“I did a time-travel spell after I missed the first sunset,” Prue explained, giving Piper a quick hug.
“What was so important that I was almost stranded in Mount Olympus?” Piper demanded, scowling at her sister. “And, hey! Why are you wearing my necklace?”
Prue knew Piper was totally annoyed with her, but she could only laugh happily.
“Long story,” she said. “I’ll tell you later. First, tell me what you got from Zeus.”
“Well,” Piper said, leaning on the kitchen counter, “Mount Olympus was the most amazing experience I’ve ever had. These strange chambers filled with silvery swirls and colorful lights and . . . oh! You can breathe water there.”
“And? And?” Prue demanded. “Did you get to meet Zeus?”
“I did,” Piper said. “And, well, it’s not the best solution in the world. But . . . ’’
“What did he say?” Prue asked.
“He said he will shield Phoebe from the demons of Hades and help her out of the underworld,” Piper offered.
“And the bad news?” Prue prompted.
“Well, he’s not just going to zap her back to us,” Piper said with a deep breath. “We have to go get her.”
Prue thought of another long, slogging journey through horrible Hades and felt her heart sink. But an instant later she was ready for the trip. After all, what choice did they have?
“Camera,” she said curtly. “Let’s go.”
“You got it,” Piper said, following Prue into the sunroom. They positioned themselves in front of the old camera and Prue grabbed the shutter release cord.
“I almost forgot,” Prue said, nodding at the sleeping models. “What about our lovely friends here. Are they protected by Zeus, too?”
“Um, well,” Piper said, wringing her hands.
“Piper. . . .”
“For them, he said we’re on our own.”
“Great,” Prue said. “Just great. So we have to snatch Phoebe from Nikos’s clutches, somehow find the models, who could be anywhere in Nikos’s palace, and get them all back to earth safely?”
“That sounds about right,” Piper said, biting her lip and gazing at Prue with large, frightened eyes. “Do you think we can do it?”
“We have to,” Prue announced with gritted teeth. Quickly, she uttered the spell that enabled them to be spirited to Hades. She was just about to push the shutter button when Piper shouted, “Wait!”
“What?” Prue exclaimed.
Piper reached around Prue’s neck to unclasp Grams’s necklace. Then she looked around frantically and grabbed an antique, but not heirloom, letter opener off a console in the living room. The beautiful silver-plated blade was studded with semiprecious stones. She snatched an old mother-of-pearl inkwell, too.
“Fare for Charon, the ferryman on the River Acheron,” she explained to her sister, tucking the letter opener into the waistband of her leggings. She handed the inkwell to Prue to put into her shorts pocket.
“Might as well bring something with less sentimental value than that necklace.”
“Good thinking,” Prue said. Then she grabbed Piper’s hand and clicked the shutter button.
CHAPTER
11
Down in Hades, the hours crept by. Phoebe had no idea how long she’d been in her cell, since there were no clocks or windows. And who knew if there was normal time—morning, afternoon and night—in Hades? Phoebe had a hunch that the place was mired in a perpetual twilight—a hazy, gray gloom like the kind she’d seen in the forest. The idea of spending another day here made her despair. The thought of spending a lifetime here? Well, it wasn’t something Phoebe could even allow to enter her mind. Curled up on her bed, she moaned and wrapped her arms around her stomach. It was starting to feel concave after so much time without food. Then she flailed her head, and those hateful black curls, around in frustration. There wasn’t even anything to distract her in here. No books, no pictures, nothing but food.
Phoebe heaved herself off the mattress and stalked to the doorway. She pressed her ear to its edge, where the enormous boulder was nestled, locking her in. Maybe she would be able to hear snatches of conversation.
But Phoebe heard nothing but dead silence. She slid down the wall next to the door and curled up on the floor, dropping her forehead to her knees. As she fiddled with the wretched ring on her finger, Phoebe’s thoughts turned to the models. She wondered where they were. Once Nikos had used them to lure Phoebe and her sisters to Hades, had their usefulness expired? Had he cast them out, to wander through the underworld, lost, bewildered, and losing valuable beauty sleep?
