He pointed at his face as if that should have been answer enough. “She looked like a shock trooper, infantry used by greater demons.”

  “Fan-fucking-tastic. Seems like these people have hell on speed dial.” She slapped at another mosquito bite. At least something stayed the same through all the worry and strife. “Probably immune to your power, huh?”

  “I can feed off their energy but not enthrall them. And before you ask, I’m the quintessential lover-not-a-fighter type. I can’t wrestle other demons to the ground.”

  Yeah, that sounded right, but… “Weren’t you gonna rush me for insulting you back in my mom’s bathroom?”

  He had the grace to look sheepish. “Well, maybe, but I had no idea what I was going to do once I got you.”

  She shook her head. Even if she hadn’t had the pentacle, Ramses would have possessed Chloe and kicked Damian’s ass up one side of the apartment and down the other.

  And now she was back to that pang in her chest, and her eyes were towed to where Ramses still stood in his glowing prison. He didn’t seem to be in pain anymore—or was hiding it well—and was listening intently to something Helen said.

  “No, I don’t know anything about that kind of magic,” Damian said quietly. “Also before you ask.”

  She had the strangest urge to take his hand and hoped his power wasn’t now working on her. Or maybe she hoped it was. The alternatives were too bizarre to contemplate.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Ramses seemed more angry than alarmed. His arms were crossed over his bare, muscled chest, and he glared at Helen from under a tall, imposing crown. If he looked worried at all, it was only when he glanced at Chloe waiting anxiously nearby. His sandal tapped a little faster, then.

  Helen looked in that direction, too. In stark contrast to Ramses, Chloe seemed like she might dissolve into worry on the spot, either chewing her nails or twirling a stray piece of hair around one finger. It was touching and adorable and—

  Not what she should be focusing on right now.

  “Can you hear me?” Helen asked.

  Ramses nodded. His mouth moved soundlessly.

  She shook her head. “This spell doesn’t allow me to hear you, it seems.” But she wasn’t sure how it all worked. Sigils glowed from a handful of trees around the clearing, different patterns than those on the mercenaries’ necks. Maurice studied them now; Helen could hear him grumbling about power lines and focuses and other magical minutia.

  She pointed to the trees in question. “We’ve tried defacing the sigils.” With a sigh, she shrugged. “They resisted somehow. Maurice says it’s like they twist out of the way. But he’s not giving up.” And while he worked, Helen had a few moments alone with a pharaoh. She wasn’t going to waste them, even if speaking behind Chloe’s back made her feel unreasonably guilty.

  She switched to ancient Greek in case anyone was listening. “Can you understand me?”

  Again, he nodded, and she remembered hearing somewhere that the dead knew every language. Even if he couldn’t talk, he could still answer a few questions by mouthing the words or gesturing.

  Finding out a little more about Chloe would only be a bonus.

  “We may be able to help each other,” she said.

  He cocked his head and gestured around with his eyebrows up.

  “Oh, I’m going to get you out whether you agree to any favors or not.” Though she wouldn’t elaborate on why at the moment, wasn’t even really sure she understood that herself. It would put him in her debt, and as her quest for priests of Thoth had uncovered, she didn’t have any connections to the Egyptian Underworld.

  It was also the right thing to do, basic decency. Helen felt sorry for him, one demigod to another.

  And Chloe wanted it. She looked so sad, and Helen could feel her pull from across the clearing. She couldn’t just ignore it. “I realize you can’t do much in there, but I would like some information when you emerge, however you can convey it.”

  Ramses waved, palm up as if gesturing for her to proceed.

  Right. Good. First things first: “Do you know any priests of Thoth?” If the Lamia she’d fought here was a fake, having the real one on her team was still an option.

  He seemed surprised, then looked skyward as if considering. He raised two fingers but jiggled the other hand side to side as if to say, sort of.

  Well, if they were alive, they wouldn’t be of the same caliber as when he’d reigned. Maybe he knew a few dead ones as well, but she’d concentrate on the living for the moment. “Can they write a contract with unbreakable clauses? Oath-sworn on the River Styx?”

