Sirenz Back in Fashion (15 page)

“Well, most mortals think a siren is a mermaid.” He shook his head. “Education these days.”

“I don't care—this wasn't part of the deal.” I poked my stomach where the scales were the most copious. “This wasn't supposed to happen.”

“I said no turning into a
bird
,”
he chuckled. “But I decided to throw these in as a little motivator. You certainly are taking your sweet time with Paulina. I would have thought something this easy would be done by now. I've supplied everything you need. This isn't rocket science.”

“You told me to take my time, you sneaking—”

“Am I so horrible?” he interrupted, looking dramatically pained.

“Yes, you are. And I've tried to do it, several times, and it … ” My voice caught.

“It, what, Margaret?” He crossed his arms over his chest and looked truly bored.

“It just isn't working,” I concluded lamely.

“Is it me, or are you a little hesitant about sending Paulina to Tartarus? Well, don't be,” he said menacingly, not giving me a chance to answer.

“It would help if I understood her better. What was her deal with you?”

“The only thing you need to know is that her place is in Tartarus and it's your job to send her there. Put in a little more effort, show some initiative and creativity, but get it done. I might be inclined to add a time limit.”

“You told us about Arkady—why not tell me about Paulina?”

“You don't need to know everything about Miss Swanson or what deal she's made. It's called nondisclosure. I don't discuss the particulars of your agreement with anyone. It could be … embarrassing for you,” he said with a condescending air.

I looked away, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me so that I had to face him. Beyond him, the lights on the stage dimmed and a roar went up from the crowd. I had to get back to the seats before Jeremy went to search for me. I'd never find him in this crowd.

“If you can't keep that in perspective, then think about this,” he growled. “If you don't dispatch Paulina, then you and Sharisse will be in Tartarus with me forever. Sharisse won't mind, though,” he said, stroking his chin and getting a faraway look in his eyes. Had he succeeded with her? No. No, he couldn't have, or he wouldn't be here bothering me. But beaches? Parties? Bikinis? It was all so Shar-esque. Then his attention snapped back to me. “She's seen that the Underworld has many attractions. While you certainly won't have my attention to the extent that she will, I'm sure I can keep you busy.”

Nick Killian, the band's tall, curly-haired drummer, passed by, then stopped and stared, pale and wide-eyed, at Hades. He backed up a step.

“H. You're
here
.”

Hades held me in place with a glare, then turned to shake his hand. “Amazing show, Nick! Tell everyone I said so.”

Nick nodded, and ran onto the stage as if he couldn't get away fast enough. He climbed a platform to get behind his drum kit.

“Please don't tell me you have a deal with Elysian Fields,” I said, casting a worried glance out at the stage.

“Not all of them—just Nick there.” His lips twisted wickedly. “And don't ask. Nondisclosure, remember?” He wagged a finger.

For some bizarre reason, I was relieved that Matt was untainted.

“Enough stalling, Margaret,” Hades warned, his silky voice steely with an underlying threat. He steered me away from the stage to one of the doors that led out into the back alley. He opened it and nudged me through.

“I have to get back to my seat!” I cried, but instead of finding myself outside in the back alley, I was in the empty hallway that led to the mezzanine level.

A uniformed guard checked my ticket and let me in. I fumbled down the dimly lit stairs to the first row and stepped on the toes of a half a dozen people before landing in my seat next to Jeremy. A crumpled paper bag was wedged into my folded-up seat. Food.

“How long was that line at the bathroom?” he shouted.

I made a face and shrugged, lifting up my hands. I was still holding the tartan handkerchief.

Jeremy pinched a corner of it between his fingers. Like any self-respecting Elysian Fields fan, he knew exactly what it was. “Where did you get this?” he yelled just as a song ended.

I groped for an answer as Matt Davy wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He didn't have his handkerchief anymore.

“They … were selling them at the concessions.”

He stared at me for a long moment before nodding, then yelling and clapping his hands over his head as another familiar song started up. There was mistrust in his eyes.

