Goddess of Light gs-3

by P. C. Cast

"I have been experiencing some"—she hesitated and glanced at her brother before continuing—"difficulties of a personal nature of late. I haven't been myself. Please believe me that the last thing I desire is to drive you from my brother."

  Pamela met Diana's aquamarine eyes. "Whether I go now or later really doesn't make that much difference, does it? You just said you're leaving in the morning."

  "But not forever!" Apollo said hastily, moving to Pamela's side and taking her hand. "You can not believe that I would walk away from you and never return."

  Pamela pulled her hand from his grasp. She shook her head and even managed to smile.

  "Look, we had fun. Let's leave it at that. You don't need to make a big thing out of it."

  Artemis stared at her brother's shocked face. Why didn't he say something? The mortal was leaving him! She obviously didn't want to—not only could Artemis feel Pamela's pain screaming within her own head, but it was apparent in the stiff, mechanical way she held herself. Pamela was hurt and upset. She wanted comfort, not speechless ineptitude.

  Apollo, however, was being silently inept.

  "We did not mean to offend you," Artemis quickly said. "This is just a misunderstanding. Please. Don't go away upset."

  "I'm not upset," Pamela responded.

  "I would be." Apollo finally found his voice. This time he didn't touch her. He stood very still and tried to convey everything he was feeling through his words. "I would be upset and angry if I thought that you were planning to leave me before dawn, and you hadn't told me. I should have told you. I meant to. But you must understand, my sweet Pamela, that I knew I would be returning, so to taint our day together by telling you that I must leave soon seemed a cruel thing to do. I can see now that I was wrong. Can you forgive me?"

  She should tell him that it was no big deal. She should say that she didn't expect any damn thing from him. And keep walking. She could call V and they'd have a great girlfriend talk about how men are shitheads. Then tomorrow she'd go back to work and forget about him. She'd just slept with him; it wasn't like she'd married him or anything too crazy like that.

  But those eyes caught her. Again. She could swear that she saw an echo of herself there, deep within them. He had that same "somethin's missin"' about him, and he'd touched her—body, heart and soul. If Duane had embalmed her, Phoebus had brought her alive again. She didn't want to go back to her tomb of complacency, and she knew herself well enough that she understood that this weekend had been a turning point. Pamela wouldn't go back to being satisfied with the safety of her life. She'd get out there; she'd flirt and take more chances—with or without Phoebus. But everything within her was screaming that she wanted to take those chances with him.

  "Okay," she said, biting the word off. "I forgive you." And then crossed her arms and waited. The ball was in his court. Surprisingly, it was his sister who fielded and returned it.

  "My brother and I must speak. It is a family matter, and I—"

  "Not a problem," Pamela snapped. "I'm out of here."

  "Pamela, is it correct that you have a brother, too?" Artemis' gaze was calculating.

  Caught again in the motion of turning away, Pamela nodded tightly.

  "Then you understand that sometimes family problems can overrule our individual desires. We are needed at home. Please do not judge my brother harshly because of that."

  Pamela answered her with equal candor. "I'm not judging your brother harshly; I'm protecting myself."

  "You do not need protection from me," Apollo said. Unable to stop himself from touching her, he brushed her long, bare neck with his fingertips. When she shivered, he was unsure whether it was because she desired or rejected him. "Meet me tonight. Let me see you again before I must leave. You have my oath that I will return."

  She shouldn't. He made her feel too much. Pamela opened her mouth to tell him no, and then she thought about the night without him. It would be like the morning sky without sunlight—bleak… empty… like her life had become. She wouldn't go back to that, even if it meant taking a chance on getting her heart broken. At least now she knew that her heart was working again.

  "Fine," she said, making sure her voice remained neutral. "You can take me to dinner. Snackous Maximous doesn't count as a real meal anyway."

  "He will choose the place," Artemis said with a satisfied smile.

  "Fine," Pamela repeated. "If we meet at eight o'clock, will that give you enough time to get your family business straight?"

