Sirenz Back in Fashion

by Charlotte Bennardo

  “Who makes furniture out of them?”

  He gave me a withering look. “Those who can’t cross have a lot of time on their hands. That’s what happens when you don’t have the fare. Which brings me to rule number one.” He held up a finger. “Don’t give coins to the souls who beg. They can’t cross the River Styx to the Elysian Fields because they don’t have the fare to pay Charon. And it’s not up to you to give it to them. They are condemned to wander between the afterlife and the world of the living forever.”

  “I don’t have any money to give away.” Unless my bikini has a secret pocket with a coin inside, which it doesn’t, that won’t be a problem.

  “Wait.” He removed his helmet and checked his teeth in the reflection.

  I gestured for him to continue. This mortal had uncomfortable physical needs that a powder room could address.

  “Where was I?” He tapped his right foot, and the little wings on his sandals fluttered madly. “Sorry!” he whispered to them. They quieted and gracefully flicked like butterflies.

  Okay. It’s not like I don’t talk to my darling shoes, but he gets a reaction!

  “The rules?” I prompted, forcing my attention back to the conversation about me getting out of here.

  “Don’t interrupt and we’ll get through these quickly. Hades’ protocols must be followed.” Hermes cleared his throat. “Don’t give coins to the lost souls, no singing, no

  animals, please observe a moment of silence, children must be accompanied by an adult, tipping is allowed, and cash only. And proper payment is to be tendered after boarding but before commencement of service.” He smiled at me like I was a simpleton.

  And I was supposed to do … what? I didn’t see any children. Why no singing—would it ruin the mood of despair? Animals?? And a moment of silence for … ? How could I tip with no money? I’d spent the last of my money at Century 21 for a blouse I really didn’t need. I rubbed my temples. A major migraine was starting to devour my brain.

  Mommy! Or better yet, Meg! She’d make sense of this guy. God. Greek mutant. Whatever.

  “I think that’s all of them.” He smoothed his shirt, watching his biceps flex.

  How could there be more? I wanted to bang my head against a brick wall, but I inhaled deeply, trying to calm my rising irritation. “Thank you for telling me the rules, Hermes, but I don’t have any money to give to Charon. Hades zipped me off without giving me time to make sure I had the fare.”

  Because a girl should always carry around gold pieces for a sudden excursion to the Underworld.

  “Haven’t you been listening?” he shouted, startling me. “That’s why I’m here!” He puffed up his chest.

  “Of course I’ve been listening! You told me the rules—no giving dead souls money, no animals, no singing, and all the rest of the rules that don’t apply to me because I DON’T HAVE ANY MONEY!” I shouted back.

  Geez, the service in this place was seriously lacking.

  “I think I should add another ten reps to my abdominal routine,” he murmured, tapping his waistline, which had less fat than a piece of iceberg lettuce.

  “Can we just go? I think I hear the boat.” A soft slapping sound was growing steadily louder. A long, wide rowboat, sleekly black and outlined with gold coins, glided up smoothly, stopping at a large flat rock in front of me. A ghostly figure draped in torn, moldy linen stood in the back, holding a long pole in hands covered by rags. The figure didn’t move or make a sound.

  We stared at each other. Guess I had to be the adult here, although I was positive Charon was my senior by, oh, several millennia at minimum.

  “Hello, Charon. I’m Sharisse. Nice to meet you.” I held out my hand. Good manners are proper in any situation, after all.

  A thumb, looking pretty pink for a guy who was supposed to be dead, jerked to the back of the skiff where a huge mound of gold coins lay, gleaming dully in the dusk. Several cascaded down as the boat bumped against the rock.

  “Save the hello for someone who cares. Get your lazy carcass into the boat and throw the fare on top of the pile. Stupid coins are rolling all over the place.”

  If being down here made one eternally PMSing, no thank you! I looked pointedly at Hermes, then gestured to Charon with a jerk of my head. Hermes could worry about the fare.

  “Oh! Here.” He held out a golden branch, as long as my arm and slightly heavy.

