Sirenz Back in Fashion (3 page)

Meg

Fleeced!

I ran up to the window and banged violently on the glass. Shar stood on the other side of it, her low-slung jeans and bright green top gone, replaced by a neon-pink bikini identical to the ones worn by the mannequins—and the red shoes.

“Shar!” I yelled. “Shar!”

She hammered away from her side, but I couldn't feel or hear the beat. Suddenly she gave up and just stood there, crying. I pummeled the glass, harder if possible, then backed away, looking frantically for the entrance door. People swarmed around me, interfering with my view. Maybe if I could get inside, I could make my way into the window displays; but then I stopped dead.

Shar's hands pressed against the glass, ghostly halos of moisture forming around her palms and fingers. With every breath she took, shallow and quick from the looks of it, a little cloud formed on the window, obscuring my view of her. Behind her, a black background brightened, becoming three dimensional and shadowy like the mouth of a gaping cave.

“Shar!” I screamed again. The glass started to darken and I backed away in horror, putting my hand over my mouth to stifle my scream. “No! Oh God, Shar … ” I ran up to the window and kicked it again and again. The pane suddenly went black.

I felt my voice catch in my throat and whirled around to face Hades. “What did you do with her?”

I wasn't completely surprised by him slithering back into our lives. Somehow I knew we weren't that easily rid of him; I never allowed myself to let my guard down, and I looked for him in dark corners and in crowds.

“Really, Margaret, you're making a spectacle of yourself. Don't worry about Sharisse. I assure you, she's fine.”

“No she's not! She's scared and crying. Where is she?” Turning back to the window, I felt cold fingers of terror creep across my neck. Shar was gone. The mannequins, plastic grins and all, stood in their places as if nothing had happened. “Where is she?” I demanded again.

“She's perfectly safe,” Hades said, waving a hand. In an instant he'd moved us several blocks uptown, and we were seated at a round table under an umbrella at the vegetarian cafe where Shar and I were supposed to meet Jeremy and Ian. The lone omnivore, Shar agreed to this place only because they served pesto-soaked pasta, one of the few non-meat dishes she would condescend to eat. Remembering the double date we'd never have because she'd been whisked away, my anxious stomach constricted painfully. I clenched and unclenched my hands, my nails digging into my palms.

“Relax,” Hades drawled. “She's alive and well. In my keeping, in Tartarus.”

“Tartarus!” I closed my eyes then rubbed the spot between them and the bridge of my nose in worry. “She's all alone down there,” I said, more to myself than him. “Does she even know where she is?”

“I'm sure she'll figure it out, Margaret. I promise you, no harm will come to her and she won't be alone.” He held up a hand as if he were swearing a scout's oath. My instincts told me that he was probably telling the truth; for now, Shar might be safe, but I knew she had to be terrified. And did he mean she wouldn't be alone because
he'd
be with her, or someone—or
something
—else would?

An aproned waiter brought us tall glasses of iced water with thin slices of lemon floating on top. Hades barely nodded at him and he scurried away. “I ordered you the hummus plate.”

“I'm really not hungry at the moment.” I glared at him. “And I really don't want to talk about this here.” The tables positioned closely around us were tightly packed; I could hear the woman next to me slurping up noodles.

“Surely you know by now that all our conversations are private and unseen—at least by human ears and eyes.”

I shook my head, trying to make sense of it. Shar was gone, to Tartarus if I took Hades' word for it. But if that was true, why was
I
still here?

“Anyway,” he continued, “as I stated before Sharisse left us, the two of you are again in my service. I have another mission for you.”

“Pffft! Of course you do!” I sneered.

Hades sipped his mineral water, looking bored.

“I'm going to take the fact that you haven't seen me for a while as an excuse. You've forgotten to whom you are speaking,” he said slowly and evenly. “Unless you want your immediate future to be even more difficult, I suggest you moderate your tone. I am well within my rights to renew your services—”

“But Shar isn't here.” I ignored his threatening tone.

The waiter came and plunked a plate on the table; it was artistically arranged with hummus and vegetables in a swirling shape, like a whirlpool. I pushed it away, not wanting to be reminded that I was being sucked into something awful yet again.

“The contract was signed by
both
of us, Shar
and
me,” I added. “Like you said, I convinced her to put the ring on, so I should be down there with her.”

He gave a humorless laugh. “I appreciate your facilitation of the whole process and your eagerness to join Sharisse in Tartarus, but with her there, I need you for an assignment up here.
Divide et impera.”

I raised my eyebrows at him, confused.

“It's Latin for ‘divide and conquer.' Those Romans did have a way with words, I'll give them that.”

