Sirenz

by Charlotte Bennardo

  “I don’t know. What time is it?”

  Shar looked at her watch. “About 11:30. Let’s have a look around.”

  Nearby, on a small credenza, lay a long, thick, leather-like envelope. Shar grabbed it, turned it over, and dumped it out. The soft swishes and plops the contents made as they landed sounded like thunder in the quiet apartment. Shar sifted through the pile: tickets, passports, and other travel documents. She pulled one out and held it close to her face so she could read it. “Get a load of this. His passport says he’s seventy-five.” She laughed. “Guess they forgot the three in front.”

  “What time is his flight?”

  “Noon.” She stuffed everything back into the envelope and dropped it back on the table. “Be on your guard. If someone comes in, we’ll have to hide, so we should stay together.”

  “Good idea. All I have left is some of my hair and my face. I can’t afford a single feather more.”

  Silently, we moved into the kitchen. It was eerily identical to ours, from the marble floors to the giant cabinets and stainless steel refrigerator. Shar opened a cabinet, pulled out a box, and snorted violently.

  “What’s the matter with you?” I took it from her. It was a powdered mixture that claimed to be able to fix “creaky bowels.” I dug a claw into my thigh to keep from laughing, but when I went to put the box back, I found every shelf crammed tightly with similar remedies—for hair loss, nail fungus, sagging skin, and other geriatric ailments. And they all smelled funky. The refrigerator was packed with drugs that I couldn’t pronounce if I tried. I wondered how often Jeremy had to come up here, and if his duties included assisting Arkady dosing himself with any of this stuff. I stopped myself from picking up any of the boxes to read the instructions for application, ingestion, insertion, or whatever.

  In a closet, in the hallway, we found a box labeled Crème de la Mer.

  “Do you know how much this stuff costs?” Shar gasped. “Oh my God, the little bottles are like $150 and he has a crate!”

  “What’s so great about this?” I asked, unscrewing the lid from one of the jars and taking a sniff. “It smells fruity.”

  “It’s made from lime and natural elements from the ocean,” Shar said with authority. “And it’s supposed to be a miracle cream.”

  “I don’t think this would help him if he sat in a tub of it for a month straight.” I said. “He should’ve been more careful about what he asked for.”

  “Like us, you mean?” She quirked an eyebrow at me.

  “Hindsight,” I rumbled, spinning her toward the hallway. “Moving on.”

  The hallway looked just like ours, tan carpet and neutral walls, except there was only one bedroom door.

  “I heard humming before,” I said.

  Shar nodded. “Me too. It’s, like, air conditioning or something.”

  “There’s no air conditioning in January. It’s coming from in here.” I inclined my head toward the door.

  Shar pressed her ear against it. “You’re right. Do you think, you know … he’s … in there?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Open it,” she ordered.

  “And what if he is in there?”

  “He won’t see us unless he has his glasses on,” she sang.

  “In which case,” I grinned, putting my hand on the door, “we get to work.”

  One turn of the knob and a gentle push, and the door opened without a sound.

  The room was bathed in a soft blue light coming from the thing that rested in the middle of the floor. Shar inhaled sharply and I grabbed her hand. It looked like a giant coffin.

  The sleek glowing monstrosity was the only thing in the room, and apart from its constant hum, there was no other sound.

  “What is that?” Shar hissed.

  We stepped nearer. The top had a glass lid that was closed, and inside, mist swirled. I squinted at the glass, trying to see through the moisture. After swiveling my head up and down and side-to-side several times, I heaved a sigh of relief. Whatever it was, it was empty.

  “It’s too dark in here to see.” Slowly my eyes adjusted to the dim light, and I was able to make out some words printed on the side. “Oxo-bed 8000,” I read aloud. “An oxygen bed?”

  “Oooh! That’s supposed to be incredible for your skin!” Shar squealed.

  “It looks like an alien death pod,” I said. “If it’s a bed, do you think he sleeps in it?”

  “Well,” Shar said, now examining every inch of it, “the more time you spend in it, the more oxygen you infuse into your skin. It’s supposed to be able to reverse sun damage. I’ve always wanted to try one of these!”

