Sirenz (4 page)

“It's just a pair of shoes.” Sweet Jeans' voice echoed in my ear.

Meg laughed nervously, not taking her eyes off me. “You're right … and … red's not my color anyway.” She let the bag go just as the train pulled into the station.

“My train,” Sweet Jeans said, and turned to go. Rooted to the spot, we waved at him listlessly, and watched as he got on behind the club kids. The car doors closed. He was safe inside. The train lurched away with a squealing grind, and we were alone.

Meg let out a deep breath. “Okay,
that
was bizarre.”

“No,” I shook my head. “This is.” I took hold of her wrist and raised her hand. She didn't realize that she was holding something: a shiny iPhone with a transparent envelope taped to it. Inside were two credit cards in slim leather cases, and two keys.

“There's something written here.” Squinting, Meg passed it to me. What I thought was tape was a label. The spidery writing read:

S. Johnson, M. Wiley

Penthouse H2 at 100 West 81st Street.

Retail Therapy

We waited until morning to take a look at Hades' apartment. I was hoping that this was all just a bad dream, but that was shattered when I woke up to find the iPhone, keys, and credit cards on my desk where I'd dropped them before going to bed. I called Shar at home and we agreed to meet outside my building.

I dashed off a note to my parents explaining that I'd be spending a few nights at Shar's, then I managed to get out the door before anyone else awoke. She was waiting outside, looking immaculately groomed and completely coordinated, whereas I'd barely taken the time to brush my teeth and hair.

“Let's do this,” I said. The worried look in her eyes must have been a perfect partner for the grim set of my mouth.

At Hades' building, the doorman ushered us into the festively decorated lobby without question, and we didn't pass anyone going up to the penthouse. The shiny key slid easily in and turned the lock of the heavy silver door.

We walked into a living room that was a montage of pale neutral colors, sparkling chrome, and huge vases of artfully arranged exotic flowers. It had one wall that was entirely glass; our view of Manhattan was spectacular for those not prone to vertigo.

Even so, I was about to swear that I wouldn't spend so much as a single night there when I noticed a door with a brass plaque that had my name etched onto it in gothic letters: my bedroom suite. Expecting another beige nightmare, I gasped when I saw the room I'd often sketched in my journal but hadn't shared with anyone else. There were the blood-red walls, the yards of black lace hanging from the ceiling like cobwebs, and my secret piece of lust-furniture, an ornately carved tester bed with scarlet drapings, all placed just as I'd imagined it. There was also a Victorian writing desk with secret compartments, each lacquered drawer stuffed with cash. I heard a squeal from Shar, who no doubt had gone to check out her room.

Taking a deep, reluctant breath, I slammed the door on my dream haven. There was a size-thirteen, triple-wide carbon footprint for all this materialism.

“I can never tell my mom about this place!” Shar said, throwing herself into a huge latte-colored leather chair near the wall of glass. Despite the panic in her voice, I could tell that she was thrilled with her bedroom suite. If she was that happy, I had no doubt it was decorated in every vicious shade of pink this side of Barbie.

I looked around the spacious living room and cringed; the place was impossibly high-end and sterile. With an all-powerful god as the landlord, it probably cleaned itself.

“We can't say anything to anyone. Ever,” I told her.

“And how are we going to chase after Arkady? He's a celebrity! There are laws against stalking! It's going to be impossible!” Shar's voice had risen an octave.

“We'll figure it out.” I raised a hand at her. “Please, don't have a panic attack.”

I wandered over to the kitchen. Black marble tiled floors supported massive mahogany cabinets that stretched all the way to the ceiling. Along with the stainless steel fridge, I discovered, they were crammed with every sinful treat down to our favorite ice creams—Rocky Road for Shar and Cherry Garcia for me. How did he know? Ah, yes. God. Omniscient. Check.

“What have we done, Meg?” Shar said as I came back into the living room. She buried her face in her hands, then raised her head and looked around hopelessly. “How are we going to get that guy to a portal? He's rich and famous, and we're nobodies.”

