Goddess of Light (Goddess Summoning #3)(17)

It was, she decided, an excellent publicity ploy. At least from the male perspective. And wasn't that just typical? She cast her eyes through the growing group of people who were congregating around the fountain. Just as she thought, most of them were female. Yet the duos of scantily clad young women kept increasing. And did one handsome young lad equally as revealingly dressed join them? Of course not.

"I'll bet women didn't really dress like that in ancient Rome," Pamela grumbled to herself. "They'd catch their death."

"COME ONE, COME ALL, COME TO THE MALL!"

Unexpectedly, the center statue's canned voice boomed over loudspeakers, catching Pamela unaware. She glanced at her watch, surprised that it was already eight o'clock.

"Ah, but tonight we have a special show for you! Nymphs, I command you dance for the Las Vegas revelers, two by two!"

Well, that made more sense. The actresses were meant to be portraying nymphs. As the similarly attired young women stepped from the crowd and began to dance around the fountain, Pamela had to acknowledge that they were very attractive. She watched the show as she sipped more wine, thinking that she had never seen so many expensive hair extensions. The "nymphs" twirled and laughed and leapt in a graceful circle, flinging their thick manes as if they had been born with them.

The awful statues of Apollo and Artemis came alive, one right after another. It seemed the evening show focused on the dancing nymphs, who were admittedly more entertaining than the animated statues who spoke in bad rhymes. Pamela even realized that her foot was tapping in time to the pulsing rhythm of their dance. It really wasn't a bad show, she thought as she refilled her glass again.

"Seekers of the ancient ways, think upon

the coming again of the immortals

and of your distant ancestors

who once honored the old gods

and gave blessing to field and forest, wind and

water, earth and air.

This night we invoke past times - past days. "

When the dancing girls began to sing, she was pleasantly surprised. Their lyrics were far better than the nonsense that the mechanized statues spouted. And their voices! They were incredible. Entranced, Pamela listened as the song brought alive a time long dead when people actually believed gods and goddesses walked amongst them and granted their wishes. Despite her cynical opinion of her surroundings, she felt herself caught up in the performance, so much so that she wanted to slide off her stool and join them in their hypnotic dance.

That, she thought with a tipsy giggle which quickly turned into a snort, was utterly ridiculous. Especially in her three-and-a-half-inch Jimmy Choo slides. But for some reason her unusual desire to frolic with the pretend nymphs didn't shock her. She eyed the half-empty carafe; it must be the wine.

She blinked as the tempo of the dance increased, and the glitter that surrounded the nymphets seemed to blur her vision, so much so that when she reached for her glass of wine, she misjudged the distance and bobbled it. In slow motion, she watched as the crystal stem fell over, shattering on the marble tabletop and spraying red droplets in a crimson arc over the floor around her. Guiltily she snatched up her linen napkin and tried to soak up the quickly spreading stain. Thank God the glass had fallen away from her; she would have hated for her chic dress to have been covered in Chianti. Jeesh, what a mess she'd made. She was just thinking that she'd have to leave the waiter an extra big tip when she wiped at the table a little too enthusiastically and a sliver of glass sliced across the pad of her index finger.

"Ouch!" She shook her hand as if the sharp pain burned. "Oh, bloody buggering hell." She couldn't believe the amount of blood that was running from one little cut. It even made her stomach feel a little queasy as it mixed with the pooling Chianti.

She pressed the already soaked napkin to her finger, but even the sting of the fresh cut didn't distract her from the conclusion of the nymphs' fabulous show. They were so graceful, and their silky voices seemed to call alive poignant emotions that she usually repressed... desire stirred within her... desire for something she couldn't - or wouldn't - quite name...

"Immortal aid is bound

with a spoken desire, and by a heart's sound.

Cast doubt aside; give voice to your soul,

for tonight the truth of love is our goal.

May heartfelt wishes come to thee

as it is spoken - so shall it be!"

Heartfelt wishes. Well, she wished that she hadn't spilled her wine or cut her finger. But the instant her mind formulated the thought she felt the wrongness of it. Wishing something so trivial after the beautiful dance seemed almost blasphemous. As she unclasped her purse and dug for a tissue to wrap around her finger, she was suddenly filled with sadness that her heart's desire had been nothing more than to undo an insignificant accident. Surely she had more heart than that left in her. Surely Duane hadn't destroyed it all.

Cast doubt aside; give voice to your soul.

The echo of the words beat through her body in time with the pulse she could feel in her finger. Duane couldn't have ruined romance for her; she wouldn't let him.

May heartfelt wishes come to thee

as it is spoken - so shall it be!

Impulsively, she raised her chin and stared at the group of nymphs who were smiling and sinking into graceful prima ballerina curtsies as the crowd broke out in applause. Then Pamela blurted the thought that had been haunting her mind since her conversation with V.