Goddess Chronicles Ch. 02

She looked ridiculous. Like some beached whale, wrapped in a tarp while the humans attempted to save it. She was fat. Fat and disgusting. She had been for as long as she could remember. Though she tried, desperately, but too often in vain, not to remember. Not to think about the past. About the pain.

Cathy stared in the mirror. This was a bad idea. She should know better by now. She was just setting herself up to be ridiculed. Girls like that were never really friends with girls like her. Didn't she learn that lesson when she had tried out for the cheerleading squad in high school?

She did not belong. She never had. And she never would. Books were her only real friends. Her escape. Her solace. Knowledge. Fantasy. Sci-fi. Even the romance of which she would never be a heroine. It did not matter. Words resonated. They sang in her mind and heart. They were the refuge and the only reality worth knowing.

That was it. She would get out of this ludicrous outfit. She would grab the historical romance that she had borrowed from the library and crawl into bed. That was a far better way to spend Halloween than some party hosted by the most prestigious sorority on campus.

A girl like her was lucky to have come this far. Foster children did not attend Ivy League universities. They ended up pregnant, alone, and repeating the mistakes of their childhood. But not Cathy. Her books had saved her from that Fate. Through them, she had learned that she could be anything she wanted.

The only thing she wanted to be was an archeologist. But even then, it was words, writing that drew her — the idea of reading ancient languages. Discovering lost mysteries in the hieroglyphics of some unknown Egyptian tomb or deciphering cuneiform texts on Sumerian tablets, these were her dreams.

So, what was she doing wrapped in a sheet, with so much eye make-up that she could barely see, her long, wavy, red hair piled atop her head and held in place with some metal circlet that resembled a crown? This was not her.

Cathy reached a trembling hand towards the golden-colored broach that secured the sheet at her shoulder.

"What are you doing?"

Cathy turned to face her RA. Stacy was a senior. She was also a member of Omega Tau Pi. Cathy had never understood why the girl, whose father was a corporate lawyer, would choose to be a lowly resident adviser. Or why she would have taken such an interest in someone like her. But from fresher week, the girl had gone out of her way to help her.

Stacy was everything that Cathy was not. Blond. Tall. Beautiful. And of course, thin. Her family's wealth meant she wore the 'right' clothes. She had her own car. And was friends with the 'right' people.

Still, the girl had been kind to her. That in itself made Cathy nervous. She kept waiting, felt as if she were merely biding her time until 'the other shoe dropped' as her first foster mother had said. No matter how hard she tried, Cathy could not help but wonder -- why.

"I'm sorry, Stacy. But this is a bad idea. I don't belong at a party like this. I'm just going..."

Before she could unclasp the metal broach, the young woman had crossed the room. Her hands grasped Cathy's, stayed her actions. "No, Cathy. You have to go tonight. It's important." Stacy's blue eyes seemed to glow in the dim light of her desk lamp. "Please. For me?"

Cathy wanted to refuse. Everything inside her screamed that this was a misjudgment. Hadn't she learned anything from high school? The overly friendly head cheerleader, who had encouraged her to try-out for the squad, had on the first day humiliated her in front of all the others — calling her fat, clumsy, and other things that she had long since blocked out.

What if this party was like that? Could she survive another indignity like that? Then she had a loving foster mother to turn to for advice. Now, she was on her own. Alone in this world. No one to run to. And in this small, privileged world, nowhere to hide.

"Please..." The other girl pleaded.

Cathy was not sure why, in the years to come, in quiet moments, she would ponder whatever had led her to accede. To nod her head and drop her hand. To take those first tentative steps out of her dorm room and into her future. Her destiny and Fate. That had begun at that moment, on that most hallowed of nights.

The party was in full swing when they arrived. Cathy was relieved to see that her costume was not as absurd as it seemed. It was, in fact, sedate for this gathering. In keeping with the theme 'gathering of the gods', the room was aflood with Roman, Greek, Norse, even the random Incan, Mayan, Hindu, and other ancient gods and goddesses milling about with paper cups of 'ambrosia' in their hands.

Stacy pressed a cup of blood-red punch into Cathy's shaky hand. "Here; drink this. It will help."

She shook her head and tried to pass it back, "I don't drink." Cathy had over a lifetime in foster care seen too much of the excesses and carnage of alcohol.

"There's no alcohol in it. I promise. Only a few harmless herbs."

Once again, Cathy would contemplate that moment in the lifetime to come. What had emboldened her? What had inspired her to overcome her fears of being drugged? What had roused her to bring the cup to her ruby-red painted lips and drink?

It was sweet. Over-poweringly so. But there was also a touch of bitterness. Grainy flecks of powder at the bottom of the cup winked at her conspiratorially. But she did feel calmer. A bit distanced. Though that was not entirely accurate.

She was alive. Everything around her was alive. Alight with some hitherto hidden energy, life-force, and power. Cathy felt it strumming through her whole body. But primarily, it seemed those parts of her that she had shunned. Her breasts tingled. Her nipples hardened as they brushed against the fine Egyptian cotton of the sheet that Stacy had loaned her for the night. And the fires that raged between her thighs did not bare consideration.

Cathy was a virgin. In all ways. Of course, she knew the basics. She had stumbled through health class in high school. Those lessons had even enlivened her to attempt masturbation. But after a few moments of increasing stimulation with no results to speak of, she had stopped touching herself, picked up the flashlight, and returned to the romance novel that had fueled the experiment. But this? This was more even than that paltry endeavor.

But the feeling was not uncomfortable. Not like her only sexual experience. She had been eleven. Her body was just beginning to undergo the changes of puberty. The older son of her most recent foster family had snuck into her room late at night. She had woken to utter terror as his hand covered her mouth. Tears had run down her cheeks as the fingers of his other hand twisted and pinched her budding breasts.