Shar

What a Tangled
Web We Weave

Why did it seem that whenever a girl wanted a good long cry, someone had to interrupt it, and usually about something lame?

But there stood Hermes, buff and besotted with himself.

“What do you want?” I hiccupped. Meg not showing up for our daily talk had scared me at first, then angered me, and now I was hurt. How could she abandon me? After everything we'd been through, I thought we were best friends. Did she forget, or get sick, or did she simply have something better to do? And with the new roomie? Was Meg replacing me with her? Another sob escaped.

“I have a message for you. From—”

“Hermes, what are you doing here?” In strolled Hades. Lounging against the door, he displayed his broad shoulders in a stunning white tee, his hips snugged by faded, low-cut jeans, his crossed feet enveloped in butter-soft loafers. An epitome of the all-American hunk. Except that he was Greek. And a god. And a devil.

Hermes swung around. “I have a message from Margaret to Sharisse.”

Hades' penetrating look was not lost on Hermes, who squirmed in his gold running shoes. The wings cringed, molding themselves to his feet. I swear if they could talk, they'd whimper.

“Then please, deliver it.” Hades flung out a casual hand.

Hermes turned back toward me. “Um, hmm.” He cleared his throat and adjusted the waistband of his running shorts. I rolled my eyes. Hades chuckled softly, and Hermes began.

“Margaret asked me to tell you that she's sorry she missed your meeting. She had to go to a concert, and she tried, but she missed you.”

Well, I've been schooled! She really does have better things to do than save me.

My eyes filled, and I turned away so neither Hades nor Hermes would see. Taking a few deep breaths, I managed to squeak out, “Thank you.”

Hades rushed over. “My little truffle! Don't cry!” He placed a firm hand on the small of my back.

“Message delivered. Goodbye.” Hermes started to lift off, but Hades grabbed him around an ankle and yanked him back down.

“I don't believe I said you could leave.”

Hermes landed with a thump. And a peeved look.

“
Ch
é
rie
, so she missed one chat.” Hades approached me soothingly. “She has classes, and the assignment, and other things to do. Don't be so hard on her.”

I whipped away from his touch. “Other things to do?! She
promised
she'd get me out. But I'm still here! What could be more important?”

Dragging Hermes over by his gold-trimmed tank, Hades ordered, “Tell Sharisse everything Margaret said.”

Hermes pursed his lips and plucked Hades' fingers off his shirt. “
If
you don't mind?” After smoothing non-existent wrinkles, he gave me a bored look. “Like I told you, she said she was sorry, but she couldn't make your talk. She was meeting some Jeremy at a concert. She wanted you to understand that she's trying to get things done.”

“That was all?” asked Hades.

“Yes, that was all,” Hermes huffed, then rolled his eyes. “Oh, wait. One more thing. She promises she'll be there next time.” He turned to Hades, hands on hips. “
Now
can I go?”

“No!” I yelled. Both of them turned in surprise. “You tell
her
that I won't be there next time because there shouldn't
be a next time.
And I have a ball to attend.” I glared at Hades. “I need a costume.”

And it won't be Mother Teresa!

Hades inclined his head. “For you, goddess in waiting, anything you wish.” He flicked a finger and Hermes was gone.

And we were in Victoria's Secret!

I tilted my head toward the trademark pink script sign. “I'm not
that
mad.”

“One can only hope,” he sighed, peering at me from half-closed eyes. “But there is a beautiful aquamarine teddy … ”

“Down, boy.” I started to walk away.

He laughed and captured my hand. “So what character did you have in mind?”

“I'm thinking about it. Take me to a real costume store.”

“I'll do even better than that.” Hades closed his eyes and next thing I knew, we were in an elegant parlor room with delicate white French furniture, pale blue carpets, heavy striped silk drapes, and tall vanilla-scented candles everywhere. A small round podium, in a triptych of mirrors, reminded me of a bridal salon. Hades, in a sleek black suit, sat next to me on the couch. A furtive glance down, and I exhaled in relief. No bikini, no Grecian gown. Instead, I was clothed in a lavender silk dress; had to be Vera Wang. And crystal-encrusted shoes. Had to be Stuart Weitzman.

