Goddess of Legend (Goddess Summoning #7)(7)

Chapter Two

HINDSIGHT, Isabel Cantelli decided in hindsight, sucked. She came to this conclusion after steering to avoid a chipmunk and having her SUV spin out of control.

She probably shouldn't have been digging for her dropped cell while she was happily singing "Camelot" and driving sixty on a dirt road. She probably should have let that little dude fend for himself instead of trying to be a hero saving him. Hindsight wasn't fifty-fifty. It was, at the moment, zero-one hundred.

But shoulda, coulda, woulda wasn't going to help her now. She and her Nissan were flying into Grand Lake at an alarming speed.

Isabel braced herself for the swan dive they were about to accomplish, which she doubted would be graceful. The lake, which she'd found magical just minutes ago, was about to kick her in the ass.

So many thoughts raced through her mind. Strangely enough, none of the ones she expected when she knew she was about to die. Her life didn't flash before her eyes; the life she hadn't lived yet did.

Terror, fear of the pain of dying, that all flashed. But the sadness of what she hadn't yet achieved was occupying her brain.

Her car hit the lake with what felt like a nuclear blast. And the air bag had exploded on her, practically trapping her in her seat. When it finally deflated, she tried to unbuckle her seat belt, but for some reason, it wouldn't let go. Since her window had been down, the car was filling up with water and sinking fast.

Unless a miracle showed up, there was no way she would survive. She was on her way to dying, and it was terrifying. Her heart beat desperately, and she knew that wasn't going to last long. She apologized to her heart for letting it down. She apologized to her liver for not mistreating it as much as she could have over the years. What a wasted chance. But even though she thought of friends and family, Isabel's life never passed before her eyes, like so many assure people it will when dying.

Her focus, as her chest squeezed painfully, was all of the things she hadn't accomplished yet. How could she have forgotten how much more she wanted out of life? The big one was that she'd never found love. Lust, sure. Attraction, sure. But not that elusive thing called true love. To look at a man and know, absolutely, they were meant for each other.

There were many others on her list, but she sure would have liked to experience the feeling of being desperately in love.

Woulda. Coulda. Shoulda.

And then, suddenly, she felt alive again. And she knew, just knew, that somehow, someway, she was being given a second chance.

Chapter Three

"WOULD be best if you'd awake, Isabel."

"Just one more hour," Isabel murmured.

"I understand the need to nap. You've had a long journey," Viviane said, giving Isabel a shake. You are my hope. "We must needs to begin this mission right away. I need my Merlin."

When her new hope just moaned, turned over and said, "Coffee," Viviane felt exasperation roil inside of her. "Awake your sorry . . . person, now! But not for me you would not be here lazing and making demands. Double-cream chocolate cappuccino, yes?"

Her hope roused instantly, brushing the lush golden hair from her face. "Oh, yes, please. Where am I? Did you save me? I thank you so much. There were so many shoulda - "

" - woulda, couldas, yes, I'm well aware." Viviane snapped her fingers and a large silver stein of coffee appeared out of the mist. "Drink first. Then we shall talk."

The beautiful woman stared at her but took the stein from her hand and sipped. "I can't thank you enough," she said, then peered down into the cup. "This is the best coffee I've ever had. How did you - "

"I learned quickly how to brew while visiting your time."

"My time?"

"As I said, we have much to discuss."

Isabel knew that she was either in heaven, because the coffee said so, or she was in hell, because the woman in front of her was so ethereally beautiful, she had to be the devil in disguise.

Then again, she wasn't much into heaven and hell, but she knew a damn good cup of coffee when she tasted one. And it was waking her up fast, which was a good sign that it wasn't decaf.

She looked around. She was sitting by a lake, but it definitely wasn't Grand Lake. The flora and fauna were all out of whack. The misty fog that hovered over the water was shimmery, unlike anything she'd ever experienced there. Not to mention there wasn't an electric pole or sign of civilization in sight.

And then she noticed her attire. Most definitely not what she'd almost died in. She was dressed in a jade green gown, long-sleeved, yet the sleeves stopped short of her shoulders and flared out at the wrists. The bodice was square and offered a view of cle**age she was most definitely not used to displaying. It was a beautiful gown to be sure, in fact it would make a thumbs-up on any red carpet, but it wasn't hers.

"What is going on here?" she asked. "Where am I, how'd I get here, and who in hell are you?"

The woman smiled, again snapped her fingers, and while Isabel ogled, her silver mug refilled itself with the wonderful smelling coffee.

"I assure you, we, you, are not in hell."

"Then where am I? You? Us? And why haven't I ever photographed you, because you have to be the most excruciatingly beautiful woman I've ever seen. And I've seen them all." She sipped again, the delicious brew in her silver . . . chalice? "What's the deal?"