Sirenz - By Charlotte Bennardo Page 0,59

I don’t want to be seen until I look normal again, even if it’s at the most exclusive place in the city.”

I grabbed my coat and bag. “Who says we’re going to Chinatown?”

“You just did!”

“A certain someone won’t be here to need wheatgrass tea, or whatever these things are.” I waved the list at her. “We’ll save Jeremy a headache. You go to the deli so I don’t have to talk to anyone. Order whatever Reynaldo wants, and lots of veggies and low-fat foods for the models, and bring it back here, then meet me by the clinic. This doesn’t change our original plan. I’ll go there now and scope it out.” I grimaced. “I hope I can find the portal. We can’t lose any more time.”

Shar looked thoughtful as she buttoned her coat and wound a scarf around her nose and mouth. Between the two of us, we had enough raw material to make one large and very ugly bird. I shrugged off that depressing thought as we got onto an empty elevator.

“Okey doke.” Shar pulled on mittens. “I’ll meet you near the back door of the clinic in about an hour—but if I run into any problems, I’m bailing on getting the lunch. It’s not like the models will eat it anyway.”

“We’ll buy Reynaldo some make-up brownies later and tell the models they’re too fat for next season’s line.” I giggled, waved to her, then headed over to the subway.

The biting winter chill that had hung in the air for days had melted away into a nip-laced warmth. Was spring coming early? If so, Hades would be sans wife, and thus have time on his hands for more mischief.

I’d had a growing feeling lately that there was more to his dark desires than just snagging Arkady. His incessant pursuit of Shar disturbed me. Why would he interfere with the completion of his own deal? In our current situation, he’d win either way: either he got Arkady, or he got us—but was he angling for both? Shar had seemed a little quiet today and wasn’t saying anything about him. As for Demeter, it was becoming obvious what her motives were—if Hades was distracted with Shar, he might forget about Persephone, for a little while anyway. Demeter would probably get to keep her daughter for a bit longer. If that happened, maybe she thought she could adjust the bargain permanently and we’d start having longer summers; global warming, à la goddess.

I looked at the subway map, trying to figure out which line to take. The Brightwater Clinic was at 8th and 65th. I thought I could take the R train over there, but I wasn’t sure.

“Excuse me,” said a voice next to me. “Do you know what train we can take to Ground Zero?”

“Sure,” I said, never taking my eyes off the map. “Take the N line over to Chambers Street, then cross over and walk down about two blocks.”

Twang!

I felt something prick my ankle and immediately looked at who was standing next to me.

Two tourists, a man and a woman. The woman, who had asked for the directions, turned to go. The man stayed rooted to the spot, smiling dumbly at me.

“Harold, let’s go now,” she said.

Why? WHY?! I didn’t speak to him!

“You told both of them where to go,” offered another voice. A tall, slender blond woman stepped out from behind Harold and smiled through black Wayfarers. Persephone. “You’d better release him,” she suggested.

“Ase me isihi.” Harold coughed, looked around, and then followed his wife, who was looking at me like I had a disease.

“You have to be careful about who’s within hearing distance,” Persephone said simply.

“What’s another feather,” I grumbled. I looked Persephone up and down. She looked like she was on a mission to win the “most animals killed to make an outfit” prize: leather jacket, leather pants, leather boots, leather bag, and was that a leather tank top underneath it all? As the goddess of fields, flowers, and animals, Demeter must not be pleased.

“Thanks for the tip,” I added, walking over to the subway’s automatic ticket machine. “Hey, aren’t you supposed to be stuck down in Tartarus? With him? It’s not spring yet, and you’ve been up here two times!”

“I don’t care what anyone says, you’re sharp.” Persephone smiled coolly, pointing a long finger at me and giving a haughty toss of her hair. “But I’m a goddess, not a prisoner.”

“But the myth says …”

She pursed her lips. “Why do you think it’s called a