It was not until those health classes that Cathy was to understand what would have happened next. If something, some inner voice, had not prodded her to bite into the tender flesh of the hand that covered her mouth. He had released her immediately. Her screams rent the dark silence. Her foster parents had rushed in, flicking the switch, flooding the room with light. But not before, he had brought the back of his hand down across her cheek. She had worn the dark purple and blue stains for days after the social worker had taken her from there.

No, this feeling was nothing like that other. There was an edge of calm, peace, and still power that flowed alongside the carnal.

Before she could examine the feeling more deeply, a young woman took to the dais that had been raised at the far end of the room, next to the massive fireplace that took up most the wall. The flames seemed to dance to the pounding music that coursed through her blood.

"Attention, please, ladies and gentlemen." Cathy knew the woman. She was the daughter of one of the most powerful men in the country: a senator and rising political star in a family of them.

Before she could once more question what she was doing here, the girl continued. "Thank you all for joining us for this special gathering of Omega Tau Pi. While Halloween may be celebrated with ghosts, witches, and trick-or-treating, its ancient roots as a holy day go back even further than Samhain."

"Across the ages, going back even before the time of written history, this day has been a celebration of our link to the other world. The unseen. The spiritual. And while we keep to the spirit of that each year, this year is unique."

Once more, Cathy was overcome with that sense of Deja-vu. What had she gotten herself into? This sounded less like some alcohol-fueled and hormone-driven sorority party and more like some esoteric secret society.

Those thoughts were interrupted as the crowd parted. Cathy blinked as the Minotaur brushed past her to take his place next to the girl on the dais. But her mouth flew open at the most magnificent woman she had ever seen glided down the make-shift aisle next to her.

There was nothing particularly remarkable about the woman's appearance. While she was not fat like Cathy, neither was she thin like Stacy or the girl on stage. She was certainly not young. She could easily be the mother of the young people about her. Cathy could see the faint lines of time around her mouth, and especially around the warm brown eyes that seemed to linger and look deep into her soul as she passed.

Of course, her dress was spectacular. Her costume was no borrowed sheet wrapped about her and secured at the shoulder with a fake pendant and tied at the waist with a cheap golden rope. No, the skirt that draped this woman's hips would have done honor to Nefertiti herself. It accentuated the soft rounding of her stomach and the ruby red gemstone that adorned her belly button.

Her ample breasts were barely contained in the folds of matching material that encircled her chest and lifted them like an offering to the heavens. But the piece de resistance was the golden headdress of Hathor that topped her regal head. It even looked real, though that was impossible. Wasn't it?

But there was something more. Something more profound than the woman's dramatic attire that drew Cathy. She was not sure what it was. Something in the woman's eyes as they had briefly held hers. Intelligence certainly. But it was something even deeper than that. Some ethereal knowing that went beyond this world was the best that she could describe it. If you believed such gibberish, anyway.

Cathy had always been a woman of intellect. Knowledge. Things that could be proven. Tangible. Real. Not silly 'feelings.' Which made this night even more surreal. For another fleeting moment, she wondered -- what am I doing here?

The words did not have time to take seed as the woman stopped before the dais. The girl who had spoken fell to her knees as if in prayer or supplication before a queen. Even the Minotaur bowed at the waist. Cathy was astounded that the heavy mask which covered his head and much of his shoulders did not topple as he bent low.

The older woman gave a regal nod and half-smile. "Arise, my children." Her voice danced a reedy tune along Cathy's spine. They seemed to lodge not merely in her mind, but her soul as well. Her children?

The Minotaur joined the young woman whose own costume mimicked Cathy's own on the stage. Though, from the real-looking bow that hung across her body and the quiver of arrows that draped her back, her role was more likely Artemis than some unnamed Greek goddess, like Cathy's.

"Welcome, Great Mother. We are honored and blessed by your presence."

The Minotaur extended his hand, and the woman took it as he assisted her onto the dais beside them. Silence echoed about the room that only moments before had been a cacophony of voices and overloud music. Those warm brown eyes scanned the crowd of perhaps two-hundred people that packed the space shoulder to shoulder.

Cathy felt the press of the crowd. Her skin crawled with some unknown sense of... dread? No, that was not right. While the feeling defied name or logic, it was not frightening. Merely unfamiliar. Her thoughts were interrupted, as once more, that gaze seemed to linger on her as if weighing up her soul.

"This night is blessed. On this night, thirty years ago, I ascended to the throne of Isis. I was chosen as the incarnation and embodiment of the Goddess on this earth."

Cathy shook her head. This night was getting stranger and stranger. The embodiment of the Goddess on earth? What was this drivel? This was most definitely more than she bargained for. Perhaps even worse than those cheerleader try-outs.

So, why would her feet not respond? Why did they not want to obey her command to flee this place as quickly as she could?

"Three glorious decades as Her representative to all of you. Thirty years of rapid change. Some of it glorious. And some of it disastrous." Did her eyes lock on the young woman who stood next to her?

She inhaled so deeply that it was audible across the hushed room, "But my time is up. My tenure as the Goddess, as the incarnation of Isis, is over."

Those knowing eyes scanned the crowd. Did they pause on her? "Tonight, one of you will take my place."

The silence amplified. Cathy's heart stuttered to a halt in her chest. Her mind screamed as she had that long-ago night. But this time, there was no sound. Just utter and complete stillness and calm, not merely in the room around her, but to the very core of Cathy's being. If the other had been a violation, this was fulfillment.

"Bring forth the novices. Let my virgins come forth."