Sirenz - By Charlotte Bennardo Page 0,6
to see a chest of rippling muscles and taut, olive-toned skin. He gazed at us with dark eyes. But where did he come from? He wasn’t here before.
“Wh-what?” I stuttered in disbelief.
“That poor man was simply waiting for a train,” he sighed. “Then you two came along. Now he’s dead.”
“Excuse me?” I didn’t like what he was insinuating. “We are NOT responsible for this!”
He glanced down at the tracks and made a doleful face. “If he could, I think he’d argue that point.”
“It was an accident!” whispered Shar.
“My dear Sharisse and Margaret, this poor soul is dead. You both had a hand in killing him. Do you think that will matter to his family and friends? To the courts?”
“How do you know our names?” My voice, steady until now, trembled slightly. I glanced over at Shar, who stared back, looking as pale as I felt.
“What should we do?” she whimpered.
The man turned to us with a saccharine smile. “That depends. I could call the police and tell them everything, and you can take your chances that they’ll believe it was a tragic accident.”
Impulsively, I grabbed Shar’s hand and squeezed it. “It was an accident.”
She nodded vigorously, and I turned back to GQ Man.
“You saw what happened.”
“Indeed I did. But I’m afraid I’ll have to tell the authorities that I saw this man standing by himself. Then Sharisse and you attacked him, pushing him in front of the train just as it was going through the station. You waited until the last possible moment, giving him no time to react. And it sounds like these young people will back me up.”
“That’s not how it happened!” I stamped my foot. As badly as I felt about all this, I wasn’t about to go to prison for it.
“Yes, it looks like the two of you killed him,” he tsk-tsked and flicked his wrist. The club kids vanished. We were alone in the station, shaking like we’d spent the day downing double shots of espresso.
“Now,” he said, casting an all-too-admiring glance at Shar, “let’s attend to business.”
“Who are you?” I demanded.
When he smiled, a full set of white, even teeth peeked out. Everything about him was uncannily perfect. His suit was spotless and he looked too polished, like a statue.
“Allow me to introduce myself, ladies. I am—”
“Deranged,” I murmured.
He smiled easily. “Not in the least, Margaret. I am Hades, Lord of the Underworld.”
“You mean like … the devil?” Shar trembled.
“No,” he corrected her in a voice that sounded like she’d just insulted him. “I am not the devil. He’s a pale, corrupt version of me, created by humans. I can assure you that I am very real.”
“The devil’s real!” Shar insisted.
He clucked his tongue. “I suppose I can’t fault you for believing what’s been passed off as truth for thousands of years. But it’s an inspiring piece of fiction, and it certainly worked for the people who invented it. There’s no better way to scare people than to conjure up a devil! Fear is how to control people. It’s how I got into my current business endeavor.”
Shar and I clutched each other. This reality was very unreal.
“You see,” the man continued, now circling around us like a wolf cornering its prey, “I liked the way that whole devil setup worked—a little temptation, some soul trading, and then, eternal servitude. And I thought, I should get into that! It’s easy to find desperate people who’ll sell their souls to me for fame, wealth, talent, revenge, whatever. Once they’ve attained a certain level of success, I call in their contract. When I first started out, I would collect them myself, but it was always so melodramatic. They’d plead their case to the other gods and we’d end up in negotiations. Too time consuming! That’s when I came up with the idea of delegating, and hence, where you come in.” He grimaced at my feet. “Those shoes have got to hurt.”
“Everyone’s a fashion critic,” I snorted. “But seriously, soul selling? Are you joking? Who would sell their soul to you?”
He stopped moving and stroked his chin. “Cleopatra is a wonderful example. A more lusty and ambitious woman never lived. She wanted to preserve Egypt, no matter what the cost. That meant bringing Caesar, then Marc Antony, to heel. Romans!” he spat. “We Greeks brought civilization to the world, and then they come and change our names only to abandon us a few centuries later! They brought chaos and ruin!” He sniffed. “I was only too happy to