“There you are!” a cheerful voice called out. Rowan turned to find the two cherubs approaching, Ken clad in a costume that had both Sophea and him staring.
Ken stopped in front of them and did a twirl. She wore what Rowan could only think of as Marie Antoinette’s idea of shepherdess’s outfit, complete with beribboned staff, giant hoop skirt at least two yards wide, a fake lamb on wheels, and towering wig with a hat perched on top. “You like? I saw it and I just knew I had to have it. Isn’t the lamb the cutest thing ever? I call her Mary. Get it? Mary!”
“Wow, that’s… that’s really impressive,” Sophea said politely, her eyes huge as she took in the ensemble. “I’ve never seen a powdered wig so tall. However do you keep it from toppling over?”
“It’s all balance, my dear,” Ken said archly, and gave the ribbon tied to the sheep a twitch. “Good comportment can never go wrong, I always say.”
“And Barbie is…” Sophea paused for a moment. “A gladiator?”
Barbie smiled.
Rowan felt like he had been kicked in the gut. He narrowed his eyes on the woman standing before them in gladiator armor, and thought a great many thoughts in quick succession. Before he could pursue those thoughts, Sophea frowned and crossed over the deck to the railing on the other side. “Hey. We’ve docked again,” she said when he followed her, Ken and Barbie close on his heels.
He looked down to where she pointed, noting a small group of people approaching from a bright red roadster typical of 1930s movies.
“That’s interesting.” He watched the new passengers with vague suspicion.
“Oooh, new people?” Ken asked, peering down. “Oh, they’re not in costume. I hope the captain doesn’t let them join us. It’ll ruin the whole ambiance.”
A woman led the way to the gangplank, followed by three men, two of whom held armloads of books, while the third staggered along with a wooden table that all but obscured his vision.
Rowan considered them. “That’s curious. I wonder who they are.”
“I have no idea. More people to go to the promised land, do you think?” Sophea asked.
“We wouldn’t have picked them up midway through Duat if that was the case,” he told her.
“Let us go greet the new arrivals,” Barbie said, nodding toward the door into the ship.
“And leave the party?” Ken said, looking horrified. “But we just got here! And I haven’t gotten to show everyone my darling costume, let alone join the costume contest, which you just know I’m going to win because honestly, no one else’s costume comes even close to the quality of mine. No one else has a familiar… er… sheep with them.” Ken gave them a bright, and very brittle, smile. “Present company excluded from that comment about other costumes, of course. Yours are excellent, truly excellent.”
“Come,” Barbie said, jerking Ken forward so that her wig wobbled precariously.
They moved toward the doorway leading to the inner rooms of the ship at the same moment that a second car pulled up, and two more people emerged, but this time, Rowan was familiar with them.
“That Barbie is kind of rude… whoa. More people? Oh, it’s them,” Sophea said, noting the newest arrivals. “Your sister and that guy with the long name.”
“Constantine.” Rowan fought with a spurt of irritation that threatened to blow up into full-fledged anger. “Why are they here interfering? Are they checking up on us? They’ve already seen that we are now dragons—I don’t see why they have to come around bothering us again. Not that I mind seeing my sister, but that dragon she’s mated to is another matter.”
Sophea slid him a little smile and took his hand, her fingers tight around his giving him a surprising sense of comfort. “Now, now, they haven’t done anything to be so testy about. Although I admit I feel a bit like the dragons are keeping tabs on us, which is annoying at best. But I suppose Gabriel and May have helped a bit with watching Mrs. P.”
“Let us see if they have any insight as to why those dragons are here.” He turned to call Gabriel over, but froze, staring in mingled surprise and anger at the sight of several men climbing over the railing, water pouring off them. Each was armed with at least two swords, and a couple had knives strapped to their legs.
Rowan roared a Portuguese oath and leaped forward, pulling out his gun before he realized that it would do not good—even if it was a real gun, bullets did nothing but enrage demons.
And demons these were. He didn’t have to catch the stink of their origins to know—the way they poured over the rail of the ship and pinpointed Mrs. P and her ladies told him everything he needed to know. He threw away the gun and jerked his whip out of the holder just as the passengers realized that they were under attack.
Screams filled the night air, drowning out the music until someone, in their desperation to get away, knocked the CD player over the edge into the water.