“We can't back out now, done is done.” I sighed, making her scooch over. “This is probably one of those things that's a lot easier than it seems at first.”

I mustn't have sounded convincing; Shar nodded thoughtfully, but she looked miserable.

“This is my fault, Meg, and I'm sorry!” A tear tracked down her porcelain cheek.

“I guess I'm just as much to blame, and hey”—I grinned crookedly—“the dark Underworld wouldn't be any fun alone. I was probably on my way there anyhow, and now I can drag you with me!”

Shar managed a feeble laugh, then leaned back and flipped on the TV, a wide-screen plasma monstrosity that almost covered the wall. We had one in every room, even the bathroom. I wasn't shocked to find that there was a seemingly endless collection of DVDs to go with them, but what was surprising was that Shar liked the same films I was into—pretty much anything with corsets, buff vampires, and bad-ass action heroes.

I got up and rummaged through my bag for the necessities I'd packed before I left home.

“What are you doing?” Shar asked as I pulled out a meat mallet from a kitchen drawer.

“Mmmmf,” I mumbled, my mouth holding a tack. I took it out and banged it into the wall, then hung up a little mirror with a bright yellow frame.

“This is useless,” she said, coming over and trying to see her reflection. “It doesn't go with the furniture, and it's ugly!”

“It's not meant to be pretty or used for checking eyeliner. It's a feng shui mirror. Hades' juju is in every corner of this place. You might not feel it, but I do.”

She rolled her eyes and yanked the mallet out of my hand. “No more paranormal babble—”

“It's not babble! It's a—”

“
Science
, I know,” she finished my sentence for me as I fixed her with an annoyed stare. “Do you have to hang things on the wall to feng-schweng this place?”

“Feng
shui
.” I paused for a minute to think. “I
could
bring in a life element—”

“So buy a house plant. Oooh!” Shar grinned suddenly. “Why don't we do some serious damage to those credit cards?”

Against my instincts, five minutes later we were back outside and making our way to the department stores.

“Wait.” I grabbed her arm, stopping her short. “First things first.” I turned her around and steered her into a small coffee shop we'd passed by.

“A chai,” she whispered in my ear, as the wreath on the
door jingled when it slammed shut behind us.

I gave her a blistering look. “I
know
. Get a table.” I sauntered up to the counter and excused myself to a man in a sharp suit who was still checking the menu, thinking,
geez, if you're not ready to order, let me go first
. He backed up a step. Smiling at the guy at the register, a sandy-haired grad-student type in a goofy Santa hat, I ordered, hoping he'd get it right. “Give me one large chai tea and one double mocha latte with skim milk, no whipped cream, please.”

He stared at me and grinned.

“Um … ” I said after a few moments, wondering when he was going to ring me up. “Can I get—”

“A large chai, and a double mocha
love
with skim.” He cut me off in a dreamy monotone, then flung his head so that the pompom on his hat flicked back.

“Are you okay?” I asked, waving a hand in front of his face, thinking,
is he high?
I thought places like this had drug-testing policies.

“Sure.” He continued to grin at me.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see a portly woman with velociraptor-length acrylic nails. Tiny reindeer were painted on them. She crossed her brawny arms over her huge and heaving chest and raised an over-penciled e
yebrow at me.

“Can you place your order? I'm in a hurry!”

“I did!” I snapped, then turned back to Elf Boy, who had finally started entering my drinks into the register.

“How much is that?” I asked, taking out my wallet.

“I'm giving you our special discount, so you don't—”

“I'll take care of that!” Sharp Suit pushed past Dino Woman and whipped out a billfold.

“Hey!” she shouted, but a few more men stepped in front of her.

“There's no need.” Elf Boy eyeballed Sharp Suit with a menacing expression. “I was about to say that she doesn't owe me anything.”

“That's okay,” I said firmly, tapping the counter and drawing their attention away from each other. “I can pay for my own drinks. Here.” I handed him a $20. “Please put the rest in the tip jar.”

I stepped aside and headed quickly for the coffee bar. The barista, a slim pony-tailed blond girl with a lip piercing, looked at me, then peered down the length of the counter. The line was starting to snake around the shop. Alarmed, she darted over to the register. I heard some angry whispers, and then she came back, shaking her head.