  “You’re not doing it now,” I quipped. “Apart from someone coming in any minute, think about all the wrinkly skin that Arkady must have to infuse with oxygen. I guess he wouldn’t be wearing much—”

  “TMI!” Shar raised her hand. “Fine. I’ll take a spa day in a clean, sterilized oxygen bed when we’re done.”

  “That’s better. Now, can we get out of this room, please?” I headed for the door without waiting for a response.

  “Where is he?” Shar asked, closing the bedroom door with a barely audible click. “It’s nearly midnight!”

  “We need to get out of sight. Where do you think is a good place to hide?”

  “How about the Crème de la Mer closet?” she suggested. “It wasn’t totally filled. There should be enough room for both of us in there.”

  The closet wasn’t small, but we still had to move a few boxes out of it so we could both fit—feathers, coats, capes, scarves, hats and all. We tucked the boxes under fluffy chairs and behind the heavy drapes that hung on either side of the glass wall in the living room; they wouldn’t be noticed right away. I kept looking back at the door, expecting Demeter to walk in with Arkady on her arm. As we shuffled things back and forth, I strained to hear footsteps in the hallway, but no one came. Still, we huddled into the closet, dismayed that it was utterly and completely dark inside when we closed the door.

  “Turn on the iPhone,” Shar said.

  I fumbled in my bag, pulled out the iPhone, and tapped its smooth sleekness. It flashed for a second, then glowed red in the gloom. Persephone’s number, the last one we’d called, was still on the screen.

  Shar yawned. “I didn’t need to see that. God, am I tired!” Then she sneezed.

  Even though I was sweating, I was wrapped up like a mummy to keep Shar’s allergies in check. “I forgot we’re in close quarters. Better put on one of those masks. The last thing we need is you sneezing and someone finding us in here.”

  “That would be awkward,” she agreed. I held the iPhone over her bag so she could get the mask out. She slipped it over her beak.

  “Can you breathe okay?” I asked.

  “Uh huh.” Shar closed her eyes. It was getting hotter in here, and I felt sleepy too.

  “Stay awake!” I hissed. “We have to listen for Arkady. They should be here soon.” I moved the iPhone around, illuminating the corners of the closet, but my arm began to feel heavy, so I laid the phone, screen-side up, on my lap. The closet glowed scarlet.

  “I better turn this off,” I whispered after what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a few minutes. “So no one sees the light under the door.”

  Shar didn’t answer. I slipped the iPhone into my bag and sat there in the warm dark.

  A loud whirring sound jerked me awake. I fell against the wall with a thud.

  “Huh?!” Shar grunted. “Where are we?”

  It took me a couple of seconds, but it all came back. Persephone, the apartment, the ghoulish coffin bed, and the closet.

  “Oh my God …” I heard Shar say.

  “Shhhh!” I held my hand up, not even sure if she could see it. I was beginning to make out shadows from th
e light filtering underneath the door. I didn’t dare open it. Not yet.

  “What time is it?” she whispered.

  Clumsily, I dug in my bag for the iPhone, wincing as my stiff arms swished back and forth. I found it and ran a claw over the touch pad.

  7:26 glared out of the red screen; it was early morning.

  “He hasn’t left yet.” Shar struggled to her feet. “We can still do this.”

  She stumbled over a box and fell onto me.

  “Not if we can’t even make our way out of a closet! Stay still and be quiet for a minute.” I put my hands in front of myself and felt for the door. Then I leaned forward and pressed my ear against it. The whirring sound continued, then suddenly stopped.

  Click! Click! Click!

  “I don’t hear anyone, but something’s happening out there—the humming stopped,” I said softly.

  “We can’t stay in here forever.” Shar was standing up now. “And it’s stuffy in here. Open the door, I have to pee!”

  I turned the knob slowly, trying not to make noise. As I pushed the door open, light flooded the closet and I had to squint. The suitcases were still by the door.

  Shar stuck her head out. “I don’t see anyone.”

