Sirenz (9 page)

She paled and I was immediately sorry. “Are you okay? Here, let me see how bad. You have underwear on, right?”

“Oooh, yes, do let us see. I love a full-figured gal.”

That voice of temptation, frustration, and damnation. Hades. He stood there, arms crossed, casually leaning against Reynaldo's desk. If Reynaldo saw him, he'd be in love. Hades wore black jeans, which left little to my sick imagination, and a danger-orange silk shirt, open at the neck. I refused to look directly at the intricate design of his belt buckle on the low-slung jeans. If only he wasn't Hades, and we weren't indentured servants, and he didn't have bad intentions.

“Well, ladies, I see you've been using your gifts. Impish girls!” He displayed a playful grin.

Meg jumped up. “So glad you dropped in. Would you mind explaining why your mother-in-law is here?”

“She is?” he replied over-innocently.

I poked him in the chest. “Not buying it. Don't tell us that you had no—”

“Do that again,” he purred, leaning forward.

Now it was my turn to jump back.

“Next time.” Hades pouted, then straightened up. “Demeter's a goddess, I can't stop her comings and goings. But you should know that she and I don't get along.”

“Really?” said Meg thickly.

“Pants a little tight, Margaret? Let me help you.” He snapped, and she was dressed in a flowing skirt. She sighed blissfully, running a hand over the material which sported a small black-and-white pattern of geometric flowers.

“Nice diversion, Hades,” I said tightly. “Spill it; is this another
oh didn't I mention it
kind of thing?” He gazed at me as if I'd stabbed him.

“
Cara mia
, so cruel, so cruel! I wouldn't deliberately deceive you. As I said, Demeter can appear wherever and whenever she desires. She must've gotten wind of my doings, and well …”

“And now we have to deal with her too,” Meg groused. “Wonderful.”

“I admit it is difficult, but it's not impossible.” Hades leaned against the door.

“How so?” I snapped. “If she's a goddess, she can stop us from finishing this job.”

He smiled slyly. “Oh no she can't. We have rules that we must abide by, just like you mortals.”

“So she said,” added Meg, giving her skirt a twirl. She'd better not be distracted. Since when did she care about skirts?

“Yes, Margaret. And once you entrance Mr. Romanov, she can't undo it. He'll be under
your
command.”

“That would be great,” I said, “but I'm pretty sure she'll see to it that we can't get within five feet of him.”

“And she might not even have to do that, considering he's constantly enshrined in that office of his and surrounded by people all day and all night,” Meg added.

“You two worry over the wrong things. Look at you!” Hades picked up a stray feather and brushed it against his cheek while staring intently at me. His bronzed skin was smooth and so soft looking. I blushed furiously and had to shake my head to force my mind to think about other things.

“I'm fine. I haven't been using my gift that much.”

“No?” He stepped forward, gently took my hand and brought it to his lips. It was then I saw the long, fierce-looking talons.

“Ew
w!” I always hated long, curved nails, acrylic or otherwise. Too cruel looking, like a bird of prey. I ran around to the desk, yanked open the top drawer, an
d searched until I found scissors. Quickly I snipped off the offending cartilage.

They grew back.

“No!” I shouted, clipping them again. They grew once more.

I threw the scissors back in the drawer, shut it, and dropped into Reynaldo's chair.

“I can't have you using your powers and then destroying the evidence.” Hades' smile would melt the polar ice caps, but I felt as cold as absolute zero. “Don't worry,
cara mia
, you will always be beautiful no matter what form you take. However, you and Margaret are running out of time. More action, less fooling around. Unless you
want
to join me. I will return your beautiful appendages at once if you do.”

I blushed but shouted, “No! I'll do the job!”

“Then don't waste your gifts on people like QT. He belongs to me already and I can't have him confused over who is his master. Tell me, you don't think his pathetic raps alone got him that famous, do you?” Hades gazed out the window to the busy street below. “I miss the days when language was as musical as the melody. You people listen to garbage. Rock, Rap, Country, Techno.” He visibly shuddered. “Talk about small talent! Not a performer today can measure up to a Greek minstrel. But things change so quickly with mortals and it's not easy living with the same gods for all time. You humans are what make life interesting.” He turned around to gift us with that killer smile
again. “It's so much fun to play with you. We on Olympus almost never correctly guess what stupid things you're going to do next. It's invigorating watching you struggle and fail, only to get back up and do it again. Like watching a mouse in a maze, waiting for the snake at the other end to find you.”