Oh, the bliss!

Straightening his flawless tie, Hades said, “This is the private studio of a good friend. She will create whatever you wish.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “She designs for all my affairs.”

Have that many?
I wanted to ask, but instead said, “What if Persephone finds out?”

“My friend is very discreet.”

I snorted. “Do you trust her that much?”

He nodded blithely. “Of course.”

Girls are to gossip as Hades is to despot. Can't have one without the other.

I heard the whisper of silk. Turning around, I saw a tall, lithe woman, strawberry-blond hair piled high on her head, dressed in a flowing white gown. These Greeks seriously needed to add some color to their wardrobes.

When she reached us, I almost fainted.

Peeking from beneath her gown were six spider legs.
Where were the other two?

“Arachne! So nice to see you! Sharisse needs a costume for a ball I'm giving. Whatever she wants. I know it'll be exquisite!” He gave Arachne a sly and secretive glance.

She smiled serenely, like a madonna, and gestured for me to approach the podium. Not wanting to betray the terror clawing at my insides about going near her, never mind having her
touch
me, I tried not to stumble forward. Hades was scrutinizing me. I would not show him fear. I swallowed, but it sounded more like a gulp.

Now I was having second thoughts about getting even with Meg by wearing something outrageously provocative. Not only would she go nuclear if she saw it, but it would provoke Hades' already overactive libido. Not a smart move.

I smiled tremulously at Arachne.
What to wear, what to wear.
Who thought I'd ever have trouble designing an outfit?

“I was thinking of—”

“Lady Godiva is one of my personal favorites,” interrupted Hades, sipping a glass of red wine.

My smile was bland. “Too overdone. No subtlety.”

He chuckled.

“How about Lucrezia Borgia?” I asked. She was beautiful, rich, opulently dressed—and poisoned a lot of pesky, irritating men. Perfect!

Hades shook his head. “I hope you don't believe the rumors about her; she didn't really poison anyone. Married three times, she had eight children. There were some boyfriends on the side, but overall, she is much maligned. You can talk to her over in the Elysian Fields.”

I pouted. It seemed brilliant. I needed a strong character, one who didn't let anyone push her around. Cleopatra was already attending, so that was out.

I tapped my lips. “Maybe Eva Per
ó
n.”

Hades' brows rose. “Interesting. She was strong, smart, and beautiful. She saw what she wanted and did whatever she had to to get it. And since I don't have a deal with her, she won't be at the party, unless you invite her.”

With lowered lids, Hades' gaze raked over me. What was he thinking, planning?

“More importantly,” he said, “I will be—”

My turn to dress him!
I threw open my arms like a Hollywood diva. “Lord of Olympus!” I'm sure it's what he aspired to.

“That is blasphemy! Don't ever speak such things!” Hades stormed out, and I stood there next to Spider Woman, dumbfounded.

What'd I say?

“You shouldn't even joke about that,” said Arachne, approaching me with a tape measure and frowning with disapproval. “Zeus does not tolerate that kind of talk anywhere. Blasphemy is severely punished.” She circled around me, dragging those creepy hairy legs. “Is it to be Eva then, or will you allow me to create something unique for you?” she asked, her tone more pleasant.

Well, here I was, abandoned by everyone. It was high time I took charge of my life, not depend on Meg to get me out of here or let Hades order me around. Oh no, Sharisse Johnson—this is
your
life, save your own butt!

I gave her a saccharine smile. “No, not Eva. I know exactly who I want to be. I want to go as Estelle Eberhardt.”

Arachne looked confused. “I know all the figures from human history, and I don't recall that name.”

With a smug grin, I replied, “She's not famous, she's my great-grandmother, one hundred and four years old. I'm sure you can come up with something appropriate—drab, brown, serviceable, and sturdy? Won't Hades be surprised?”

Going over to my purse, I pulled out a thick stock card, shimmering black pearlescent with white, Greek-style lettering. A whole stack of invitations had appeared at my bedside before Hermes arrived, along with a note in elegant script:

Invite whomever you wish
xoxoxo and so much more, H.