Or had Nikos kept them here for his amusement? She shuddered to think what Chloe would do if Nikos dyed her hair black and curled it into these stiff ringlets.
I wonder if they have Evian for her? Phoebe thought, a grim giggle escaping her lips. Then she shook the laugh away. There was nothing funny about what she’d done. She’d hired these models and brought the treacherous Nikos into her home. Now five souls might be lost, perhaps forever, because of her.
Or who knows, Phoebe thought, propping her cheek on her fist. Maybe once he got me, Nikos returned the models to earth and they’re lounging around our sunroom right now, eating Piper’s canapés and comparing beauty products.
She rolled her eyes at the idea. Fat chance. She didn’t know this demonic Nikos well, but she could read him enough to see that compassion was not his strong suit.
Just as Phoebe was working herself up into a major anxiety attack, she heard the now familiar scraping sound of the boulder moving aside. She stayed where she was, sullenly curled up on the floor next to the entrance. Probably just another snake maiden, Phoebe thought, slithering in to taunt me with more delicious grub.
And right she was. The maiden undulated through the doorway and headed to the coffee table without looking around the room. Phoebe tensed— the maiden hadn’t noticed her crouched next to the door. She glanced at the bed where she’d spent most of the day napping and sulking. The thick velvet quilt was bunched up in a pile—a pile that looked a lot like a human body.
A realization shot through Phoebe’s mind like an electric spark. The snake thinks that pile of blankets on the bed is me, she thought.
She glanced at the maiden. The servant kept her back to Phoebe as she cleared Jessica’s picnic from the coffee table and began unloading her own tray. She was oblivious.
Phoebe held her breath.
Then she crept silently out the door.
Prue and Piper felt themselves shimmer into their bodies. They looked around. Sunlight blinded them, and they were rocking, rocking, hearing water slap gently against wood.
“Uh-oh,” Piper said,
“Where are we?” Prue asked. “This isn’t the Hades we know and hate.”
“We’re in a boat!” Piper blurted. Prue rolled her eyes and turned to her sister.
“I can see that,” she said dryly. She and Piper were sitting in a rough, bare rowboat, about ten feet long, with nothing in it but the two planks on which they sat and two primitively carved oars. They were surrounded by water—beautiful, Caribbean-blue water.
Not too far away—maybe a mile—Prue could see an island covered in steep mountains and lush tropical foliage. The island was edged by a beautiful white beach. The boat was pointed directly at a lagoon in the middle of the beach. The clear, bright blue circle of water was separated from the sea by a stretch of sand with a small opening in it.
“This is definitely not the River Acheron!” Piper wailed.
“Was there anything in your studies about a sort of back door to Hades?” Prue said.
“Not that I can remember,” Piper replied, her brow furrowed in thought.
“Well, we might as well row to shore,” Prue said, pointing to the lagoon. “Let’s just hope when we get there, we find some pathway to Hades.”
Each sister grabbed an oar and started paddling toward the island. As stressed as they were, the steady lapping sound of the ocean waves
and the warmth of the sun were soothing. Piper found herself lifting her face to the sky, soaking in the rays as she paddled.
Prue gazed at the land before them, straining to see something besides tropical trees and pristine empty beaches—a house, a structure, anything that they could go to for information about where they were.
But she saw nothing. Except . . .
“Piper,” Prue said, squinting at the finger of land that enclosed the lagoon. “Did you see that?”
“What?” Piper said, peering over Prue’s shoulder.
“I thought I saw something move,” Prue said. Suddenly she pointed. “There! On those rocks near the lagoon entrance. I saw something flash in the sun! Something alive.”
“Really?” Piper asked nervously. “I wonder what it is.”
“Well, based on the company we’ve been keeping lately, it could be anything,” Prue said grimly. “And it’s probably not friendly.”
“Should we sail around the island and dock somewhere else?” Piper asked.
Prue bit her lip and then shook her head.
“Let’s get a bit closer to see if we can get a better look,” she said. “The lagoon seems to be the easiest way into the island. If we avoid it, we’ll have to climb over all those mountains.”