“I can't work alone,” I insisted, narrowing my eyes at him. “You know that. The Siren powers work better when we were together.”

“They're
stronger
when you're together, but very much usable individually,” Hades answered smoothly. “You still have the voice, Margaret. All you need to do is focus your intent. As a Siren, males will naturally be drawn to you.”

“And I'll sprout a few more feathers.” The acidic tone of my voice wasn't lost on him. He gave me a weary look.

“Not this time. Adding in that kind of motivation is only amusing once. And don't think I'm such a Kracken—I sympathize that you'll be doing this assignment on your own, so take your time. There's no deadline.”

“I guess that makes Shar's time in Tartarus unlimited as well.” I leaned closer, scared but not showing it. “I know what your game is. I have until the end of the summer,
when your wife comes back
,
right?”

He eyed me coldly for an instant, but then his features quickly smoothed. “I'm sure you won't need that long to finish, Margaret, but I don't want you to feel any pressure. Of course, if you should fail”—he licked his lips—“Sharisse will have to stay in Tartarus and you'll be joining her. You'll be roommates for eternity. At my
every
beck and call.”

I slammed my hands on the table, and the glasses, dishes, and silverware jumped. “This is completely, totally, and absolutely unfair!”

“Spare me the dramatics, Margaret. I have it in writing.” An unfurled scroll hovered over the table, our signatures at the bottom. Hades sighed heavily.
“Where and How Sirens Are Placed is at My Discretion; Section One, Paragraph Six.
Now, you can continue your tantrum about this, or we can go over the particulars and I can send you on your merry way. We shouldn't keep Jeremy waiting.”

Instantly, all was silent. The tinkle of silverware on plates and the constant chatter of people around us ceased. The woman at the next table, who was sitting almost at my shoulder, sat as still as a statue, the fork she'd twirled with pasta stuck midway between her plate and her mouth.

I turned back to Hades. There was no way out of this; I had no other choice but to comply.

“What do I need to do?” I said, closing my eyes and letting out a long breath.

“That's more like it,” he said, snapping his fingers. Sound returned to the world. I had to remember not to push him too far; Shar and I were caught in his nasty little web. I sympathized with the fly, doomed just because it was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Your next assignment is to deliver Paulina Swanson to me.”

“As Shar would say,
Hello?
Paulina sounds female—the Siren powers won't work on her. I won't be able to do it.”

Hades tsked-tsked. “There you go with that negative attitude. You
can.
You
must.”
He ran a hand through his auburn locks. “Besides, you're not going to need your powers anyway. I have something else in mind.”

He rose and picked up his linen napkin from the table. After a delicate dab on his lips, he shook it out, then snapped it in a fluid motion, and a marble statue—minus arms—appeared on the sidewalk next to our table. Draped around its shoulders was a short and shimmering coat of golden fur. It was fluffy and made the statue look broad and puffy.

“Fur is murder, no matter what color it is,” I said, disgusted.

“It's not fur,” Hades huffed. “Show a little respect. Few mortals get to lay their eyes on this. Behold, the legendary Golden Fleece!”

“Fur or fleece, that has got to be the ugliest thing I've ever seen.”

“How dare you criticize one of the most revered objects in ancient myth!”

“Would
you
wear that?” I asked, pointing to it.

“My taste leans more to the modern classics,” he snapped. “But that's irrelevant. You'll need the fleece to complete your mission.”

“The ram you got it from was sacrificed, wasn't it?” I asked, trying to remember the story. “That pelt probably has eons of bad karma attached to it.”

He picked an imaginary speck off the sleeve of his suit jacket. “Yes, the fleece has a long history. The ram was the son of Poseidon, and so the fleece has divine powers. It was the price of Jason's kingdom; he had to brave many dangers to retrieve it and regain his throne. But don't worry about the ram—Zeus turned him into a constellation.” He grinned mischievously. “Now he's a star!”

“I don't want to touch it.” I crossed my arms over my chest, emphasizing my defiance.

“You'd better get over your aversion, Margaret. The fleece is the only way you can send Paulina to Tartarus, thus freeing Sharisse.”

I looked at him like he was insane. “What do you want me to do, smother her with it?”

He stared at me with dark, piercing eyes. “Anyone who dares to wear the Golden Fleece is immediately dispatched to Tartarus. All you need to do is get Paulina to put on the fleece—”

“Which she won't do, if she has any sense of style or ethics,” I interrupted.

“Get her to wear the fleece, Margaret, and your job is done. Sharisse returns home.”

