Stairwell to Heaven
Shar sat across from me at the vast obsidian-topped dining table that was positioned in front of the glass wall in the apartment. Outside, the morning was clear and probably cold. If we didn’t have a deadline to deliver Arkady to Hades, I might have enjoyed the view a bit more.
She took a sip of chai out of a huge mug. We’d stopped going out for food or anything else; the apartment had everything we could need, including an industrial espresso machine. It didn’t take us long to figure out how to operate the milk steamer. Soon we were pumping out hot chocolate and chai tea lattes like professionals.
“I’m so sick of all of this,” Shar said, running a talon around the rim of her cup.
“Agreed.” I put down my spoon. I’d developed a taste for cereal with nuts and berries, yet another sign that the Siren persona was taking hold. It crossed my mind that if my new look became permanent, I might be able to get a job handing out flyers for a greasy chicken restaurant. But it didn’t matter. If I turned into a Siren, it would mean we’d failed the mission—and I could be the mascot for team Underworld. Go Cerberus! Rah!
“The thought that he can whisk you off anytime frightens me,” I added.
“Try being on the receiving end,” Shar muttered.
“You need to make him clearly understand the meaning of ‘leave me alone.’ ”
“Hello? Him, all-powerful god. Me, mere mortal. I read in the mythology book that the gods pull pranks like this all the time, and it’s not like I can call up his wife to complain. She’s after me too.”
Anxiety lined Shar’s face as she pushed her tea away. She could say no as much as she wanted; it wouldn’t matter if Hades was that determined.
“I know you’re in a bad place,” I soothed her, trying to offer what comfort I could. “Let’s concentrate on our next move. It might help you get your mind off him.”
Shar looked up and nodded morosely, then stared at me.
“Are you all right?”
She didn’t answer, but flicked her gaze back and forth, from my face to my cereal bowl and back, her lower lip starting to quiver.
“Hey, it’s not that bad, not yet,” I said, getting up and moving closer to her. “We can still do this.”
“It’s not that,” she started. “Well, it’s that, but there’s something else.”
“You didn’t—”
“No way! No, nothing like that. This has nothing to do with Hades. It has to do with … Jeremy.”
My stomach did a flip. “What do you mean, with Jeremy? Did you use … it … on him?”
She shook her head. “No, no … its just that, well, I admit it, I tried to get him to talk to me, I wanted him to, you know, like me. But instead—”
“He liked me.” I finished the thought for her. “Shar, I didn’t try—”
“I realize that. It was a shock. I mean—” Shar faltered. “When it comes to that, I … usually win.”
“This wasn’t a contest.”
“I know, and everything that’s been going on with Hades, I can accept it, sort of. But still, I’m confused.”
I stiffened. “Why, because someone like Jeremy would want someone like me?”
“No!” she protested. “You two seem made for each other. You have the same interests …” She trailed off.
“But you don’t understand how he could be attracted to someone like me,” I pressed.
Shar looked at me intently. “Meg, I don’t know why you’re so down on yourself. You look amazing, at least when you’re not half bird.” She patted my feathers, then sneezed. “Ugh! I thought I could go five minutes without doing that! Anyway, you turned lots of heads the night at the Met. Didn’t you notice?”
I laughed and shook my head. “No.”
“You should pay more attention.”
“I guess I’ll take your word for it,” I said. “But Jeremy can’t get between us, not now. Are you mad? Tell me the truth.”
“I was at first, not so much anymore. Only—” Shar turned away.
I touched her shoulder. “Tell me what’s bothering you, get it off your conscience. I’m sure it’s not that bad.”
She heaved a sob. “I’m sorry, Meg!”
“For what? You said you didn’t do anything!”
“Well, I did. I got you all made up and everything, but it wasn’t for you. It was … for me. I hoped maybe you’d hook up with someone else and that I would get a chance with Jeremy. It wasn’t because I was being nice.”
“But it was nice.” I put a hand over her talons. “And I understand. I knew you liked him too.” I laughed, low and mirthlessly. “That day when we went to the office to actually start working, I just figured he would go after you. When he started talking to me, well, I was waiting for him to start asking me where you were and how you were doing.”
