by P. C. Cast
"You're gods?" Pamela hoped fervently that she would wake up very soon.
"Yes. Immortals. Or at least we were until the portal trapped us in this wretched world. Now I suspect we are just extremely attractive mortals," she said dryly.
"Apollo and Artemis," Pamela looked from brother to sister.
"I told you it was simple."
"You're fucking crazy!" she said.
"I didn't want you to find out like this," Apollo said. "But you know Artemis is telling you the truth." He frowned at his sister. "Even if she is doing a poor job of it."
"What?" Artemis said. "If you wanted soft music and the scent of flowers, I'm sorry, but I won't be able to oblige you—at least until the portal reopens."
"You're not helping," Apollo told his sister.
"But there's no such thing as the gods. It's just mythology," Pamela said.
"I thought you said she was smart," Artemis scoffed.
Pamela's gaze took in the beautiful young woman who looked so much like her lover, and she felt some of the numb horror that had overwhelmed her thaw. Through that thaw she began to become pissed off.
"You don't have to be so rude," Pamela said.
"Rude?" Artemis' eyes narrowed. "You call me rude when you deny my existence? Yet you're standing in the middle of a structure built because ancient people honored me and the other eleven like me so well that I have been remembered for thousands of years. Does that sound particularly intelligent to you?"
"It doesn't sound smart or dumb. It just sounds incredible. This whole thing is incredible. It can't be true."
Apollo took her other elbow and turned her to face him. Tried to ignore how she continued to pull away from him. He spoke in a quiet, calm voice. "You know the truth, Pamela. You've experienced it. All you have to do is accept it."
She looked at him—really looked at him. He was the same tall, handsome man he had been the night before. Yet he wasn't. There was something… missing about him. He was still unusually attractive, but the spectacular blue of his eyes had dimmed to a more… she gulped… a more human shade. And there was something else, too. He had less presence. That was the only way she could describe it. Technically he looked the same; yet he didn't. The specifics hadn't changed. His shoulders weren't any less broad, and his chest wasn't any less muscular—as she could easily see because he was wearing no shirt. Yet he was changed… altered… less.
And Artemis had been right; Pamela did remember. Little things, like the fact that Phoebus could lie in the desert sun all afternoon and not even sweat. Big things, like the fact that he had turned into flame last night as they were making love. And then there was the undeniable fact that she had stepped through a glowing door and been turned into something that definitely was not human…
It couldn't be. It wasn't possible. But in her gut she knew they were telling the truth. They were gods.
"What was that thing in the closet?" she whispered.
"It was a portal Zeus opened from Mount Olympus into the Kingdom of Las Vegas," Apollo said.
"Why?"
Apollo shrugged and attempted a half-smile. "Who knows the mind of the Supreme Ruler of Olympus?"
"If I remember correctly, he said something about wanting us to observe and delight in your world," Artemis said.
Pamela's eyes snapped to hers. "You mean a kind of experiment? Like a sick Star Trek episode?"
"Do you know what she means?" Artemis asked her brother.
"No, but I do know that, again, you are not helping!" he said through gritted teeth.
Pamela stared at him. "What happened to me when I went back through that portal? Something happened to my body—something terrible. What did you do to me?"
"No! It wasn't me. You can't believe I would do anything to hurt you."
Pamela turned her face away from him. "You already have."
"It was that toad Bacchus. He must have bespelled the portal." Artemis paused as she thought about what had been happening to Pamela. "You were changing into a flower."
"A jasmine flower, as her name suggests," Apollo said. "The sweetest of all flowers."
Artemis snorted. "Very romantic, and what it tells us is that Bacchus bespelled the portal so that if she came through without you, she'd revert to the most basic form of her name."
Pamela's heart felt like it had gone numb. "It's just like in the myths. You use humans, and when you discard them, you turn them into something… something not human."
"I wouldn't say that's quite accurate." Artemis looked offended.
