Sirenz Back in Fashion

by Charlotte Bennardo

  Once I was dressed, I swept out and made my way through the throne room. As hostess, it was my duty to greet the guests. My heels clip-clapped on the marble floor.

  “I’m speechless. What can I say, bella.”

  I stiffened, waiting for the breathing down my neck. True to form, his breath was warm as it tickled my spine, sending chills down my back.

  Next come the hands. Wait for it …

  His palms glided up my arms. Enough! I lifted the hem of my dress and moved away, giving him that look.

  “I don’t think I could have chosen better. You must tell me more about this Estelle. How she could go unnoticed by me is a mystery.”

  This outfit was sooo not Grandma! Arachne was dressing me for a sacrifice. I tapped my foot and crossed my arms over my chest to stop his rude gaping. There were a lot of bare spots; arms, back, shoulders, neck, and quite a bit of the front.

  “She is my great grandmother, and this was NOT what I ordered from Arachne. I think you should fire her. The client is not pleased.”

  His tongue wet his upper lip in a way that was enticing, really, but I wasn’t feeling it. “But Arachne is my employee, and I am most thrilled. I had to give her a bonus. A set of real legs for a while.” He took a step closer and I hopped back.

  “And why aren’t you dressed in a costume? Just a tux?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve decided to pass on the costume this time. Lucky for you. Can you imagine if I’d dressed as Don Juan or Romeo? This way we look breathtaking together.”

  Yep, Arachne ratted. He planned his wardrobe around mine. I should have worn the shower curtain—wait! Shower equals naked! Scratch that!

  With a last seething look I told him, “I have duties to perform. The guests should be arriving.”

  “By all means, let us greet our guests.” Instantly one arm snaked around my waist while the other claimed a hand, holding me prisoner. He guided me toward the front doors of the palace; at a flick of his pinky, they opened without so much as a whisper.

  And there stood Caz, in a sharp blue suit and large tortoiseshell glasses.

  With a date.

  A stunning redhead—slim, graceful, petite, and looking sexy smart in a tweedy suit that complimented his outfit. In her hand she held a pencil and a small pad.

  “Ah, nephew, good of you to come. Who are you supposed to be?” Hades’ stare lingered on the girl. Should I be jealous that both Hades and Caz could easily replace me with the various flavors of the Underworld?

  Get your head in the game, Sharisse.

  Without even looking at me, Caz said, “Uncle, Sharisse. May I present Lois Lane, the love of Clark Kent’s life.” He glanced around as if he was watching for eavesdroppers. Then he pulled open his shirt to reveal a bright tight red, yellow, and blue tee. “This is just my alter ego.” He winked at Lois conspiratorially. “I’m really Superman.”

  Lois giggled and hung on his arm. I wanted to kick them both, but instead I stepped forward, the most perfect smile on my face. Two can play this game.

  “Welcome, Miss Lane. Please come in and enjoy yourself. Should you require anything, you have only to ask.” I turned to Caz. With the same gracious tone, I said, “What a pleasure to see you again, Castor. I hope you two have a wonderful time.” I stepped back, next to Hades, who smiled smugly. His fingers brushed against my derrière. I refused to rise to the bait.

  “Have fun,” said Hades, humor dancing in his eyes. Not looking back at Caz, now known as the blond snake, I turned to greet the long line of guests.

  Geez, I hope he didn’t invite every single dead person in history. This ball will last an eternity.

  He didn’t. It seemed that Hades only invited those he called the interesting people: upper echelon royalty like Queen Elizabeth I—scary; twisted royalty like Vlad Dracul —mega scary; and nouveau royalty like the self-proclaimed African king with so many names I couldn’t remember the first one he rattled off, but who really was a brutal dictator—scummy. There were also the typical Greek full and demi-gods, some Egyptian ones, no Romans of course, and some I’d never heard of. It was almost time to begin, judging by Hades’ growing impatience, when I spied a couple chatting amiably as they neared the doors.

  “Ben and Arachne! Interesting pairing,” I said, and noted that Hades had been serious about giving her human legs. She was dressed as a cheerleader to show them off. Ben came as a Redcoat.