“Like he did with me about you.”
“He did?” I brightened.
“Oh yes,” Shar huffed. “Then he moved away like I was contagious. Are you mad at me?”
“Not in this lifetime.” I grinned at her. “Sirens have to stick together.”
“Good.” She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes. “That was bothering me more than anything, except for maybe getting Arkady to the portal.”
“And the wrath of Persephone and her mother, and Hades stalking you.”
“Thanks for reminding me. All right. Our next move—what is it, getting to work early?”
“Yes, we should get a look at Arkady’s schedule. When he has appointments out of the office, Jeremy goes with him. When they’re out, we can slip into his office or maybe Jeremy’s.”
“Sounds like you’re on a roll.” Shar waved a hand for me to continue.
“We’ll look for his schedule, then figure out where he’s going to be and where the nearest portals are. There are lots of them all over the city. I figured out how to map them out on the iPhone.”
“Impressive, young padawan!” Then Shar’s face sobered. “You do remember that the next time we try to get Arkady to a portal, we’ll have to use the Siren gifts. On other people. Maybe lots of them, including Jeremy.”
“I know.” I didn’t want to use the gift on Jeremy, but there would be no choice if he was at Arkady’s side, and that looked like the one thing we could count on. Or else I could try to explain what was going on: Jeremy, I realize this might sound … odd, but, Mr. Romanov? He made a deal with Hades, the Greek god of the Underworld. No, it’s not a myth. No, I’m not on any kind of medication … No. And I couldn’t do it anyway due to the nondisclosure thing. So Jeremy would hear my Siren voice, then hopefully, after I released him, we could both return to being absolutely human.
I went to my bedroom suite to get ready. I dressed as quickly as I could, but it wasn’t easy. My thighs, torso, and upper arms were completely covered in feathers, and dressing usually resulted in them getting ruffled and tangled. Pulling on them smarted.
So far, the gift had left my feet, hands, and face alone, which was pretty much the opposite of what was happening to Shar. Our transformations had to halt here, or Shar wouldn’t be able to be in the same room with me, and she might sprout a beak. I wound a long scarf around my neck. I’d keep it on all day and say I was in the midst of a relapse. That would keep Reynaldo away, and with any luck, Jeremy wouldn’t mind playing text messenger a bit longer.
When we clocked in, Reynaldo put us to work finishing the thank-you notes for the runway show.
“How long does it take you?” He poked at a towering stack of envelopes. “You don’t want Mr. Arkady to look ungracious! You could have been working on these before the show started, and then at the show!”
You mean, while we were busy redesigning the star dress, then trying to send Mr. Arkady down a rabbit hole?
Reynaldo shook his head and clucked his tongue as he cat-walked away. I picked up a pen and started to address an envelope when my phone vibrated. I flipped it open and read:
What r u doing now?
Jeremy. I texted back:
T-Y’s for the show, Reynaldo cracks whip!
I kept the phone open and set it to silent. Another message popped up two seconds later:
Haha. Feeling better?
I looked at Shar, who was busy addressing envelopes. I typed:
Still no voice. But not contagious.
His next message came up almost instantly.
Cool. Think u can get away 4 a sec?
I snuck another peek at Shar. Was it fair to leave her? It would only be for a couple of minutes. I told him yes.
Come 2 the exit stairs 2 left of elevators :)
I snapped the phone shut and jumped up, startling Shar.
“Bathroom!” I yelped, and dashed out without looking at her; the guilt might make me reconsider.
I could feel my heartbeat speeding up as I walked past the fake Fabergé eggs and into the beige reception area. Out the double doors. Down the hall. Past the elevators. No one was there to hinder me.
As I grasped the cool metallic handle of the stairwell door, visions of Jeremy and me on Coney Island zipped through my mind like a flickering slideshow. I’d been robbed of my moment—there had been no kiss, only the brush of his lips on my cheek, his breath in my ear, but no more. I had no idea what his experience had been; we’d never talked about it.