Apollo turned his back to his sister. "Let me explain," he told Pamela. "It isn't like that at all with you and me."
"No. I'm done being experimented on," she sent Artemis a disgusted look. "And I don't want you to explain. I just want you to go back to where you came from and leave me alone."
"We would like nothing more, but it appears we are stuck here until your weekend comes around again," Artemis said.
Apollo shook his head. "No, she would like nothing more. I want nothing more than to be with you—to explain to you."
"I'm not interested in—" she began, trying again to pull her arms from Apollo's strong grasp, but a sharp voice interrupted her.
"Is there a problem here?"
A blue-uniformed security guard was standing in the entrance to the hallway. He was short and chubby, but he had a badge and a gun and an expression that said that he took his job very seriously.
"Oh, begone," Artemis said, automatically flicking her fingers in his direction. Then her disdainful expression turned blank as she remembered she was powerless.
"What did you say?" the guard said, narrowing his eyes at the beautiful woman dressed in a short toga-like tunic.
Apollo dropped Pamela's arms and stepped in front of her and his sister. Pamela looked at the darkening expression on his face and realized that with or without immortal powers he had the potential to be a very dangerous man.
"There's no problem here, Officer," Pamela said quickly, stepping up beside Apollo. "It's just that my"—she paused, glanced at Apollo's naked chest and discarded trite words like boyfriend and date, which she was sure would make her sound like a candidate for the Jerry Springer Show—"my fiancé and I had a lover's tiff, and, well…" She shrugged and smiled sheepishly. But the man was not looking at her or the half-naked man beside her; he was staring at Artemis.
"Wait!" the officer said, his small eyes glittering. "Don't I recognize you as one of the stars of Zumanity?"
Pamela held her breath while Artemis raised one slender eyebrow.
"I am the star of Zumanity" she said.
"This is Diana, my fiance's sister," Pamela said. She didn't look at Apollo, but she could feel the tension in his body as he stood there silently beside her.
"You know, I caught the show for the first time just the other night." He rocked back and forth on his feet. Sweat popped out over his upper lip. "It was really something. You were really something."
"I suppose it is rewarding to know that I pleased the masses," Artemis said.
Pamela grabbed her elbow and took Apollo's hand and began leading them both past the officer. "Well, we really should be getting back to our rooms. I can't imagine how we took a wrong turn and ended up here."
"Next time be sure you're dressed properly when you leave your rooms," the officer said to Apollo as Pamela rushed him past. Then he tipped his hat to Artemis. "Pleasure to meet you, Diana. I can't wait to see the show again."
Pamela could feel the growl that rumbled through Apollo's body.
None of them spoke until they turned the corner and were walking through the casino's lobby. Then Pamela let loose Artemis' arm. She tried to pull her hand from Apollo, but he just tightened his grip on her. She frowned at him.
"I want you to let me go." She lowered her voice so that the people who were nearby wouldn't overhear her.
"I don't plan on ever letting you go," Apollo said.
Artemis sighed dramatically.
&nb
sp; "Stay out of this," Apollo ordered his sister. "You don't understand what it's like to be in love."
"In love! Oh, please. I realize that I'm just a human, but I'm not a moron. No matter what your sister thinks." She glared at Artemis, who curled her lip back at her.
Pamela met Apollo's gaze again. Her eyes were no longer glassy with shock. Instead they glittered with outrage.
"How can you possibly say you're in love with me? You pretended to be someone you're not. You used me as some kind of observation experiment. And I suspect you worked some kind of weird spell on me!"
Several people turned and looked curiously in her direction.
"Let me explain," Apollo said.
Pamela started to shake her head, but the god touched the side of her face. She froze.
"Please," he whispered, hating that when he touched her fear suddenly overpowered the anger in her eyes. "You must. I already told you that I won't let you go. Once given, I never break my oath." His hand left her face and briefly touched the coin she still wore around her neck. "I've pledged my protection to you. You have nothing to fear from me."
