Chapter 24
Eddie's idea of "rather modest accommodations" was to lease the entire nine-bedroom adobe-style mansion that had been lavishly built in the 1920s and lovingly restored with antiques and modern plumbing and lighting in 2003. It was situated at the edge of the Red Rock Canyon Spa and Resort, which was a lovely oasis of natural springs and verdant foliage that looked bizarre and beautifully out of place in the middle of the jutting rust-colored rocks and starkly intriguing desert landscape of Red Rock Canyon. Pamela stood at one set of three double doors, which led from the lodge-style den out to the huge wooden deck where uniformed waiters were hastily putting the finishing touches of fresh flowers and candles on the dinner table, while a trio of musicians were tuning their instruments. Music, candles, flowers and fine china - she was relieved that she had chosen her little black dress instead of something more casual. Outdoor lighting suddenly clicked on, watercoloring the clear Nevada night in soft splotches of color.
She breathed in the cooling desert air. Sitting with carsick Apollo in the front seat (He'd insisted she stay with him, and he'd looked so pathetic that she sighed and squeezed in the front seat, thoroughly annoying Robert) had been an eye-opening experience. Pamela loved Colorado. Though she had been born and raised there, she never tired of the majesty of Pikes Peak and the green, mountainous beauty of her home. She considered herself fairly well-traveled, especially within the United States, and she had seen many lovely states, but no place had ever filled her senses and soothed her soul like her home. So it was a surprise that she was so drawn to the desert. The short ride from Eddie's estate on the edge of Red Rock Canyon to the ranch had been filled with scenery that was both stark and spectacular. There was something mysterious and wonderful about the desert. It made her imagination run wild with girlish fantasies of Old West cowboys and leather and sweat. She grinned to herself at her silly romantic imaginings.
"I love your smile."
Apollo's deep voice startled her. She turned. He was standing so close behind her that she could feel the heat of his body. It was just normal body heat and not the immortal power of the God of Light, but it made her remember the night before, and how flames had licked her body in time with his thrusts.
She ran her hand nervously through her short hair. "I didn't hear you come in."
"I didn't mean to startle you."
If only he knew. His very presence made her stomach tighten and her face flush. And that was before she'd found out that he was the bloody God of Light! She was being wooed and pursued by immortal Apollo. It was a little like being caught up in an old Star Trek episode without the ability to be beamed the hell out of a tight situation.
But she didn't want to be beamed away from him, and the truth of that was driving her crazy. He was Apollo! She couldn't stop the thrill of wonderment that coursed through her at the thought. It was heady and maddening and terribly frightening.
Instead of babbling like the crazy woman she thought she might be becoming, she nodded out at the desert night with what she hoped was at least semi-nonchalance.
"It's not your fault; I was preoccupied by the scenery. It's so much prettier here than I expected."
"Yes, I know exactly what you mean. The Kingdom of Las Vegas has surprised me with its beauty, too," he smiled and brushed a short tendril of dark hair from her forehead.
His eyes caught and reflected the deck lighting, and for a moment they seemed to shimmer again with immortal blue. She moved a step away from him.
"Why?" he asked wearily. "Why do you shun my touch?"
One of the waiters looked up with obvious curiosity at his question, and Pamela motioned for Apollo to follow her out to the far edge of the deck where they were less likely to be overheard. She lowered her voice and tried not to fidget.
"I'm not shunning your touch. I-I'm being careful," she stuttered, not looking directly into his eyes.
"I don't understand." He wiped a hand across his face and sighed. "You see, Pamela, this has never before happened to me. You must explain the rules of love."
Her heart beat into her throat, and she had to swallow carefully before she answered him.
"I don't know the rules. I don't know how to love a god." Reluctantly, she met his eyes. "The truth is it was different when I thought you were just Phoebus."
"I am Phoebus, Pamela."
"No you're not! My God, Apollo - " she broke off, pressing her lips together. "See! I can't even say normal things around you anymore. My God... you are a god! I don't know what to say... what to do..." She rubbed her forehead. The musicians began playing a waltz, which only increased the surreal feel of the night. It was like Apollo had conspired to add a soundtrack to their conversation. "I don't want to be in love," she said softly. "I didn't want to before I knew about you, and now it just seems too much - too impossible."
He shook his head. "No, it's not impossible. It's just that the way you found out was wrong. I should have told you sooner, made it easier for you to accept."
"How could it be easier? You are an ancient god, and I am just a mortal woman. We weren't meant to be together." Saying the words that had been haunting her all day made her stomach feel sick.
"I fulfilled your heart's desire." He spoke in a low, tight voice.
