Sirenz Back in Fashion (12 page)

I turned to go.

“Window girl!” someone from the crowd called. There were at least twenty people standing in a semi-circle around Pandora's. One of them, a middle-aged woman, smiled at me.

“Window girl! What did the frog say to you?”

“Why do you want to get him out?”

“What accident? What did it ask you to do?”

A few people tittered, but then another one called out in a serious voice, “Tell us, did it give you a message? Is the world going to end?”

“Leave me alone,” I grumbled, gathering my things and pushing past them. Looking behind to make sure no one was following me, I saw the crowd disperse, some walking away, some going into Pandora's. I trudged back to the dorms four blocks away. I had too much to think about.

“Why did you leave?” Paulina asked as soon as I got in the door.

“I forgot I had to meet someone,” I said wearily, shoving my bag under my desk. I didn't feel like answering questions or dealing with anything at the moment.

“The mysterious Jeremy?” she asked, her voice razor sharp. “What, does he have you running around after him every night?”

I snapped my head up to look at her. She was lounging on her bed, gazing intently at me.

Running around to see Jeremy?! No, I was late to see Shar because of you. And things are going badly with Jeremy because of YOU …

I looked at my bag with the fleece still tucked inside. I ripped it open and flung the woolly mass at her, but with her cat reflexes, she jumped aside.

“What was that for?” she demanded, her voice gruff.

“Jeremy.”

And Shar. And me.

Shar

Tick Tock, Time's Up

I trolled through my closet, trying to put together some kind of outfit that didn't require me to strut around half naked. I was not succeeding. And I was getting tired of the Grecian look.

“Why do you fight it? Fight me?” asked the lazy drawl.

I exhaled sharply, not turning around. “Because I have to. It's a matter of principle.” Shoving hangers of skimpy bikinis and lingerie and other minuscule clothing aside, I spun around. “And why the obsession with the tropics? Haven't you heard the expression ‘a cold day in hell'? Can't we have one of those?” I couldn't believe that I, Miss Summer Vacation, was asking for this. Truly I'd gone mad and the world had ended.

Lazing on my, no,
his
bed, as he liked to remind me, in a sapphire blue silk shirt open to the waist,
the tease,
and sleek black pants, Hades brushed aside an errant wave of his auburn hair. He gave new meaning to the term “sexy messy.”

“Because Persephone, stuck with her mother half the year, sees only spring and summer. So, when she returns to me, it becomes winter here and she can ski, snowboard, all that nonsense.” He grimaced. “Me personally, I abhor the cold.” He smiled that toothpaste grin. “I prefer to wear as little as possible, like this.”

Quickly, I whipped my gaze away from him. I heard a rustle of sheets.

Not looking! Don't need that mental image!
I had to divert the direction his mind was going, although I did wonder …
don't go there.
I steeled myself not to peek.

“What a good little hubby you are, giving up the warmth so the ice queen can have her palace.”

Hades' voice whispered next to my ear and I tried not to jump. “Careful, mon pussycat.” Next I felt his thumb and forefinger rub the back of my neck. “Now you've ruined the mood. I'll have to go torment someone else. Wonder what Margaret's up to?”

Without even a wisp of sound, he was gone.

“Yeah, go find out what she's up to,” I muttered, “because she's not bringing me home anytime soon!”

After our last conversation, I was totally PO'd at Meg. She could deny it all she wanted—I knew what she was doing with Paulina. It was obvious they were hanging out, having a good time. She was exercising, or whatever, with the one person she should be sending away. Bad enough she always refused to go to the gym with me, but now she went places with Paulina, to get to know her before sending her off?

“How hard could it be to get someone to try on a jacket?” I asked Jack, my ratty stuffed toy squirrel. “All she has to do is play Makeover. Take something she owns, the fleece, and tell Paulina to try it on, and she'll wear whatever Paulina puts together. Really, didn't she ever play dress up as a kid?” I sulked. “They could even do a Halloween theme; it's what she wears anyway. She could give the new girl a goth makeover.”

Okay, that was mean. True, but mean. I was just so frustrated! And after that crack about being a knight in shining armor and calling me Princess? I'd looked for the escape route.

Weeelll
…
that wasn't
exactly
true. I'd been exploring with Caz, roaming over so many wondrous sights: diamond quarries, underground falls of golden waters, too many marvels to catalog. But that
had
to count—I didn't know my way around, so I let Caz play tour guide. Eurydice just wasn't in the mountains. Or at the lake. Or in the caves. I still had to scour the Elysian Fields for her, but after Hades, the beast, deliberately blabbed about me being a Siren, Caz probably wouldn't be too keen on taking me anywhere else. At least I didn't have to keep my past a secret anymore.

