Sirenz (16 page)

“Think about it,
cara mia
. To show you my good faith … ” He kissed my fingers. I could feel my feet! And wiggle individual toes. I could wear my shoes … but Meg couldn't wear a tank top.

This isn't right!
I started to struggle.

“You've taught me that nothing is that simple, Hades,” I said. “It's not black or white, yes or no. I can't trust you. And more than that, I won't screw Meg.” I shook my head. “You always have ulterior motives. I'm no saint, but I don't do betrayal. Take me back so I can do the job you assigned me.”

“Do you realize what you're giving up?” Suddenly Hades wasn't wearing his tight jeans and tee anymore. Or anything but a blatant invitation.

He was made for sinning, but not with me.

I flinched when I felt my clothes dissolve. He'd probably spied on me in the shower and seen me naked already, so I didn't give him the satisfaction of recoiling. I stood there boldly, although I did peek at my legs. It might be the last time they ever looked human.

“No.” I held out one hand, the other I slapped onto my naked hip. “Clothes, please. I need to go back.
Now
.”

He stepped closer. I jumped back.

“I think you owe me, Sharisse,” he purred. “So many little things I do for you. Little gifts, visits.” I could feel the heat roll off his body as he moved closer. I ran and yanked the bed sheet off, wrapping it around me.

“No fair tormenting the lonely virgin! How many times do I have to say it? No deal negotiating, no abandoning Meg, and no sex! And I won't be in your debt. Take all the gifts and give me back the talons. I'd rather have them and do my job.” I held up a hand and cocked my head. “Wait, I think the iPhone says—”

I hadn't even finished my bluff when I was back in the apartment. Frantically, I checked to see if Hades remembered my clothes.
I wouldn't put it past him to dump me here naked.
I was dressed—but without panties!

“We're not finished,
cara mia
. I will enjoy my souvenir.” Hades' voice was a whisper next to my ear, sliding like a lick down my neck before it disappeared.

“Pig!” I shouted.

“I'll say,” said Meg, walking in and eyeing the boxes. “Three pizzas? How hungry are you?”

Best-Laid Plans

We have five measly days left to do this job, so let's not mess it up this afternoon,” I said, poking the calendar on the refrigerator door. Every day since we'd come into this doomed paradise had a large X through it; we were on day eight. Shar walked over, a troubled set to her pouty pink lips. I didn't want to tell her that that shade drew the eye toward her beaky nose. I think she was holding on by a thread—bird toes, scaly skin, twitches, and now this.

“Let's hope that today turns out to be successful. Think positive,” she said. “Isn't that what you've been studying with your magic and feng shui and all that stuff? That it's, like, 98 percent intention or something like that?”

“Sorry, my power of positive thinking is running a little low today,” I said. “Let's just go over the plan.”

“Right,” Shar said, strutting up and down the living room, from the glass wall to the door and back again. “Arkady's appointment is at two p.m. We go into the office and tell Jeremy, Reynaldo, and whoever else will listen that I have a checkup appointment for my eyes and that we have to leave at noon. You're coming with me, because I won't be able to see once they poke me, put drops in, blah, blah, blah.”

I gave her a thumbs-up.

“Before we leave, we double check that the appointment is still on, and then go to the clinic and find the portal.”

“Check,” I said.

“Then I go into the hospital and charm someone into giving me a wheelchair if I can't steal one first. We bring said chair to the portal and we wait.”

“And when Arkady shows up, we entrance whoever's in the car with him—”

“Even if it's Jeremy,” Shar reminded me.

“—even if it's Jeremy,” I stated firmly. “Then we put Arkady into his wheelchair …”

“… we bring him to the brink of the portal,” continued Shar.

“… and in he goes,
dosvedanya
,” I concluded.

Shar's hazel eyes sparkled. “Sounds like a plan coming together. I can't wait to do this!”

Everything was going according to schedule. We got to the office and Demeter was absent. Hopefully talking to squirrels, spring cleaning, getting ready for Persephone's arrival. We didn't run into Jeremy as we went about our usual duties cleaning up old paper coffee cups, putting files away, and sorting copy jobs, all while waiting to tell someone about Shar's fictitious eye appointment so we could escape. When the clock passed eleven, I started to worry.

Shar nudged me out of the way to dump a load of copy mistakes into the recycle bucket.

“I say if we don't see anyone in the next five minutes, we leave a note and go. We can always come back when we're done,” I offered.

