Goddess of Light gs-3

by P. C. Cast

  "You're right. I know. It's just that… just that I didn't have a chance to say good-bye, or I'm sorry, or even thank you."

  "Sometimes," Eddie said quietly, "you don't get to say those things. That's what it is to be a mortal. We can only try to live our lives with enough joy and passion that when our time is finished we leave behind more good memories than regrets."

  "I didn't understand that before, but I do now. I think there is a part of me that from here on throughout eternity will always feel a little mortal." She smiled sadly at Pamela's body. "I think it might be the best part of me."

  On impulse, Artemis bent and grasped the coin carrying her brother's image, which still hung around Pamela's neck. With a flick of her fingers it came free and pooled in her palm. "Apollo would want me to keep this for her." She closed her hand, and the coin disappeared. Then the goddess knelt beside her friend's body.

  "What will you do?" Eddie asked.

  "What I can," Artemis said softly.

  She lifted her hands, and they began to glow with the cool white light of a full moon. "Good-bye, my friend," she murmured as she passed her luminous hands down Pamela's body—changing—rearranging—and doing what she could to make it right. When the light faded, the mortal's broken body had been replaced by the body of a beautiful young doe.

  Wearily, Artemis stood. "Walk with me, Eddie. I must return and face my father."

  "Of course, my Goddess."

  Tucking her arm within his, he led her carefully away from the body of the fallen doe. They had almost reached the sidewalk when Artemis suddenly stopped. Scenting the air like a creature of the forest, she turned her head and narrowed her eyes. The car was battered. The front of it caved inwards and bloodied with the clear marks of where it had hit Pamela's body. Artemis stepped closer and peered within the car. The woman frozen by Apollo's spell had both hands gripping the steering wheel. Strapped securely into her seat, she was uninjured, but her eyes were wide and filled with an unspeakable terror. Artemis drew in another deep breath.

  The mortal's body reeked of liquor, and not just any liquor. Artemis' keen senses recognized the sweet scent of ambrosia mixed with lust and despair and addiction. The God of the Vine's mark was there, not clearly branded, as her bond to Pamela had been. It was more hidden, though no less binding. Artemis closed her eyes against the intensity of her anger. He would pay, she promised herself. She would see to it that Bacchus paid.

  When she opened her eyes, she found Eddie watching her intently.

  "You know what caused this."

  "I do," Artemis said.

  Eddie's face hardened in anger. "Make them pay, Goddess."

  "I shall, my warrior. I shall."

  Resolutely, Artemis turned to face the carnage that jealousy and spite had caused. She raised her hands. Voice magnified by her immortal power, her words shimmered throughout Las Vegas as the beautiful Huntress Goddess soothed, healed, and then destroyed the last vestiges of Bacchus' malevolent spell.

  "Let their spirits be free

  tonight no other shall die

  the doe is the miracle they see

  though they know not how or why.

  "Upon their immortal souls my blessings shall rain

  washing their memories—easing their pain. "

  She dropped her hands, and pandemonium broke free around them. Shouts of "Can you believe it? It's a deer!" filled the night as people rushed into the street and the sound of an ambulance siren wailed in the distance. Through it all, Artemis simply took Eddie's arm. The two of them walked away, unseen, in a powerful bubble of immortal serenity.

  "You did a kind thing, my Goddess." Eddie patted her hand as they made their way up the sidewalk that led to the main entrance of Caesars Palace.

  Artemis smiled at him. "Thank you." Then she cocked her head, considering.

  "Goddess?" the author asked.

  "Eddie, I may not be able to return here. Olympus will find these events disturbing."

  "I understand that." He hesitated and allowed his veneer of eccentric author to slip so that his heartbreak showed clearly in his eyes. "From the beginning I knew that you would not stay with me. Regardless of that, I chose to love you. I do not regret one instant of that choice. And I shall hold your memory close to my heart as long as there is breath in my body."

  "Perhaps there is a way my memory would not be all you held close to your heart," she said slowly.

  The author's eyes widened in surprise.

  "Eddie, have you ever heard of a kingdom called Tulsa, Oklahoma?"