  I heard Hades’ indrawn breath.

  “Hello Ben, Arachne. Thank you for coming.”

  “Miss Sharisse, Lord Hades,” Ben replied formally. “I’m so looking forward to this evening. The British have arrived! Miss Arachne has been kind enough to promise me the first dance.”

  “How wonderful!” I gushed. “Do enjoy yourselves.”

  “We do not invite the help!” Hades hissed in an aside, after they’d passed.

  I feigned a shocked look. “All men are created equal and are endowed—”

  “Spare me,” he grumbled. “Next you’ll be thinking that you’re equal to us.”

  “Better,” I replied softly.

  “Hmph,” he grunted as another guest came up to us. A man with long dreadlocks and dressed in a black leather jacket, jeans, and a crisp white button-down strolled up to the doors. His shirt was open, revealing amber skin and a well-developed chest.

  Who was this?

  “Dionysus,” Hades said, tipping his head the smallest fraction of an inch.

  Ah, another god.

  Dionysus smiled warmly, then raised a hand to Hades and did one of those handshake-slash-back-pat combo things that guys do with other guys.

  Struggling not to laugh at Hades’ almost imperceptible cringe, I put out my hand. “Welcome, Dionysus.”

  “I’m the god of drunkenness, dirty dancing, and debauchery.” A smile spread over his lips. “No party is complete without me, but please, call me D’On.” He took my hand and, quickly flipping my palm up, pressed a licky kiss dead center.

  I gasped at his boldness in front of Hades. How wonderful it was that not only was I good gawking material for juvenile-acting males, but I was prime bait. And a good hostess. And a husband stealer, failed beauty queen, unmissed roomie, and pathetic mortal. Mother would be proud. So far I’d felt like a mannequin on display for everyone who knew what Hades wanted. Worse was wondering if they thought I was giving it. Still, a binding, lethal, unfair contract is a binding, lethal, unfair contract. I kept playing my part to story­book perfection.

  “And who are you, looking so … ambrosial?” D’On’s violet eyes were bright with mischief.

  Hades stepped forward, partially blocking my sight of D’On and his of me, which forced him to let go of my hand. My palm was still wet from his kiss.

  “This is Sharisse. Now that you’re here, the festivities can begin.”

  With a devilish chuckle and a sly wink, D’On whispered in my ear, “I claim one dance.” Without waiting for an answer, he strutted off toward the ballroom.

  Hades turned and offered me his arm. “No one will dance until after we have, then he’ll liven things up. Shall we go in?”

  There was no refusing him so I linked my arm through his, gathered my train, and let him guide me to the ballroom.

  Glittering chandeliers gave off soft light, illuminating guests dressed in every conceivable costume: royalty, animal, monster, TV, movie, and historical. The crowd quieted and parted as Hades led me to the center of the room. He stared only at my eyes and pulled me so close I felt like I was sharing his pants. I tried to squirm away but he held me too tight. We stood there, staring at each other, waiting for the music to start. Mesmerized by his dark aura, I couldn’t look away.

  The waltz started. I knew it wasn’t the dance lessons my mother forced upon me that enabled me to glide effortlessly around the floor; Hades swept me
along in a whirling, almost dervish motion until my eyes couldn’t make out anything around me but him. Heat rushed to my face and a small smile pulled at his lips, as if he knew that I was fighting an attraction to him.

  “Why do you resist?” His voice was velvet. “I know you think of me, even just a little, though I suspect it’s much more than that. Just admit it.” His lips brushed my hair as he twirled me again.

  “We both know that if I give in, you’ll gloat and then I won’t be anything but a joke. For you, the excitement is in the chase, not in catching the prey. And besides all that”—I paused as he twirled me around—“I don’t date married men.”

  A laugh rumbled deep in his chest and his gaze traveled down to my lips. I tried to keep my breath even, my demeanor relaxed, but I couldn’t.

  “I already told you, mine and Persephone’s is an open relationship. But there is some truth to your other observation. You have led me on the longest chase, and it excites me. The harder I try, the more you fight. If I should act like a gentleman, like Castor, would you give in?”

