Goddess of Light (Goddess Summoning #3)(81)

Eddie's gaze went from her to Artemis. For a moment sadness shadowed his face, then he drew a deep breath, and it was gone, replaced by a knowing smile. Without taking his gaze from the goddess, he said, "You will remember that when first we met I wanted the center statue of my fountain to be fashioned after an image of the god, Bacchus?"

"Yes," Pamela nodded, hoping like hell she hadn't said something to make him reconsider that horrid idea,

"Bacchus has long been a favorite of mine. He is not typically Olympian. Mythology reports that he was the last god to enter Olympus - Homer did not acknowledge him at all. His nature was alien to the other gods; they who loved order and beauty did not always appreciate the unique character of Bacchus or his worshipers. I understand that. I know what it is to be titled as one thing and thought of as another." He shook his head and looked fondly at Pamela. "But I digress. It is not Bacchus' story I want you to hear, but his mother's."

The big man motioned for one of the workers to bring chairs for them. She sat beside him, waiting while the author settled his girth and called for a cold glass of mead. When he asked if she would join him, she shrugged and nodded. Why not? When one worked for Eddie, one definitely colored outside the lines. After their mead arrived, Eddie took a long drink before launching into his story.

"Semele was a beautiful Theban princess. Born of mortal parents, she had the face and figure of a goddess. Unfortunately, she caught the eye of Zeus, the Supreme Ruler of Olympus. Zeus dallied with many mortal maidens, as did most of the gods and goddesses."

Here Pamela blew out a puff of disgruntled air and re-crossed her legs. Eddie smiled.

"Remember, my dear. It was a different world then. Pretend, for just a moment, that you are a lovely young girl living in ancient Greece. Born into a hardworking merchant family, you are dissatisfied with the role in life fate had allotted you. Do you cast aside your secret aspirations and quietly many as your family chooses? What if, say, a handsome man looked your way? Perhaps the eldest son of a wealthy landowner. He is out of your reach, but you find love in his arms. Suddenly you discover that you are with child. Are you driven from your household in shame as your betrothal is broken? Or do you describe how, one day while you were gathering flowers in a meadow outside the walls of the city a god appeared to you, seduced you, and fathered your child - a child who is then birthed with much ado and whose life is surrounded by mystery and magic?"

"I get your point," Pamela muttered.

"May I continue with my tale?"

"Sorry," she said, settling back in her chair and sipping her mead.

"As I was saying, Semele became one of Zeus' many mortal lovers. But she was different, and in more ways than just her extraordinary beauty. Mythology reports that Zeus was completely enamored with his young mistress, so much so that when she told him she was to bear his child he swore an oath by the River Styx that he would give her anything she asked of him." Eddie paused, sipping his mead in slow contemplation.

"Well? Then what happened?"

"Semele's heart's desire was to see Zeus in his full splendor as King of Olympus and Lord of the Thunderbolt. Zeus pleaded with his lover to take back her request. He knew that no mortal could behold him thus and live, but she would not recant her heart's desire. The Lord of Gods had sworn an oath by the River Styx, and not even he could break that bond. So, with his cheeks washed in tears of foreknowledge, he came to her one last time and revealed himself as she had asked, and before that awful, beautiful glory of his burning light, she died."

"But that can't be right. If she was dead, how was Bacchus born?"

"Because of his love for her, Zeus snatched his son from her womb as she perished and carried the child within his own thigh until it was time for the God of the Vine to be born."

Before yesterday Pamela would have reacted to Eddie's retelling of an ancient myth as little more than an amusing story. Now she knew too well that the possibility that it was much more than simple fiction was pretty good. She ached for the bittersweet tragedy of Semele, who had died because she refused to cast aside her heart's desire...

"I had no idea," Pamela said.

"Do you think Semele regretted her wish?" Eddie asked.

"Well, it killed her."

"But do you think she regretted it? Do you think she would have traded that moment of wonderful, awful fulfillment - fulfillment so great that her mortal body could not contain it - for a lifetime of safety bereft of that blinding instant of splendor?"

"I'm not sure I can answer that. What do you think, Eddie?"

"You must decide for yourself." His gaze turned from her and found Artemis. His smile was no longer tinged with sadness. "I have made my own decision."

"Aren't you scared?" Pamela found she could barely form the words.

"Of course. There are no guarantees in love, Pamela, just endless opportunities - for hurt and for happiness. But I can say without any misgivings that I would rather touch her for one instant and be burned, than to live my life in the darkness bereft of her light."

At his words something changed inside Pamela. Something within her that had been sleeping finally did more than stir and stretch. It came fully awake. She knew what living in the darkness felt like, and she also knew what it was to touch the light.

"I don't want a life bereft of his light, either," Pamela said through the catch in her throat.