I pushed Meg's Calc and Social Studies books off the bed in a huff. I'd been painting my toenails, then poof! There they were. Instead of sending Paulina, she sent books. I wouldn't get behind on homework, but if I knew I was going to be stuck down here for eternity, the
last
thing I'd do is Calc! A book on Greek mythology would have been sooo much more helpful for IDing people. And the gods. And the tedious details surrounding both.

I need a good run to clear my head. Oh wait, I only have little gold sandals, red stilettos, and black thigh-high boots.
That made my choice … sandals and a walk. Forget the run.

I wandered over to the beach and threw the ball for Cerberus until my arm was tired. After petting him, cleaning up his monstrous poop pile—one would think he had three butts—and washing off the slobber in the aqua sea, I decided that if Caz didn't want to take me to the Elysian Fields, I'd go by myself. Someone there had to know where to find Eurydice.

Bypassing the door to the toxic garden where Arkady was, I headed toward the front doors of the palace. I'd been keeping an eye out for the inside route that Ben mentioned, but no luck yet. So out I went, stepping once again into the dismal, black stone world. Crossing a bridge that looked like something out of
Lord of the Rings
where Sauron resided, I came to another set of gates.

Black pearly gates.

Hades' humor was beginning to wear thin.

As I was about to knock, the gates swung open. Shrugging, I passed through and stood, shocked. To my left was a green meadow with cute little English-type cottages. More to the right was a perfect, TV-land suburban neighborhood. Down the center was a busy metropolis, where everything was shiny, clean, and sleek. On the far right were various ancient civilizations: Greek, of course; Egyptian; Mayan; Roman—the smallest because Hades hated them; and others. People walked around dressed appropriately for whichever world they belonged to.

Huh.

I spotted a group of rough-looking men, loaded with swords and cudgels and animal skins, over by an Irish pub called The End. I hurried over. This being the Elysian Fields and everybody already being dead, they wouldn't kill me, right?

“Excuse me!” No one heard me above the raucous song they were singing. My ears burned. Suddenly someone grabbed me around the waist and hoisted me onto their lap. I tried to fight but was severely overpowered.

“Now, Stoker, let the lass be,” said a man with a strong Gaelic burr. He looked at me. “He dinna mean to harm ye, he jus' be havin' a bit o' fun.” He bowed low. “I am Macbeth, King o' the Scots.” He jerked a thumb at my captor. “And that be Stoker.” The hulking Macbeth, wearing little more than plaid, a sword, and an eight-pack, nudged him, almost knocking Stoker and me off the stool.

I stopped struggling and turned to look up at him.

Stoker let go and I jumped away.

“Do I know you?” I asked. His black suit was English nineteenth century, maybe Victorian.

“It would be my pleasure if you did, but I cannot say as that I am familiar with you. Bram Stoker, at your service, miss.”

OMG.
The
vampire creator. “I love your book!”

He blushed. Fancy that.

“You would
not
believe how much everyone adapts your storyline,” I gushed. “Vampires are the ultimate. People just can't get enough of them.”

“I am humbled, Miss. And you are?” He looked expectantly at me.

Somewhere behind me, I heard people shouting. I craned my head and caught just a glimpse of Caz coming out of a Parisian café.

I turned back to Bram. “I'm Sharisse. You should write a sequel! Gotta run!” I jumped up and started pushing through the crowd. When I got close enough, I caught the conversation around Caz. He was holding out both palms, like he was pleading.

“Why won't you tell me? I'm not like him!”

People shuffled away, shaking their heads.

“Hey, what's going on?” I asked.

Caz looked taken aback. “Shar. I didn't know you were here,” he said smoothly. A little
too
smoothly. Something was afoot.

“How come they won't talk to you?” I pointed at the people backing away. “And who's ‘him'?”

“It's a long, really boring story. Let's go to Italy. Would you like some cappuccino? A glass of wine?” he offered, taking my arm and leading me away.

Okay, like that wasn't an obvious “distract the blonde” move.
Hey, I got almost perfect SAT scores, bud. You're going to have to be a little smarter to just keep up.

In what seemed like a few steps, we were settled at an outdoor café table.

“I'll take a hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and a dash of cinnamon,” I said.

He looked at me, puzzled. “Don't people drink hot chocolate in the winter?”

