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The questions and comments came fast and thick, but I sensed no animosity and began to relax. And as I relaxed, I began to talk with these women of the grave, these women who were now my sisters in spirit.
"Yes, I'm Delilah . . . I'm original y from Otherworld, but I'm part human."
"You're stil alive, aren't you?" One particularly lithe young woman, Japanese by her looks, and with hair that flowed to her ankles, cocked her head and laughed then. "What funny hair you have. I like it, though."
I grinned. "I got skunked--it's a long story. And yes, I'm stil alive."
It felt odd, as they pul ed closer, to realize that al of them--al of these seemingly corporeal women--were spirits. But before I could dwel on that thought, I found myself herded over to the pil ows where they drew me down and sat around me.
Greta held up her hand, and everyone quieted. She must wield more power than I'd thought.
"I brought Delilah here tonight for several reasons. One, to meet you--so she wil realize that she is not alone. We've al walked the path she now walks, and when we died, our Master brought us here, to Haseofon. That's what this place is cal ed, Delilah-- Haseofon, the Abode of the Death Maidens. "
I rol ed the name around on my tongue for a moment, getting used to it. "Is the name private? Can I use it outside of these wal s?"
"It is not of great importance. We wil not attempt to keep too many secrets between you and your corporeal family." And then she smiled. "Introduce yourselves, please. She may not remember al of our names at once, but part of her training wil be to interact with al of you and to learn from you."
And so, one by one, they introduced themselves. Most of the names went by in a blur, but a few stood out. Eloise, the tal , dark-skinned warrior woman; Lissel, a gorgeous redhead who dropped into a quick curtsy; Fiona, a dark-haired Irish lass; and Mizuki, the Japanese girl who seemed as light on her feet as I did when I was in cat form. And every one of them bore the markings on their forearms that Greta--and I--did. Bril iant swirling leaves and vines of black, orange, rust, and red, tattooing their al egiance to the Autumn Lord.
She turned to me. "There is another you must meet. She is part of our family, although she is not a Death Maiden. You wil recognize her."
Of course that sparked my curiosity. I turned in the direction that Greta was pointing, and waited. Out of the shadows, from behind an urn, stepped a carbon copy of myself, only she had hair the color of sable fur, rich and brown. She smiled and held out her arms, and in that moment, I understood. Arial.
My twin. My leopard sister.
"Arial! Oh Great Mother Bast--my Arial!" And then I was sobbing, in her embrace, holding on for dear life. "I can't believe it's you."
"Yes, it's me," she whispered, and her voice was my own as wel . "I live here, when I'm not prowling the astral, keeping an eye on you. The Autumn Lord took me in when I died, and I grew up here, in spirit if not in body."
"But why aren't you with our ancestors in the Land of the Silver Fal s?" I managed to force myself to stand back, holding her by the shoulders. "Why aren't you with our mother?"
"That wil keep for later--the story is long and involves your own destiny. But for now, just be glad we're together again. Whenever you come here to visit, I'l be able to talk to you. I can't appear as anything but my leopard self when outside of these wal s." She laughed, tossing her long hair back over her shoulder. It reached her lower back in a cascade of curls similar to Camil e's, but it wasn't nearly so dark or thick. But her forearms were clear of tattoos.
She wasn't a Death Maiden; that much was obvious.
Unwil ing to let go of her, I wrapped my arm around her waist and turned to Greta. "Bless you . . . I can't repay you for this gift. I don't know what to say."
"Just promise me that you wil keep your temper and wait for my direction next time. It's one thing if you fight to the death against an enemy, but you obliterated his soul, Delilah. You may not realize it, but you sent him directly to the abyss without being told. That could have serious repercussions down the line. Be cautious not to invoke your powers as a Death Maiden to take down your foes unless you have been given leave."
I understood then. She wasn't asking me to keep from fighting. It was how I fought that worried her. "I see . . . and I promise. Now, can I spend some time talking to Arial privately?"
Greta laughed. "You have al the time in the world. And you may come any time, though for now you are here in spirit only. But bid your sister farewel for now, for I have lessons to teach you."
Reluctantly, I said good-bye to my twin. Arial turned for one last wave before darting out of the chamber through one of the side doors. I gave Greta a long look. "What does my sister do here? Why is she tied to the Autumn Lord?"
"She has never met him, save at birth. He brought her in, and she spent her first few years as a lovely leopard cub, secure in her life here, adored by al the Death Maidens. We've grown very fond of her. We helped her learn how to take her two-legged form, how to speak, we taught her to read and to play the harpsichord--"
"The harpsichord?"
"I have no idea why she chose that particular instrument, but it's the one to which she gravitated. She sings beautiful y and writes poetry. And she acts as our handmaid, helping us when we need it. She's a part of our family, even if she's not a Death Maiden." She paused. "More you wil find out in time, but for now . . ."
"Now . . . lessons?"
"Yes. Fol ow me." She rose, and I fol owed her through a door to the side and down a long hal . We entered another room, this one sparse, though stil beautiful, and in the center, a bench with a thick pil ow on it. "Please, take a seat."
"What are you going to teach me?" I asked, taking my place on the pil ow.
Greta smiled slyly. "Oh, girl, it's not what I'm going to teach you. Whatever you do--do not get off the bench. That is the one rule I give to you, and see that you fol ow it. You can die if you don't. I'l be back for you in awhile. Until then . . ." Her voice dropped, and she gave me a solemn pat on the shoulder and left the room. I heard a faint click of a lock.