  Chapter 33

  " Hades!" Apollo's voice shook the walls of the Lord of the Underworld's Great Hall.

  The dark god rushed into his throne room with his wife close behind him.

  "Apollo?" Hades almost didn't recognize his friend, which had nothing to do with his strange, blood-spattered clothing or the glowing sphere of light he clutched to his chest. It was the wild, crazed look in his eye that was so totally foreign to what he knew of the God of Light. "What has happened?"

  "They killed her. The metal beasts. I couldn't stop them. I didn't get to her in time." Breathing heavily, he spoke in short bursts.

  Hades' wife moved from beside her husband. Within Persephone's immortal body, Carolina's soul shivered as she instantly understood.

  "This is Pamela," she said, gazing at the bright ball of light.

  "A modern mortal's soul? You brought the soul of a modern mortal here!" Hades exclaimed.

  "Of course he did," Lina's voice was hushed. "What else could he do?"

  "You must make it right! You must make her Pamela again."

  Lina's sharp eyes skewered the God of Light. "That's enough of that kind of talk. She is still Pamela, and you're probably scaring her." She glanced back at where her husband was standing. "My love, you must welcome her."

  The Lord of the Underworld moved reluctantly. He stretched out his hand, but before he touched the light, his gaze caught Apollo's. "It is not wise to meddle with the Laws of the Universe, my friend."

  "She is my soul mate," Apollo said.

  The dark god shook his head sadly. "Then let us hope that the Fates are understanding." He touched his palm to the glowing ball. "You are welcome in my realm, Pamela."

  The light quivered and then elongated. With a sound that was very much like a sigh, it took on form and features until Pamela was standing within the circle of Apollo's arms. Her body still carried a slight luminescence, but she had also taken on a surreal, transparent look—as if she was a half-finished watercolor of herself. With a sob, Apollo tightened his arms around her. She felt cool and too light. He was afraid if he loosened his hold on her, she would float away. She didn't move or speak.

  "Pamela!" Apollo cried. "It's me. I have you. All will be well now."

  A shiver passed through her almost insubstantial body. "Apollo?"

  "Yes, my sweet!" He pressed his face into her hair.

  She pulled back from him, looking around in confusion. She saw that she was standing in an enormous marble room with Apollo, a beautiful young woman, and a tall, dark man. Then her gaze went down to her body, and her face went blank with shock.

  "Tell me this is a dream, Apollo. Tell me that pretty soon I'll wake up," Pamela's voice trembled.

  "I can not," he said brokenly.

  "Pamela," Lina's voice was like a warm, quiet pool. She touched the newly dead spirit lightly on her arm. "I am Carolina; you may call me Lina if you'd like. And this is my husband, Hades."

  Pamela's eyes looked huge and round in her pale face.

  "Hades?" she whispered. Woodenly, she lifted her translucent hand and stared at it. "I'm dead? And now I'm in…" Her eyes flew back to Hades, and her mouth opened, as if she wanted to scream.

  "You're in Elysia," Lina told her with a gentle smile.

  She took the hand Pamela still held in front of her and wrapped it in her warmth, willing the immortal powers that rested within Persephone's body to comfort her. "Specifically, you are in our
palace at the edge of the Elysian Fields. The Underworld is a very beautiful place, honey. There's nothing here you need to be afraid of."

  "The Underworld?" Shaking her head, Pamela looked at Apollo. "Why am I in the Greek Underworld?"

  "I didn't know what else to do." Apollo's eyes pleaded with her to understand.

  "No," Pamela whispered. "No, it can't be."

  "You died before the sun set. I could do nothing to save you. Please forgive me. I couldn't let you go—I—I don't think I could ever let you go."

  Pamela kept shaking her head and staring at him. And then she remembered. In her mind she saw the car coming towards her and knew all over again the deadly impact. With a jerky, mechanical movement, she stepped from the circle of Apollo's arms to stare wide-eyed at him.

  "I don't know what we do next," he said.

  "Well," Lina said matter-of-factly, "next you go with Hades and get cleaned up and into some clothes that don't have…" She paused and decided on different wording. "Clothes that aren't so dirty. And while you do that, I'll show Pamela around. Go on." She caught her husband's eye and raised her brows. "We'll be fine."