  Artemis nodded slightly at her brother.

  "Yes," he said. "I will call for you at your room."

  "No!" Pamela said too quickly. She cleared her throat and gave a little cough like the word explosion had been a tickle and not a knee-jerk. "I'll meet you at the wine bar. Just like before." Then she instantly regretted saying "just like before." Just like the night before… when they'd ended up in her bed making love until past noon…

  His smile was a caress as he remembered all too well what the previous night had held. "I will meet you, sweet Pamela, at our wine bar. Just like before."

  This time nothing prevented her retreat.

  Chapter 17

  The insubstantial opaque of the portal shimmered as the twin deities stepped from the modern world back to Olympus. Apollo's square jaw was set, and his eyes flashed with unspoken rage. With a brusque gesture he motioned for his sister to follow him out of the crowded banquet hall.

  "I did not intend—" Artemis hissed a whisper, but Apollo's dark look was enough to make her hold her tongue.

  "Not until we are in my temple. Alone," he said through his teeth, smiling and shaking his head in a polite no to Aphrodite, who tried to wave him over to the chaise on which she reclined. The Goddess of Love was surrounded by a flock of giggling Napaean glen nymphs who had shed their wisps of clothing and were practicing a fertility dance that involved intricate belly undulations.

  "Napaeans are terrible gossips," Artemis whispered conspiratorially.

  Apollo shot her a disgusted glance. "They all are. You all are."

  "What is that supposed to mean?"

  He took her elbow. "Not here. Not now."

  Brother and sister continued to make their way through the Olympian gardens, responding with polite hellos and regretfully declining the myriad invitations for fun and frolic offered them, until they walked through the golden doors of Apollo's Temple.

  As soon as they were within the god's private chambers, he rounded on his sister. "I can not believe the foolish scene you created with Pamela! What were you thinking? Or were you simply not thinking at all! You almost ruined everything."

  "Ruined everything?" she said mockingly. "And what everything do you mean? The earth-moving romance you're having? The bond still exists, Apollo! I can feel the chains of the invocation. I'm still bound to her. What is wrong? Why have you not yet made love to her?"

  Apollo looked away from his sister's piercing gaze.

  The Huntress's eyes widened. "You have made love to her," she breathed. "And it didn't work. It didn't fulfill her heart's desire."

  Apollo's nod was a single, tight jerk. He walked over to a glass-topped table carved in the image of his plunging chariot of light and helped himself to the waiting goblet of ever-ready wine.

  "You had no idea you hadn't fulfilled the invocation ritual."

  It wasn't a question, but after taking a long drink, Apollo answered her. "None whatsoever."

  "I don't understand what's happening," she said. "Did your lovemaking go well? Did she respond to you?"

  He glared over the top of the goblet at her. "Of course it went well! I'm not an inexperienced youth."

  "So you satisfied her?"

  Apollo scowled. "Yes."

  "You're quite certain? You know, often men only believe they have brought a woman to completion, when in fact—"

  "She did not pretend with me!" Apollo bellowed.

  The walls of his temple flashed with the blinding light of an exploding star. Artemis hastily covered her ey
es, waiting for his tantrum to pass.

  "Well, something went wrong." She checked carefully from between her fingers before lowering her hand. She sincerely hated it when her brother's light leaked out. "Perhaps her desire could not be fulfilled by making love to her just once."

  "It wasn't just once," Apollo said, rubbing his hand across his face. "We made love all night and past morning. She was as satisfied as I."

  "There is another possibility. What if Pamela's true heart's desire has little to do with the act of lovemaking?" Artemis paced restlessly as she worked through the problem aloud. "Although, it's tied to lovemaking—because I felt the bond between us loosen during the night—but the connection forged by the invocation is undeniably still in place between us, so there's more to her heart's desire than sex." Considering, the goddess paused while she poured herself some more wine. "I could sense her feelings, especially as she was trying to leave you at the pool."

  Apollo's eyes fastened on his sister. "What was she feeling?" he demanded.

