opening of the door.
"Kismet? Shall we go?"
My entourage escorted me back into the other room, as I wobbled a bit on my shoes' thin heels. Not quite stilettos, but in the neighborhood.
He literally gasped when he saw me. And I had the same reaction when I laid eyes on him.
He waltzed elegantly over to me, held out both hands and took mine. "You humble me with your beauty. I am overwhelmed."
"Uh . . ."
It's becoming annoying that my brain goes on vacation whenever I'm around Devereux. I had no idea lust could be so intoxicating.
He smiled and twirled me around in a dance-like movement, which caused my dress to spiral out around me, lifting off the ground.
He looked spectacular.
Dressed in cream-colored soft leather, his pants were obviously cut specifically for his lean, muscular frame. They fit his body like a perfect glove, the waistband riding just above his hips. A line of soft platinum hair snaked down his lower stomach and disappeared into his pants. With the exception of those enticing little strands, his chest was smooth and hair-free. The state of his chest was apparent because he wasn't wearing a shirt. The muscles in his abdomen were toned and obvious, and his ni**les peeked out occasionally from beneath the open floor-length duster, which moved like something much softer than leather. Or, maybe that's how expensive leather moves.
Shining in the center of his chest was the same antique medallion he'd worn the first time he'd come to my office.
The color of his hair matched his clothing and it spilled down over his shoulders, long, soft, and delectable. The blue-green of his eyes sparkled with a fire from within and they shone like the alchemical blending of emeralds and sapphires.
As he swayed with me in our inadvertent dance, I became entranced by the sight of him in all that leather without a shirt. The pink of his ni**les peeped out from the edges of the coat, vivid against his pale skin and captured my attention—and my imagination. A trick of the light made the medallion seem to pulse against his skin. I had to fight the desire to touch him, to run my hands over his chest.
We stopped moving and I finally found my voice.
"You look amazing. I just want to run my fingers through your hair and lick your chest."
My outburst startled me and I felt my face grow hot with embarrassment. Geez, did I really say that out loud? Have I been sucked into the cult?
He let go of me and laughed until his eyes glistened. He wiped the moisture away, then took my face in his hands.
"Thank you for that. I have never been so flattered. I hope you will still feel that way when we are alone later."
When we're alone later? At least he assumes We’ll get through this ceremony in one piece.
He cocked his head and smiled. 'As I have said, I swear that you will be safe." Has anyone ever told you that reading minds without permission is rude?"
He nodded. "My apologies."
He bent his arm at the elbow and lifted it out for me to take.
"The journey to the ceremonial site might cause you to be dizzy and momentarily uncomfortable. It will pass quickly."
What? Every time I start to get comfortable, he says another weird thing.
I had a brief panic attack and considered bolting out the door, but decided I wouldn't get far in the high-heeled shoes. I had to clear my throat a couple of times before I could speak.
"Where are we going? How will we get there?"
We walked into his main office and headed toward what appeared to be a solid wall.
"Our destination is another dimension and we shall move through thought."
Before I could complain or raise my hand up to keep my head from colliding with the physical boundary in front of me, I heard a swoosh of air again, as I had when Devereux brought me from my house. I felt my hair being blown back gently from my face and my equilibrium shifted. I'd say we'd been moving, but it wasn't like any kind of motion I'd felt before. It reminded me of an experience I had in an elevator once, when the car plummeted down several floors in free-fall before the automatic controls took over and stopped the downward motion. My stomach churned and if Devereux hadn't been holding me, my knees would have buckled.
I'm not sure when, but I'd apparently closed my eyes, because when I sensed we were stationary I opened them.
And words failed me.
I was standing on a cloud in a huge, candle-lit room with what seemed like hundreds of other people.
Devereux brushed his finger gently across my cheek and I turned to him.
He took my hand and walked me forward a few steps.
"It is my pleasure to introduce you to Lady Amara."
A beautiful woman with long, pale blond hair approached. She wore a breathtaking white gown and a warm smile. She resembled Devereux so strongly that she could have been his sister.
She moved in very close to me, lifted the pentagram necklace resting on my chest and met my eyes.
"Welcome, Kismet. You have come at last. I am Devereux's mother."
Chapter Seventeen
Devereux had been correct in predicting that I might feel queasy after our inter-dimensional road trip. My head was fuzzy and there was a loud buzzing in my ears. Part of me figured that I'd fallen and hit my head and that was why I was having both auditory and visual hallucinations.
Talking to Devereux's dead mother? Walking on a cloud?
After I accepted my temporary madness I relaxed and enjoyed the experience. After all, it was obviously just a dream. A marvelous, esoteric, lucid dream. It made perfect sense to me that I'd called up the beautiful blond woman's image from the portrait in Devereux's room and that the cottony feeling in my head might be symbolically translated into a cloud.
I gave what I thought was a supportive smile and trilled, "Okay. Sure. Absolutely. Devereux's mother. It's nice to meet you, Lady Amara."
She nodded. "Amara, please."
The two of them exchanged a look and Devereux stepped in front of me, put his finger under my chin and lifted my face so he could search my eyes.
He frowned. "Kismet? Are you well? Your mind is racing like a film on fast-forward."
He removed his finger from my chin but continued to stare at me.
I smiled. "Oh, sure. This is a great dream. Much more fun than all the bloody, scary ones I've been having."
He turned his head toward the blond woman and they both laughed playfully. Devereux moved over to her and drew her into a hug. "It is wonderful to see you, Mother. It has been so very long."
They held each other tightly, both seemingly reluctant to let go.
Amara finally stepped away from his embrace, wiped a tear from under her eye and stood in front of us. Shifting her gaze to each of us in turn, she said in a trembling voice, "My beautiful son. I am so happy you have found your mate and that your heart will be at peace. I cannot remain long, so we must begin."
His mate?
Surprised by this confusing new development, I scanned the immediate area, searching for the mate Amara had referred to.
Before I could ask any of the multitude of disturbing questions which had commandeered my partially functioning brain, Devereux positioned himself in between both of us. He offered us each an arm, and we were suddenly in the middle of a cavernous room. The dreamy quality of the experience began to recede. The sounds, colors, and sensations lost their vague edges and became hyper-focused. My sensing system shifted into high and my inner defenses rallied the troops and pulled up the bridge over the moat.
I was suddenly afraid. All around me were people I didn't know, and we were still walking on a damn cloud. Candles floated in the air of their own volition, just as in the Harry Potter movies, and the flames were overly large and multicolored. Every few seconds each candle sent up a spark of mini fireworks, but no one else paid any attention.
Maybe thei'e was something funny in that water he gave me. Some kind of weird drug from one of those strange bottles he has in his bedroom.