Ali had the savviness to at least appear to think it over, but Fatma kept her signature glare.

  Well, that was it. Helen still didn’t want to kill them, but if they weren’t going to at least lie about leaving her alone, she wasn’t going to help them, either. It was time to cut them loose with their phones and a warning that if she ever saw them again, she would reevaluate the whole no-murder thing. She cut them free, then waved them down and away from the truck so she could close the door.

  They spoke quietly to each other, pausing when Helen handed back their phones. Now for the threat…but nothing came to mind. No one Helen had met that evening had come across as a trademarked Bad Guy. And if it had been Chloe standing there, Helen might have even said something like, “It’s not a zoo. It’s a sanctuary.”

  When those words actually came out, she bit her lip, not meaning to speak aloud. But now that she had, she surprisingly wasn’t sorry about it.

  “What?” Ali asked.

  Fatma’s frown turned confused. “But we heard—”

  “I know the rumors. Hell, I started many of them, but since you seem like you might be on the ethical side of this business, I thought you should know that my efforts go into creating a retirement village for creatures who aren’t exactly welcome in the world anymore.”

  “Why should we believe you?” Fatma asked.

  “Believe it or not, I don’t care.” She started toward the driver’s side of the truck. “But if I was some evil Mommy Fortuna, you’d be dead several times over.”

  “And what of the artifacts like that one?” Ali asked, pointing at the kladenet.

  “They are not for human hands.”

  “Except yours, of course,” Fatma said, crossing her arms and sporting a smirk identical to Ali’s. “Fucking hypocrite.”

  That was the line. Helen pushed through her fatigue and summoned her godhood, letting it flow beneath her skin, lighting her up as if she had molten gold in her veins. Fatma’s and Ali’s shocked expressions grew brighter as they bathed in her light.

  They took a step back, faces shifting from surprise to awe.

  Better. Helen climbed into the truck, letting her godhood settle but not before catching a glimpse of her blazing eyes in the side mirror. Still got it. She drove back to the freeway, feeling quite smug, even if the flex was quickly giving her a headache.

  “Feel better?” Ligeia asked.

  “Much, thank you.”

  Ligeia snorted a laugh and put her feet on the dash as she began to fiddle with the radio.

  Helen smiled to herself but had to wonder how that encounter would have gone if the intriguing Chloe had been there instead. A disturbing tingle went through her at the thought, surprising her. They’d barely interacted, but Helen’s desire to see her again had crossed the border of “might be nice” and was on the disturbing cusp of “really, really want to.”

  And why? Had she been disappointed so many times she was now in love with the feeling? She hadn’t been bitten in the ass enough and wanted another wound?

  More alarming still, was she drawn to humans because she was seeking a connection with someone she didn’t know as well as the back of her hand, someone she hadn’t spent centuries with in her sanctuary? She’d told Fatma and Ali more than she’d intended. If Chloe had been there, who knew what information Helen would have blurted out?

  She shook her head and focused on the road, determined not to think of any human as intriguing. The only adjective they needed? Dangerous.

  * * *

  “It’s basically what you’ve already guessed.” Ramses walked up and down the waiting room in the hospital. “The goddess Isis is one of your ancestors, so to speak.”

  They’d brought Tabitha in just to be safe, saying she’d gotten hurt when a barn had collapsed. One of the nurses had even heard of the teenage hangout, lending credence to Chloe’s story of hijinks gone awry, though the nurse had also given her a look suggesting she’d passed her hijinks days long ago.

  The nerve. It hadn’t been that long ago. Must have been the job aging her. She kept her phone pressed to her ear and said, “You make it sound like Isis was just a traveler who showed up in town one day and decided to warm the bed of a local.”

  He tilted his head back and forth. “Nothing quite so human. We say someone has the blood of a god, but it’s really more like an ancestor received an infusion of godly power, usually while pregnant or shortly before impregnating someone, and the result was a demigod, with several subsequent generations sharing a decreasing fraction of power.”

