“An imposter?” Ramses said, his tone freezing the air. “Thrice damned, pox-ridden daughter of licentious pigs! I’ll—”

  “It’s just me,” Chloe said, fighting the urge to yell over a litany of insults no one but she could hear. “Why did you lure me here?” She put her hand on her hip, hoping to radiate bravado, maybe get this fake ghost to come out from whatever ghost-harming spell they were currently standing behind. “Well?”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” The faux ghost sighed extravagantly and leaned on the info panel of a small selection of shabtis. “She’s gonna be so mad that you didn’t fall for the trap.”

  “Who?”

  “Oh well, time for plan B. If she can’t have the ghost, she can at least have you.” She shook her hair, and her form blurred, shifting like molasses, the glow disappearing as the blur settled into the handsomest man Chloe had ever seen. He should have been featured in the dictionary as such, and not just for his face. His sculpted chest couldn’t have been more hypnotic if he’d had pocket watches swinging from his nipples. The rest of him was as perfect, and she could swear to that because he stood as bare as a bullfrog.

  He licked his lips and held out a hand. “That’s right, darlin’. Drink it all in. Come with me, and I’ll fulfill your every desire. If your ghost is on the way, we can await his arrival in whatever way pleases you most.” Something roiled out from him, a fascinating collection of delectable scents and a gentle breeze that seemed to carry an enticing hint of desire.

  Too bad men had never done anything for her. Overall, it seemed a rather old-fashioned ploy. But she could play his game for answers. She could even take a few tips from Helen’s earlier performance.

  Thinking about Helen made it easier to open her mouth as if in awe, hoping the red light let her appear flushed and appropriately dampened. “Oh, but I…I mustn’t. I don’t even know you.”

  His crooked smile had probably laid many people at his feet. “Then let’s get to know each other better.” He took the smallest step toward her, still not clearing the marks on the floor, and the fog of scents got thicker. “I’ll start. I’m a friendly incubus, irresistible to humans. And you’re Chloe, irresistible to me.” His eyes burned like stars gone nova.

  It was a good show, nothing to raise her temperature, but she couldn’t help a certain fascination. She breathed easier when Ramses said, “Just step out of that magic trap, hell spawn.”

  Chloe backed up a step, into Ramses, knowing he’d get the hint to possess her as soon as the incubus came within reach. She put a hand to her chest and tried to look as though it was taking all her will to resist. “No, this is a trick. You don’t want me, you can’t. You’re so gorgeous.” Barf. “And I’m—”

  “Beautiful,” he said, moving a hair closer, his power pulling at her like something akin to gravity, though the flattery was definitely helping her stay in place. “You’re breathtaking. I can show you such wondrous heights, Chloe, so much ecstasy.”

  One more step.

  Chloe swayed, keeping her eyes on his hand as if she might succumb at any moment. “You can?”

  “And will. Take my hand, darlin’.”

  “I…”

  “Take it.”

  “If she won’t, I will.” Ramses merged with her seamlessly just as the incubus’s hand passed over the magical marks on the carpet. He grabbed the incubus’s wrist and yanked him closer with one powerful pull.

  “Hi, I’m Ramses,” he said with Chloe’s mouth as they stared into an admittedly startling pair of green eyes that were currently very wide. “And I’d like to speak to you about impersonating my wife.” He spun, and in one smooth motion, he launched the incubus over Chloe’s shoulder to land on the carpet with an oomph.

  The incubus groaned, half curling into a ball.

  “Careful,” Chloe said in their mind as Ramses grabbed the incubus’s ankles and dragged him farther from the magical trap. “If he made those marks, he has more powers than just shapeshifting and that lust thingy.”

  “I don’t dare ask where he’s keeping his magic kit at the moment.” Ramses knelt on his chest and held the hunting knife to his throat. “Who are you working with?”

  “No one,” the incubus said through gasps.

  “You said ‘she’ was going to be mad. Who?”

  “I…can’t.”

