Goddess of the Sea (47 page)

“Why are you doing this?
How
are you doing this?” She felt herself begin to shake uncontrollably.

“Christine, do you not know me?” he asked gently.

“I know who you sound like, but he's dead. I watched him die in another world.” CC covered her face with her hands and sobbed.

Sean crossed the space between them and took her into his arms. At first she struggled, but soon she just stood there, rigid with pain in the cocoon of his unfamiliar embrace.

“I see that I must convince you.” She felt the warmth of his breath against her wet hair. “Then let me describe for you a place. It is a place you would easily recognize, for there is none other like it. A ring of stone stands proudly in the middle of clear waters; its dome is open to the sky.”

As he spoke, CC lifted her face so that she could look into the hazel depths of his eyes.

“The waters there are lit by luminous fish and filled with the magic of sea horses moving together in a dance of mating.” He smiled tenderly at her. “It was there that you first loved me, but I believe that I have loved you forever—that you were a part of me even before we met in the storm that was your mother's creation. And I will continue to love you for an eternity, Christine.”

Hesitantly, as if she were afraid he would disappear if she moved too quickly, Christine reached up and touched his cheek.

“How?” she asked.

He turned his head so he could kiss her palm. “I do not know, but I like to think of it as a gift from a goddess. I am sorry it took me so long to come to you. Being human is a very odd thing.” He paused and laughed with a sound so familiar that CC's heart quivered in response. “When they die their bodies do not return to water. They stay intact, as if waiting for another's soul to fill them, but this body was . . .” He paused, shrugging his wide shoulders. “It was very badly damaged, and it has taken me longer to heal than I would have thought possible. Many said I would not heal at all, but they did not know the promise I had to fulfill.”

“Dylan.” CC breathed the word.

“Yes, my love,” Dylan said.

CC felt the pain within her shatter and dissolve. In its place she was filled with an overwhelming sense of joy. Then her eyes widened in wonder.

“It's the opposite of all those mermaid stories that humans have written!” she exclaimed.

He gave her a quizzical look.

“In those stories the mermaid is saved by the love of a human man—and if he doesn't love her, she dies.”

Dylan's smile mirrored her own. “It appears the humans had it wrong. It is the
woman's
love that saves the
merman's
soul.”

“Or maybe they just save each other,” she said.

“And so we shall, Christine.”

“For an eternity.”

“For an eternity,” he assured her.

And as he claimed her lips, their ears were filled with the magical sound of a goddess's delighted laughter.

TURN THE PAGE TO READ AN EXCERPT FROM THE NEXT BOOK IN P. C. CAST'S GODDESS SUMMONING SERIES

Goddess of Spring

AVAILABLE FROM BERKLEY SENSATION!

“EVEN amidst the lovely Dryads your daughter shines, my lady,” Eirene said. She wasn't looking at me as she spoke. Instead she was smiling at Persephone in a proud, motherly fashion, and she did not notice that my lips tightened into a thin line at her words.

“She is spring personified and even the beauty of the nymphs cannot begin to compete with her splendor.”

At the sound of my words Eirene's sharp gaze immediately shifted to my face. My faithful nursemaid had known me too long not to recognize my tone.

“The child troubles you, Demeter?” she asked gently.

“How could she not?” I snapped.

Only Eirene's silence betrayed her hurt. I shifted my golden scepter from my right hand to my left, and leaned forward so that I could touch her arm in a wordless apology. As usual, she stood near my throne, always ready to serve me. But she was, of course, much more to me than a simple nursemaid or servant. She was my confidante and one of my most loyal advisors. As such she deserved to be treated with respect, and it was a sign of how distracted I had become that I had spoken so harshly to her.

Her distinctive gray eyes softened with understanding at my touch. “Would you like wine, Great Goddess?” She asked.

“For us both.” I did not smile; it was not my way. But she understood me and my moods so completely that often only a look or a word was needed between us.