  Jealous?

  “No,” I answered honestly. “That’s not who you are—you won’t change for anything or, I suspect, anyone. And as long as we’re discussing this, I think the reason you’re like this is because no one refuses you. Persephone wanted you to catch her.” His eyes flared dangerously for a moment, but he never lost a step. “I think you’re bored. It happens to married couples.”

  Because I know so much about that subject; me without a date for the Spring Fling, which I’m missing anyway. At least this dance will be memorable.

  “Chérie, have you considered that maybe you like the fact that I chase you?”

  I gave his words thoughtful consideration. “Possibly. It’s that whole dark knight taunting the heroine. Little girls eat that up as soon as they learn about handsome, ‘maybe I can save him’ bad boys. But I don’t think that’s the case with us.”

  He cocked a brow. “Enlighten me.”

  “You have too many points against you. You’re married so securely I doubt even Zeus could stop the war that would erupt if you suddenly decided you wanted out. Your wife is a powerful, immortal goddess with a possessive streak who could vaporize me and upset the entire pantheon. You live in the Underworld, and while it’s amazing and spectacular, it’s not my home. Eventually I might end up here, but I have my life on the mortal plane that I want to return to.” I paused, trying to frame out my next thought before I said something rash.

  “Go on,” he urged. “Say what’s on your mind. Very few get the privilege.”

  I turned my head, watching the crowd spin by. How long had we been dancing?

  “You’re gorgeous. I have never met anyone as beautiful as you and I doubt I ever will. I admit it’s hard to resist you, but I can, because it’s wrong and because I don’t like the insecurity I feel around you.” I refused to meet his stare. “With you there’s chaos and infidelity and guilt and lust. There’s no love. I want that. And that’s the one thing you can’t give me.”

  The music ended abruptly. Hades, his eyes smoldering with some emotion, gently lifted my hand and kissed it chastely.

  “I could give love. If someone ever wanted it from me.” He spun swiftly and scooped up one of Henry VIII’s wives. In a moment he was the charming rogue once more.

  Standing there like an abandoned kitten, I held my head high. I would not slink off.

  A muscular arm slipped around me and I twirled into the midst of the crowd. “Finally, it’s my turn.” D’On’s laughing dimples greeted me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Hades watching us. I ignored them. And Caz, as he whispered with his comic-book candy bar on the other side of the dance floor.

  “Waltzing is kind of reserved for you, isn’t it, D’On?” I asked.

  “Oh, things will pick up soon. I wanted a few moments with you first.”

  “Me?” I puzzled. “Why?”

  He leaned closer. “I’ve seen Meg. She’s fine, but she has no idea what she’s really dealing with. She worries about you.”

  He’d seen Meg! Well, that was nice to hear, but if she’d shown up to talk, she could’ve told me in person. A small part of me was still miffed she blew me off for a concert, but now that I knew, or thought I knew, the truth about her roommate, I felt there had to be more to it. I opened my mouth to say something; D’On seemed to know what was happening up there—or did he? Greek god equals untrustworthy. I decided to keep my mouth shut, and simply nodded and said nothing. D’On narrowed his eyes at me shrewdly and smiled. The music ended and he kissed my hand. “Now the fun starts. Don’t drink the wine.”

  Waiters passed, bearing golden trays of goblets brimming with wine. I shook my head, declining, but others around me rushed over, grabbing greedily. The sedate orchestral music was replaced by progressive rock, and the crowd became a frenzied mob with Hades in the middle, the dancing wild and uninhibited.

  It seemed to be the signal for me to go, and I slipped out unnoticed. Not about to try escaping in my glamorous get-up, I headed quickly to my room to change. Even if Caz had ditched the plan, I hadn’t. I just had to find Eurydice.

  When a shadow moved in front of me, I jumped and screamed—before I realized it was Caz.

  “You scared me!” I slapped his arm.

  “Sorry. Are you ready?”