Before she could agree, Jeremy's voice echoed in the hallway. “Meg? Shar?”

“Finally!” Shar poked her head out of the copy room door. “In here!” She waved.

Jeremy came in, looking harried.

“I hope nothing's wrong,” Shar said, adjusting her sunglasses.

He looked at me. “Demi's out, and Reynaldo's been on the phone all morning with the buyers for orders. I'm totally on my own, and I have so much to do. And when we get back from Mr. Romanov's appointment, he immediately needs to have his wheatgrass tea infusion, and I don't have time to get it beforehand. It's not pretty when he gets thrown off schedule.”

I wondered what Arkady thought taking wheat grass would accomplish. At least we knew the appointment hadn't been ch
anged.

“Anyway, I need you two to run some errands so that Mr. Romanov will have what he needs when he gets back.”

Shar looked at me, and I could almost read her thoughts.
We'll go wherever you want.
After
we go to the clinic. Your boss has a
date with destiny.

“You have go to Chinatown, to these pharmacies,” Jeremy continued, handing me a paper with five or six addresses on it. “At each one, give them this list.” He took another
paper from his clipboard and handed it to me. It was covered in Chinese characters. I looked up at him and curled my lip—I had no idea what they meant.

He must have figured out what I was thinking. “Don't worry,” he said quickly. “They'll know what to give you. Just go, and get back here fast.” He turned to go, but suddenly swore, threw his head back, and closed his eyes. “We have models coming in today! I forgot to order food—Reynaldo is going to freak!”

“We'll do it,” I whispered. Shar's boot hit my ankle. It hurt, but I forgot it as Jeremy's smile lingered on me.

He looked relieved. “You guys are the best! I'm taking you both out to dinner this weekend.”

I watched him hurry back down the hall, enjoying the view. When he was out of earshot, Shar turned on me.

“Are you crazy? We can't do a tour of Chinatown
and
go to the deli to get lunch,
then
come back here
and then
go to that clinic. And as for dinner, I don't want to be seen until I look normal again, even if it's at the most exclusive place in the city.”

I grabbed my coat and bag. “Who says we're going to Chinatown?”

“You just did!”

“A certain
someone
won't be here to need wheatgrass tea, or whatever these things are.” I waved the list at her. “We'll save Jeremy a headache. You go to the deli so I don't have to talk to anyone. Order whatever Reynaldo wants, and lots of veggies and low-fat foods for the models, and bring it back here, then meet me by the clinic. This doesn't change our original plan. I'll go there now and scope it out.” I grimaced. “I hope I can find the portal. We can't lose any more time.”

Shar looked thoughtful as she buttoned her coat and wound a scarf around her nose and mouth. Between the two of us, we had enough raw material to make one large and very ugly bird. I shrugged off that depressing thought as we got onto an empty elevator.

“Okey doke.” Shar pulled on mittens. “I'll meet you near the back door of the clinic in about an hour—but if I run into any problems, I'm bailing on getting the lunch. It's not like the models will eat it anyway.”

“We'll buy Reynaldo some make-up brownies later and tell the models they're too fat for next season's line.” I giggled, waved to her, then headed over to the subway.

The biting winter chill that had hung in the air for days had melted away into a nip-laced warmth. Was spring coming early? If so, Hades would be sans wife, and thus have time on his hands for more mischief.

I'd had a growing feeling lately that there was more to his dark desires than just snagging Arkady. His incessant pursuit of Shar disturbed me. Why would he interfere with the completion of his own deal? In our current situation, he'd win either way: either he got Arkady, or he got us—but was he angling for
both
? Shar had seemed a little quiet today and wasn't saying anything about him. As for Demeter, it was becoming obvious what her motives were—if Hades was distracted with Shar, he might forget about Persephone, for a little while anyway. Demeter would probably get to keep her daughter for a bit longer. If that happened, maybe she thought she could adjust the bargain permanently and we'd start having longer summers; global warming,
à
la goddess.

I looked at the subway map, trying to figure out which line to take. The Brightwater Clinic was at 8th and 65th. I thought I could take the R train over there, but I wasn't sure.

“Excuse me,” said a voice next to me. “Do you know what train we can take to Ground Zero?”

“Sure,” I said, never taking my eyes off the map. “Take the N line over to Chambers Street, then cross over and walk down about two blocks.”

Twang!

I felt something prick my ankle and immediately looked at who was standing next to me.