  “I disagree.” Ramses cut him lightly, just shy of the jugular, and black blood dribbled to the floor. Chloe would have winced if she’d had control of her face. “Give me a name.”

  “No, she’ll—”

  “Slit your throat? You’d rather I do it? Very well.”

  “Wait, please.” His beautiful eyes were wide, terrified.

  “The name.”

  Chloe focused on the other sounds in the room as the incubus panted. Someone might try to creep up on them while this bastard stalled. Nothing. But they couldn’t stay here forever. “Maybe he’s connected to the two people who showed up at the barn, the ones who looked like siblings.” Or Helen, but she couldn’t say that.

  “Are you working for the twins?” Ramses asked, clearly wanting the incubus to either correct him or fill in any gaps in their knowledge.

  “Twins…yes.”

  “The blondes?”

  “Yes, they’re—”

  Another cut appeared on his neck, Ramses moving Chloe’s hand faster than she ever could. “That’s the only lie you’ll get.”

  “I don’t know her name.”

  “Describe her.”

  His expression grew more afraid, though Chloe wouldn’t have thought that possible. “She only speaks through the Lamia, whose terrible power is nothing compared to her mistress, or so I’ve heard.”

  If Helen had some terrifying power, surely she would have used it during the whole wyvern debacle instead of letting Chloe get away with a magic helmet. But who else but a demigod could control an incubus and a child-eating, blood-sucking, snake monster like a lamia, the only lamia left from the sound of it.

  “And you don’t know this mistress’s name?” Ramses asked, skepticism dripping from every syllable.

  “No.” He sagged and seemed like the most pathetic person in the world. “And now I’ve betrayed her like a coward. You better just kill me.”

  Chloe would have winced again. “I feel a little sorry for the shitty sex demon.”

  “I don’t,” Ramses said both aloud and in their mind. “And if he wants oblivion, we’ll let him live for this nightmare mistress to devour.” He stepped out of Chloe’s body, and she stood, shivering at the cruel satisfaction in his tone.

  The incubus stood, too, wiping at the cuts on his neck. “Ramses, I—”

  “That’s not my name right now,” Chloe said. “And you better watch your mouth when you’re talking to him, or I’ll shove my foot so far up your ass, you’ll taste my sneaker.” The incubus stared as if she had two heads, but she waved his shock away. “Did you make that ghost trap?”

  He nodded. “The Lamia told me how before she ordered me to come here. Over the phone,” he added quickly. “I didn’t see her or anyone else when I was summoned. It was dark.”

  “Is she nearby?” Chloe glanced around. She did not want to deal with another monster right now.

  “Not that I know of.”

  “So what were you supposed to do with Ramses or me if you caught us?”

  “Use one of the guard’s phones to call her. Keep you occupied until she got here.” He offered a half leer. “I don’t have to check in right away if you want.”

  “Nah,” she said, and that seemed to wound him, but she didn’t give a shit. She wasn’t waiting around for a lamia or her nightmarish boss. A wyvern had made her current kit look weak. She needed some serious firepower to tackle something even stronger.

  Like freaking demons. Though this one didn’t seem inclined to leap at her. He just stood there looking awkward. “Are you going to kill me?” he asked softly. “Or banish me?” That was even quieter, like it was the worse choice, though she didn’t know how that could be.

  “You’re not worth the trouble.”

  Ramses said, “Ha,” and followed her out of the exhibit. They needed to find a more discreet exit than the emergency doors.

  “Seriously?” the incubus asked as he followed.

  “Sounds like the people you work for will take care of you.”

  “That’s really rude, Not-Ramses-Maybe-Chloe, not gonna lie.”

  “We don’t give a shit what you think, Not-Nefertari.”

  He hugged his elbows as he kept pace, looking a little sheepish. “I admit, that was an asshole move.”

  “Probably the most honest thing he’s ever said,” Ramses muttered.

  “Look.” Chloe paused at the next corner. “Run away, naked demon. Maybe your horrific boss monster won’t find you if you hide on the other side of the world.”

  “The Lamia says she has spies everywhere.”