“And time is of the essence,” Piper agreed. They started paddling with more strength.
“Get ready to freeze if you have to,” Prue whispered as they approached the shore. Some boulders were coming into view at the lagoon entrance. But she couldn’t see any creatures.
“Maybe whatever you saw is hiding,” Piper hissed.
“Or maybe it was just my imagination,” Prue said hopefully.
Just then Piper saw two eyes pop above one of the boulders and stare at them intently.
“Uh . . . I don’t think it was your imagination, Prue,” she said, pointing at the boulder with a trembling finger. “Someone’s watching us.”
Prue spotted the spy. It looked like . . . a woman! In fact, she could see a ragged mop of driftwood-colored curls above two beady, black eyes. The woman was blinking passively at Prue and Piper.
An instant later she hopped on top of the boulder.
“No way!” Piper gasped.
“Are those . . . wings?” Prue whispered.
“Wings, feathers, webbed feet,” Piper whispered back. “The whole shebang.”
They were staring at a creature with a woman’s head and a seagull’s body. The creature’s feathers were white, and her legs were bright orange. As she hopped sideways across the boulder, Piper could see that her beady eyes and her head’s jerky movements were unmistakably avian. This bird-woman was less grotesque than the scaly Harpy that had invaded their living room, but she was no less disconcerting.
“Head of a woman, body of a bird,” Piper murmured. “Living by the sea . . . I’m sure I know what this creature is, but I can’t place it.”
As Piper struggled to recall her classics studies, two other bird-women came into view. With a flutter of their massive white wings, they alighted on the boulder next to the leader. Their mops of hair were sand-colored. The matted curls twitched as they angled their heads to gaze at the sisters. Their tiny black eyes blinked at Prue and Piper curiously but not malevolently.
“Okay, well, they’re not attacking us,” Prue whispered. “That’s a good sign, right?”
“I’d guess so,” Piper said. But she had an uneasy feeling about these creatures. She pressed a palm to her forehead. Think, she urged herself. Head of a woman, body of a bird . . .
The leader opened her mouth, as if she wanted to say something.
That’s when it hit Piper.
She grabbed Prue’s arm.
“I know what they are!” she gasped. “Sirens! Don’t listen to the so—”
But before she could finish her sentence, a bright, clear melody surged out of the creature’s mouth. The sound hit Piper like a wave of pleasure. It was the most beautiful music she’d ever heard, though it had no lyrics and no melody. It enveloped her like the warmest embrace, the softest touch, she’d ever felt. And suddenly her warning to Prue, her fears, Phoebe’s dire straits, all melted away.
As if in a haze, she turned to look at Prue. Her sister-had a rapturous expression on her face that told Piper the music was hitting her the same way.
Next, the two other Sirens joined in. One pulled a golden lyre—much like the small harp that Prue had used in her photo—from beneath one wing and began strumming it with her feathers. The third produced a flute. Holding it to her lips with her wingtips, she played a harmony whose beauty was almost too much for Piper to bear. Yet she had to hear more.
Together Prue and Piper paddled to the shore and pulled their boat onto the beach. They climbed out of the craft and walked slowly toward the Sirens. The song grew louder and, if it were possible, even more lovely.
The sisters climbed onto the boulders and sat, staring rapturously at the creatures.
I hope the song never stops, Piper thought dimly. I want it to go on forever.
The beauty was so great, Piper had to close her eyes and lie down, the better to focus on the gorgeous music. Hazily, she glimpsed Prue do the same. Piper felt as limp as a rag doll. All the tension had left her body. All she felt was pure contentment.
Phoebe tiptoed through a series of hallways. Almost as soon as she’d left her room, she’d gotten lost, which was fine. If she never saw that stifling cell again, it would be too soon. All she wanted to do was find the models and then take the closest emergency exit out of Nikos’s horrible palace.
She turned corner after corner, skulking along the damp, cold, bare walls. After a while, the floor began to slope downward. Then it became more sinuous, twisting and turning every few feet.