“Glad you find us so amusing,” Meg quipped. I snorted behind
my clawed hand.

“Laugh all you want ladies, but remember what that clever man Will said, ‘He who laughs last …' ” The door flung open and Reynaldo burst in, carrying a tray of gourmet brownies. Hades smirked at him, but Reynaldo didn't seem to notice.

Hades snapped his fingers. Reynaldo, with a perturbed look, and Meg with her mouth slightly open as if to say something, stood frozen. Hades moved closer to me, a hair's breadth away.

“By the way,
cara mia
, this Jeremy? He's not worth your time. You keep vying with Margaret for his attention and I might call myself … vexed.”

I turned scarlet. Hades gave me a burning gaze and licked his lips.

“
Ciao, bella
.” He breezed by Reynaldo, tapping him on the forehead. Reynaldo sprang to life.

“
Ase me isihi
,” I said, taking the plate of brownies. “Are these for me? Thank you!” I needed a chocolate boost after that confrontation.

“What?” Reynaldo looked distracted. He turned just in time to see Hades turn around a sharp corner down the hall. “No! You don't need the extra calories! And who was that?” he breathed, fanning himself.

“Avoid him,” ordered Meg. “Ouch!”

Another feather prick, a parting shot from Hades. She was going to need a muumuu before the end of the day if she kept that up.

Pluck You!

We caught QT before he left and unvamped him, but not before I “suggested” that he reconsider his choice of female companionship. Then Shar looked at him and told him to stop using such vulgar language in his music. If he was under Hades' wing, let the O-Great-Lord-of-the-Underworld make a billion-dollar seller out of a swear-free rap song. It was worth extra feathers and scaly skin.

The next morning, Jeremy was waiting for us when we walked in.

“What did you say to QT to make him drop the doggy fashions? Mr. Romanov never wanted to do it, but it was a mega deal. He's more than thrilled with QT's new plans.”

Apparently, when he got home, QT “ditched the bitch” and spent the evening drawing up leatherwear designs for “booty-ful blondes” and “shortie-pies.” Several six-digit orders were placed.

Jeremy looked at me expectantly, but even if I wasn't hesitant about talking, I wasn't sure what to say.
Hey, we used supernatural means to put your renegade rap star on the straight and narrow
didn't seem appropriate. Besides, after the previous days' revelations, what other minute details could cause problems?

“Aghhh,” I rasped.

“I think Meg's coming down with something,” Shar said, placing a cool hand on my forehead.

“Are you okay?” Jeremy asked, tender concern in his voice. “Do you want to go home and rest?”

“I can handle things here,” Shar said, patting my shoulder. “You can go home.”

There was no way I was going to leave her alone with him, so I smiled and shook my head firmly.

Jeremy's worried gaze lingered on my face. “Keep an eye on her, Shar. If she gets worse, let me know.”

Shar didn't look thrilled with the directive, but nodded.

In the few days we'd been at House of Romanov, I'd noticed that Jeremy went out of his way to seek me out. It thrilled and terrified—and puzzled—me. Had I made
that
much of an impression on the fateful night of pizza, shoes, and train wrecks? I'd met a lot of guys at raves and concerts and clubs, but never someone like him. Friends I was always able to make easily, but not boyfriends. I never got the kind of admiring glances I'd seen guys throw at Shar, and I found it hard to believe that Jeremy was different. I knew my own feelings; the image of his face lingered in my mind since the night at the pizzeria, and the reconnection only intensified things. I couldn't get his eyes, his lips, his voice out of my mind.

Then Reynaldo burst into the reception area as if his trousers were on fire.

“There you are! You two, copy room.
Á
ndale
! I need the five hundred copies of the programs for tomorrow's runway show collated and folded, pronto. They've just been delivered by the printer. When you're done, let me know. Oh, there's just too much to do!” he cried, ushering us away. Jeremy smiled at me and gave a little wave. Shar pressed her lips together and said nothing as we trooped after Reynaldo to the copy room.

“Poor Margaret isn't feeling well. Laryngitis, I think, isn't that right, dear?” Demeter's voice chimed in the hallway behind us.