I studied my daughter as Eirene called for wine. The little Nysaian meadow had been the perfect choice in which to spend the unseasonably warm afternoon. Persephone and her wood nymph companions complemented the beauty that surrounded us. Though the day was pleasant, the trees that ringed the meadow were already beginning to shed their summer clothes. I watched Persephone twirl gracefully under one ancient oak, making a game of trying to catch the brilliantly colored falling leaves. The nymphs aided the young goddess by dancing on the limbs to assure a steady waterfall of orange and scarlet and rust.

As usual, Eirene was correct. The woodland Dryads were ethereal and delicate. Each of them was a breathing masterpiece. It was easy to understand why mortals found them irresistible. But when compared with Persephone, their beauty turned mundane. In her presence they became common house slaves.

My daughter's hair shone with a rich mahogany luster, the color of which never ceased to amaze me because I am so fair. It does not curl, either, as do my grain-colored tresses. Instead her hair was a ripple of thick, brilliant waves that lapped around the soft curve of her waist.

Obviously feeling my scrutiny, she waved joyously at me before capturing another watercolored leaf. Her face tilted in my direction. It was a perfect heart. Enormous violet-colored eyes were framed by arched brows and thick, ebony lashes. Her lips were lush and inviting. Her body was lithe. I felt my own lips turn down.

“Your wine, my lady.” Eirene offered me a golden goblet filled with chilled wine the color of the sun.

I sipped thoughtfully, speaking my thoughts aloud, secure that they were safe with Eirene. “Of course Persephone is supple and lovely. Why would she not be? She spends all her time frolicking with nymphs and picking flowers.”

“She also creates glorious feasts.”

I made a very ungoddess-like noise through my nose. “I am quite aware that she produces culinary masterpieces, and then lolls about feasting to all hours with—” I wafted my hand in the direction of the Dryads “—semi-deities.”

“She is much beloved,” Eirene reminded me patiently.

“She is frivolous,” I countered.

Suddenly, I closed my eyes and cringed as another voice rose from the multitudes and rang with the insistence of a clarion bell throughout my mind.
Lovely, somber Goddess of the Fields and Fruits and Flowers, strong and just, please aid our mother's spirit as she roams restless through the Darkened Realm without the comfort of a goddess . . .

“Demeter, are you well?” Eirene's concern broke through the supplication, effectively causing the voice to dissipate like windblown dust.

Opening my eyes, I met her gaze. “It has become never-ending.” Even as I spoke more voices crowded my mind.
O Demeter, we do call upon thee, that our sister who has passed Beyond be accorded the comfort of a Goddess . . . and . . . O gracious Goddess who gives life through the harvest, I do ask your indulgence for my beloved wife who has passed through the Gates of the Underworld and dwells evermore beyond the comfort of a goddess
. . .

With a mighty effort I blocked the teeming throng from my mind.

“Something must be done about Hades.” My voice was stone. “I understand the mortals. Their entreaties are valid. It is fact that there is no Goddess of the Underworld.” I leapt up and began to pace back and forth in frustration. “But what am I to do? The Goddess of the Riches of the Field cannot abandon her realm and descend into the Land of the Dead.”

“But the dead do require the touch of a goddess,” Eirene agreed firmly.

“They need more than the touch of a goddess. They need light and care and . . .” My words faded away as Persephone's bright laughter filled the meadow. “They need a breath of spring.”

Eirene's eyes widened. “You cannot mean your daughter!”

“And why can I not! Light and life follow the child. She is exactly what is needed within the shadowy realm.”

“But she is so young.”

I felt my gaze soften as I watched Persephone leap over a narrow stream, allowing her hand to trail over the dried remains of the season's last wildflowers. Instantly the stalks filled and straightened and burst into brilliant bloom. Despite her faults, she was so precious, so filled with the joy of life. There was no doubt that I loved her dearly. I often wondered if my fierce devotion had kept her from growing into a goddess of her own realm. I straightened my shoulders. It was past time that I taught my daughter to fly.