  His jaw dropped a little, and she could almost hear the, “Ah.” After a long pause, he shrugged.

  She smiled. “I appreciate your honesty. Could you provide the power behind such a contract?”

  Another shrug, and she caught, “Never tried.”

  “I could reward you.”

  He actually fucking smirked. Maybe he didn’t think she had anything to offer someone as grand as him, or as a ghost, he needed very little. Either way, she bristled.

  He waited.

  She let him.

  But her time was running out faster than his. And something about being in his presence made her feel impossibly young. “I’m guessing you’re still on this plane for a reason. Perhaps you chose to stay here. Perhaps you couldn’t pass the gatekeeper to your afterlife. Anubis, is it? Was your heart heavier than a feather?” She had done some reading.

  She stepped closer to his prison. “Or were you offered, shall we say, less-than-perfect accommodation in a lower realm, and you chose here over going to hell?”

  All guesses, but the smile gradually fell from his face.

  “I have contacts in the Greek Underworld, and their current queen is good at finding ways through barriers. I’m sure I could discover a side door to where your family awaits you. You could finally rest.”

  He was still for so long, she worried that the prison had frozen him in place. When he moved again, he put one hand on the barrier that separated them, his fingers curled so that it was almost a fist. A myriad of expressions crossed his face too quickly for Helen to read, and the crown became a striped headdress and a short mess of red hair before settling on a crown again.

  His power grew, prickling her skin even through the barrier, and blue light blazed around him. But was that anger? Hope? Frustration? A thousand shades of joy?

  She had no idea, but it was beginning to get on her nerves. And she had a godhood, too. No matter how pissed off or excited he was, it was time he acknowledged that.

  Helen summoned her power, gold lighting the edges of her vision. It flowed sluggishly, but she felt Ali and Fatma take a step back from where they watched the exchange, and she was certain everyone else would be looking this way.

  Gods, she hoped she could make it last while Chloe was watching.

  She clenched a fist, berating herself.

  Ramses squinted, a calculating look, but his power receded a bit, and his hand fell to his side, though he didn’t back up. He still seemed haughty, but that was fine. She could deal with arrogant men in her sleep.

  “I think I’ve got it,” Maurice called from the trees. He rattled off something about the magic existing on a slightly different plane or angle or something. She’d never bothered to learn all the terms since her magic came from within. But the fair folk she knew were as attracted to magic as they were to glitter.

  Well, almost. “Can you break it?” she cut in.

  His voice flew closer. “I’ll need a few reagents.” He started to name them.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She waved toward where Chloe’s friends sat with their bags. “They’ll probably have it.”

  The soft flutter of his wings didn’t move. “Don’t wanna talk to humans,” he mumbled.

  She couldn’t blame him. Especially self-confessed monster hunters. “What about Chloe? She’s nice. You’ll like her.” Great, now she sounded like she was speaking to a small child, but she wanted him to like Chloe with a surge that surprised her. Ah, well, in for a penny. “And she can see the invisible, so she won’t be surprised when you speak.”

  “Can’t you get it?” His voice rose to a whine.

  She rolled her eyes. “Sure, you asked for a golden what’s-it, a rosebush, and a dusty silver something?”

  His sigh could have filled a sail. “Fine.” He fluttered away.

  Ramses was staring at Helen with an amused smile now. She thought through what she’d said. Maybe it was her lack of magical knowledge that tickled him, or maybe it was what she’d said about Maurice surely liking Chloe. Nice Chloe.

  Her cheeks grew hot. Oh, by all the fucking gods. She turned away before his damnable smile could grow any more.

  Maurice and the others put their heads together after Chloe told them what he needed. Helen took the opportunity to speak with her while her mother was busy helping with the magical trap.

  Cold and aloof, that was how she should play this. She should double her efforts to pretend she didn’t feel a pull between them and that even though Chloe had come to her aid—inadvertently—there was no trust there yet.