  “Uh, I believe it costs a gold coin to cross, unless you two have a deal worked out?” I asked. Was this a taste of what my undead life was going to be like? Hades was wrong—this was hell—and everyone was an idiot. I’d shortly be insane, wandering around giving the rocks names and drooling.

  Hermes squared his sculpted shoulders. “You aren’t dead, so Charon can’t take a gold coin. A bough from the Tree of Life is the fare for living souls. Here.”

  He thrust the branch at me, and with a flutter of his cutesy sandals, flew up, up, and away. At least he didn’t pop, flash, or poof out. I turned back to Charon.

  “Here you go.” I offered the branch. I couldn’t quite reach him, since he was almost all the way in the back of the boat.

  The dark hood turned my way. An arm raised, with only the fingertips showing. They wiggled, demanding I put the branch in them. I couldn’t reach over the boat, and I thought the rule was not to give the fare to Charon until I was in the boat; would he take off with it once he had it and stiff me for the ride?

  “Get in!” he growled.

  What choice did I have? Standing in the gloom all by myself didn’t appeal to me. And I was hungry. Maybe I could raid the fridge at Hades’ place. He used food in his seductions—hopefully he’d stocked up just for me. Oh, the price of gluttony! Gingerly, I stepped into the boat, trying not to tip it.

  Oooh, water, rocking motion, full bladder!

  “Aren’t you going to help me?” I demanded as I struggled to keep my balance.

  Charon cocked his head to the side, implying the duh look. “I’m here to pilot the boat, not play ship’s purser.”

  “But I’m not—”

  He showed me the hand and turned away.

  That’s it!

  I showed him my secret fast pitch, smacking him on the side of the head with the branch.

  “Oh!” I breathed, à la Marilyn Monroe. “I’m soooooo sorry!”

  The figure whipped around, the gray tatters swirling around his body. Rags didn’t look good on mummies, and it wasn’t working here.

  “You did that on purpose!” Charon whipped off the hood—and then she glared at me.

  My mouth dropped open.

  “No, I’m not Charon. He’s on vacation. I’m filling in while he gets some R&R.”

  “So who are you?” I asked.

  She flipped her long, silky black hair over her shoulder. “I’m Aglaia.”

  Hmmm. If I admitted I didn’t know her, she was probably going to act all pissy, like all the gods did when you didn’t know their names, histories, where their temples were, what they did, who they hated, and whatever. What should I say?

  She let out a long suffering sigh. “Can’t you tell?”

  Pop quiz!

  “Uh, give me a sec—”

  She jammed the pole into the muddy bottom and snarled, “Fires of Olympus! You mortals are so stupid! I’m one of the Graces, but I guess you don’t hear much about us. It’s not like we’re one of the big gods, like Zeus, oh no”— her face took on a really scary sneer—“gods forbid!” She snorted, then tossed her head. “Some people are jealous of our talents and make sure we don’t get our fair share of time on Olympus.”

  I smiled back at her, a sympathetic look on my face.

  Her hands fisted and she ripped off the rags. Her dress, made entirely of gold coins, clinked. That had to weigh a ton. Literally.

  “W
e sing. And dance.” She held out her hands, palms up. Another agonizing second of silence. “For the gods.”

  “So Agla, do you entertain only on Mount Olympus?” It always helps to show interest in other peoples’ lives.

  “It’s Ag-lee-ay-a,” she huffed.

  “Sure thing, Aggie,” I replied. I couldn’t bring myself to call her Ag-whatever.

  She gritted her teeth. “Just call me Splendor. And no, no singing and dancing on Olympus or anywhere lately.”

  Uh oh, another Greek tragedy. I put on my best tell-me-your-poor-wretched-tale face, even though inside I was thinking, here we go again with the sob story.

  “I entertained all the gods, on Olympus or wherever they requested my talents. Then she got mad at me”—Splendor snapped her fingers—“and now I have to hide out here until she gets over it.” She glanced around, grimacing. “Luckily, Charon is a friend. He let me take over here for a song while he’s away.”

