Sirenz Back in Fashion (17 page)

He nodded at her.

Her eyes were huge. “Why are
you
here?”

He gave her the
duh
look. “You know
him
—he's using Pollux and me in another power play. We need your help.”

She blinked several times, like an owl. “Excuse me?”

“We. Need. To. Leave. Here.” I leaned closer, to whisper, “Escape Tartarus.”

Suddenly she laughed. “Oh, funny. Yeah, okay.”

Hands on hips, I glared at her. “Do I look like I'm joking?”
I could take her
. Hiking on the beaches and through ancient worlds and playing with Cerberus—
oh damn, I forgot to clean up his latest mess and Hades is going to be livid again
—had gotten me in good shape. She was toast. “I need to get out of here so we can save Caz and his twin. And me, too. So how do we get out?”

She looked from me to Caz and back, numerous times.

“Like I said, I don't know who or what you're talking about,” she said stubbornly.

Caz closed his eyes in defeat.

“Oh no.” I grabbed her by the arm and spun her into a dark corner. “Look, we know you're Eurydice, and you almost made it out. All we want is to know where the portal, opening, stairway,
whatever
is so we can get out. It's life or death.”

“I died once and I don't want to repeat the experience. That's not supposed to happen to dryads, especially not the way it happened to me. Stupid snake,” she said coldly. “Don't be so quick to gamble your life, mortal. Both of us are permanently expendable if that information gets out. Goodbye.”

She tried to leave again, but all my working out redeemed itself right then. She couldn't budge, and I wouldn't let her leave. “Look, I don't know what you've heard, but obviously I'm still here, so the way out doesn't exist anymore,” she said desperately.

“We can do this two ways,” I whispered. “If I'm stuck down here forever, I have nothing to lose by broadcasting where you are and making it so that
everyone
recognizes you. Buh-bye private life. And since Hades pretty much lets me have whatever I want … let's just say, before you can run, I can summon him here. I could make up a pretty little story about you telling me about a way out.” Of course, I didn't know if Hades would come at my bidding, but Eurydice didn't know I was nothing more than a glorified monkey in a cage, much as it pained me to make that comparison. “Or,” I added, “you can tell Caz and me how to get out of Tartarus. We disappear, and I swear on my life that your identity and whereabouts stay a secret.”

I could almost hear the gears in her mind, processing which risk was greater. After a furtive glance, she said, “If I tell you, you can't tell anyone, especially … ”

“Gotcha. Not planning on hanging around to blab about it. Go on,” I urged.

In a voice barely loud enough to be called a whisper, she said, “And I want something.” She reached over and her hands fisted on the front of Caz's toga. “I know Orpheus is in the Pit. Hades promised me we'd be reunited, but it's been three thousand years and that hasn't happened yet. I want him freed, and I want Zeus to know what I risked for you and Pollux.”

“
And
me,” I added gratefully.

She gave me a disgusted look. “Who cares about you?”

Scratch another name from my fan club. I was beginning to feel that Hades and Caz were the only members. And Cerberus, if I continued to play with him.

Caz nodded. “You have my word I will petition my father for Orpheus to be freed.”

“And I want protection from Hades' retaliation.”

That list of demands was getting longer.

“And I'm going with you.”

“Oh no,” I interjected. “This party is big enough.”

“I'm going or no one is.” She stood there, feet firmly planted, arms crossed, with a challenging glare.

“Okay,” Caz agreed. Before I could mutiny, he pecked my lips with a kiss, squelching my rebellion. “We need her.”

“Fine,” I grumped. So much for being as unobtrusive as possible. Who'd want to go next? All the Titans?

“My uncle is having a—”

“W'Underworld Ball,” Eurydice finished for him. “I've heard. Everyone wants to go, check out the new plaything.” She gave me an unflattering look.

“Anyone who could be a hindrance will be there,” said Caz. “It'll be a perfect time.”

Eurydice nodded, seemingly mollified. “We have to go through the Pit,” she said. “There's a tunnel there that leads up to the mortal world.”

“I was afraid of that,” said Caz. He shook his head and looked at me. “We can't. You do know who's down in the Pit, don't you?” He ran a hand through his hair, making it messier and cuter.