  If she’d been standing outside of herself, she would have rolled her eyes to the heavens. “It’ll be all right,” she said out loud, throwing all her plans for iciness out the window. As she knew she would. “Maurice can break the trap.”

  “Thanks.” Chloe jerked her hand away from her mouth yet again.

  Helen fought the urge to take it. It wasn’t just the power linking them that prompted her. Chloe looked so open and vulnerable. How long had it been since Helen had seen someone wear their emotions like an uncomfortable coat? Not even herself. Out in the wider world, she had to wear a false face so often, she never got close to real emotions. And the denizens of the sanctuary either played verbal chess like the Lamia, or she already knew them inside and out, and the most common emotion they expressed was a sort of vague ennui or something a little more neutral.

  Chloe was like a firework in comparison, no matter her emotions, though Helen would much rather see her smile. Or even be angry. She’d been very beautiful with color in her cheeks and her eyes flashing, nearly sparking.

  “How long have you been together?” Helen asked, nodding toward Ramses.

  Chloe took a deep breath, and Helen had to wonder if talking about him would only make this worse.

  “I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer.”

  “No, no, it’s fine. A few years now. He was with my mom and was supposed to be with my sister, but…” She shook herself and tore her eyes from Ramses as if he’d been hypnotizing her. “She, um…” She bit her lip and shook her head as if chastising herself. “She—”

  “I understand,” Helen said quickly. She’d seen enough grief to recognize it in any form. “A family ghost, eh? And one who’s older than I am.”

  “Don’t meet many people who can say that?”

  “Not any longer.” She couldn’t help sounding maudlin, and Chloe went wide-eyed, no doubt as embarrassed as Helen felt about bringing up a dead sister.

  They both started speaking at the same time: “Oh, I’m sorry, you don’t…”

  “No, you didn’t…”

  They both laughed awkwardly, and Helen felt it to the tip of her toes, but it still felt…good? No, that wasn’t the right word.

  Alive.

  But wasn’t this emotional spark another reason she couldn’t trust humans? Fireworks weren’t the only things that exploded, and the closer one came…

  “You okay?” Chloe asked softly. “I feel like everyone’s worried about me, but your friend the siren got hurt, too, and I’m guessing these people were out to hurt the rest of y’all?”

  The questions shouldn’t have surprised her, but she let herself embrace the warmth they created in her chest. “Ligeia will be fine. And we figured they were out here to trap us, spying on our…on where we live.” The copy of the Sphinx she carried around in her head worried about saying much of anything, but she’d already mentioned her sanctuary to Fatma and Ali. They had to have compared notes. “My sanctuary.”

  “Wow.” Chloe brightened. “I can’t imagine living out here in paradise.” She looked thoughtful. “Well, except for the bugs. And the heat. And the humidity. And randos trying to kill you.” She offered Helen a sheepish smile. “Still, living on a beachy island, that’s lucky.”

  “No one’s ever said that before,” Helen said with a laugh. “They usually want to know about who lives there, especially if it’s anyone dangerous or famous.” Or both, but she didn’t add that. “No one’s just admired the fact that it’s tropical.” How long had it been since she’d meandered down to the beach and watched the waves or soaked in the sun?

  “It’s probably like owning a pool,” Chloe said with a shrug. “It looks cool from the outside, and you might be obsessed for a month or two, but after that, you lose interest.”

  Another mature observation that seemed designed to pull Helen in even further.

  Dangerous.

  Before she could ask another question and become even more stuck in Chloe’s gravity, Maurice yelled, “Victory!” The sigils on the trees around Ramses wavered and died, and he disappeared from Helen’s sight.

  Chloe ran to where he’d been, seemed close to bursting into tears as she spoke to empty air—no doubt the place Ramses was now standing—and leaned forward awkwardly, as if giving the breeze a hug.