“Sorry, Hades,” I retorted sharply, “but you don't truly expect me to believe this, do you? I have barely any time constraints on this assignment, no worries about turning into a bird, and all I have to do is get Paulina whoever-she-is to wear … this?” I waved a hand at the statue and a ripple of vibrations danced over my open palm. I jerked my arm back.

“You can feel the power, can't you?” Hades said softly, menacingly. “But yes, Margaret, that's correct. And it won't take you long to find Paulina. I think you'll find she's the type you won't mind sending to me.”

“I have reservations about sending anyone to you,” I snapped. “And no matter what you say, I still don't trust you.”

He gave me a mock pout and stirred a finger in his glass. “You're getting to be as maddening as Sharisse,” he said. “She doesn't trust me either, and I never harmed a hair on her beautiful blond head. But that may change … ”

I'd forgotten about Shar for a few moments; now my fears for her came rushing back.

“What are you going to do to—”

“You have enough to worry about,” Hades replied crisply, looking at a chunky gold watch on his wrist. “Don't you have a lunch date soon? I wouldn't want to delay you.” He winked at me and vanished, leaving me alone at the table. The statue was gone, but a thick, black dry-cleaning bag was draped over the back of my chair.

When I could stop myself from staring at it, I remembered Jeremy. With a shaking hand, I unbuttoned the breast pocket of my jacket and pulled out my watch. Shar and I were supposed to meet him and Ian …
now
.
But Shar wasn't here. How was I going to explain that? Sudden illness? Family emergency? Eventually they'd want to reschedule, but there was no way I'd be able to produce Shar in the foreseeable future.

Wearily, I rested my elbows on the table and buried my face in my hands.

“Hey, gorgeous.” I heard Jeremy's voice behind me.

I'd settled on “family emergency” as an excuse for no Shar—that would account for at least several days. I took a deep breath; tried to put on a face that registered concern, disappointment, and apology; and turned around.

Jeremy smiled down at me. He was alone.

Shar

A River Runs
Through It

I swiped my tears away. Crying like a spoiled toddler wouldn't change my situation. I kept hearing voices, babbling and moaning, but I couldn't see anything. Then the heavy darkness slowly dissipated, as though an unfelt breeze blew it away. All around me was a rocky gray landscape, and not more than five feet from where I stood, a river flowed, dark and rippling. I sniffed: no scent of urine or garbage. Okay, that ruled out sewer and subway.

My instincts told me I was supposed to cross it, but I couldn't—it was too broad, and I had not one inclination to put so much as a piggy toe into the black depths. Icky things could be living in there, like in the lake where my family vacationed when I was a little kid. It looked like such fun, swinging on the rope over the water and letting go. Only I found out that lake bottoms are mucky and suck your feet down to the ankles. It was chlorinated pools only for me after that.

“Now what?” I sniffled.

I took a few steps, stumbling on the gravel-strewn ground. The outfit was too much.
Leave it to Hades to put me in a swimsuit and heels to go cave exploring,
I fumed. And red stilettos with a pink bikini? The bathing suit, at least, was in keeping with the whole water theme. All that was missing was the stupid First Mate's hat. What I wouldn't give for sweats and sneaks right now.

Be careful what you wish for …
my inner voice warned. Did I really need to learn that lesson again? At least he allowed me to keep my purse.

Dim shapes started to weave their way toward me. Little by little, I could distinguish features—of people.

Maybe they could help!
“When you're lost,” my mom always said, “don't be an idiot like your father; stop and ask for directions!”

“Hello! Over here!” I hurried as fast as I could, trying not to break an ankle on the uneven terrain. As I drew closer, the shadowy people started moving toward me, and faster.

“Hi, um, do you know where I'm supposed to go? I'm new here.” I gave them my sunniest smile. And lost it when I could really see them. One man had a wide, mud-caked tire imprint across his chest, and was that dried blood on his face? Two teenagers in medieval dress had arrows sticking out of them—one in the body, the other in the head, execution style. A woman, dressed in a bathrobe with only half her makeup on, tried to shove them aside. All had an ashen pallor and dark circles under their empty eyes. I'd seen enough horror movies to know the situation.

They're dead!

And the moment of death was captured in each one's appearance. An older gentleman, in ancient-warrior battle garb, might have died heroically given the big gash in his chest, but he was frowning and snarling. One of his hands reached for me, cold and clammy. I yelped and jumped, trying to back away, and broke out in a sweat as icy fingers clutched at my elbows, arms, and shoulders.
Zombie Hell!

“Coin for Charon! Coin for Charon!” the gray shades beseeched, their faces slack. The motley crowd pushed closer, more insistent. I pulled farther away, cringing from contact.

