Sirenz - By Charlotte Bennardo Page 0,17

onto my hips. “I’m a carnivore, and I want barbecued ribs and pork fried rice.”

Meg huffed, blowing up her bangs. “Fine. I’ll order.” She muttered something under her breath about vultures.

“Top of the food chain, baby,” I replied sweetly. She didn’t respond. I returned to my room to find footwear that fit.

“About twenty minutes,” she said a few moments later.

I was trying on all my boots. No dice. My former feet were narrow. All I could get into were my Uggs and some ratty old sneakers. My talon clicked on the marble floors as I dejectedly went to set the table with the Limoges china I’d seen in the dining room cabinet; leave the paper plates and plastic cutlery for the school cafeteria. When the doorbell rang, I reached for my glasses—no need to entrance the delivery guy—but I couldn’t find them. I’d have to make do. When I opened the door, a rich aroma of garlic and roasted meat escaped from the boxes he carried.

“Meg! Food’s here!” I yelled, averting my eyes. I grabbed the packages out of his hands. “Here’s a fifty. Keep the change. Bye.”

I thrust the bill into his hand and slammed the door. Two seconds later I heard the ding of the elevator, but just to be sure, I looked through the peephole. He was gone.

“Miss Manners would not approve,” drawled Meg.

I made a face. “The Siren mojo. Didn’t want him drooling all over the doorstep.”

She threw up her hands. “Half the world’s population is at risk. What’s next?”

She followed me into the kitchen and I opened the boxes. Finding her dinner, she took a fork from the drawer and headed over to the couch.

“Aren’t we going to eat in the dining room, with the china?”

Meg looked at me defiantly. “I’m watching Judge Judy while I eat.”

“We have to attract a sophisticated man who’s dined with world leaders and the ultra rich. Even with our new talents, we might not get past the front door if we act like pigs. Learn some manners. After we get rid of Arkady, you can go back to eating off trays.”

Grumbling, she clicked off the TV, plopped her veggies into a bowl, and slumped at the table.

“Thank you,” I replied primly, my back straight. We ate in silence for a bit before Meg grew restless.

“I can’t just sit here and eat.”

I put my fork down. “I know. I want to be done with this too. I’ll Google Arkady’s name and see what comes up. You check the iPhone apps. See if you can find one for portals. Hopefully there’ll be at least one or two places close to where he works or parties. But you’re not excused until you eat your vegetables.” I caught her trying to suppress a smile.

After dinner, we hit the electronics.

I couldn’t find much on Arkady. There were barely any records of him appearing in public at all. I clicked through my meager list hoping Meg would have more luck. But she wasn’t saying much. I knew that whenever Meg was quiet, it either meant it wasn’t good, or it was worse than I thought.

“Well, I found an app for the portals … ” Her fingers skimmed over the iPhone. “And a bunch of other stuff too. Listen to this: Abacus. Sundial. Don’t be a Creten”—she peered over the iPhone at me—“for those who want to know about godly etiquette. But wait, there’s more: Lost? Try the Go Homer GPS.” She paused, and curled her lip into a disgusted sneer. “Feeling Illiad ? At least he has Pandora.”

“Meg, the portals? Where are they?”

“The men’s room in Madison Square Garden, near level G,” she said finally.

“Gross.”

“The locker room at the 34th Precinct.”

“Not going there.”

“The Wonder Wheel at Coney Island.”

“Useless.”

“The Botanical Gardens, next to the huge cactus.”

“Unlikely.”

“The city morgue.”

“No way.”

“I’ll take the men’s room over the morgue any day,” she volunteered, to my surprise. “This list doesn’t get any better. What have you found so far?”

“Hardly anything. Arkady’s boutique and executive offices are on Fifth Avenue. That’s basically it. He’s become a recluse. Never seems to go anywhere public anymore.”

“Not surprising.” Meg nibbled an almond biscuit. “But we don’t have to know his life story. What does he look like?”

“I couldn’t find any pics of him online except this. Look.”

She leaned over my shoulder. “He’s wearing gloves and a hat pulled down to his chin. You can’t see anything! We won’t know him even if we’re standing next to him!” Walking over to the counter to the