“Here's your invitation,” I said, handing her the card. “And don't forget, my costume's our secret!” If I could find a janitor, I'd invite him too.

“Oh, thank you!” Arachne gushed and squealed in delight, and her spider legs rippled under her dress. “I never get invited to his parties! I'll have to start immediately; I need a costume too! What should I go as?”

Miss Muffet? A black widow?
Charlotte's Web?
I had to say something. “A princess?” I suggested lamely.

With a swish, she pulled the skirt of her dress off, revealing that she was a spider from the torso down. With a delight that sent shivers down my spine, she said softly, “I must start spinning now so we'll have our dresses ready in time.” Her black, coarse-haired body and legs began twitching as she pulled a fine silken thread from her bobbing spinneret.

I couldn't run out of there fast enough. Luckily, one step out the door and I was back in the throne room. And back to filling time by playing with Cerberus, looking for Eurydice, and instructing Ben on the New Math and world events.

One morning, day, or whatever it was, I pulled on the usual one-shouldered dress, grabbed an apple out of the large, never-empty bowl on the graceful table in the corner of my room, and went to look for Caz. Any moment now—or later—Ben's watch might tell me it was time to talk to Meg. And I still wasn't sure
if
I was going to talk to her.

Caz wasn't at the aqua sea, the purple lake, the pink desert, or the garden of death. Nor the gemstone cave or any of the “natural” wonders. I decided to try the Elysian Fields. If he wasn't there, I'd ask around about Eurydice on my own. One way or another, I was getting the hell out of hell.

As I hurried over the bridge, I ran smack into Benjamin Franklin.

“Hello Ben!” I said cheerily.

“Ah, the lovely Miss Sharisse. And how are you?” he asked, falling in beside me.

I winced. “Not too well. I think Hades is mad at me, I'm missing a lot of classes, and I want to go home.” I forced a smile. “Oh, that reminds me. Ben, here's your invitation to the ball.” I withdrew another card and handed it to him. “I hope you'll save a dance for me.”

He smiled widely. “I would love to, my dear!” He took my hand and kissed it, lingering a little too long in my estimation, especially with what I knew about him. Time to go!

“Great! I'll see you there! Bye!”

Wandering through the pearly gates into the Elysian Fields, I wondered where to start.
Ancient Greece,
I thought as I walked by the English pub I'd passed on my first visit. After a few steps, I was passing gleaming marble temples with soaring columns, elegant statuary, and the most stunningly chiseled male bodies.
Talk about a feast for the eyes!

I finally knew how to travel in Tartarus. You thought about where you wanted to be, and you found yourself there. I wished I could do that back home; it'd save a lot of subway and cab fare. If only I could “think” myself back to the mortal world … but I tried that on several occasions and landed in the evil garden as punishment.

I was wandering around, past limpid mosaic pools and artfully designed gardens, when I spied Caz. There he was, dressed like a typical Greek god in the omnipresent white toga with gold piping, playing a lyre on the steps of a temple to I don't know which god, but which featured a pair of graceful swans instead of a man or woman. I was surprised that Hades allowed that in his domain, but hey, I guess it wouldn't be ancient Greece without all the deities.

“Hi!” I stood over him.

“Shar.” He smiled and put the lyre aside.

Fearful of eavesdroppers, I pulled Caz into the temple. I didn't know whether Hades was listening and watching me no matter where I went; this was his world, after all, and I was nothing more than a minion. Finding a secluded stone bench in a side nook, I sat and Caz settled himself next to me.

I looked around. There were swans everywhere. Statues. Mosaics on the floor. Wall frescoes. A particular one caught my eye—two couples, in Greek attire of course. The men looked similar, and familiar … almost like Caz. Must be some relations. The faces of the two women also looked like I'd seen them before. One taller than the other, the tall one with a pert nose, the shorter with wide eyes. If I believed in reincarnation, I'd almost say Meg and I would look exactly like them in white marble.