Charon.
Now where had I heard that weird name before?

Epiphany:
Doom. Gloom. Dead People. He put me in a bikini. Persephone's at a dude ranch …

Hades sent me to Tartarus!

“Ewww! Don't touch me! Don't have any coins! Back up, personal space violations!” Steeling myself, I shoved my way through them; they felt cold like snow, yet strangely dry. I hurried down the shoreline to an empty place. They didn't follow, so I guessed they got the message. That's when I noticed all the bones. Chairs made from arm bones. A miniature temple of interwoven thigh bones. A table crafted of skulls and ribs. Even a diminutive Eiffel Tower, which I think was made of finger bones … Bleached eerily white, they were everywhere! Hoping my stomach wouldn't lose that morning's breakfast, I ran farther down the river.

When I was a safe distance away, I considered what my next action would be while hyperventilating.

Scream?
Who would care?

Cry?
Who would care?

Run?
Who would care?

The infinite no-one-cares-about-me loop.

“Thanks, Hades!” I hiccupped. I didn't have a coin for Charon, so what was I going to do when the ferryman showed up? Maybe I could sweet-talk my way across the river. I wasn't in a hurry to get to the other side, but I sure didn't want to stay here with the moaners and grabbers.

WWMD? What Would Meg Do? That Death card! Some change this was!

And where was she? I'd been so caught up in myself I hadn't given a thought to her. I dreaded the idea of where Hades might send her. He was obsessed with me, and I got sent
here
.
To what god-awful place would he send her? A mall? A meatpacking plant? A Barry Manilow concert? Poor Meg!

I plopped down ungracefully, not bothering to cross my legs like a lady should, for a good long pity party for both of us.

“Johnson! Sharisse Johnson!” someone called.

I perked up.
Someone
was looking for me! I didn't recognize the voice, so it wasn't Hades. Retribution would have to wait. I jumped up on top of a rock and cupped my hands around my mouth.

“Over here! I'm over here!” I waved my hands violently, although I doubted anyone could see me through the gloom.

Gradually a figure emerged. It was a man. Tall, mean, and lean. His face was uber-taut, like those athletic types on the cover of
Runner's World
magazine. They never ate carbs, drank soda, wore any shoe not ergonomically designed, or talked about anything but exercise.

Bet he's gonna be fun to deal with.

He was carrying a handwritten sign that said
Johnson, Sharisse
, just like the limo drivers at the airport.

Hey, it worked for me. I was out of here, going somewhere, and where it was, I didn't care. I hopped off my rock and tottered toward him.

“Hi!” I called as cheerily as I could.

He tucked the sign under his arm and gave me the once-over, then quirked an eyebrow.

“Don't give me that look!” I huffed. Thrusting my hands on my hips, I gave him the same critical examination. Running shorts and tee, sandals and a metal hat—with wings on them? All in gold!
And he thinks I'm dressed funny?

He stiffened. “I'm Hermes, Messenger of the Gods. I'm here to see that you get over the Styx.” He cleared his throat. “These are the rules—”

“There are rules to cross a stupid river?” I mean, talk about anal, but I guess people were dying—
ha ha!
—to get in. I stifled a laugh.
I must be going into shock if I'm making jokes about this.

He compressed his lips. “If you want to stay here, fine with me. I'm only the
messenger
.”
Abruptly, he turned to leave.

“Wait!” I grabbed his arm. Not my sandbox, so I had to play the game his way. Whatever it took not to stay here. “I'm sorry. What are the rules? And what's with all the bones?”

Hermes sniffed. “The bones belong to them.” He jerked his head toward a clutch of gray shades skulking near a candle stand made of skulls and spines. “Bodies and souls don't always stay together.”

I wrapped my arms around myself.
This
body and soul were going to remain intact.

“Who makes furniture out of them?”

He gave me a withering look. “Those who can't cross have a lot of time on their hands. That's what happens when you don't have the fare. Which brings me to rule number one.” He held up a finger. “Don't give coins to the souls who beg. They can't cross the River Styx to the Elysian Fields because they don't have the fare to pay Charon. And it's not up to you to give it to them. They are condemned to wander between the afterlife and the world of the living forever.”

“I don't have any money to give away.”
Unless my bikini has a secret pocket with a coin inside, which it doesn't, that won't be a problem.

“Wait.” He removed his helmet and checked his teeth in the reflection.

I gestured for him to continue. This mortal had uncomfortable physical needs that a powder room could address.

“Where was I?” He tapped his right foot, and the little wings on his sandals fluttered madly. “Sorry!” he whispered to them. They quieted and gracefully flicked like butterflies.