"Excuse me, sir," a casino worker approached them.
"I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to put your shirt on."
"We're just on our way to our room," Pamela said, pulling Apollo toward the hotel elevators.
"Such fuss over a little bare flesh," Artemis said, following her brother.
"I want everything explained to me," Pamela said as they entered the elevator.
"It will be," Apollo assured her, still holding her hand.
"It will be boring," Artemis muttered.
"You're not helping," Apollo and Pamela said together.
Chapter 22
" So you're telling me that the whole thing was nothing more than a misdirected spell?"
Pamela was sitting in one of the chairs in the living room area of her suite. Artemis lounged across the couch, and Apollo, who couldn't seem to sit still, was currently pacing up and down in front of the picture window.
"It's technically not a spell. It's an invocation ritual. Very ancient and very powerful. As Apollo said, it shouldn't have been possible for all of the required elements to come together as they did—"
"Except that Bacchus obviously had his hand in it. He must have manipulated events," Apollo finished for his sister.
"Manipulated—that is an excellent way to describe it." Pamela's look clearly said that she wasn't thinking of the invocation.
"No! It's not like that. Our feelings weren't manipulated, only the events that brought us together were."
"You lied to me," Pamela said.
"I didn't. I am a healer and a musician."
"Actually, he is the healer and the musician of the ancient world," Artemis chimed in.
Pamela drew in a sharp breath. "My ankle! You did something to my ankle that night in the rain."
"It was broken. I simply healed it."
Pamela stared at him like he'd suddenly sprouted horns and a tail.
"And the slot machine jackpot?" she asked.
"Your desire for the purse was great; it pleased me to grant that desire."
She thought his smile made him look like a little boy whose hand had been caught fisted full of cookies and trapped inside the jar. She automatically wanted to smile back at him—he seemed so normal. Then she remembered how it had felt to have her flesh twist and melt into something not human, and her resolve hardened. Her next question erased the little-boy smile.
"And the sex? What kind of magic did you use to get me in bed with you?"
"None," he said sharply. "I did not woo you as the god Apollo. I wooed you and made love to you as Phoebus, a mortal man like any other."
It was Pamela's turn to snort. "Please! I was there. It was different with you than it had been with any other man. And it's so not like me to jump in bed with a weekend fling. You had to have done something to me."
Apollo stopped his pacing and walked over to her chair. "I used no immortal power to seduce you, and what we experienced was not a weekend fling."
Pamela's mouth felt dry and her stomach tightened at his closeness. "You're doing it again," she hissed. "I want you to stop."
Apollo's boyishly endearing smile came back in full force. "Sweet Pamela, that is an impossibility. As my sister has already discovered, when the portal closed, we were cut off from our immortal powers. Until Friday at dusk, I have no more power to touch your heart than any other mortal man."
"And if you want to be angry at someone for bespelling you, be angry at me," Artemis said, studying her fingernails. "I sprinkled some of my magic on you the night of my performance. I also filled last night's feast with the power of seduction."
"Why would you do that?" Pamela asked.
"We already explained to you about the invocation ritual. Until Apollo satisfied the desire of your heart, I was bound to you." The goddess brushed a golden curl from her face. "And I was supremely tired of being bound to you. You needed a little nudge to admit to yourself that Apollo was your heart's desire. So I nudged. Thank the Nine Muses it worked."
"You're not very nice, are you?" Pamela said to the goddess.
Artemis didn't appear in the least bit offended by the question. "Nice? Why would I need to be nice?"
The phone rang. Shaking her head at Artemis, Pamela answered it.
"Pamela, this is Mr. Faust's assistant, James," said a male voice.
"Oh, yes. Hello, James." Pamela's stomach sank. It was Monday morning. She was supposed to begin work today—this morning. She'd totally forgotten about E. D. Faust and the job she was there to complete.
"I wanted to remind you that Robert will be there with the car to pick you up at the entrance to Caesars Palace in exactly thirty minutes."