Focus!

“Yes, I know. The Titans. But do we have a choice? We can either sit here forever, moaning, or we can take our chance. Hades can't kill us. Or,” I amended, “he can't kill you. I'm willing to risk it. Are you game?”

Putting his arm around my shoulder and giving me a good squeeze, he gave a curt nod. “Let's do it.”

Eurydice leaned in close. “We'll slip away once the W'Underworld Ball is in full swing. Then … ” She smiled slowly and scarily. “We go to the dark side.”

Meg

Eureka, I Guess

“One hundred jumping jacks! Let's go, people!”

Mr. Rossi blew his whistle. Along with the rest of the class, I dutifully commenced the first round of calisthenics. I hated gym, but here I was, sweating, eating up my free period for the third day in a row to hammer out the dent in my GPA from missing gym class.

“Five, six, seven, eight, nine, fifty,” I counted under my breath. I felt myself getting hotter and hotter. Because of Hades' little “motivation,” I had no choice but to wear the bulky winter version of our gym uniform; the summer shorts pinched my scales. I was boiling, but I didn't dare complain. I bobbed up and down with the rest of the class. “Seven, eight, nine, sixty. One, two, three … ”

As soon as we reached one hundred, Rossi barked, “Drop down! Fifty sit-ups!”

The man was a sadist. He paced up and down the rows making sure no one cheated.

“Laps!” he yelled, and I fell in line doing a slow jog—the minimal pace he allowed.

This is what happens when your Phys Ed teacher is ex-military,
I thought as I chugged along. I'd actually liked Rossi when I first met him; he was my Social Studies teacher junior year. Back then he reminded me of an old hobbit with his twinkling eyes and jolly demeanor. I thought his obsession with the Battle of Normandy was just one of those old-man things. Then I got him for Phys Ed, and woe betide the little soldier who forgot her gym clothes. The only way to get back into his good graces was to attend one of his boot camp make-up sessions—or in my case, three. After my disastrous miss with Shar at the window, I was desperate for something to go right. Wednesday, Thursday, and now today I showed up for gym makeup. Rossi almost looked impressed. I really needed a gold star, and at this point I didn't care where it came from, as long as it wasn't Hades.

“That's the way!” Rossi yelled, surveying the stream of students snaking around the gym. He looked at his watch; we'd be at this for a good fifteen minutes at least.

“How are you gonna feel the burn going that slow?” said an unfamiliar voice right next to me. I turned my head to see. It was Hermes—and no one seemed to notice him.

“Uh.” I gasped for breath, half from shock, half from the exercise. Hermes scowled disapprovingly and
tsked
, then took a long, admiring look down at his own muscular calves. He slowed his pace, pulled his helmet off, and wiped his brow. Without stopping, he placed the helmet along the wall and waved a hand. It vanished, then he double-timed it to catch up with me.

“There's nothing as satisfying as a good, strenuous workout!” he said, skipping alongside me as I panted and dripped.

“I could think of a few things,” I puffed. “Let's start with a mocha latte and chocolate cake.”

Hermes frowned. “Carbs, fat, and sugar. Poison.”

“Caffeine, endorphins, sweet. Yum,” I retorted. I loved my carbs, fat, and sugar; the way things were going, it was all I had to look forward to.

But Hermes was unimpressed. He ignored me, jogging slightly faster as if to challenge me to keep up. The moment of silence made me realize the only reason why he'd be here.

“You gave Shar my message?”

“I did.” He looked at me, his eyes gleaming wickedly. “And let me tell you, she was not happy.”

“What happened?” I asked, alarmed. “I mean, I know I missed our meeting, but you told her I was trying, right? You told her why I didn't get to see her?”

“I told her what you told me to say,” he replied, smoothly and with no sign whatsoever of being out of breath. I, on the other hand, felt the onset of hyperventilation. I shot a glance down at his feet. The little wings on his shoes were fluttering madly.
Cheater!

“But, you told her that you guys—you and Persephone—made me miss her, didn't you?” I pressed. Desperately.

“Huh?” He looked up from checking his vitals on a golden watch-pedometer that matched his too-tight Speedo running shorts and form-fitting tank. He wasn't listening to me, and he didn't care.

