what happens in your world?”
We both shook our heads, and then it dawned.
“You mean,” said Shar softly, “this was a setup?”
“One of my best yet.” Hades’ exuberant grin was almost boyish.
“Hades!” Persephone punched him in the arm.
“Oh, I wish we could get a shot at him,” muttered Shar.
I kept going over what happened that night in the train station—was it really all an illusion? “You mean to say that Jeremy was never harmed? In any way, ever?”
“Only the Fates determine such things,” said Hera. “Your experience was completely engineered by Hades. I have to admit that he has a way of misleading gullible, slightly dim-witted—”
“No need to go on about it,” I grumbled.
“So who’s the cheater now?” Shar gave him a blistering look.
Hades shrugged carelessly. “I am what I am, ladies. It’s what I do.”
“And Demeter,” Hera admonished, “the Fates decreed that Sharisse and Margaret would finish in the alley by the clinic, but they didn’t.”
“They got too close,” growled Demeter.
“So you arranged to steal him, and then take him on a trip with you, putting him out of our reach,” spat Shar.
“It is done!” boomed Hera. “Save for a few minor details.”
Hades cringed.
“Persephone is not to be in your presence, Demeter, during her time with Hades. And she is not to meet Hades on the mortal plane ever. Yet here you all are.”
“But—” Demeter started.
“No interruptions! There are rules, as you both lectured the girls. And there are more infractions on both your parts. Shall we review them?” Hades and Demeter shook their heads contritely.
“I didn’t think so! Therefore, since both of you had a hand in this situation, Zeus, the Fates, and I decree that Persephone will be spending the next six weeks with neither of you.” With a wave of Hera’s hand, Persephone was dressed in Daisy Duke shorts, western boots, a flannel halter top, and a cowgirl hat. “It’s rodeo season in Texas.” Hera smiled at her, then glared at Hades and Demeter. “Have a burger and a buckaroo on me.”
Persephone giggled and blew a kiss to Hades. “See you in six weeks, cowboy!”
Hera flicked a bejeweled arm and all three deities vanished. Then she turned to us. “And you two. Honestly, you wreak havoc on all the planes like I haven’t seen in millennia! I’m exhausted!” She rose. “I’ve had enough of you mortals for one day. It’s time for you to return.”
Before I could take a breath, I found myself standing in my room at home, alone.
Disoriented, I turned round and round, then started with surprise. My bed was piled high with clothes, bags, books, shoes, CDs—ill-gotten siren loot. Peeking out from a teetering stack of black was something … pink.
Shar.
“Shar!” I practically shouted her name, and scrambled for my bag. Finding my cell phone, I fiddled with the keypad and was about to speed-dial her when the thing buzzed in my hand. Somehow I managed not to drop it.
“Shar?”
“Meg?”
“We’re home!” We said it together and started laughing.
“We really did it!” she squealed. “It’s over!”
“Yeah,” I agreed, though not so enthusiastically. It was done, and in a few days we’d be back in school, and then … do we go back to the way things used to be?
“So,” Shar’s voice crackled in my ear, “what’re you doing now?”
“Nothing.”
“Me neither. Maybe we could … ”
“ … meet up somewhere? I could really use a double mocha latte!” I hoped I didn’t sound too desperate, and it wasn’t about the coffee.
“Chai for me.”
“I know,” I retorted, laughing.
Shar giggled. “I’ll be in front of your building in about half an hour.”
“I’ll be downstairs.”
After hiding my new stuff away, I quick-changed out of my shreddy sweats and slipped out unnoticed. Shar was punctual—and polished—as usual.
“Hera dumped us home at the same time,” I said indignantly. “How the heck did you manage to do all this?” I waved a hand at her shiny-straight locks and deftly coordinated jeans, over-the-knee boots, sweater, and puffy vest.
“Professional pride,” she said, stuffing her hands into her pockets. We started walking uptown. “It takes me all of five minutes to be ‘meeting BFF for lattes’ ready.”
BFF.
I smiled to myself.
“And this isn’t too bad,” she said, assessing my ensemble, tugging at the sleeve of the sweater minidress I’d plucked from my Siren pile. “Is that … purple?”
“So it is,” I beamed. “Let’s get those lattes.”
We walked in silence down the rainy street. It was cold and dreary, no doubt a reflection of Demeter’s mood. I guessed she was probably pouting.
“Did you notice that everywhere we