  “Until you’re left with a small gift like being able to see the invisible.” Chloe shook her head. “If I’m a demigod, I should have cooler abilities.”

  He gave her a wry smile. “Isis was very long ago for our family. Now our gift can only be carried by one relative at a time. And it’s more than just seeing the unseen. Your senses are more in tune with the paranormal—”

  “I know, I know.” Chloe sighed, feeling like she’d had one of the longest nights in years. She wondered how many other demigods were ready for bed well before midnight. Though the clock above the nurses’ station read one a.m., and she was still wide awake. Still young, baby. “I was just lamenting that I didn’t get fire breath or something.”

  He sat next to her, hovering slightly above the seat. “Take up Tabitha’s diet, and you might.”

  She chuckled, then glanced around to make sure no one was paying her too much attention. “I’m too far removed from Isis to even call myself a demigod, aren’t I? Especially if you think Helen is one. I can’t do nearly the things she can.” Like exuding beauty and grace and a kick-ass confidence that made Chloe want to follow her around like a lovesick idiot.

  “She did seem to have inner power to tap into. That exorcism spell.” He rubbed his neck.

  Chloe nodded. She was still having the occasional muscle spasm, too. And a few brain-pickling jolts of lust, but that had nothing to do with any spell. “Why didn’t Mom tell me? I mean, it’s a bit jarring to find out I have a god in the old family tree, but I’m not cut up about it.”

  He sighed and slouched, sticking out his long legs. Chloe fought not to flinch when a nurse walked through them. “We had an idea that the knowledge would make you both reckless, that you’d think having god blood made you immortal. She did promise to tell you one day, and I hoped—”

  “Wait.” She coughed and had to remind herself to keep her phone up and her voice low. “Make us both reckless? She didn’t tell Jamie, either?”

  “Not as far as I know.”

  What the hell did that mean? That Chloe finally knew something about this job that Jamie hadn’t? Of course, Chloe had found out from a random siren, so it wasn’t like her mother had favored her.

  God, she was going to have to call her mom. Again.

  And what else could having the blood of Isis do for her besides make her able to see invisible stuff?

  When a nurse came out to tell her that Tabitha only had a minor concussion and could go home soon, Chloe couldn’t put it off any longer. She and Ramses headed out, leaving it to the hospital to call Tabitha’s family or the cute girl from the Waffle Hut to come get her. Still, Chloe told herself she could wait until the hotel, at least.

  Until her phone chimed while she was driving. “If that’s Mom, I don’t think she lost all the family’s psychic gifts when she temporarily…”

  Shit, she really thought she’d have been able to say died while making a joke, but she guessed not.

  Ramses bent to peer at the phone where it sat in the cupholder. “It’s an alert on your browser.” His finger hovered over the screen, a speck of power letting him manipulate the apps. “Well, well, looks like my exhibit won’t be the only thing we see in Houston. We’ve got another ghost. Maybe two, by the looks of things. But we can head out tomorrow after we check on the wyvern.”

  “You don’t think they took it with them?”

  “Only one way to make sure.”

  “What the hell do they even want it for? At least if they’re busy with it, they won’t show up in Houston. No guns crashing our banishment or sirens or demigods named…Helen,” she whispered, the name tumbling together with all her lessons on mythology. “Holy shit.”

  Ramses glanced at the nearly abandoned freeway as if Helen might appear. “Let’s hope she doesn’t show up again. You couldn’t seem to keep your head last time.”

  She ignored that, her mind still whirling. “Helen, Ramses. Demigod. Daughter of Zeus. Her mother was either Leda or freaking Nemesis.” When he said nothing, she added, “Trojan War? Golden apple, all that jazz?”

  He stared at her blankly; he’d never been one to pay attention to myths that didn’t involve monsters. Or himself. “Helen…of Troy?”

  “Yes.”