“She is a goddess.”

“She will not like it.”

I hardened my already firm jaw. “Persephone will obey my command.”

Eirene opened her mouth as if she wished to speak, then seemed to change her mind and instead drank deeply of her wine.

I sighed. “You know you may speak your mind to me.”

“I was just thinking that it would not be a matter of Persephone obeying your command, but rather . . .” She hesitated.

“Oh, come! Tell me your thoughts.”

Eirene looked decidedly uncomfortable. “Demeter, you know that I love Persephone as if she were my own child.”

I nodded impatiently. “Yes, yes. Of course.”

“She is delightful and full of life, but she has little depth. I do not think she has enough maturity to be Goddess of the Underworld.”

A hot retort came to my mind, but wisdom held my tongue. Eirene was correct. Persephone was a lovely young goddess, but her life had been too easy, too filled with cosseted pleasures. And I was at fault. My frivolous daughter was proof that even a goddess could make mistakes as a parent.

“I agree, my old friend. Before Persephone can become Goddess of the Underworld, she must mature.”

“Perhaps she should spend some time with Athena,” Eirene said.

“No, that would only teach her to pry into the affairs of others.”

“Diana?” Eirene offered.

I scoffed, “I think not. I would some day like to be blessed with grandchildren.” I narrowed my eyes. “No, my daughter must grow up and see that life is not always filled with Olympian pleasures and luxury. She needs to learn responsibility, but as long as she can draw upon the power of a goddess, as long as she can be recognized as my daughter, she will never learn—” And suddenly I knew what I must do.

“My lady?”

“There is only one place where Persephone will truly learn to be a goddess. It is a place where she must first learn to be a woman.”

Eirene drew back, her face taking on a horrified expression as she began to understand.

“You will not send her there!”

“Oh yes.
There
is exactly where I shall send her.”

“But they will not know her; they do not even know you.” Eirene's deeply lined brow furrowed in agitation.

I felt my lips turning up in one of my rare smiles. “Exactly, my friend. Exactly.”

 
 
NO, it's not that I don't ‘get it,' it's that I don't understand how you could have let it happen.” Lina spoke slowly and distinctly through gritted teeth.

“Ms. Santoro, I have already explained that we had no idea until the IRS contacted us yesterday that there had been any error at all.”

“Did you not have any checks and balances? The reason I pay you to manage the taxes for my business is because I need an expert.” I glanced down at the obscenely large number typed in neat, no-nonsense black and white across the bottom of the government form. “I understand accidents and mistakes, but I don't understand how something this
large
could have escaped your notice.”

Frank Rayburn cleared his throat before answering. Lina had always thought he looked a little like a gangster wannabe. Today his black pinstriped suit and his slippery demeanor did nothing to dispel the image.

“Your bakery did very well last year, Ms. Santoro. Actually, you more than doubled your income from the previous year. When we're talking about a major increase in figures, it is easy for mistakes to happen. I think that what would be more productive for us now is to focus on how you can pay what you owe the government instead of casting blame.” Before she could speak he hurried on. “I have drawn up several suggestions.” He pulled out another sheet of paper filled with bulleted columns and numbers and handed it to her. “Suggestion number one is to borrow the money. Interests rates are very reasonable right now.”

Lina felt her jaw clench. She hated the idea of borrowing money, especially that much money. She knew it would make her feel exposed and vulnerable until the loan was repaid.
If
the loan could be repaid. Yes, she had been doing well, but a bakery wasn't exactly a necessity to a community, and times were hard.

“What are your other suggestions?”

“Well, you could introduce a newer, more glitzy line of foods. Maybe add a little something for the lunch crowd, more than those . . .” he hesitated, making little circles in the air with his thick fingers, “. . . baby pizza things.”

“Pizette Fiorentine.” She bit the words at him. “They are mini-pizzas that originated in Florence, and they are not meant to be a meal, they are meant to be a mid-afternoon snack served with cheese and wine.”