Okay. It's not like I don't talk to my darling shoes, but he gets a reaction!

“The rules?” I prompted, forcing my attention back to the conversation about me getting out of here.

“Don't interrupt and we'll get through these quickly. Hades' protocols must be followed.” Hermes cleared his throat. “Don't give coins to the lost souls, no singing, no
animals, please observe a moment of silence, children must be accompanied by an adult, tipping is allowed, and cash only. And proper payment is to be tendered after boarding but before commencement of service.” He smiled at me like I was a simpleton.

And I was supposed to do … what? I didn't see any children. Why no singing—would it ruin the mood of despair? Animals?? And a moment of silence for … ? How could I tip with no money? I'd spent the last of my money at Century 21 for a blouse I really didn't need. I rubbed my temples. A major migraine was starting to devour my brain.

Mommy!
Or better yet, Meg! She'd make sense of this guy. God. Greek mutant. What
ever
.

“I think that's all of them.” He smoothed his shirt, watching his biceps flex.

How could there be more? I wanted to bang my head against a brick wall, but I inhaled deeply, trying to calm my rising irritation. “Thank you for telling me the rules, Hermes, but I don't have any money to give to Charon. Hades zipped me off without giving me time to make sure I had the fare.”

Because a girl should always carry around gold pieces for a sudden excursion to the Underworld.

“Haven't you been listening?” he shouted, startling me. “That's why I'm here!” He puffed up his chest.

“Of course I've been listening! You told me the rules—no giving dead souls money, no animals, no singing, and all the rest of the rules that don't apply to me because I DON'T HAVE ANY MONEY!” I shouted back.

Geez, the service in this place was seriously lacking.

“I think I should add another ten reps to my abdominal routine,” he murmured, tapping his waistline, which had less fat than a piece of iceberg lettuce.

“Can we just go? I think I hear the boat.” A soft slapping sound was growing steadily louder. A long, wide rowboat, sleekly black and outlined with gold coins, glided up smoothly, stopping at a large flat rock in front of me. A ghostly figure draped in torn, moldy linen stood in the back, holding a long pole in hands covered by rags. The figure didn't move or make a sound.

We stared at each other. Guess I had to be the adult here, although I was positive Charon was my senior by, oh, several millennia at minimum.

“Hello, Charon. I'm Sharisse. Nice to meet you.” I held out my hand. Good manners are proper in any situation, after all.

A thumb, looking pretty pink for a guy who was supposed to be dead, jerked to the back of the skiff where a huge mound of gold coins lay, gleaming dully in the dusk. Several cascaded down as the boat bumped against the rock.

“Save the hello for someone who cares. Get your lazy carcass into the boat and throw the fare on top of the pile. Stupid coins are rolling all over the place.”

If being down here made one eternally PMSing, no thank you! I looked pointedly at Hermes, then gestured to Charon with a jerk of my head. Hermes could worry about the fare.

“Oh! Here.” He held out a golden branch, as long as my arm and slightly heavy.

“Uh, I believe it costs a gold coin to cross, unless you two have a deal worked out?” I asked. Was this a taste of what my undead life was going to be like? Hades was wrong—this
was
hell—and everyone was an idiot. I'd shortly be insane, wandering around giving the rocks names and drooling.

Hermes squared his sculpted shoulders. “You aren't dead, so Charon can't take a gold coin. A bough from the Tree of Life is the fare for living souls. Here.”

He thrust the branch at me, and with a flutter of his cutesy sandals, flew up, up, and away. At least he didn't pop, flash, or poof out. I turned back to Charon.

“Here you go.” I offered the branch. I couldn't quite reach him, since he was almost all the way in the back of the boat.

The dark hood turned my way. An arm raised, with only the fingertips showing. They wiggled, demanding I put the branch in them. I couldn't reach over the boat, and I thought the rule was not to give the fare to Charon until I was in the boat; would he take off with it once he had it and stiff me for the ride?

“Get in!” he growled.

What choice did I have? Standing in the gloom all by myself didn't appeal to me. And I was hungry. Maybe I could raid the fridge at Hades' place. He used food in his seductions—hopefully he'd stocked up just for me. Oh, the price of gluttony! Gingerly, I stepped into the boat, trying not to tip it.

Oooh, water, rocking motion, full bladder!

“Aren't you going to help me?” I demanded as I struggled to keep my balance.

Charon cocked his head to the side, implying the
duh
look. “I'm here to pilot the boat, not play ship's purser.”

“But I'm not—”

He showed me the hand and turned away.

That's it!

I showed him my secret fast pitch, smacking him on the side of the head with the branch.