“Don't people drink hot coffee and tea in the summer?” I shot back. Cute or not, he was starting to irritate me, and he was definitely trying to avoid something.

“Was Hades right?” I asked.

His head snapped up. “What?”

My hot chocolate, and his goblet of whatever, arrived. Without being ordered. Talk about service! If I could only find a Bloomie's, I'd be in business.

“Hades warned me not to trust you.”

Caz stared down into his drink. “He would say that. He's my uncle. That's why no one will talk to me.”

I choked on the whipped cream, grabbing a napkin to cover my mouth. “Your
uncle
?”
I gasped.
So what does that make you, spy or good guy?

He sipped his drink. Where had I smelled that delicious aroma?
Demeter.
She'd drunk the stuff when Meg and I worked for Arkady. Ambrosia, “nectar of the gods.”

So. He really was one of
them
. Which explained a few things. He wasn't dead, and that was great—I didn't want to be attracted to a zombie-dead guy. But if he was Hades' nephew, there was no way I could trust him. “In league with the devil” crossed my mind.

On the other hand, Hades wasn't all warm and fuzzy with Caz as far as I could see. Caz was always jumpy, and didn't
I
know that feeling all too well. And, since Caz thought I was still a Siren, I knew he assumed he couldn't trust me. The question was, did I really want to get more involved with anything or anyone connected to the Underworld?

Sigh. A hot chocolate wasn't enough to soothe me anymore. I wondered if I could order a real drink. Did dead bartenders in Old World Italy card people?

With meticulous care, I spooned the cream off my hot chocolate, giving Caz the time he needed to decide if he was going to spill his guts. I had a lot to ask, and I was sure he did too.

“He trapped me here,” he said finally.

I laughed shortly. “Déjà vu all over again.”

“My name's Castor, and my twin is Pollux. Our father is Zeus, although don't mention our names in front of Hera. She hates us.”

“Do tell,” I cracked, taking a tentative sip. The hot chocolate was now perfect. After a good slug, I set the cup down and gave Caz my best therapist look.

“She's not our mother. The other illegitimates and I are a painful reminder of Zeus' indiscretions” He blushed a bit. “There are a lot of us.”

Men are dogs
; that's what my aunt said when my uncle had his affair.
Hmmm.
Hades was a lech too. But then, so was Persephone, from what she'd admitted to Meg and me. Were any of the gods faithful?

It was my turn to blush. “I'm sorry, but I can't seem to keep all the gods in all the pantheons straight. There are just too many of you. What are you the god of?”

A small smile quirked up a corner of his adorable mouth. “Pollux and I are demi-gods; half breeds, you might say. When we're together, we can negate the powers of Hades' minions—the Furies, the Harpies, the
Sirens
.”
He raised an eyebrow.

I took a huge gulp to cover my embarrassment.

“Yes, um, about that. You see, Meg and I were shoe shopping and we argued over a pair of shoes.” I wagged a dismissive hand. “You know how that happens. And then some cute guy, who turned out to be Jeremy, fell onto the subway tracks.” I clapped my hands. “Then the train hit him. Well, we thought we killed him, and so we said—”

“That you'd do anything to undo it,” Caz finished.

“Pretty much.” I cringed. “That's how we were forced to be Sirens. But I'm not, now. Not here. I mean, I don't have to lure anyone to Tartarus,” I babbled. God, I didn't want him to think I was still doing Hades' dirty work. “All I have to do is organize a ball.”

“But your friend, Meg?”

I hesitated. “Without violating our previous contract, I don't think I can tell you. Hades told you I was a Siren, so that's old news. But if I tell you anything else, I'm afraid he'll use it as an excuse to keep me here longer.”

As if eternity weren't long enough; I sure didn't seem to be going anywhere anyway.

Caz shifted uncomfortably in his chair, tugging at his collar.

“Hades wants to get my twin, too, who's hiding on the mortal plane somewhere. When we're separated, our powers are diminished.”

I scratched my neck. “But if he has one of you, and your powers are weakened, then why would he need the other?”

“Good question. I'm guessing he wants to separate us permanently, or possibly try to ransom us to my father. Down here, Hades is supreme and not even Zeus can come in without permission. I can't leave to help Pollux, who in turn can't come here to rescue me. The only comfort I have is that Pollux isn't alone. There are friendly gods and demi-gods on the mortal plane.”

Well, that was a conundrum I was also familiar with—although I had yet to meet a “friendly” god.

“So, how long have you been down here?” I asked.