  That would explain how Helen had known where the wyvern was, if indeed she was this unseen leader. “I don’t care what you do, just go away.” But irritatingly, he followed her through an employee exit and out the back of the museum. “Do you need Ramses to kick your ass again?”

  “Gladly,” Ramses said.

  The incubus did that blurry jelly thing and settled as a slightly less handsome man wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and sneakers. “By ancient law, since you spared my life, you’re responsible for me.”

  She snorted and rolled her eyes as she headed toward the pay lot where she’d parked. “Lucky for me, that particular law ain’t in the Texas Constitution.”

  “No, it’s far older than that,” he said as he jogged to keep up. “I can be helpful.”

  “Sure, until your mistress shows up. Then you’ll turn on us so fast, our heads will spin like one of your forefathers in The Exorcist.”

  “I won’t. I promise.”

  Ramses laughed darkly. “Do we really need to look up demon promises in the dictionary?”

  No, they did not. Chloe tried her hardest to ignore the incubus and hurry toward her car. She didn’t fear the deserted streets as long as she had Ramses and her magic—and a lust demon, apparently—but she still wanted to get on the road. She’d never been happier to see her crappy old car.

  Right up to the point where it exploded.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Strangely enough, Chloe blamed herself for not predicting that her evening would include Helen of freaking Troy, Nefertari, a sex demon, a lamia, and her car in flames.

  Or Ramses knocking said sex demon on top of her as soon as the car exploded. “Sorry,” Ramses said. “I thought he might make a good meat shield, at least.”

  Chloe struggled to her feet past the incubus, who was swearing and demanding to know what had just happened. She wished she had an answer. Her little car, on fire, after all they’d been through together? “What? How?”

  “I’m headed in.” Ramses marched toward the flaming wreck.

  “Be careful,” Chloe said weakly. Flames and smoke shouldn’t hurt him, but she hadn’t thought her car would explode, either.

  “Thank you,” the incubus said, “though your warning came a little late.”

  She glared. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

  He jammed his hands inside pockets that hadn’t existed until he’d made them. Either he could pull clothing out of the ether, or he was always naked under a glamour. Ugh, she did not have the brain power to ponder that right now.

  “Damian,” he said. When she stared, he pointed to himself. “My name. Not that you asked.”

  The hurt in his voice shot right under her skin. “Oh, I’m sorry. I should be more sympathetic since your car just blew up.”

  He rolled his eyes. “And I am so surprised that you pissed someone off enough to do that. Lack of manners, perhaps?”

  “You wanna see pissed off?” she said, unsure what she was going to do, but it was gonna be violent.

  “Manners cost nothing.” He backed up a few steps “As my mother always said.”

  “Your mom the demon?”

  “She had high ambitions for me in the demon court.” He put a small tree between them. “Why do you think she named me Damian? Not just because she’s a movie buff.”

  Chloe’s anger began to dip into bizarre confusion. “What the hell are you even talking about?”

  He pointed at her and grinned. “I’m distracting you from your grief. See?” He pointed to himself again. “Useful.” He looked so proud, she wanted to kick his ass harder. Especially as he’d distracted her from something she definitely should have been paying attention to.

  She dipped into her bag for a small bottle of anise oil, plucked out the cork, and flicked it at him. He stumbled back with a cry of pain. Good. She’d always heard that anise repelled demons, but she’d never gotten to—

  “Chloe.”

  She nearly fainted when Ramses appeared next to her. “You have to stop doing that when I’m already rattled.”

  He waved as if dismissing her objection. “There’s very little left. The magic helmet’s over there, dented but intact.”

  Chloe followed him to it and tried to think straight. “Could you tell what happened? And please don’t just say my car exploded.”

  He gave her a flat look. “Sorry, I don’t have my CSI kit handy. Someone is either trying to scare you or kill you. They didn’t leave any calling card that I could see.”

  She didn’t know what to do, how to feel. There were way too many options. She picked up the dented helmet and considered putting it on, but it wouldn’t make what had happened disappear. If someone did pop out and take responsibility, she could rip their face off, but in the long run, that probably wouldn’t help.