“Don't breathe on me, I can
not
get sick!” Reynaldo squealed and covered his mouth and nose. He thrust us into the copy room and scurried away, screaming, “Someone bring me antibacterial wipes!”

“You'd better get started,” Demeter sang. She hung in the doorway and glanced at us haughtily. “It doesn't look like you'll be leaving here for quite a while.”

We were surrounded by boxes of programs. Without giving her the satisfaction of a reply, I turned away and got to work. Two hours later, everything was collated, folded, and stacked.

“I need to stretch,” Shar grumbled, flexing arms and legs.

“Me too. I want to get a latte before we get sent on some other petty errand.”

I led the way to the kitchen. We had just stirred the sugar into our cups when Reynaldo burst in, his sharp, black-outlined eyes glaring at us.

“This is no time for a break! Did I say you could take a break? Oh!” He fanned his face like he was going to faint. “We have to move fast, ladies! Get yourselves straight to the Purple Salon.
V
á
monos
!” He clapped his hands and hustled us out the door. He glanced at his watch and his face registered panic.“Come, come!”

Down we shuffled to the Purple Salon. When we were all in, he shut the door behind us. The room was a sty. Pins, paper, fabric scraps, pencils, and coffee cups were all over the floor, and the walls were lined with rolling racks of clothes, all sealed in plastic garment bags. In the center of the room was a dais with a drape around it.

“Behold House of Romanov's summer collection! Isn't it divine?” He didn't wait for an answer from us. “As you can see, this place is a mess! Jeremy is going to bring Mr. Arkady down to approve the accessories before tomorrow's runway show. I need you to clean up and get out before he comes in. Mr. Romanov does not like anyone around him. I'll pop in and give you a one-minute warning.” He patted his chest like he was having heart palpitations and flew out the door, his hand still thumping. He needed to self-medicate.

We surveyed the room.

“What bomb went off in here?” Shar said, propping the glasses on her head. She started picking things up off the floor and throwing them in the garbage. “But did you hear what he said? Arkady is coming down here! We might actually see him!” She walked over to the dais and stared at it. “What do you think this is?”

She pushed the drape back, revealing a platform upon which stood a dress form draped in a silken sheath.

“Wow,” Shar breathed. “This must be their anchor piece. It's amazing! It's …”

“… a beige dress. Those glasses are really starting to affect your vision. And didn't you hear what Rrrrey-naldo said?” I trilled his name. “He wants us to clean up, and then he wants us out. We need to get moving.” I stacked some papers and put them in a corner, then started to pick up the coffee cups scattered on tables, chairs, and the floor.

“Maybe we can hide somewhere in the room, let him think we left,” Shar offered, finding her cup of chai and taking a sip before I could snag it for the trash. “We could sneak a peek at him.”

I tapped my foot impatiently. “And then when he finds us, we'll have to entrance him, Jeremy, Reynaldo, and every other male we come across on our way out of here and to a portal. We won't get halfway there before we're completely trans
formed. We'll be
winging it
to Tartarus.”

“One of us should stay,” Shar insisted. “I'll follow Reynaldo out of the room and try to keep him away. You sneak back and hide b
ehind the rack.
If
either one finds you, say a few words and entrance them. Maybe we can take Arkady to a portal late tonight when no one's around.”

I tilted my head. “I have a better idea! Why don't you take off your glasses and tell Reynaldo to let us stay in the room? Or better yet,
you
put the Greek mojo on Arkady and Jeremy. Time for you to catch up with me—a few more feathers and I'll have a full wing!”

“I already have total bird feet! And look at my hands!” Shar thrust them out for me to see, but the one holding her tea lost its grip. We watched as the cup flew through the air, almost as if in slow motion, and slammed into the dress on the dais.

A dark stain streaked down the silk, continuing all the way down to the hem.

“Oh my god! Oh my god!” Shar could barely get the words out.

“How tragic!” Demeter's liquid voice rippled through the room. All the doors were closed, so she hadn't just walked in.

Whirling around, I faced her. “This is
not
funny, Demeter.”

“I disagree.” A vicious smile appeared.

I snapped my head around to gape at the ruined dress. There was no way it could be cleaned in time; not only for the show, but before Arkady and Jeremy got here. Arkady was to inspect it and the rest of the collection, then all of it would be moved immediately to the Met. The show was being held there tomorrow, New Year's Eve, in the Egyptian Temple.