  Hands on hips, I glared at him. “For what? To meet your date? Oh wait, I already did. Bye.” I tried to skirt around him, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me into the nearest room, which happened to be the bowling alley. Lois stood there waiting.

  “Are you serious?” I spat, looking at her furiously. “What are you—”

  She strode up to me, shaking her head. Then she pulled off her wig.

  Eurydice!

  “If I’d shown up alone, Hades would be watching us the entire night. We’d never have been able to sneak out,” Caz explained.

  “It would have been nice if you’d filled me in on the plan.”

  “There was no time,” said Eurydice, “and we didn’t want to make Hades suspicious. Real surprise is hard to replicate.”

  As I exhaled in relief, Eurydice urged, “Dionysus is revving them all up with wine and music. Even Hades is susceptible to his wantonness. But we have to hurry and get out of his reach before he realizes you’re both gone.”

  I could hear the raucous music and voices even this far down the hall. Things were really getting wild.

  “Okay, let me change first.” I started toward my room again, but Caz pulled me in the opposite direction.

  “No time.”

  I dug in my heels. “I at least need to get my purse. Female necessity.” Sighing, he released my arm and waited until, purse in hand, I returned, only to find him talking to D’On.

  “You saw him!” Caz said excitedly.

  “He’s alive and well,” said D’On. “And he’s in no danger from Meg.” He smiled when he saw me. “I like Meg—she’s got a good soul. And Pollux agrees.”

  The look in his eye and the tone of his voice wasn’t lost on me. Pollux liked Meg. Talk about complicated. I shook my head. “It’s the Siren mojo.”

  “I don’t think so,” said D’On. “He knows about the fleece, and he knows about you—what she could tell him, I expect. He understands her dilemma.”

  I turned to Caz. “I’m ready. Let’s rock.”

  Caz nodded and clapped D’On on the shoulder. “Keep ’em busy, bro.”

  “Will do,” he said, and turned back to the ballroom.

  We made our way to the gothic garden. It was night in Tartarus and the plants looked even more sinister than usual. Careful not to brush up against or walk too near the deadly flora, we found the gnarly tree. Eurydice pushed aside the mangled, dead-looking branches, revealing a barely noticeable path.

  It wound down,
over the black rock in front of Hades’ palace. I stumbled several times, cursing Arachne for the shoes and dress and Hades for being the cause of everything wrong in my life since that night on the subway. It felt more like an eternity rather than a mere few months.

  The path halted at the river. Those dark waters and the drowning senator would give me nightmares for years. Caz turned an irritable eye on Eurydice.

  “You never mentioned we’d have to cross or go down the Styx,” he said.

  “I forgot! It’s been three thousand years!” Her eyes burned.

  There was no time for this. “Move,” I snapped. “Splendor!” I called, not too loudly. “Splendor!”

  Soon I heard the slap of water on wooden oars. A shadow loomed, a boat with a darkly draped figure poised at the helm. A broad smile stretched across my face at Caz’s bewilderment and Eurydice’s shock.

  “Who did you call? Where’s Charon?” he asked.

  “Watch and learn,” I replied primly.

  “What dirt-sucking, plebeian—” grumbled Splendor, and then stopped. “Shar? Is that you?” She docked the rocking boat at the shore.

  “Hi Splendor!”

  “Who’s that with you?” she asked, pulling off her hood. “Castor?”

  “Aglaia? What are you doing down here?” he asked.

  Before Splendor could ask about Eurydice, growling and snarling came from the shadows.

  “Cerberus!” Caz hissed.

  I could feel him tense with fear, but still, he stepped in front of me. How brave—but not necessary. Eurydice looked like she was going to faint.

  Daintily I side-stepped him and gingerly picked up a femur from a pile of bones by the lapping water. After huge piles of dog poop, a bleached bone was not daunting. First one set of eyes and then another twinkled in the darkness. Then all three slobbering heads came bounding toward me.

  “Good goggy!” I called. And he stopped. One at a time, each head cocked itself at me, then sounded a friendly bark.

  “Who’s a good goggy?” I gushed. “Go get the bone!”

  I wound up and tossed, then with yelps, Cerberus chased after it.