“Hermes, please!” I begged, shouting louder than I'd intended. The two girls in front of me turned and looked at me with foreheads wrinkled in aversion.

“I told her what you said to say,” he huffed. “Except about running into Persephone. I'm not allowed to disclose anything about gods to mortals. But I did give her the rest.”

Panicked, I tried to remember exactly what I'd said to Hermes, but the days since the concert were a blur of anxiety and Paulina.

“Did she … have a message for me?” I asked with dread. If Hermes didn't tell Shar that he and Persephone had delayed me, at least he'd told her I'd been trying—but was that enough?

“She did,” said Hermes. “She said that
she
won't be at the box next time because there won't
be
a next time and
she
has a
ball
to attend. Then she told Hades to help her find a costume.”

I stopped running and stumbled into the wall, clutching my sides. I could almost hear Shar, upset, scared, and mad that I didn't show, saying that. Hermes glided to a stop next to me as runners streamed by.

“Cramp, Wiley?” I heard Rossi shout.

Looking up, I saw him across the gym, standing on tiptoe and swaying so that he could see around the kids that zipped by in front of him. I nodded swiftly and gave him a thumbs-up, the sign that I just needed a minute to catch my breath and then I'd be “back in the game.” I didn't need him to come over to investigate.

Hermes wiped a light sheen of sweat from his brow, then bent one knee and grabbed his raised foot in a runner's stretch.

“Come on!” he chirped cheerily, proceeding to stretch his other leg. Then he stooped to pick up his helmet, which had reappeared when I stopped him.

I grabbed him by the elbow. He couldn't flit away just yet. “You have to take another message to Shar for me.”

He shook off my grip. “I don't have to do anything for you,” he snipped, his voice condescending.

“You don't understand,” I begged.

“
You
don't understand.” He straightened up and threw out a hip, placing one well-tanned hand on it while pointing at me with the other. “First, I'm messenger to the
gods
.
You,” he sneered, looking me up and down, “are not a god.”

“Obviously,” I muttered.
And I don't want to be one. I wouldn't want to be like any of you.

“Second,” he continued, “I did you a favor by carrying your first message. I think a little gratitude is in order.”

“Sorry!” Hermes was my only hope of setting this right, and giving him attitude wouldn't win him over to my side. Unfortunately, it was too late. He crossed his wiry arms over his chest and with a flick of his feet, flew out the door, over the heads of the jogging students.

I stared at him as he left, but I couldn't linger for long, not unless I wanted to face an inquisition from Mr. Rossi. Slowly, I rejoined the running parade. Would Shar really be a no-show? I had enough problems; I couldn't handle it if things got any worse.

“Hey, Window Girl.” Caroline and Kate jogged past me.

It just got worse.

“What?” I ran faster to keep up with them.

“Were you practicing?” Kate sneered.

“For what?” I demanded, trying to sound as nonchalant as I could between breaths—but I knew exactly what they were talking about. They heard me talking to Hermes, but couldn't see him. Whenever I talked to Shar, I was the only one who could see her—it hadn't taken me long to figure that out. The question was, how did
they
know about Window Girl?

Rossi blew his whistle and everyone stopped.

“You're famous!” Caroline fake-gushed. Kate whispered something in her ear and then drew her away.

“It's not me!” I shouted, garnering puzzled stares. The two of them tittered all the way back to the locker room. I darted into a bathroom stall and stayed there until I was sure everyone left, then I skulked over to where I stashed my stuff and changed as fast as I could and hustled to the library. I didn't care if I was late for my next class; I needed to confirm what they were talking about. I waited patiently for a computer station, and as soon as one freed up, I nabbed it and Googled “Window Girl.”

Hundreds of results popped up. I found photos of myself happily chatting with the chocolate mannequin, pointing an accusatory finger at the chocolate frog. Each image had pages of comments. There was also a video that I refused to watch. I felt my face burning. Who else had seen this stuff? My mom? Jeremy? Paulina? The video was damning evidence that I was psychotic, or … psychotic.

I buried my head in my hands. “What am I going to do?”

“Get Paulina to wear the fleece.”

Hades leaned back in the chair next to me, his feet propped up on the nearest computer station. He blew a kiss to the librarian, who blushed furiously.

