Goddess of Light (Goddess Summoning #3)(74)

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.

Hers is a mighty heart; she roams all over

destroying the brood of wild beasts."

Artemis stopped eating when Eddie began to sing. She stared at him in obvious amazement. The big man paused, gesturing at the trio of musicians who had been playing soft background music throughout dinner. Their playing stopped, but when Eddie began singing again, the harpist caught the melody of his song, and the magical sound of liquid strings accompanied him.

"But when the arrow-pouring goddess has taken her

pleasure,

after slacking her well-taut bow, she comes to the

great house of her brother,

Phoebus Apollon, to the opulent district of

Delphi..."

He nodded at Apollo, who tilted his head in regal acknowledgment.

"... to set up a beautiful dance of the Muses and the

Graces.

There she hangs her resilient bow and her arrows,

and wearing her graceful

jewelry, she is their leader in the dance. Divine is

the sound they utter

as they sing of how fair-ankled Leto gave birth to

children,

who among the gods are by far the best in deeds and

counsel.

Hail, O daughter of Zeus and lovely-haired Leto!

I shall praise and remember you ..."

Eddie's voice held the last note while the harpist improvised a fantastic flourish. And then the night became very quiet as the song faded. Pamela's gaze shifted from Eddie to Artemis. And there it stayed. Totally shocked, Pamela watched Artemis' stunningly blue eyes fill with shimmering tears. Then the goddess leaned forward and kissed Eddie lingeringly on the lips.

"You know the Homeric hymns," the goddess whispered, only a hand's length from the big man's face.

"I know the Homeric hymns," Eddie replied solemnly.

"You have surprised me, Eddie."

The goddess's smile of honest delight made Pamela's breath catch with its beauty.

"Brother," she said without taking her gaze from Eddie, "I wish to reward our host for his keen powers of observation. Will you play for me?"

"Of course," Apollo said. "But I have no instrument."

Eddie's distinctive voice boomed across the deck. "That is enough music for the evening. You may depart. But leave your instruments. My assistant will be certain they are returned to you on the morrow."

The three women left quickly and discreetly, and Pamela wondered just exactly how much money Eddie was paying them so that they didn't so much as blink at leaving behind their instruments.

Apollo took the harpist's vacated seat and put his hands on the instrument without showing any of the trepidation he was feeling. He was the God of Music. Harpists had worshiped him and sang his praises for uncounted centuries. The Muses revered him. Since the day he had talked the newborn Hermes into gifting him with the very first lyre known to mankind, he had taken his immortal power over his chosen instrument for granted. It was like the air he breathed and the wine he drank - unquestionably, always there. But today he was not the immortal Apollo. He was only a man. He knew the notes. The feel of the harp was familiar. Still, his stomach churned. What if his talent had fled with his powers? What if he played the wrong notes? Or worse, played the right notes so poorly that they seemed wrong.

He looked up. Artemis had stood and was backing gracefully away from the table so that she would have room to begin her dance. Eddie's eyes never left her face. The author was completely enamored with his sister. Apollo pressed his hand against the taut strings. He understood how the big man felt. Reluctantly, the god turned his gaze to Pamela. She was watching him intently, no doubt waiting to hear the brilliance with which the God of Light played. At that instant he sincerely wished that he had his immortal powers - or that he was in reality the mortal man, Phoebus. He suddenly wanted very much to be one or the other. Being stuck between two worlds was like being thrust into a battlefield with only the memory of weapons.

"Play Terpsichore's favorite melody," his sister said imperiously.

Apollo knew the melody. He'd been there when the Muse of the Dance created it, and he had played it for her when she performed it at one of Zeus' great banquets. He closed his eyes and concentrated. His first notes were tentative, soft, almost inaudible, but his fingers had more confidence than the god. They knew the feel of the silver strings, and they traveled up and down the length of the instrument like old friends returning each other's greeting.