  Let’s see … a ticked-off goddess making threats. I could think of three: Persephone, of course, but she’d never allow another good-looking goddess, or female anything, near Hades; Demeter, her mother, but she wouldn’t want Persephone mad at her for sending pretty Splendor into her territory—she’d almost made that mistake already with me; and that left the queen bee.

  “Hera?” I whispered.

  “Shhhhhh!” Splendor hissed. “Don’t say her name! She hasn’t figured out where I am, and I’d like to keep it that way, thank you! She has spies.”

  Well, this was getting interesting, but it would have to wait for another time. “You’ll have to tell me the whole story,” I whispered conspiratorially, “but, ah, first I’ve got to get to wherever it is I’m going. Girly things to take care of.” I promptly sat down on a bench and jiggled my legs.

  She merely grunted, pulling the pole out of the mud. A desperate soul who had been hovering in the background—and who looked suspiciously like a recently dead senator—made a frantic leap for the boat. Splendor whacked him with the pole.

  “You want on the boat, you either hand over the coin, or you go through me !” The poor shade fell into knee-deep water and was promptly sucked under, black bubbles furiously rising where he used to be.

  “That’s what happens when you spend all your retirement money!”

  With that, Splendor pushed the boat away from the shore and resumed rowing. I shuddered, glad I’d never even dipped a finger in the river.

  She didn’t spare a glance for me.

  Guessing she wasn’t interested in becoming acquainted, I opened my purse. All the yakking had worn off my new fave gloss, Tangerine Tantrum. I pulled it and my gold monogrammed compact out, reapplied, and smacked my lips. Much better! A girl could face almost any dire situation when she looked fabulous. Perfect makeup was a courage booster. Maybe I’d die fighting, but I’d look good doing it.

  “What is that?!” demanded Splendor.

  I jumped. “What?”

  She pointed to the lip-gloss.

  “This?” I waved it at her.

  “I smell oranges.” She squinted at me, sniffed, then widened her large aqua eyes. “And it makes your lips shine!”

  I shifted, snagging my bikini bottom on the rough-hewn seat. With all the gold he had, you’d think Charon would have parted with a few coins to have the boat refurbished for his passengers. We did pay, after all. Pulling free, I nodded at Splendor.

  “Yeah, it is amazing! It’s the newest line by Shiseido. It’s called ‘Fruits of Temptation.’ I got this at the salon when I worked for Ark—never mind. But it lasts for a long time.”

  Splendor’s eyes bugged out. “When I get out of here, I’m going to get some.”

  Hmmm. Forced to wear a raggy uniform in a skanky damp cave, ferrying irritable dead souls—except me, I didn’t count because I wasn’t dead—and hiding from a powerful goddess with a grudge. Could this lip-gloss get me out of here?

  Splendor hungrily eyed the tube.

  Oh yeah, she wants it.

  She resumed poling across in silence, although she kept glancing at me covertly with a speculative but guarded gaze. When I opened my mouth to speak, she turned away and hummed a tune. A clear indication to shut up.

  Well! Ever since that night in the subway, it had been one person after another giving me the cold shoulder or a hard time. Jeremy was the first. Then Persephone, Demeter, and now Splendor and Hermes. The anti-Shar fan club was rapidly expanding. Why was there animosity everywhere I went? Had Hades hexed me for his own purposes? Maybe a little, but I had to be honest with myself and admit that maybe I wasn’t overly likable. I’d begun to perceive that being friends with Alana, Kate, and Caroline was like being part of a plague; people respected the damage you could do, but they never welcomed you.

  I was shallow. Or at least, I used to be. I’d learned a lot about myself during the past couple of months. It wasn’t all about looking the best—it was about being the best; the best friend, the best person.

  I missed Meg.

  The boat thumped gently on a dock of black stone. Swallowing a few gulps, I gathered my purse and looked around. A long, shiny black marble pathway lead off to the—surprise! Black marble palace in the black distance. Not a single living thing in sight. With a mother-in-law like Demeter, whom he abhorred, I guess it was understandable that Hades wouldn’t want any reminders of her in the Underworld. But it sure made for dismal surroundings.