"Thank you for the call, James. Of course I'll be ready."
"Wonderful! Mr. Faust is looking forward to beginning the work on his villa."
Pamela responded woodenly with an appropriate reply and hung up the phone. She stared at Apollo and Artemis, who were watching her.
"I have to go to work," she said.
"Of course—the author's home. The one with the Roman bathhouse and the fountain," Apollo said.
"Yeah, he's sending his car for me." She glanced in the mirror and grimaced at how terrible she looked. "In exactly thirty minutes. I have to get ready to go." She started to hurry towards the bedroom. "Excellent!" Artemis said. "Where is it we're going?"
Pamela stopped short. "We're not going anywhere."
"Well I'm certainly not staying here in this little hovel. It's dreadfully boring."
"Well you certainly aren't coming with me," she mimicked the goddess' regal tone.
Artemis narrowed her eyes. "Do not forget to whom you speak, mortal."
Pamela planted her hands on her hips and raised her chin. "Look, goddess or not, you're going to have to learn to not be such a bitch. And you can threaten me all you want." She pointed at the gold coin that dangled from around her neck. "I have Apollo's oath that I am under his protection." She heard Apollo's chuckle, but she refused to look at him. "Just stay here and order room service, dial up a movie, learn about the Internet… or something. Oh, hell. I'll figure out what to do with you two when I get back."
"Pamela."
Apollo's voice stopped her retreat into her room. She turned to face him.
"We could help you," he said.
"Help me what?"
"I could help you to persuade Faust to build the bathhouse. And," he added with a little smile, "Artemis could help you to persuade him to use her as the model for the statue in the center of the fountain."
Pamela sent a doubtful look Artemis' way.
"Throughout the ages men have worshiped images of my beauty," she said flippantly. "They are easily enamored with me."
"That may be true, but it's only because they're seeing your statues and your paintings; they don't have to actually be subjected to your hateful presence."
Ar
temis opened her mouth to snarl at Pamela, but Apollo cut her off.
"My sister will give her oath that she will be polite."
"I will not!"
"Faust is a modern bard, and he wants the statue in the center of his fountain to be dedicated to Bacchus. Think of the tales he will spin dedicated to the God of the Vine," Apollo told his sister.
"That fat toad should not be worshiped in the modern world!" Artemis said.
He shrugged. "It's up to you."
The goddess cleared her throat and reluctantly met Pamela's eyes. "I give you my oath that I will be polite. For today."
"I don't know…"
"Please, Pamela," Apollo said. "Let me show you I am no different today than I was yesterday. The god Apollo and the mortal Phoebus are the same man."
She shouldn't. She knew she shouldn't. She didn't want to be loved by a god. She had liked things the way they were before he had suddenly become an all-powerful immortal. She wanted her Phoebus back…
"Fine," she said suddenly. "We'll have to buy you a shirt on the way out," she glanced at Artemis. "At least you're okay dressed like that. We'll just say you're in costume." She faltered, "Just… just stay there. I'll hurry."
She closed her bedroom door and rested her head against it. He was Apollo. Her insides shivered as the reality of it settled into her. Her lover was the Greek god, Apollo. He had lived for eons. Temples had been built to honor him. Songs had been sung of him. His hands, which had stroked every part of her body, were the same hands that had brought music to the ancient world. And he said he loved her. She pressed a trembling hand to her mouth, overwhelmed by a sudden surge of shock and disbelief and awe.
She should tell Faust she didn't want the job, get on a plane and fly directly back to Colorado. She should forget this weekend ever happened. That was the smart thing to do. But she already knew she wasn't going to do the smart thing.
The God of Light said he was in love with her.
"I'm probably making the most gihugic mistake of my life," she whispered.
They were standing outside the revolving doors that swished into Caesars Palace exactly twenty-five minutes later while Pamela's stomach churned like she was just getting ready to bungee jump.