I pushed the stairwell door open with resolve and burst through. It was empty. I stepped into the stairs, my breathing shallow, my heart still racing. I closed my eyes as the door swung shut. Hearing the soft click of the latch, I shook my head; this was a Hades trick. He’s furious that I won’t deliver Shar to him, and now he’s going to mock me.
Behind me, someone cleared their throat. He’s here; he actually had the nerve to come to confront me. I spun around, ready for a fight.
“You—” I started, then stopped.
It wasn’t Hades.
It was Jeremy.
In the half second that I turned to face him, his expression changed from a soft stubbly grin to wide-eyed confusion. I must’ve looked deranged.
“I’m sorry,” he began to apologize, but I strode over to him, shaking my head. I put a finger to his mouth. His lips parted, letting out a short breath that tickled my finger. I moved my hand to his cheek; he felt real, warm.
“It’s really you,” I mouthed.
He quirked an eyebrow. “Expecting someone else?”
I blushed—nowadays I could never be sure.
“No.” The word came out in a whisper.
He pushed himself away from the wall and, slipping an arm around my waist, spun me around so our positions were reversed. Brushing the hair away from my face with a finger, he bent down so that his face was mere inches from mine.
“I like your hair,” he said. “I like your eyes. No, I think I love your eyes.” His lips brushed my forehead, nose, then hovered above my mouth.
Here we were again—the moment, the exquisite anticipation. Never taking my eyes off his lips, mine parted. No interruptions.
Gently, he pressed me against the wall, his warm palms guiding my face closer. I could feel the feathers prickling against the skin of my back. He was still holding my face in his hands, but he pulled away slightly and stared at me for a long moment. So close …
“Is something wrong?” I whispered.
“No,” he said, resting his forehead against mine. I inhaled deeply, losing myself in the mingled, spicy scents of patchouli and sandalwood—his scent. “It’s just that … I feel like we’ve done this before … haven’t we? I try to remember”—he squeezed his eyes shut—“but I can’t.”
I raised my right hand and smoothed his brow. His eyes fluttered open.
“We’re here now,” I said, my voice neutral. I lifted my face closer to his and he descended toward mine. His lips were warm and soft, and his teeth tugged gently, teasingly, on my bottom lip. I closed my eyes. As the kiss deepened, he started to move his hands down to my neck, my shoulders. I shrank back, but not before he felt the weird padding on my arms. He didn’t seem to notice. His hands moved up into my hair, drawing me closer to him.
The phone on his belt buzzed. Reluctantly, we parted. He closed his eyes and threw his head back in exasperation before looking at it.
“Reynaldo. I have to get back,” he said morosely. “And Mr. Romanov changed his plans. I’ll probably be gone the rest of the day. I’ll text you as soon as I can.”
I nodded, and reached up a hand to run it through his hair. He gazed at me for a moment before his lips reclaimed mine. I was torn between not wanting it to end and hustling him back to Arkady so Shar and I could ransack his office.
“I’ll leave first,” he said, pulling away reluctantly. “We really need to do this again.”
I gave a little wave as he pushed through the stairwell door. Then I counted to sixty, replaying the last five or so minutes in my head, before leaving as well.
Demeter was at the reception desk when I went back in.
“Margaret, a word.”
“Sorry,” I whispered, patting my scarf. “I’m not feeling well.”
“Save it, dearie. We both know you’re perfectly capable of talking. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure no one interrupts us.” I heard the doors bolt.
“What do you want, Demeter?”
Her look was disapproving. “What kind of friend are you? Leaving Sharisse to toil away while you have a rendezvous. She hasn’t had much fun since you’ve been saddled with your mission. You got Jeremy—what did she get?”
I knew where this was going and I didn’t answer.
“She could find happiness like you—and you’d both be free.”
“With Hades?” I retorted. “I don’t think your daughter wants Shar anywhere near him, and I know Shar doesn’t want his attention.”
“Persephone is young and rebellious.”
“She’s a big goddess. I think she can take care of herself.”
“I liked it better when you minced your words, Margaret. Those who go toe to toe with the gods stumble and eat dirt. Some become dirt.”
Demi raised her hands and all the doors opened—I’d been dismissed.
I found Shar finishing up the thank-yous.
