Goddess of Light (Goddess Summoning #3)(87)

This time Pamela took his hand and raised it to her lips before she tugged him in the direction of path that led down to the level of the pool.

"Wait," she said after only a few feet. "I'm going to grab the picnic basket. I have a feeling that we're going to work up a gihugic appetite. And anyway..." She grinned over her shoulder at him as she scrambled quickly back up the trail to the ledge and bent to retrieve the basket from where Apollo had discarded it. "We shouldn't take James's hard work for - "

The rattling sliced off her words as Pamela's body turned to cold, immovable stone. Somewhere in her mind the thought flashed that it sounded more like the hiss of meat being seared in frying grease than the child's toy after which it was named. A terrible sinking sensation overwhelmed her, and she fought against a flood of vertigo when her eyes followed the path of the sound to find the snake coiled beside the picnic basket just inches from her outstretched hand.

Chapter 28

Apollo knew something had gone horribly wrong before he saw the serpent. Pamela froze, midsentence, and through the silent space between them, he heard the deadly sound of the viper's warning. The god's actions were automatic. He lunged forward with his hand up, focusing all of his immortal powers on destroying that which threatened his love.

Nothing happened. He cursed himself for being an impotent, powerless god. No! It wasn't that he was powerless - it was only that he was now a man. It was as a man that he must protect Pamela. As quickly and quietly as possible, he moved into position behind her. The snake was coiled into a huge rope of anger. Its triangular head was raised and staring slit-eyed at Pamela's hand, which was well within striking distance.

"When I move forward, you must leap to the side," Apollo said in a low, calm voice.

The snake's rattling increased, and Pamela opened her mouth to protest - to warn him away - to scream - to anything... but it was too late, Apollo was already moving. He shoved her aside, and with superhuman speed, he met the snake's strike. Pamela screamed as she watched the rattler imbed its fangs into the meaty part of Apollo's hand. And then, snarling an ancient curse, the God of Light grasped the snake's thick body with his other hand. Powerfully, he jerked the snake, wrenching it from his hand. Before it could strike again, Apollo spun his body, whirling the snake with him so that he could crack its head, like the deadly end of a whip, against the rocky ledge. It exploded in a shower of blood, but still the Sun God wasn't satisfied. He cracked it again and again against the rock before hurling its lifeless body over the edge of the cliff and down into the waiting pool.

Gulping air, his head snapped around to find Pamela. She was crouched not far from him, eyes wide with shock. "Did it harm you?"

"No," she shook her head in two shaky movements.

Relief washed over him just before the pain sliced through him, driving him to his knees. His hand! He hadn't even felt the viper's strike - he'd felt only blinding fury and the need to protect Pamela. He turned his burning hand over. The agony was racing up his arm from two bloody puncture wounds near his wrist below his thumb.

"Here, let me see it." Pamela was on her knees beside him, reaching blindly for the picnic basket. Her face was ghostly, and her hands were shaking, but her voice was firm. He gave her his hand and she sucked in her breath. "Oh, God. I knew it got you." She stared up into his face, cradling his bloody hand against her body while she groped through the basket. "What are you feeling?"

"Fire," he said shortly, surprised to find that he was still struggling for breath. He tried to laugh, but the sound came out as a groan. "It feels like my hand is on fire."

"You'll be fine. You'll be fine. Here, sit back and lean against the rock." She helped guide his shoulders until they rested against the smooth stone as he almost fell back from his knees, telling herself all the while that she had to stay calm... she could not panic. "Keep sitting up." She lay his wounded hand, palm up, gently on his thigh, trying desperately to remember everything she'd ever heard about poisonous snakebites. V had forced her to read an article not long ago about hiker safety. Think! "Make sure your hand stays below the level of your heart," she told Apollo, who nodded weakly. Then she turned her full attention to the basket. "Where is the f**king cell phone!" she said through teeth that kept wanting to chatter. "Ah!" Victorious, she hastily punched star sixty-two. "Come on... come on..." she muttered. Looking back through the basket, she jerked out the two bottles of water. While she spoke into the phone, she unscrewed one of the bottles and handed it to Apollo, who drained half of it in one swallow.

"Yes, this is Pamela Gray. I'm a guest of E. D. Faust. My assistant and I are at the top of the pool in First Creek Canyon, and he has just been bitten by a rattlesnake," she spoke quickly and clearly, as if she wasn't riding on the edge of panic.

"First, are you certain it was a rattlesnake, ma'am?" the dispatcher asked in a calm, professional voice.

"Yes, I'm sure. Triangular head, dull brown body. Rattles."

"I'm sending an EMT team to you right now, Pamela."

She could hear the clicks and squawks of the dispatcher's radio in the background. Then he began firing specific questions at her.

"Where was he bit?"

"On his right hand. Below his thumb right around his wrist."