Every once in a while, Phoebe came upon an open doorway. Stealthily, she peeked into one room after another, seeing empty bed chambers, empty banquet halls, empty sitting rooms. Where was everyone in this enormous place anyway? Phoebe wondered. And how would she ever find her way out?
She shook the terrifying thought out of her head and tried to focus on the models. If Nikos wanted to hide them away, where would he put them? Hmmmm.
Suddenly, Phoebe gasped and looked down at the sloped floor beneath her feet. Of course—the dungeon.
“Not that this entire place doesn’t feel like a dungeon,” Phoebe muttered dryly. She looked about to make sure no slimy servants or royal family members were lurking about. Then she lifted the heavy skirt of her velvet gown and started to run.
She flew down the hallway, careening around corners and skidding on the slick stone floor. She couldn’t fight the urgency and panic swelling in her gut, so she ran faster. Finally, the sloping floor evened out. And, Phoebe realized, the hallway had grown much more narrow. It was lit with flickering torches mounted on the walls. And between the torches, Phoebe saw boulders blocking doorway after doorway.
These were prison cells, much like her own.
“I guess those who aren’t royal fiancées don’t get the choice digs that I had,” Phoebe whispered. She felt another stab of guilt as she wondered if the models were trapped in one of these rooms.
“Chloe?” she called softly. She looked around fearfully. Then she steeled her shoulders. She might be a mile beneath the royal family’s living quarters. Nobody was going to hear her down here.
“Chloe!” she shouted. “Madelaine? Kurt? Are you down here?”
She paused. Then her breath caught in her throat. What was that sound? It sounded so distant, like a baby’s weak, thin wails.
“Chloe!” she screamed. “Madelaine!”
She pressed an ear to one of the boulders. She heard it distinctly this time. A muffled scream.
“Heeeelllp us!”
“Oh, my God,” Phoebe cried. “It’s Phoebe. I’m here! I’ll get you out of there, I promise!”
Then she slumped against the cold wall and whispered, “But how?”
“Good question, Phoebe.”
; Phoebe gasped and whirled around, shrieking as Nikos finished shimmering into the hallway before her. He was glaring at her with a curled lip. His eyes glowed red with rage.
“I went personally to your chamber to fetch you,” Nikos spat. “My father is throwing a banquet in your honor, a little prewedding festivity. My entire family is there, along with all the courtiers and maidens.”
Whoops, Phoebe thought, that must have been where everybody was.
“Imagine my embarrassment,” Nikos raged.
“Imagine the pain of these people that you’ve imprisoned!” Phoebe said back to him, pointing at the cell where she was sure the models were trapped. “You’ve lured me here. You don’t need them anymore. Please, please, can’t you spirit them back to earth?”
“Don’t be naive, Phoebe,” Nikos said. “And don’t say another word to me. I’ve clothed you in beautiful gowns, had food prepared for you, fixed your awful hair, and this is how you repay me? By sneaking around? What? Were you trying to escape?”
Phoebe scowled. Nikos threw back his head and cackled.
“That won’t happen any sooner than you’ll pry my ring from your finger,” he growled. “I’d toss you in one of these cells right now if my family weren’t still waiting for your appearance at this fete. We’re going there now. And tomorrow morning we’ll be married.”
“Tomorrow!” Phoebe cried. “But your birthday isn’t for . . .”
“Three days,” Nikos said. “But your stubbornness requires me to resort to extreme action. Once we are wed, you are mine. Escape is impossible. Not unless the almighty Zeus interferes, a feat that is equally impossible.”
Nikos cackled again and grabbed Phoebe’s arm, digging his nails painfully into her flesh. She screamed as she felt herself shimmer into nothingness.
When she became corporeal again, Nikos was still clutching her arm. They were standing in a large foyer just outside the huge dining room she’d seen when she first arrived here. Festive voices, the clink of silver on china, and laughter swelled out of the room.
“We’re going in. Do not embarrass me again,” Nikos threatened with a sneer, “or I’ll stage the wedding ceremony right now!”
Soul of the Bride Page 12