“I'm so sorry. What was your order?”

I was too confused to be annoyed. Elf Boy had gone back to work and was waiting on Dino Woman, but he kept glancing my way. That I could tolerate, but not Sharp Suit, who waved and blew a kiss at me—he was old enough to be my dad! A guy next to me, also waiting for his order, caught my eye, and I mumbled, “Please save me from the weirdo convention that's come to town.” What was wrong with these people?

I turned back to the barista.

“One large chai and a double mocha latte with skim, please.”

“Coming up.” She smiled, obviously relieved that I wasn't going to be difficult. Then she looked back at Elf Boy and rolled her eyes. “Men,” she grumbled.

Cups finally in hand, I sashayed over to Shar, but my springy step died when I saw her. She sat, posed at the table, her long legs crossed and her slender fingers twisting her wavy blond locks. Her eyes flicked upwards toward the ceiling or down to the floor, but never at the tables around her—which were filled with guys of all ages. They were staring at her, drooly grins on their faces.

“Shar?” I whispered, standing there. “What's going on?” I jerked my head as subtly as I could at the growing entourage.

“I was just sitting here, and they started crowding around!” she said in a low voice. “What about him?” She pointed to something behind me. It was Sharp Suit, pushing his way through the now-crowded shop as he eyed our table.

“He offered to pay for our drinks,” I said, “but I have no idea who he is!”

“And him?” She jerked her head at someone standing behind me.

“I'm here to save you!” he gushed.

“We'd better go,” Shar said, quickly getting up to leave. A few of the guys around us got up. It was too much.

“Please, leave us alone!” I said loudly. Several of the men sat back down as we hustled out the door, Shar giving one last glance back. When we were a few blocks away, we ducked into the recess of a closed docking bay.

“What happened back there?” she asked, breathless from our fast pace.

All I could do was hold up the palm of my free hand in confusion. Elf Boy was definitely in an altered state, but the others? Whatever it was, there had to be a logical explanation.

“Come on,” Shar said. “I need some retail therapy to calm my nerves.” She stepped out onto the sidewalk and I followed her. All seemed normal; people streamed around us, the usual pedestrian foot traffic. “We'll go to Bendel's first.” She grinned at me. “They have this eco-friendly bath line that even you can't diss.”

“Watch me,” I chuckled, but the laughter died on my lips as a few guys turned their heads to look at us. We hurried along, and didn't stop until we reached the department store. We passed through the heavy doors and around the sparkling cases filled with rainbow-hued displays of leather gloves and overpriced hair accessories. Shar paused to look at a crystal-encrusted evening bag and waved down a sales person.

“Where are you ever going to use something like that?” I asked, but she ignored me and started chatting up the saleswoman, who took forever to unlock the case. Bored with waiting for her, my eyes started to wander around the vast atrium. I followed the line of tasteful garland, twisted with anti-holiday shades of slate gray and purple ribbon, around the ceiling to where it culminated in an elegant display over the main doors. Then I froze. When I could force myself to move, I groped for Shar's arm and clutched it fiercely.

“Wait a sec! Can't you see I'm—”

She stopped dead. Four or five guys from the coffee shop, including Elf Boy carrying two sloshing cups, had arrived, along with at least one man who I thought passed us when we were in the docking bay, and one or two I know we saw on the street. They were milling around the cases, slowly moving toward us.

“They weren't following us!” squeaked Shar, terrified. “I looked back!”

“
There you are!” a male voice boomed. It was Sharp Suit. Shar blinked at him, like a rat taken by surp
rise when the dumpster's opened. “Do you like that bag?” He snatched it out of the saleswoman's hands. “Please, allow me.” Out came the billfold.

“No!” another shouted. “I'll get it! And how about these earrings? Do you like these?”

“What do you want to do, buy us everything?!” I shouted. They froze and gaped at me for three long seconds, then ran around wildly, grabbing every black thing they could lay their hands on and throwing them at my feet. More wallets came out.