  He nodded. “The Iliad and Odyssey. They had a sorceress, a cyclops, some gods, Scylla, that other sea monster—”

  “Charybdis.”

  “And sirens. I wonder if Helen and that siren have been friends all this time.”

  “No, Helen wasn’t on the boat that…” Chloe sighed. “Look, who gives a shit? It’s Helen. The Helen. Face that launched a thousand ships.” And Chloe could believe that now. The face, the body, the presence, the sheer chutzpah. Chloe wouldn’t have gone to war for much, but damn. “God, I threw a wyvern at her. You told her and that woman to get a room. We were so rude.”

  Ramses gave her a flat look. “Being rude? That’s the part that worries you?”

  “She is beyond famous. She is an actual legend.” She put a hand to her forehead and rubbed at the headache that had been dogging her all night. Thank goodness they were headed to the hotel. She could die peacefully of embarrassment there.

  “Ooo,” Ramses said, “maybe we can get her autograph next time she interferes in our affairs. Or make her some cupcakes.”

  “Look—”

  “Next time we see her, wait until she’s foiling our plans, then write her a sonnet.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Propose on the spot.”

  “Okay,” she yelled. “I get it. She’s dangerous, especially if she’s going to keep crashing our party with sirens and tranquilizer guns.” She held up a hand when he opened his mouth. “And whatever magic forced us apart.”

  He nodded. “Promise me that any research you do about her will be purely for defensive purposes.”

  She nodded back, happy he couldn’t read her mind at the moment. Freaking Helen of freaking Troy. Yeah, Chloe was going to research the hell out of her. And she wouldn’t blame herself if defense wasn’t the first thing on her mind.

  Chapter Twelve

  Staring at her phone for fifteen minutes before making a call was part of the process, or so Chloe told herself. When she’d woken up a few moments ago, there had been too many “hates” to start the day with: she hated talking on the phone, hated talking to her mom, hated talking about stuff she should have been taught, Jamie or no Jamie. She deserved to know her roots, even if, like many Americans, those roots were sort of everywhere.

  So with more than a little bitterness, she typed, Blood of Isis, huh? in a text to her mom and hit send.

  After a moment passed with no reply, she figured she had time to pee. She’d crashed immediately when they’d gotten in around two a.m., but her dreams had been absorbed by the fact that she was descended from an actual god and seemed doomed to have another demigod as an adversary, though this one was a lot closer to the source.

  And this one was also freaking Helen of freaking Troy. Whom she’d quite like to—

  “Are you going to shower?” Ramses asked from where he sat on the bed watching TV.

  “I thought my mom would respond quicker than this.”

  “She didn’t answer?”

  Chloe picked at the edge of the duvet cover with her toes. “Texted,” she said, trying for nonchalant. She felt his look. Her mother was notorious about not texting back, but surely blood of Isis would have her calling right away.

  She could still feel his look.

  “Fine, ugh.” She sat on the edge of the bed and dialed, hoping she’d at least distracted him from his five-millionth show. When the call went unanswered, she hung up and tossed her phone on the covers. “She’s either out or in the bathroom or something.” She fled for her own bathroom. Calling her mom and not getting an answer was one-tenth as stressful as actually speaking to her, but it was still stress.

  Though emerging from the shower to discover that her mom still hadn’t responded was more stressful still. Ever since Chloe had taken over the family duties, her mom had never waited this long to return a missed call.

  The image of the EMTs working to bring her back from the dead flashed in Chloe’s mind. Along with Jamie, all covered as if to shield her from the cold. “Would you know if Mom…” Again, she couldn’t say it.

  Luckily, with Ramses, she didn’t need to. “No,” he said quietly, this look feeling a lot kinder as he smiled. “Not since the connection passed to you. But I’m sure she’s okay.”

  “Yeah.” A comforting lie was better than nothing. She thought about calling her dad, but he hadn’t spoken to Mom much since they’d split. He would be sure she was okay, too. “Let’s get on the road.”

