Goddess of Light (Goddess Summoning #3)(90)

Apollo managed a fairly credible smile. "You heard Hermes. The venom can not truly harm me. So you may kiss me, and whatever else, as often as you desire."

"I may take you up on that, Mr. God of Light. Later. First things first." Pamela stood up and called down the trail, "Over here! We're over here!"

"Yes ma'am! We're coming," the disembodied yell replied.

She looked back at Apollo. His bloody hand was red and already swollen. "I think it would be a little tough to explain to them that it can't kill you; it just hurts like hell."

Apollo's handsome face twisted as another white-hot wave of pain pulsed up his arm. "It doesn't hurt like hell. It hurts like bloody buggering hell."

Chapter 29

Pamela decided that money could buy a lot more than anything. It bought attention and a definitely freaked-out level of concern, although she liked to pretend that the paramedics would have been equally as wonderful with anyone, regardless of their patron's wallet. They'd opened up an IV line of antivenin and fluids before they'd even tried to move Apollo. Pamela stepped back and let them work. Now that she knew Apollo was in no actual danger, she could appreciate the efficiency of the EMTs as they cleaned, dressed and immobilized his wound without sobbing hysterically or clutching at Apollo's unwounded hand.

She did notice that there was a lot of discussion about how good his vital signs looked, especially for a bite so close to an artery. That made Pamela's stomach tighten again, and she shut out the thought of how she had not been able to feel his pulse before Hermes had shown up.

"Snake must've not been loaded," one of the paramedics said as they helped Apollo walk the short distance down the trail and into the flatbed jeep that had been converted into an ambulance. The God of Light had, of course, refused to be lifted onto a stretcher. Insisting he could walk on his own, he stood up and began striding towards the trail, IV line in tow, when they tried to argue with him.

"Loaded?" Apollo asked.

"Yeah, poisonous snakes can control how much venom they shoot when they bite. You must have just startled this one and not pissed it off. Probably gave you a small dose. Close as it was to that major artery, a big, pissed-off rattler could have killed you."

Pamela felt like throwing up.

Apollo seemed intrigued by the paramedic's information, and the ride back to the resort was filled with lovely little tidbits of snakebite trivia she could have gone a lifetime without knowing. For instance, until then Pamela had had no idea that more than 8,000 poisonous snakebites happened in the United States each year, and that, on an average, about 10 deaths due to snakebites are reported. She also found out that horses get bitten regularly by snakes, and that they don't usually fare as well as humans because most horses are bitten on the nose when they lower their heads to investigate the snake. This is by far the most dangerous site for a bite because the resulting swelling often closes both nostrils and causes suffocation.

Pamela held Apollo's hand and tried unsuccessfully to tune out the entire conversation. Ten deaths due to snakebites kept playing around and around inside her head.

"Sir, your sister and Mr. Faust will meet us in front of the ranch house. From there they will follow us to the hospital," one of the paramedics said as the jeep crunched onto the resort's pebbled drive.

"Hospital?" Apollo frowned and shook his head. "I can assure you that there is no need for that."

"But sir, the full dose of antivenin takes several hours to be administered and monitored. It would be best if you went to the hospital and stayed the night for observation. Sometimes snakebite symptoms take several hours or more to appear."

Apollo looked out of the jeep's side window and caught sight of Artemis and Eddie standing beside the limo.

"Just take me there." He pointed.

The paramedic frowned his disapproval, but the jeep followed the driveway to pull up beside the limo. Before the EMT could touch the back doors, Eddie wrenched them open, and white-faced Artemis rushed up. She took one look at her brother, who was hooked up to an IV, had an oxygen line at his nose, and one hand splinted and bandaged, and her eyes promptly rolled up and she fainted in a full-out, gasping swoon of diva proportions.

"Great," Pamela muttered as each and every one of the paramedics flew out of the ambulance and swarmed around the fallen goddess.

"She's never swooned before," Apollo said, watching with open curiosity as Eddie batted away the men, scooped Artemis up in his arms and carried her to the ranch house. The paramedics hurried after him.

"For her first swoon I think she did very well." Apollo started to laugh and then closed his eyes against the jab of pain in his arm.

Pamela hated the way his face paled and tightened if he moved too much. "What can I do?"

Eyes still closed, he shook his head in tight jerks.

Feeling truly helpless, Pamela said, "Okay, well. Your sister is most definitely a drama queen." She tried to keep her tone light.

After only a few breaths, Apollo opened his eyes and smiled weakly at her. "She is that."

"Hurts like bloody buggering hell?" she offered.

"Yes, but I can tell you truly that I'm glad the paramedics have trailed away after Artemis. I don't want to go to a hospital, Pamela. I can tolerate the pain that my father has decreed as my punishment. I cannot tolerate being poked and prodded by strangers." He jabbed his chin in the direction of the IV needle that stuck out of his arm.