  “That doesn’t mean we’re alone.”

  She took my hand and helped me out of the closet. We stood, blinking in the pale light streaming in from the glass wall. I could still hear the clicking, then a groaning sound. It was coming from the bedroom.

  “I think he’s home,” Shar said through her mask. It was crumpled and smeared with makeup. I could only imagine what I looked like. Glancing down, I saw pin feathers sticking out of my pants.

  Without saying a word, Shar started walking toward Arkady’s room. When she got to the door, I gently poked her and she turned to me.

  “Since his flight leaves at noon, we have an hour, max, before Jeremy gets here to take him to the airport. We need to entrance him and get him out of here before then.”

  Shar pointed to the bathroom and dodged in. I stood guard, hoping she’d be quick—she was. We made our way to the bedroom. Shar laid her hand on the doorknob and opened it, not even trying to be quiet.

  The room was full of mist, more like a sauna than a bedroom. Arkady was sitting up in his oxygen pod, looking around. He had no shirt on; his skin was not only wrinkly, but translucent, hairless, and sagging in folds. Even from the doorway, I could see the blue veins underneath. He was skeletal skinny, his bones jutting against the thin skin.

  “I’m going to be sick,” muttered Shar.

  “I’ll join you later,” I said. “Let’s get started.”

  She nodded, and we both advanced toward Arkady’s strange bed. He had no glasses on and probably couldn’t see more than vague shapes, but he was startled by the motion.

  “Ehh!” he cried in an abrasive voice. “Who the hell are you? What are you doing in my house?”

  “I’m uh … ” I started, trying not to shout, moving ever closer. “We’re here to help you get ready for your trip, Mr. Romanov.”

  “Yes,” Shar said, moving forward and looking around. Her face became suddenly bright and she quickly made for the small table by the bed. She snatched something up and held it aloft. Eyeglasses.

  Arkady wagged his head and then waved his arms. “Where’s Jeremy? Who let you in here?”

  He struggled to get out of the pod, but lost his balance and started to fall over. I darted forward and caught him. His withered cheek fell against my shoulder.

  When One Door Closes

  “Argh!” Arkady moaned, struggling. I grimaced, then motioned for Meg to get on with it.

  “Calm down!” she snapped. Arkady, still in her arms, straightened up.

  “Calm …” he repeated, his voice less harsh.

  With horror, I watched as the last of Meg’s hair fell away, leaving only feathers.

  She bent her head so that her lips were only an inch or two away from his ear.

  “Mr. Romanov,” she breathed, “put your glasses on. That’ll make this a whole lot easier.”

  I handed the glasses to Meg and she placed them on Arkady’s face. His owl eyes blinked; he stared first at her.

  I walked forward and forced his chin up with my hand to make him look at me, trying not to vomit at the feel of his cold, dry skin. “Arkady, time to give the devil his due,” I said. His eyes widened and his lips parted to speak, but I shook my head very slowly and wagged a finger over his half-open mouth.

  “No more yelling. No more fighting. You have an appointment with Hades.” I crooked my finger, beckoning him. Mesmerized, he stood and began to make his way toward me, Meg at his side. I backed out of the room.

  “Get dressed, Arkady,” she whispered in his ear. “Something simple, don’t fuss. Pajamas will work. You can leave your slippers on.”

  I laughed softly. “People will think he’s crazy. No one will come near him or question us.”

  “Let’s hope so.”

  We followed him from the bedroom into an oversized walk-in dressing area. Racks and racks of clothes, shoes, and hats hung at attention like good little cadets.

  Closet envy!

  Every flat surface was mirrored. I tried not to look at myself and kept my gaze fixed on him. With surprising agility, he pulled out black silk Armani pajamas, black slippers, and a robe with the initial A in a giant gold script. He started to slide the PJ pants over his baggy boxers.

  “Come out when you’re done!” Meg squeaked. We beat a hasty retreat, getting jammed in the door as we both tried to exit. I was taller, but she had the weight. She won. I closed the door behind me. As soon as he was ready, we were morgue-bound.

