P.C. Cast - Goddess of Light

Apollo rubbed his brow as if he had a headache. "It's not like that between them. You should see how they are together, Artemis. There is a contentment about them that is beyond words. Perhaps beyond understanding," then he added as if it was an afterthought, "or at least beyond my understanding."

"You've been watching Hades and Persephone?" Incredulous, she could only stare at her brother.

"It's not Persephone. It's the mortal woman, Carolina. Hades did not desire Persephone. He loved the mortal's soul, not the immortal goddess. And, no, I haven't been watching them. At least not like you're making it sound. I have visited the Underworld as Hades' guest—several times." He finished quickly.

So that was where he had disappeared to lately. She had just assumed he was visiting the Ancient World to oversee his oracle or to stir up something interesting, perhaps a minor war or two. Instead he had been Hades' guest in the Underworld? How strange.

"Hades has always been different from the rest of us. Why are you letting his eccentricities bother you?"

"You don't understand."

His eyes had a sad, introspective cast that continued to trouble Artemis. "Then explain it to me."

"Hades doesn't bother me. The mortal he loves doesn't bother me. I bother me."

"You aren't making sense."

"I realize that. I hardly make sense to myself. All I know is that for the first time in my existence I have glimpsed something that I desire, and I have no idea how to attain it."

Arthemis' first instinct was to scoff and to remind her brother that women were easily had, but something in the tone of his voice stayed her abrupt comment. Instead, she watched him carefully as she sipped her drink. He looked tired, and Apollo never looked tired. Was it possible that he was pining for a mortal woman? She remembered the last mortal who had refused Apollo's love. Her name had been Cassandra, and he hadn't become withdrawn and introspective then, he had become angry—so angry that he had negated the gift of prophecy he had given her. But mortals like Cassandra were the exception. Apollo was a legendary lover. Nymphs swooned when he smiled; even goddesses vied for his attention. Could desire for a mortal have so clouded his memory that he'd forgotten his own powers of seduction?

A commotion drew her attention from Apollo. Not far from them a little group of forest nymphs dressed in diaphanous white robes were talking in excited little bursts, completely unaware that every mortal man within sight was staring hungrily at them.

Apollo followed her gaze and smiled fondly at the bright cluster of nymphs. "It might not have been wise to allow the nymphs access to the modern world."

"Let them have their fun; they're harmless."

"How harmless they are would depend upon whether you are a mortal man caught in the wake of their allure," he said wryly.

As if the handsome god's gaze called to them, several of the nymphs rushed up to Apollo.

"My Lord! Have you heard? Bacchus has asked us to frolic for the mortals!"

"Yes! We are to perform a ritual of invocation."

"You should watch, my Lord!"

"Yes, please come watch us!"

The group giggled and posed alluringly for their favorite golden god before scampering off.

Artemis laughed at their childlike exuberance, but when she glanced at Apollo, she saw that he was staring after the little group, and his brow was furrowed.

"What are they invoking?" Apollo muttered more to himself than to his sister.

Artemis nibbled at her last olive. "Blessings… fertility… good health… you know, the normal things nymphs frolic around invoking. Are you going to eat that last olive?"

Apollo shook his head. His sister stabbed his olive with her toothpick and popped it into her mouth.

"Zeus made it clear that we were not to use our powers to meddle in the modern world."

"By Zeus' beard you have become as dour as dead Tiresias!" Her anger sizzled around them, causing the toothpick that she still held between her fingers to burst into flame. Annoyed, the goddess rolled her eyes and blew away the ash. "Mortal lives are like their little trinkets and playthings: fragile, easily consumed and just as easily replaced."

"You're comparing mortals to a sliver of wood?" he said, still staring in the direction the nymphs had disappeared.

"Why not?" She sighed and shook her head at her obviously distracted brother. "Oh, very well. Let us go make certain the nymphs don't do anything to meddle with your precious mortals." When he hesitated, she pulled him to his feet. "You never know," she whispered in mock concern. "Some unsuspecting mortal might actually blunder into the invocation and ask for our aid. I can hear them now: 'Great Zeus, send a thunderbolt to maim my neighbor's dog who barks all night…'"

He shook his head at his beautiful sister as he reluctantly walked with her through the casino. "You should not make light of an invocation ceremony. You know as well as I how much mischief has been caused by mortals binding the gods to aid them."

"Ancient mortals, yes, like Paris or Medea. But this is not the Ancient World. These mortals know nothing of us." Artemis watched in disgust as a balding, rotund man bought a fistful of large cigars from a scantily clad young woman who carried a tray, "All that concerns them now is…" She paused as the fat man reached forward to grope up the back of the cigar girl's short skirt when she turned away. With a small movement of her fingers, Artemis caused him to trip and fall face-forward. The goddess smiled smugly as his cigars rolled across the floor and the man cursed loudly. "All that concerns them now is shallow self-gratification," she finished. As they walked past, she stepped purposefully on one of the cigars that had come to rest near them, squashing it nicely into the ornate rug.

"Then they differ little from the gods," Apollo muttered.

Artemis shrugged off the accusatory tone of his comment. "We are gods. Self-gratification is ours by right."

"But what if superior self-gratification is not enough?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

Artemis felt her anger stir. There was obviously something wrong with her brother, but his morose, self-pitying attitude was wearing on her.

"What do you suggest, Brother? What other life could you possibly desire besides ours? Look around you." She gestured at the mortals who scurried past them like brainless ants. "We act superior because we are superior. A mortal's life is a temporary thing. They are like butterflies without the beauty of wings. You say modern mortals are changed? The only real change I see in them is that they no longer recognize us, which tells me that they have lost even the small amount of intelligence they used to have. Look at what they worship now." Artemis paused at the end of the casino and looked out into the shopping area that was The Forum. "Their Gods are Gucci, Prada, Versace, Escada, Visa and MasterCard." She shook her head, annoyed that her brother's silly malaise had gotten so under her skin. "We're wasting time. Are we not supposed to be following the nymphs?"

She nodded at the swirling path of golden glitter that the semideities left behind them. The mortals had, of course, noticed the shimmering trail, and many young females were laughing and dabbing the glitter on their bodies. Artemis frowned again. Their odd-looking clothing was confusing: low-slung, faded things that Bacchus had said they called jeans, and tight, middle-bearing brightly colored tops. Did these fledglings not realize how unattractive it was to display so much chubby skin? Being voluptuous was one thing; drawing attention to the one's body flaws was quite another. The goddess thought they looked like desperate young sausages.

"You may have a point," Apollo said slowly, considering his sister's words as they made their way through the noise and confusion of the busy market. "There is definitely something missing about them. Perhaps it is the absence of gods and goddesses within their lives. But I do not think that modern mortals are all as empty-headed as you believe. Actually, they remind me of myself." He laughed at his sister's shocked expression. "They seem to be searching for something that is just out of reach."