"Of course you did! It's not that I don't desire you. I do. You're perfect. I asked for romance, and you are most definitely a romantic dream come true." She wanted to shut up, to stop the words that vomited from her mouth, but she couldn't. She was afraid if she did, she would throw herself into his arms and want to stay there forever. And then what would become of her? What would happen to her heart when he left her world and returned to his own?
He grimaced and shook his head. "I am more than a romantic dream, and you asked for more than a dalliance with a god."
"Apollo, I know what I asked for," she said tightly.
"Do you really? Then perhaps you would be interested to know that the invocation bond between you and my sister did not break until you admitted last night that I am your soul mate."
"Your soul mate..." She whispered the words, shaking her head. "No!" He couldn't be. If he was her soul mate, how would she survive without him?
All expression left his handsome face. "Perhaps I have been lucky all these eons not to have known love. I am discovering it is a painful emotion." He bowed formally to her, turned on his heels and walked away.
But instead of making it through the doors and back to his room as he had intended, he almost ran over his sister and Eddie as they surged out onto the patio, followed closely by the ever-present James.
"Good! Good! You're here already," Eddie said, clapping Apollo on the shoulders. Then he caught sight of Pamela. "Excellent! We are all here. James, you may tell them to begin the feast. Come, my goddess. The fare here may be simple, but I promise that you will not be disappointed by its quality."
"Eddie, I want more of that lovely champagne."
"Of course, of course," he murmured, helping her into one of the chairs.
Pamela watched the big man cluck and fuss over the goddess like a gihugic hen. Apollo was standing across the table from the two of them. She could feel his gaze on her. She blinked away the tears that had been pooling in her eyes, squared her shoulders, plastered a professionally cordial smile on her face and joined the small group at the table. Eddie, of course, insisted she sit next to "Phoebus." Thankfully, as soon as her butt touched the chair, a swarm of waiters converged upon the table.
Eddie had described the dinner fare as "simple," which made Pamela wonder what he considered extravagant. The food wasn't served in courses, as one might expect from an expensive catered meal in the middle of an exclusive resort; instead, Eddie ordered that everything come out at once. It was like a food explosion. The salads of wild field greens, exotic fresh mushrooms and ripe bursts of tiny tomatoes had been fashioned to look like miniature bird's nests. The bowtie pasta was divine and smelled of fresh garlic and white wine. Thick salmon steaks had been grilled to perfection, as had long slices of halved zucchini squash covered in melted provolone cheese and sprinkled with cracked pepper and sea salt. Throughout the entire meal, attentive waiters poured glasses of icy champagne.
Everything was delicious, and Pamela felt herself relaxing as Eddie and Apollo chatted easily about the daily bathing traditions of ancient Rome. Actually, Pamela was intrigued by the living details Apollo was divulging about a world considered long dead.
"So bathing really became a social activity," Eddie said through bites of salmon.
Apollo nodded. "Do not think of it as simply something done to cleanse one self. The Roman baths were much more than that. In the same bathing complex it was not uncommon for there to be exercise areas, masseurs, barbers, restaurants, shops and libraries. It was a place of camaraderie; a life vein into the happenings of the city. There were private rooms set aside in which matters were discussed that should not be made public. Some say that even the gods themselves frequented the bathhouses of Rome to listen in to the intrigue of the day."
"Ha! Might the plot to kill Caesar not have started in one of Rome's baths?" Eddie said.
Artemis scoffed. "Caesar! Proclaiming himself a god was only one of his many mistakes. He should have listened to his wife. Calpurnia warned him. Too often Rome did not listen to the voices of its women," she finished fiercely.
Eddie's eyes widened. "I have it, my lovely! I have been pondering it since this morning when first we met. Something was off - not precisely right - and now I understand what it is. You are not Diana at all, but now I recognize your true nature."
Artemis raised one golden eyebrow at him and nibbled at her second piece of salmon. "Do you?"
"Yes! You are too fiery to be the wan and ethereal Diana. You flame and sparkle, not just with the light of a full moon. You carry within you the nature of a huntress. Tomorrow we shall doff the silly vase you held today and replace it with a bow and a quiver of arrows. Diana's meekness has set, and the goddess Artemis has risen."
Pamela choked midswallow of bowtie pasta and a waiter hurried to bring her a glass of water. Between sputters she shared a secret look of surprise with Apollo, but Eddie was not finished. He placed his hand over his heart, and in a deep, resonant baritone his a cappella voice, rising and falling like one of The 3 Tenors, filled the desert night.
"I sing of Artemis of the golden shafts, who loves the
din of the hunt
and shoots volleys of arrows at stags. She delights in
the chase
as she stretches her golden bow to shoot the bitter
arrows.