  I stood carefully, not wanting to end up in the hungry water and risk being sucked under like the dead senator by who-knows-what, or experience bladder leak. Rivers don’t have rest stops. Hades better have a bathroom or I was in a tight spot—no trees! Open view!

  My feet on solid ground, I turned to Splendor.

  “Before you leave, here.” I held out the lip-gloss.

  She looked at me suspiciously.

  “Take it,” I said.

  Her eyes narrowed to two slits. If I did that, I’d definitely have wrinkles in a year or two.

  “What do you want in exchange?”

  “Nothing. It’s yours.”

  She didn’t believe it. “You don’t want anything from me.”

  “Can you get me out of here?” I asked.

  “No.”

  I slapped the gloss into her hand. “So there’s nothing you have that I want. See ya!” I gently stepped off the black stone dock. After a few moments, I heard the slow slap of the water as Splendor maneuvered the boat away. I gave her a tentative wave that she didn’t return. She only stared at me from her spot on the water. I turned to go.

  “Sharisse!” she called.

  I whirled around.

  “If you’re ever, you know, down by the water … ” She trailed off.

  Poor Splendor. How long had she been stuck down here? I waved again. “I’ll call you!”

  She nodded, then lifted her pole. A second later the boat was swallowed by mist.

  I made a friend! I thought, smiling to myself, and started down the path.

  I hadn’t gotten far when a figure slowly wobbled toward me. Being on this side, I knew that at least he wasn’t going to beg me for money. I squinted, trying to see better in the gloom. White hair pulled into a ponytail. A Humpty Dumpty figure. Buckled shoes. I recognized that pasty-looking face.

  With a huge smile, he held out his hand, which matched the tissue-paper-thin skin on his face. Gingerly, I shook it.

  “My dear! Such a pleasure to meet you! Benjamin Franklin, at your service.” He made a courtly bow over my hand.

  I was right! I was shaking hands with Benjamin Franklin!

  Wait. What could he have done to end up here? Did this mean the only “here” in the hereafter was in Tartarus? I shivered at the thought. Eternity with Hades. All that time wasted in Sunday School when I could have slept in.


  “You know who I am?” I asked.

  “Of course, Miss Johnson. Hades informed me of your arrival and insisted I meet you personally. I would have been here sooner, but Charon and I always end up arguing.” He leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially, “A penny saved is a penny earned, but he takes it a bit too far. No charity in him, that one.”

  “Uh huh.” If he didn’t know that Charon was on vacation and Splendor was filling in, I wasn’t going to say anything. Or start any trouble. And what did someone say to an iconic figure in American history?

  “Do you know that you’re on the hundred dollar bill?” I asked. Brilliant as usual, Sharisse.

  He preened. “Yes, Hades allows me to hear a few things from the mortal plane. But come.” He took my elbow and led me toward the castle. “His lordship’s prepared a special suite just for you!”

  “I’ll bet he has,” I mumbled.

  His eyes darted nervously over my indecent attire. “I’m sure you’d like to, um, freshen up.”

  No, I’d like to get dressed and use proper facilities, but I was not going to discuss that with a founding father. We walked along, old Ben humming a tune slightly off-key. Apparently musical ability wasn’t one of his many talents.

  I turned to look at him, frowning. “And why are you here? Weren’t you a good man? Church-going, charitable and everything?” He stopped and I followed suit.

  Ben smiled serenely. “Even saints have been known to falter, Miss Johnson. But I’m not here because of an indiscretion. Hades and I have a gentleman’s agreement. I wanted to meet the great people of history, and in return, I keep order in his realm. I shall only be here a thousand years, and then I’m off to other places and things, which I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss.”

  “Yes, I know all about the nondisclosure clause and his work-for-hire programs.”

  We started walking again to the palace/castle/mansion/temple/outrageous abode of Hades. Everything was over-the-top with this guy. And here was one of the greatest people in history, acting as his estate manager. Only Hades.

  “Who else is here?” I asked as we reached the—what else—massive black doors.