I was actually looking forward to seeing it, or rather, hearing it. I'd seen the play list and it featured nearly all of my favorite bands, including Elysian Fields. Jeremy had to be in charge of the music. Back when we were folding programs, I'd been trying to think of ways I could somehow ask him about it, but now it looked like I wouldn't get the chance.

“It was my fault,” Shar moaned. “I'll tell Reynaldo. What's another bird claw?” Her shoulders slumped.

“There is an easy way out of this,” offered Demeter. I didn't like her too-soft tone. I probably wouldn't like whatever was on her mind, either, but at this point, it couldn't hurt to listen.

“Are you going to tell us, or are we going to wait for Reynaldo to come and join us?” Shar said tartly.

Demeter's eyes flared. “Watch the attitude, missy. You're lucky I deign to help you at all.”

“Sorry.” Shar didn't sound it.

“Give him a call. Kiss up to him. Cry a few tears, show some feminine vulnerability. Tell him something to stroke his ego and then ask him to cut you a break on the bird claws. What's the worst he could want?”

Shar looked horrified, and I didn't blame her. The three of us knew full well what Hades would desire.

“You don't have other options.” Demeter examined her nails, blew on them, then buffed them against her skirt.

I picked up the offending cup and stuffed it into the trash can. The room was ready, with the exception of saving the dress.

“We have other options,” I insisted. “We have our powers. Or, we'll think of something else.”

“Doubtful, Margaret, but do as you wish. You'll fail together. I might beg Zeus to let me go to Tartarus just to visit you. It would be very amusing to see you in a gilded cage—when you're not walking the dogs.”

“I
doubt
Hades will let you come visit,” mumbled Shar.

Demeter vanished, but not before knocking over the garbage can.

“High class, that goddess,” I said as I righted it and scooped up what had fallen onto the floor.

Shar looked around hopelessly. “The place is clean, but what good is that? Reynaldo will be here any second, and once he sees …” She pointed to the dress, which sported an irregular-shaped stain that curved to one side.

I stared at it, thinking that the tea stain made it look more interesting; before, it was so plain. It gave me an idea. “Let's do something with the stain to make it look not like a stain, but part of the dress,” I suggested.

“How? And with what?”

I searched around frantically. “I saw some fabric scraps on the floor.”

“There's not enough to do anything. The stain is too big. We're screwed!”

I bent down to scoop up the material on the floor when an errant black feather floated to the ground. I started unbuttoning my top.

Shar leaned away with a wary expression. “What are you doing?”

“Preparing for the Rapture. What do you think?” I wrestled one arm out of a sleeve and with my free hand, grabbed a couple of feathers, and pulled. Hard.

“Ow!” I bit back tears and gave Shar a handful of fluff. “Here. Start from the bottom.”

She sneezed several times as she ran to a nearby desk and grabbed a stapler.

I tossed her scraps of fabric and trim and feathers as I built up the nerve to pull them out, but our progress started to slow. I was trembling with pain and her nose was running.

“Here,” she said, handing me the stapler. “You fix the dress, I'll pluck.”

“No, you won't do it right!” I protested, but she forcibly maneuvered me to stand between her and the dress.

“We can go faster if I take them out and you attach them. Besides, I can barely see! The down … ah-choo! … is making my eyes water!” She yanked, and I felt like I was being stabbed by a thousand needles.

“Ouch! Ow! Not the little ones!”

“Ah-choo! Freaking allergies,” Shar muttered, but she kept going. “Not bad,” she sniffed between pullings, looking at my work. “You're pretty good at collage.”

“It's a … ow! Hobby. Owww! Come on, you can be a little more gentle than that!”

She gave me an exasperated look. “Oh stop whining, it's like pulling off a Band-Aid. Better to do it fast! And you won't look like you've been tarred and feathered anymore.” She sniffled, then sneezed, again, and I felt a spray of droplets on my back.

“Ugh! Cover your mouth, please!”

“Sorry!” she snapped. “But it's your fault I'm sneezing!”

By the time we heard the sound of Reynaldo's heels clicking up to the door, we'd made a meandering river of feathers, fabric scraps, and sequined trim from the shoulder of the dress down and across the body to the hem. I was no designer, but I thought it was an improvement—less beige, and it smelled like cardamon. That had to be good feng shui.