  "She was hurt and confused and embarrassed."

  He sank into a chair and groaned. His sister watched him carefully.

  "You care for her, don't you?" she asked quietly.

  He raised his head and met her eyes. "I think I am falling in love with her."

  "In love?" Artemis shook her head. "You can't be. She's a mortal. And, as if that's not impossible enough, she's a mortal from the modern world."

  "I am aware of that," he said between clenched teeth.

  "How would you know, anyway?" Artemis scoffed. "You have never been in love."

  "That is exactly why I believe I am falling in love! I have lived eons and never experienced this feeling until now."

  "What? What feeling is so overpowering that it must be love?" Artemis asked.

  "I care more for her than I do for myself. Her happiness is mine. Her pain causes me despair."

  The goddess looked at him as if he had just broken out in a mystifying rash. "Perhaps it will pass, or fade completely with time."

  "The problem with that, my dear Sister, is that I don't want it to." He smiled, but the expression lacked humor. "This morning I was so smug. I thought love was so incredibly simple. I'd found my soul mate. I'd made love to her, and she must feel the same for me. I was an arrogant imbecile."

  "You believe she is your soul mate?"

  "I'm afraid that she might very well be the mate of my soul."

  "Then, if she is, by the very nature of the bond she must love you, too," Artemis said, trying to make sense out of her brother's bizarre proclamations.

  "You would think so," he said miserably.

  Artemis drummed her chin with her fingers. "Well, she is a mortal. We really should not be surprised at the confusion. Perhaps that's it! Pamela's heart's desire was for her soul mate to come into her life—she just named it romance, but couldn't it all mean the same thing? Romance… love… true desire… soul mates… Are they not all words that could be used to describe the same phenomenon? And if I'm right, it would make sense that the invocation has not been fulfilled."

  "How does that make sense? If the desire of her heart was for her soul mate to come into her life, and I am her soul mate, then why hasn't the invocation been fulfilled?"

  "She has to recognize and accept you as the mate of her soul. Obviously, she has not." Artemis rested her hand on his shoulder. "The emotions I felt through our bond were not filled with love and contentment. Pamela felt hurt and confused; she did not feel loved."

  Apollo's eyes were haunted. "I know she has been wounded by a man in the past. I was arrogant enough to believe that a little touch of my immortal power and the passion of my body had healed her."

  "You were wrong, Brother. There is more to Pamela."

  "There is also more to love," he muttered.

  She clapped his back. "Your misery makes me glad that I haven't experienced it."

  "I think I'm beginning to understand that love is misery and wonder all wrapped together in the soft skin of a woman," Apollo said, staring off into the distance.

  "Why not simply reveal who you are? Whisk her away to Olympus tonight—use your immortal powers to coax her love to the surface."

  Apollo looked horrified. "'That wouldn't be love! That would be abject worship, or fear mixed with adoration."

  "Now this is an excellent example of how you and I differ. You won't use your powers to win her; I think it only makes sense. What mortal wouldn't want to win the love of a god?"

  Hearing the arrogant thoughts he'd had early spoken aloud, Apollo was disgusted with himself. Little wonder Pamela was reluctant to recognize him as her soul mate.

  "Something tells me that Pamela would not be overjoyed to learn my true identity."

  Artemis snorted.

  "Modern mortals are not like the people of the Ancient World. They command metal creatures to obey their will. Information passes between them through machinery, not through the power of magic and ritual. We are dead to them. No, she must find her love for me as a man, first. After that I will persuade her to accept the god."

  "And how do you plan to do that?"

  "I have to love her as a man loves a woman."

  Artemis raised both brows questioningly.

  "With my heart and not my powers," he said.

  "Which means exactly what?"

  "When I understand that, I will have gained something priceless. Her love," said the God of Light.

  "Do you think you can win her love before dawn tomorrow?"

  "It seems doubtful," he said.