  "I will not be long," Apollo told Pamela. She only gazed at him unresponsively as he and Hades left the room.

  Lina still held Pamela's cool hand, and she gently led her toward a large silver-plated door on the far side of the room. Unresisting, the newly dead spirit followed her. Once through the door, they entered a wide hallway that was hung with jeweled chandeliers. Lina turned to the right and then again to the left. Huge glass doors opened without her touching them, and they walked out into an incredibly lovely courtyard filled with marble statues, a huge fountain, and flowers all different shades of white.

  Even through the terrible knot of panic that seemed to choke rational thoughts from her mind, the designer within Pamela noticed the beauty that surrounded her.

  "It's fantastic, isn't it?" Lina said. "I loved it from the first moment I set eyes on it."

  Pamela looked at Lina and blinked rapidly, like a sleepwalker fighting to awaken.

  "You're not really one of them, are you?"

  "No," Lina shook her head, causing her chestnut-colored hair to ripple around her shapely waist. She smiled and pointed at her body. "This is one of them, but this"—she placed her hand over her heart—"is very mortal. I'm like you—a spirit that has been displaced from what they call the modern mortal world. Here, let's sit at this bench." Lina waited until Pamela had settled herself to continue. "I'm really a baker from Tulsa. It's a long story, but the end result is that Persephone and I made a deal. When it's spring and summer in Tulsa, her spirit is there in my body, and I'm here in the Underworld with Hades. Fall and winter in Oklahoma, I'm there and she frolics around Olympus or wherever in her goddess body." Lina grinned. "It's a pretty good deal, too. Oklahoma winters are nice—and the weather in Elysia"—she gestured around them—"is always perfect. And then, of course, there's Hades." Her eyes softened.

  "I can't… I don't know if I can accept all of this." Pamela wiped a hand over her brow and then made a startled little jerk as she stared at her pale, ghostly hand. "I don't feel like me; I don't look like me."

  "I know, honey, I know. It's always hard when someone dies before they're ready. And with you it's especially difficult because this isn't where you expected to end up. But I promise you that Elysia welcomes you. You'll find peace here. You don't need to be afraid. Just listen to your spirit—it knows more than you think it does."

  "Peace…" Pamela repeated. She wasn't gasping for breath anymore and she didn't feel so afraid. Through the shock and the panic she could sense the edge of something that reminded her a little of Lina's voice. It was sweet and warm and comforting, like a late spring rain, or an afternoon nap, and it was in the air around her. A small breeze brushed against her spirit body, soothing her. It seemed to whisper her name like a mother welcoming a lost child into her arms.

  "See what I mean?" Lina asked, studying her face.

  Pamela drew a deep breath and looked down at her body again. This time her luminous skin didn't frighten her. Yes, it was still her—her arms and legs and the rest of her body. She lifted her hand again, studying it… recognizing the soul within the altered casing. The warm breeze brushed against her, caressing her with palpable acceptance and love.

  "I think I'm starting to understand." Thinking, she ran her hand through her short hair, only vaguely noticing that it felt a little like passing her hand through a cool mist. She turned on the bench so that she was facing Lina. "I can believe that I can find peace here, but what about love?"

  "You already know that answer, Pamela. Do you still love Apollo?"

  "Of course," she said without hesitation.

  Lina smiled. "That's because love is one of the few things we can actually take with us."

  "But what about…" Pamela lifted her semitransparent hand again. "I'm not like I was before."

  "No, you're not the same, but your spirit does have form and feelings. The rest is up to you and Apollo."

  "Won't it be like loving a ghost for him?" Pamela said despondently.

  Lina took her hand again. "I like to think of it more as loving the essence of a person."

  "I'm dead." This time when she said it, her heart didn't shake, and she didn't feel like she needed to wake up from a nightmare. Random thoughts flitted through her mind—she worried about her brother and her parents and Vernelle—but her worry had a distant, otherworldly sense to it, as if she were remembering a sweet, reoccurring dream. It wasn't that she had forgotten them or stopped loving them. It was just that she already felt detached from the life she had known. She wondered if it was some kind of built-in defense mechanism of the soul, to keep her spirit from pining away for eternity for those left behind. Eternity… it was still incomprehensible.

