P.C. Cast: Goddess of Light

"Now, my friends," Bacchus said as the other statues dimmed and died, and a pink-tinged spotlight illuminated his florid face. "Eat, drink and be merry! And remember—you must return for the special evening show at eight o'clock sharp! Until then, carpe diem!"

As his maniacal laughter faded and spontaneous applause broke out, Pamela overheard a woman wearing red sweatpants say to her friend, "Ain't it better than last time we was here?"

"Yep," her friend replied.

"Oh, God…" Pamela groaned.

" No, you are not to fret. I know exactly what has you looking so concerned." Eddie patted her hand. "Money is not an issue. I will spare no expense to make my vision come to life."

"You may trust his word, ma'am. Eddie will provide you with all the funds that you need."

Pamela blinked woodenly up at the tall man.

"How insufferably rude of me," Eddie said. "Pamela, let me present you to my assistant, James Ridgewood. James, this is our much esteemed interior designer, Pamela Gray."

"A pleasure to meet you, ma'am." James took her hand in a firm, dry grip.

Eddie slapped his palms against his thick thighs. "I can hardly contain my excitement! Now that you have seen the marvelous fountain, tell me, Pamela, what do you think?"

"What do I think?" Pamela stalled by repeating the question. She and Eddie were sitting beside each other on one of the faux marble benches that surrounded the now-silent fountain. Because of the author's girth, the bench that would normally have held three or even four people was full, so James stood beside them. Pamela looked helplessly from Eddie's sparkling eyes up to James, who returned her gaze with the steady, attentive expression of a schoolboy. No help there, she realized. James had bought into the decorating disaster, too.

"Yes! What do you think of fashioning the centerpiece of my home after this fountain?"

Pamela studied Eddie carefully. The big man wasn't pretending. Unfortunately, this wasn't a joke. He really wanted the wretched thing. She cleared her throat and took a deep breath before plunging into her answer.

"It is definitely an unusual idea."

Eddie and James nodded their heads in enthusiastic agreement.

"I do, however, have some initial concerns. First"—she gestured at the enormous water fiasco—"the size. If I remember correctly, you said your home was roughly twelve thousand square feet. That is, of course, a spacious home, but I'm afraid that even an estate of that size cannot accommodate a fountain of such"—she paused, silently editing out words like monstrous and grotesque —"magnificent dimensions."

Eddie threw his head back and laughed heartily, causing several people to stop and stare at him. "Now I understand your shocked expression, my dear. I do not want the fountain inside my home. Rather, I want it to be a focal point in the courtyard. James, show our Pamela what I mean."

Smiling, James lifted a beautiful burgundy leather briefcase and extracted a thick manila folder, which he handed to her. She opened it to find detailed color pictures and floor plans of an exquisite Italian-style villa. It was built in a huge U shape around a lovely marble-tiled center courtyard, which was obviously meant to be the focal point of the home. Pamela felt herself nodding in appreciation of the architectural excellence of the home. Then she blinked and took a closer look at the picture. Across the color rendition of the tasteful courtyard someone had scrawled in changes with a pencil. Take out trees. Replace with Roman columns, gold perhaps, as in Forum ?

Gold columns? Her eyes drifted to a column near them. Like a bizarre cross between a whorehouse and a funeral parlor, it was covered with tacky faux marble paint. The top of the column was encrusted with gaudy swirls of gold. She was glad she was sitting down, because her knees felt decidedly weak. She looked back at the penciled-in notes.

Instead of tiles, make floor to look like Forum streets . Horrified, Pamela glanced down. The "streets" of The Forum were nothing more than cement that had been textured to look like cheap imitation stone, and then painted muddy brown and varnished. Surely Eddie didn't mean to exchange the fabulous travertine with cement .

"Do you understand now? I want to transplant this fountain into the courtyard of my home."

Pamela felt her mouth open and close, fishlike, as she struggled to find something to say.

"Of course I realize that even though my courtyard is large, it is not big enough to hold an exact replica of the fountain. So, what I have decided is that I want a miniature version. Cut out Caesar, Artemis and Apollo." His gaze shifted fondly to the center-most statue. "You must keep Bacchus, though. God of the Vine and Fertility. In my home wine is always welcome, and fertility"—his chuckle rumbled—"well, the rules of chivalry remind me that such risque subjects are not fit for a lady's ears, so for now I will simply say that I wish to encourage the fertility of creativity and the written word."

Pamela ignored the mischievous glint in the big man's eyes. She certainly didn't want to get into any kind of fertility discussion with him.

"Let me see if I understand you correctly. What you want is the aura of this fountain, something with its basic shape and design, only on a smaller scale."

"Exactly!" Eddie grinned. "And, of course, I will require it to be animated."

This time when Pamela's mouth dropped open, she didn't bother to close it.

"Ex-e-excuse me, uh, M-Mr. Faust?"

Pamela turned to see three zit-faced teenage boys standing behind her. Each of them clutched a hardback copy of Pillars of the Sword as they stared rapturously at Eddie.

"It-it is you, isn't it?" the tallest of the three stuttered.

Eddie nodded. "It is I, E. D. Faust."

"Awesome!"

"I told you it was him." The tall boy gave his compatriots a victorious look. "We just bought our copies of Pillars . It would be, like, amazing if you would please sign them for us!"

Pamela couldn't help smiling at the boys. They were cute in a gawky kind of a way, like young colts. Then she noticed that the pudgy boy standing closest to her was trying to look down her blouse. She frowned at him and rearranged her jacket. Men: whether they were fifteen or fifty, some things stayed the same.

"It would be my great privilege to affix my signature to these books for you young lads! Come! Tell me your names." Eddie gestured magnanimously.

"Taylor!" The pudgy kid forgot about her cleavage as he beat past his two buddies who were shouting, "Jamie!" and "Adam!"

Eddie's laughter boomed good-naturedly, but as the boys surged forward, Pamela noticed that the author shot his assistant a pointed look.

"Miss Gray," James's voice was hurried as he bent and spoke in her ear. "I'm afraid we don't have much time. Everything you need is in this briefcase," which he handed to her, "including your room key. I have already checked you in, and Robert had your bags delivered to your room."

"It is E. D. Faust."

"I thought I recognized that guy from somewhere!"

Pamela looked around in surprise. Several people were pointing at Eddie and shouting.

"It is Eddie's wish that you spend this weekend simply soaking up the ambience of The Forum and Caesars Palace. On Monday morning he will send a car for you, and you will be taken to the home itself. All the details of that are in the briefcase. Until then, think of the next couple days as a pleasant sojourn within the magic of Las Vegas."

"E. D. Faust! Wow!" said a breathless man who rushed up to Eddie, knocked aside the glaring teenagers and pumped his hand vigorously. "I have all your books."