  She packed quickly, could have done it blind. Ramses hung around while she packed where he sometimes vanished to wherever he went, only reappearing when Chloe reached their destination. When he showed no signs of leaving, it was time to give him a look.

  “What?” he asked, the picture of innocence.

  “You don’t have to…hover,” she said, absurdly proud of the pun.

  He rolled his eyes. “So you’ve decided to make me regret doing so?”

  She shrugged, still pleased.

  “I just thought I’d stick around, that’s all.”

  “Well, you don’t have to.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Duly noted.”

  “Okay.” But when she had the key in the ignition, fear crept over her like an oily slug, the anxiety of too many unknowns converging. “Of course, you are welcome to stay.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I mean, good company and all.”

  “Quite. You too.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Of course.”

  “Right.” She tapped the steering wheel for a few seconds, hating the tiny talk, hating her fear. “It won’t be really taxing for you, will it? Like, sap the energy you can use later?”

  “No, Chloe,” he said softly. His head was bare again, a sure sign of him feeling paternal, and she wished for the umpteenth time that she could hug him. “Chlo,” he said after a few moments. “Drive the damned car, would you?”

  She barked a laugh, shaken out of her melancholy. “Houston, here we come.”

  * * *

  A quick stop by the ruined barn proved that the wyvern was indeed gone. Maybe it would have an easy life from here on out. Or at least a short one. No matter who’d wound up with it, Chloe and Ramses couldn’t linger.

  When they reached Houston, they decided to save the exhibit for last and check out rumors of a local ghost haunting a comic book store, of all things. In the afternoon, it was mostly dead, one bored-looking employee behind the glass counter, and a few browsing the rows of comic books or the shelves full of collectibles. And everyone she could see looked very much alive. Great, this was probably another wild-goose chase, one of many Chloe had experienced in this job. She supposed she should count her blessings after the busy few days they’d had, but doing nothing gave her mind room to wander. About bills, Helen of freaking Troy, the fact that her mom still hadn’t called back.

  Chloe took her phone from her pocket and stared, tempted to drive straight to her mom’s house in Austin, but she knew she couldn’t drag Ramses all the way here and not go to his exhibit. He asked very little for the amount of shit he put up with.

  “They have a scale model of me,” he called excitedly from where he peered at one of the glass cases. “We have to get this, Chlo.”

  She fought the urge to smirk and leaned down to examine a very detailed twelve-inch-tall model labeled Ramses II, though many of his features were off, and the bulging muscles on his arms and torso rivaled the most flattering statues. When she saw the price tag, she choked on her smile. “It’s almost two hundred bucks,” she said out the side of her mouth.

  His expression crumbled like a kid who’d been told Santa wasn’t real. “We can’t afford that, can we?”

  “Not unless you want to cancel a bunch of streaming services for a month.”

  When he sighed, she nearly threw her credit card on the counter anyway, but he waved it off and sniffed, drawing himself up. “It’s not very accurate anyway.”

  “Right.” She hoped she didn’t sound too relieved. “Though I do wonder if you could appear around your action figure like you can a statue.”

  “Model,” he said, not breaking eye contact.

  For heaven’s sake, do not laugh. “Model. Though you are a superhero.”

  He shrugged and smiled, seemingly mollified.

  “And it begs the question, could that be why a ghost is here?” Chloe took another look around, slower this time. The ghost could simply be choosing to be elsewhere at the moment. Nothing seemed disrupted, and her brief internet search hadn’t turned up stories of anyone being hurt, just merchandise sometimes rearranged when the store opened in the mornings. If they did have a ghost, it was very benign and likely hadn’t been summoned. Those were always ornery as hell. Like Goodspeed.

  But she’d take anything at the moment to avoid worrying about her mom. She leaned on the counter near the employee. “Hey there, I heard a rumor this place was haunted.”