  Artemis sighed. "I suppose I should be grateful that the bond between Pamela and me has loosened. Now it is more like an itch that is difficult to scratch than a constant, jabbing annoyance. Bacchus certainly set a great deal of mischief afoot with his little prank."

  "Have you spoken to him at all?"

  "No, he has been conspicuously absent from Olympus these past days." She shrugged. "Although it's not as if he ever spent much time here. He has long preferred the company of mortals. When this ordeal is over, we must remember to deal harshly with his impertinence."

  Apollo was silent. How could he tell his sister that "this ordeal" would never be over? He knew little of love, but he was already certain of one thing. Love couldn't be ordered around—it didn't begin and end on demand. Unfortunately.

  "Apollo? Pay attention. I asked for your plan of action tonight."

  "I don't know!" The walls glowed dangerously, and the God of Light reined in his frustration. "Dinner—she asked that I take her to dinner. You heard her."

  Artemis' smooth brow wrinkled as she thought about what Pamela had said, "Snackus Maximus? What type of name is that?"

  "A poorly chosen one."

  "I still think you should bring her here tonight. Woo her in Olympus, in your very own temple. What could be more romantic?"

  "Artemis, I already explained to you that I refuse to use my powers to win her love."

  "Then don't use your powers, stubborn! But this is your home, and it's certainly much more beautiful than anything the Kingdom of Vegas has to offer."

  Apollo considered his sister's words. "She does appreciate ancient architecture."

  "So bring her here. Tell her it's an exclusive part of Caesars Palace. At least you'll be assured privacy."

  "I supposed I could use my powers just enough to veil her senses as we cross through the portal."

  "Then transport her here quickly, before any of the other Twelve glimpse her."

  Apollo was beginning to enjoy the idea. "I wouldn't have to worry about accidents, or metal monsters, or any of the other distractions of the modern world. I could focus on assuring her of my love." And he honestly wanted to show Pamela his home and to witness her reaction to its beauty—even if he couldn't claim it as his own.

  "I'll plan the meal myself, and have my own handmaidens wait upon you. The nymphs can't be trusted."

  "Excellent!" Apollo said. "Be certain that you remind them not to call me Ap
ollo."

  "Yes, yes, my maidens will continue your charade, Phoebus," she said.

  "I am in your debt, Diana," he said, smiling.

  She returned his smile, thinking how charming and handsome her brother was. Pamela would not be able to resist him, especially if Artemis had anything to do with it—which she would make sure she did.

  "Then we've decided, and there is much to do to prepare. Time is short. By dawn Pamela must be returned to the Kingdom of Vegas. Hopefully, completely enamored with Phoebus," Artemis said. Then she clapped her hands together twice, and in the commanding voice of the Huntress of Olympus, called, "Handmaidens, attend me!"

  Before a breath could pass, twelve beautiful young women materialized in a puff of glittering silver dust that looked like it had been borrowed from the light of the moon.

  "Ladies, my brother has need of our aid. Here is what we must do…"

  Apollo watched the flurry of activity until his sister shooed him from the room, reminding him that it was almost time for him to meet with his lover. The God of Light smiled as he readied himself. He was bringing his true love to his home. He would woo her and love her here, where he was most comfortable. She would see that she need not fear being hurt again. Safe within his realm, he was certain that nothing could go wrong.

  Chapter 18

  "I don't have a clue what to wear," Pamela sighed into her cell phone.

  "Something hot, but not too hot," V said. "He has some explaining to do before you fall on your back, legs all akimbo again."

  "My legs were not akimbo."

  V's silence weighed heavily against Pamela's guilt-ridden ear.

  "Okay, okay. Maybe they were a little akimbo," she admitted.

  "Pammy. There's no such thing as 'a little akimbo.' That's like being a little pregnant, or engaging in a little nuclear war."

  "Oh, God. I'm a slut." She covered her eyes with her hand.

  "Please. You've had sex with two men in, what, eight or nine years? That absolutely does not even begin to qualify you for slutdom."

  "But I slept with him on what was barely our second date," she whispered.