  "I'm dead, but I'm still me."

  "Yes, honey, and you're going to be fine," Lina said. Then she looked up and smiled. "And here come our gods."

  Hades and Apollo strode towards them through the flowered courtyard. The dark god had his hand on his friend's shoulder and was speaking earnestly to him as they walked. Apollo nodded in response, but when he saw Pamela, his attention turned completely to her as he hurried to where she and Lina sat. He stopped beside the bench.

  "You look as bad as you did right after the snake bit you," Pamela said. "Your hand isn't still hurting you, is it?"

  "No!" he said and almost laughed. "There is no injury left in my body." Apollo let his fingers lightly brush her cheek. "Are you yourself again, sweet Pamela?"

  "Yes, I think I am. Somehow I'm different, but still me. Maybe more me than I have ever been," she said in a voice tinged with the wonder of it.

  "And do you forgive me for stealing your soul and bringing it here?"

  Pamela studied his handsome face. Lina had been right. She got to bring love with her, and a few other things—like faith and hope and forgiveness.

  "All is well, Apollo. I forgive you," she said.

  Silently, the God of Light fell to his knees, buried his head in her lap, and as she stroked his hair, Apollo wept.

  On Mount Olympus Zeus listened to Artemis finish her story. The Huntress Goddess was spectacular in her anger, but she was also something else. She was passionate in her defense of the modern mortals. Intrigued, Zeus watched his daughter wipe tears from her beautiful face as she described the death of the mortal woman she claimed her brother loved. He could hardly believe the change in her. Artemis had never cared overly much for mortals. She wasn't cruel to them; she was simply aloof, cool, untouchable. They made sacrifices to the Huntress Goddess, petitioned for her aid, and Artemis even occasionally granted those requests as her whim struck her. But never in all the eons of her existence had Zeus known her to weep over a mortal. And she had spoken of the bard that had sheltered her and her twin with honest warmth. As if she truly cared for the mortal man. It was all fascinating.

  "That poor, weak woman who was the instrument of Pamela
's death was under the influence of Bacchus. I smelled his stench. It was as if she and the night had been bathed in it. The God of the Vine is culpable, and not simply for the death of an innocent. He manipulated all of the events that led to that sad night. And why?" The Huntress turned on Bacchus, who also stood in front of great Zeus where he sat on his raised throne. "For no other reason than spite and jealousy."

  "For retribution!" Bacchus shrieked.

  "Retribution?" Artemis cried. "How did Pamela deserve your punishment? She was kind and loyal. All she did was to love my brother and succor both of us when we were trapped in her world without our powers."

  "The punishment wasn't for her. It was for you and your arrogant brother." Bacchus turned his wild, haunted eyes to Zeus. "Do you not see it? They thought they could take over my kingdom and never be touched for their trespass. They were not innocent visitors, they were usurpers!"

  "Silence!" Zeus commanded as thunder growled across the sky. "It is time I pass judgment. Approach me, Bacchus."

  The god walked hesitantly to the edge of Zeus' dais.

  "You are my son, Bacchus, and I love you. But you are also your mother's child. She desired what she could not have. She could not be made to see reason, and so her desire cost Semele her life. Now you desire that which is not yours. Like your mother, I gave you a chance to see reason. Instead, you answered me with deceit and hatred. So you tell me, Bacchus, God of the Vine, what do you do when one of your vines ceases to bear good fruit?"

  Confused, Bacchus blinked his small eyes and squinted at Zeus. "It is pruned at the end of the season, so that next season it will live again and bear good fruit."

  Zeus nodded solemnly. "And that is your punishment, my son. Beginning now, at the end of every season your body will be sent to the Titans to be rent apart—pruned—by their mighty eagles. As you are born anew, take your lesson from the spent vine. Think on your wrongdoings, learn and bear new fruit."

  As Bacchus shrieked in terror, Zeus raised his mighty hand, and the God of the Vine disappeared.