  Rrrrring!

  Meg and I looked at each other. By the front door was a small television screen that gave alternating views of the street below, as well as of the elevator, the lobby, the hallway, and what looked like an area behind the building. This guy was completely paranoid.

  What we saw now was Jeremy getting out of a long black limo. And Demeter. I swore in Spanish.

  “How multicultural of you,” snipped Meg. “What are we going to do?”

  Arkady shuffled into the room and waited, a vacant look in his eyes. Meg grinned slyly and sidled up to him.

  “Arkady, Jeremy and Demi are here. Ask Demi to wait in the car, and tell Jeremy to bring the driver and come up and get your bags.” She nudged him forward.

  He hobbled to the intercom. “Come up, Jeremy, and bring the driver to help you carry the bags. Demi, wait in the car.” His voice was flat.

  On the little screen, we could see Jeremy and the driver move toward the entrance. Thankfully, Demeter remained outside by the car, but she fidgeted impatiently.

  “One last thing.” Meg started searching around.

  “What are you looking for?”

  She hurried over to Arkady, and leaning really close, whispered, “Write Jeremy a check for $200,000, with a note on the bottom that says ‘Romanov Grant.’ When Jeremy gets here, tell him that he was a great assistant but he needs to finish school. Tell him to go back to the office right now and close it up, but first he should write a press release saying you’re going to Switzerland to an exclusive health spa with Demi. You don’t know when you’ll return. Do it now, and fast!”

  The goat shuffled quickly to his desk, pulled out his checkbook, and started scribbling.

  “Meg, there’s no time for this!”

  “I just can’t entrance Jeremy again,” she hissed. “This will get him out of our way, plus give him a little extra for pain and suffering.”

  Arkady finished just as the doorbell rang.

  “Meg, get behind the door!” We squeezed together. I pinched my nose to stop the sneezes that I knew would fight to get out.

  “Answer the door and
say what I told you to,” Meg directed. “Don’t let them ask any questions. And don’t tell them that we’re here.”

  I glared at him and nodded.

  Arkady answered the door.

  “Mr. Romanov! Are you ready to go?” Jeremy stood just outside, the driver waiting behind him. I knew he was staring at Arkady’s outfit. I felt a sneeze and turned my head away from Meg. Should have kept the mask over my beak.

  “Jeremy, you’ve been a great assistant, but you need to finish school. Here’s a grant from the House of Romanov. Go back to the office and write a press release stating that I’ll be in Switzerland at an exclusive health spa with Demi. Then close up the office. I don’t know when I’ll return.”

  It was quiet for a few moments. No doubt the shock of the generous gift had left Jeremy speechless, not to mention Arkady’s benign manner. Meg’s body was tense. This all might be funny in a different situation.

  “I don’t know what to say,” Jeremy replied slowly. “Mr. Romanov, why aren’t you dressed?”

  “No questions. Driver, get my bags. Jeremy, go!”

  “But—” Jeremy sputtered.

  “Go back to the office. Write the press release. Do it!” Arkady almost snarled. Sounded realistic to me.

  “Well, uh, thank you, Mr. Romanov.” Jeremy sounded uncertain, but he turned and walked slowly out, with the driver at his side carrying two bags. The driver would have to return for the last load.

  We stood there—the fossil, Meg, and I—waiting. I heard the ding of the elevator, the doors opening and closing.

  “He’s gone,” Meg sighed with relief and moved over to the window, only to motion frantically for me to come over. I got there just in time to see Jeremy walking away from the car, only to be stopped by Demeter. The driver loaded the bags and turned to come back in, but Demeter darted ahead of him.

  “Oh my God, she’s coming up here!” I hissed.

  A few moments later, her voice was echoing down the hallway.

  “Mr. Romanov!” She came into the apartment, not looking pleased. The driver was at her heels.

  Before Meg could stop me, I stepped up and vamped the driver with my hazardous hazels. “The two of us will be riding with Mr. Romanov,” I said, grabbing Meg’s arm. “Just us. Meg, come on, last inning.”