“That’s it, the last of them,” she sighed, leaning back after she’d rubber-banded the last stack. “Make it to the bathroom okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, and left it at that. She didn’t need to be enlightened on current events—my interlude with Jeremy might annoy her, and my conversation with Demeter would definitely depress her.
About an hour later, Jeremy left with Arkady. As soon as they got onto the elevator, Reynaldo grabbed his hat and scarf and dashed off toward the stairwell.
“Date with Andre,” Shar explained. “He told me all about it while you were out. He was totally stressing over what to wear, what to say.”
“He’s always having a conniption,” I grumbled. “But look, Jeremy told me that he and Arkady might be gone for the rest of the day, and if Reynaldo is on a long lunch …”
“Let’s not waste any time.” Shar got up. “So, when did Jeremy tell you this?”
When I didn’t answer immediately she sighed loudly. “Bathroom?”
I turned three shades of red and nodded.
“Whatever.” She flicked her hair and quickly strode away.
Down we went to Jeremy’s office. Shar looked around cautiously before going in.
“We’ll start here—you check the desk, I’ll do the computer,” she ordered after we’d slipped through the door and shut it behind us. I found nothing in the drawers, and had just shut the last one when the office door opened.
Callie stood in the entrance, her right hand still on the doorknob. A techie tool bag was slung over her shoulder, and in her free hand she clutched an extra-large bag of chips.
We froze, and she stopped dead, seeing us. Her dark, bug-like eyes narrowed as she looked from me to Shar.
“What are you two doing in here?” she demanded, in her high and grating voice.
“Trying to find Mr. Romanov’s schedule, why?” said Shar, looking nonplussed. “What are you doing in here?”
Callie looked taken aback. “I, uh, always make my rounds when Mr. Romanov goes for his mud baths. I have to do the back-ups.” She looked ready to bolt or scream for help.
“Well, we have to review his schedule for new treatment options. We couldn’t do it while Jeremy was working, and this is the only computer we have access to, but I think the program froze. Can you help us?”
“Morons,” Callie said. “Next time, call me when something like this happens.”
Setting her chips and tool bag on a filing cabinet, she shooed Shar out of Jeremy’s chair and plunked herself down on it, making the air-cushion seat hiss. We stood behind her as she peered at the monitor. Shar had gotten as far as the password screen, but of course neither of us knew Jeremy’s, or anyone’s, password. Still, Shar had tried typing in something; a string of black dots almost filled the code-box.
Callie grabbed a pencil off the desk and tapped the point against each dot in succession. When she got to the end, she sighed dramatically and shook her head. “Typical!” she spat, disgusted. “You spelled the password wrong! There’s only nine letters in ‘longevity,’ not ten.”
She deleted Shar’s erroneous entry and typed in the password. After a few rapid mouse clicks, up popped Arkady’s schedule.
“Thanks,” I said, maneuvering myself toward the keyboard. “We’re good from here. We just have to print it out …”
Callie raised a hand to stop me. “I’ll do it for you. I don’t need you two messing up my systems!”
A few seconds later, the printer whirred and a sheet slid out.
Shar snatched it up. “If we move the Botox up one hour, we can squeeze that new treatment in, don’t you think?” she said smoothly. I was seeing shades of Hades—having to do all the talking was turning her into a silver-tongued Shar-latan.
I nodded with authority.
Callie eyed us suspiciously as she pushed up her black-framed glasses with a finger. “Are you sure you’re supposed to be in here?”
“Do you think Jeremy can be in two places at once? He had to go out with Mr. Romanov, and he needs us to map out these appointments so he can schedule them when he gets back in tomorrow,” Shar said. “I wouldn’t want to be the one to explain to Mr. Romanov why he’ll have to wait eight weeks for new hair follicles.”
I could add to the conversation, but Shar was doing fine on her own. I gave Callie gave a menacing glare and she backed up a step.
“We have what we need. The room’s all yours,” said Shar. She turned to go, with me following close behind.
Callie watched us closely as we left.
“Mission Impossible?” Shar giggled, when we were safely away.
I wrinkled my nose and shook my head. “I don’t think so!”