Two tourists, a man and a woman. The woman, who had asked for the directions, turned to go. The man stayed rooted to the spot, smiling dumbly at me.

“Harold, let's go now,” she said.

Why? WHY?! I didn't speak to him!

“You told
both
of them where to go,” offered another voice. A tall, slender blond woman stepped out from behind Harold and smiled through black Wayfarers. Persephone. “You'd better release him,” she suggested.

“
Ase me isihi
.” Harold coughed, looked around, and then followed his wife, who was looking at me like I had a disease.

“You have to be careful about who's within hearing distance,” Persephone said simply.

“What's another feather,” I grumbled. I looked Persephone up and down. She looked like she was on a mission to win the “most animals killed to make an outfit” prize: leather jacket, leather pants, leather boots, leather bag, and was that a leather tank top underneath it all? As the goddess of fields, flowers, and animals, Demeter must not be pleased.

“Thanks for the tip,” I added, walking over to the subway's automatic ticket machine. “Hey, aren't you supposed to be stuck down in Tartarus? With him? It's not spring yet, and you've been up here two times!”

“I don't care what anyone says, you're sharp.” Persephone smiled coolly, pointing a long finger at me and giving a haughty toss of her hair. “But I'm a goddess, not a prisoner.”

“But the myth says …”

She pursed her lips. “Why do you think it's called a
myth
?”

I bit back a retort.

Persephone shifted her purse to her other arm, nearest me. “Why does everyone think they know my story? No one ever asks me.”

“But your mom's trying to get you back, right? And Hades stole you away.”

Persephone blushed. “Hades
is
devious, but he couldn't trick me into being with him if I didn't want to be.”

When she said his name, her lips curled into a lascivious smile. I looked away. What was that phrase Shar always used?
TMI!

“Don't you ever get tired of going back and forth between your mother and Hades?” I asked.

She laughed merrily. “It's like a vacation. When I get sick of Mother, I go to Hades, and when he angers me, I go back to her. Staying here in the summer suits me fine. If they both want to believe the other one keeps me a prisoner, why should I enlighten them? But let me make this simple for you.” She flicked an unpleasant glance at my baggy black cargo pants and matching turtleneck, which Shar had picked out. “I knew what I was getting into when I swallowed those pomegranate seeds. I wanted to sleep with Hades, but it's always easier to let men and mothers think they're controlling the situation.” She smiled slyly.

TMI! TMI!

“You
wanted
to be with him,” I repeated doubtfully.
And he's cheating on you! Or trying to!

“Absolutely!” she murmured throatily. “You're too human to see his appeal. Yes, he's unpredictable, unruly at times, and not to be trusted, but then, none of the gods are. Who do you think gave the Trojans the idea of the hollow horse? It's what makes him so enticing. He's
dangerous
.” She chewed her bottom lip, examining me shrewdly with her stormy eyes. “I know about his little escapades. He's frustrated.”

She leaned in confidentially. “Unfortunately, Zeus made us agree that we can't see each other on the mortal plane, even when I take short trips up here in the winter. Whenever I sense Hades here, I have to avoid him. Few dare to disobey Daddy Zeus.” She admired a Wall Street type walking by, talking on his Bluetooth. “Nice, but not as hot as my bad boy.” She turned back to me. “So, as far as Hades is concerned, I allow a fling here and there.”

I tried to control the churning in my stomach. If Persephone allowed Hades an occasional dalliance, why should the piteous mortal Shar—not that she was doing anything to get Hades' attention—bother her so much? Unless Hades had something else in mind for Shar. My brain raced through some potential scenarios, none of them good.

Persephone stopped talking for a moment to pull her dog, a tiny black Shih Tzu, out of her bag. She kissed it on its nose.

“Anyway, I know how hard it is when you only have your pets to keep you company. Sure, they're cute, but they can't compare. My poor Hades has only Cerberus. Isn't that right, Minty?”

“But your mother—” I started, intending to spill the details about how Demeter had been trying to push Shar on Hades, but Persephone finished my sentence for me.

“Mother wants whatever makes me happy—as long as I stay with her.” It seemed this wasn't the first time this subject had come up. “She doesn't like my husband, she doesn't like my clothes, and she wants to run my life. Does your mother do that to you?”

She didn't wait for a reply. “No one understands me,” she said, shaking her head with a theatrical air and lifting
up the little dog, its long hair tied up with a crystal studded ribbon, so that it faced in my direction. She spoke to it in a sickly sweet voice and waved one of its tiny paws at me.