  At least her personal items were all in her magic kit. Except the insurance info in the glove box, a few CDs, and about a buck-fifty in change. Well, that was probably scattered around a few blocks if she wanted to look.

  “The police will be on the way,” Ramses said.

  That was usually their cue to leave, but the cops would no doubt find out it was her car sooner or later, and leaving would raise too many questions. And right now, pleading ignorance was the absolute truth.

  Damian came out of hiding just before the police arrived, and Chloe was forced to acknowledge him. She wanted to disavow like crazy—or maybe have him arrested—but one of the primary goals of her family was to keep paranormal shit a secret. Plus, small displays of his power seemed to speed the process along. With or without attraction, people seemed to want to believe whatever he said when he used his magic. Chloe was thankful her god blood seemed to give her some immunity. Or maybe that was her finely tuned bullshit detector.

  It was just a bonus that he could hide her magic kit and the helmet with glamour. Maybe he was a little useful. A tiny bit. Microscopically so.

  Even with his power—or because of it—the cops seemed to believe Chloe had been wandering the museum district looking for a hookup and had picked Damian up. Their mouths didn’t exactly say it, but the double entendres flew fast through the conversation, and the looks going around spoke volumes. She fought the urge to grind her teeth and deny everything.

  After several rounds of questions, the cops sent her off with guarantees that they’d be in touch.

  Chloe walked away in the pre-dawn with Damian on one side and Ramses on the other. At least one cop smirked after them, and she wondered how much harder he would have grinned if he could have seen both her escorts.

  “What are you going to do?” Damian asked.

  “Find a way to Austin.” And discover what had happened to her mom. She got her phone out and saw she’d have to charge it soon.

  Fate made it ring at that moment, “Mom” displayed on the screen.

  * * *

  Traffic was heavier than expected on the way into Galveston. After their pitstop in Houston, it was almost evening when they finally arrived at the marina, though Helen couldn’t exactly be sorry to have seen Chloe again so soon.

  No, stop right there.

  That strange pull between them had been stronger than ever, so much so that Helen had nearly kissed Chloe in front of the ghost pharaoh and who knew how many watching humans. Beyond embarrassing, it was a stupendously bad idea. Could she blame the pharaoh’s magic for that?

  By all the gods, she could try.

  Her attraction couldn’t be this strong simply because Chloe was beautiful, though she was. Helen could have spent many hours fantasizing about that body. No, the hum that passed between them, like standing too near a power line? That wasn’t due to Chloe’s looks or brains or abilities, admirable as they were. And it certainly wasn’t a member of the ancient dead.

  The blood of Isis? Helen had met actual gods, for Hera’s sake, and she’d never felt anything quite like this.

  Except maybe that feeling in Egypt, after Menelaus, before Psamathe. At the time, she’d been too emotionally raw to pursue it, but—

  “There they are,” Ligeia said, shaking Helen from her reverie.

  A group of nereids waited by the pier, and Ligeia waved as she climbed out of the truck. At this time of day, there was barely anyone there, and Helen was happy to find everything in readiness to transport the wyvern to the sanctuary.

  “I really need to tell the Sphinx how much I appreciate her,” Helen said as the team of nereids loaded the tarp-covered wyvern onto the sanctuary’s yacht.

  “You bring her weed. She doesn’t want, like, anything else.”

  “True.” And Helen really wanted to hurry home. She’d add “shitload of cake for the Sphinx” to her next grocery list.

  Ligeia pulled her hood up for the short walk to the pier. The yacht had been moored pretty far from the other craft because of its size, but a gang of women muscling something huge onto it seemed to be garnering some attention. Most of the nereids appeared human from a distance—having left off their coral crowns and white robes for board shorts and sports bras—except for those whose coloring tended toward gray and blue. They’d helpfully donned caftans. Their strength should be put down to the fact that there were currently twenty of them and not the fact that they could lift any of the watching humans with one hand.