“Not invisible, eh?”

He smiled expansively. “You know I show myself when the mood takes me. She wants to write the Great American Novel. Maybe I'll indulge her. I need a librarian.”

“Go away,” I said wearily.

“Margaret,” he said in a mock-parental tone, “is that any way to talk to me?” When I didn't bother to answer, he went on, “I can't help but notice the fleece has stayed in your closet. You're never going to get her to wear it that way.”

“I have other problems now,” I said, pointing to the screen. “Not, of course, that you didn't know this would happen.”

“I didn't.” His lips cracked into a smile. “I'm immortal, not prescient. No one can predict the things you humans will do. Kind of like the squirrel dashing across the road. Will it go one way, or the other, or right under the car wheels?” He shrugged helplessly. “But I can see how you might find the spotlight distressing.”

“Quite,” I said, trying my best to keep my voice steady and not to overreact. That was exactly what he liked—a little drama to make his day interesting.

“You know,” he continued, “accomplishing your mission will put an end to all your troubles, and not just the one about bringing Sharisse back, but the scales, your window fans,
Jeremy
.”

I fought to keep silent and rubbed my forehead on the back of my arm.

“I promise you, the moment Paulina is in my keeping, everything in the mortal world as you know it will return to its original, albeit boring, state.”

I lifted my head and gazed at him with slitted eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly that. No more scales. No more Window Girl. No memories for Jeremy of your neglect.” He smoothed an eyebrow. “And of course, Sharisse will forgive you for taking so long to complete so simple a task.”

He just had to poke until he hit a nerve. “She knows I've been trying,” I protested through clenched teeth.

“You weren't present to speak with her the last time. She was hurt. She felt … betrayed. But I put in a good word for you, despite my personal reservations.”

I shivered, remembering what Persephone told me about Shar's activities. What was Shar thinking—or doing? The image of Hades passing by in his demi-towel flashed in my mind.

“I'm trying,” I insisted. To him, and to myself.

“Take it to the next level. It's what's best for everyone.” Hades' voice was silky smooth, his eyes matte-black like a shark's. He was lying. I knew he was. But what could I do?

“When I talk to Shar next time—”

“I don't know what Sharisse will decide to do, or if she is willing to listen to any excuses.” He sighed blithely.

“I'm not making excuses,” I whispered, but I knew I was. I wanted Shar back, but I didn't want to send Paulina to Hades. I kept trying not to be friends with Paulina, but it wasn't working. It wasn't just the fact that she'd grown on me; something wasn't right about this. My gut was rarely wrong when it came to people, and I got no chilling vibes from her. And despite all his talk of nondisclosure, Hades had been fairly free with the details of Arkady's deal while refusing to reveal anything about Paulina's.

“Well, then.” Hades rose and put his hands in his pockets,
à
la
GQ
. “You keep pondering the whys and wherefores, Margaret. I don't mind Sharisse staying a bit—or, it looks like,
a while
—longer. I can always use
hands-on
assistants in the Underworld.”

With a roguish wink, he was gone. My life was a docudrama in the Unbelievable category. I went through what was left of the afternoon in a daze with only one thought on my mind:
Would Shar show?

The weekend plodded by, and Monday too. I spent Tuesday counting the hours until 6:55 p.m. As soon as school let out, Paulina was ready to shadow me as usual, so I told her that I had to go home to visit my mom. She tried to press me to come along.

“No, it'll be boring for you. Stay here,” I snapped, not wanting a confrontation. Miraculously, she complied. I wandered around uptown, killing time.

Around six p.m., I parked myself in a cafe on the opposite side of the street from Pandora's and watched as people started to gather. First one, and then another, and still more came: men, women, little kids. A few of them had cameras. I groaned when a news van pulled up, with a videographer and a tiny woman in a dark suit who I recognized from the nightly news local-interest segment. She opened an umbrella over herself as it started to rain and freshened up her makeup.

I watched them until about 6:45, then nervously pulled up the hood of my jacket, slid on dark glasses, and walked out. Not wanting to walk into a media circus, I went down the street and crossed, slowly making my way to the back of the crowd that formed in front of the shop.