  Helen wanted to offer further words of comfort, but Chloe’s mother got there first. She’d had her own teary speech to Ramses while he’d been trapped, but she was dry as a bone now, one arm curled protectively around Chloe’s shoulders while she gave Helen a steady stay-back stare.

  Fatma and Ali had gone through the portable buildings and said they held nothing of interest. Helen wouldn’t have taken them at their word, but she could tell by their body language that nothing they’d found excited or alarmed them. Ligeia had kept the nereids apprised of the situation, and they’d taken a few cautionary jaunts to other parts of the island. Nothing to be found, even on the boats. It seemed like either an elaborate trap, some sort of staging area, or part of the smuggling arm of this operation. The people who’d been spying on the sanctuary would need capital from somewhere. And they had been prepared for sirens or ghosts. There could be more traps here that hadn’t revealed themselves because the right creature hadn’t shown up to set them off.

  Helen was glad she hadn’t completely given in to the Sphinx’s demands and either brought more people from the sanctuary or failed to come herself.

  Chloe’s demon hadn’t been affected by anything here, not surprising since the mercenaries had a demon working with them. Maybe now they’d stop trying to frame the Lamia, too. Unless this was some kind of double bluff that the Lamia would delight in.

  Gods, she was tired. She stretched her neck and took another look at Chloe and her friends as they gathered their gear. Why were paranormal killers working with not only a ghost but a demon? Chloe claimed to only care about hunting if the creature in question was hurting people. Could the rest of them be the same? The looks her mother had given Helen, Ligeia, and the nereids weren’t exactly friendly.

  Helen approached Chloe again, her dull anger something of a shield. “Is Ramses all right?” she started, trying to ignore Chloe’s mother’s acid eyes.

  Chloe nodded, red-cheeked and with a few tears still dribbling but happy. “Thank you. Really. I tried to thank Maurice, but he seemed really uncomfortable so…” She took a deep breath. “Thanks.” The longer she looked at Helen, the more she seemed to light up, and the hum between them only grew.

  Helen swallowed past a sudden lump in her throat. “Can we have another word in private?”

  Chloe’s mother stiffened, but Chloe gave her arm a reassuring pat. “It’s okay,” she mumbled in her mom’s direction.

  Her mother’s mouth pursed, but she moved a few steps away. After a look at her and a sigh, Chloe gestured for Helen to come a few feet into the trees, out of earshot and away from prying eyes.

  When Chloe stopped, she gestured to her other side. “I’m not really alone, remember, not now.”

  Right. Well, as long as Ramses couldn’t butt in. But it annoyed her a bit that Chloe didn’t send him away, too. Now that Chloe waited, staring with those big dark eyes, Helen found herself fumbling for what else to say. More getting-to-know-you questions? Now that Ramses was free, it didn’t feel like they had the time.

  She decided to stick with the business at hand, at least tangentially. “So you work with demons, too, huh?” She knew she sounded like an asshole even before Chloe frowned, but it was out there now. And maybe it was for the best. If she couldn’t ignore the danger, she could still drive it away.

  “Damian? Yeah, well, he was there when Ramses and I got through another trap, and he sort of stayed.” She shrugged.

  “Stayed with the people who hunt his kind?”

  Chloe frowned harder, mouth twisted down. “Would you prefer that we killed him? Banished him back to hell to face being punished for failing? He begged us to help him, but I guess that wouldn’t have worked on you. Would you have banished him or chained him up in the yard with your new wyvern?”

  “The wyvern is resting comfortably in the sanctuary I run for the paranormal beings ruthlessly hunted by humans, thank you.” Why on earth was she defending herself? “I’m sure Fatma and Ali told you something about it.”

  Chloe’s cheeks flamed brighter, her tears all gone, her eyes flashing, one bit of dark hair stuck to her sweaty forehead. “Of course they did.” But the way her eyes shifted didn’t back her up. She straightened. “Look, all we want to do is keep humans safe like you want to keep mons—paranormal creatures safe. Shouldn’t we be working together?” Her jaw seemed to tremble, and Helen sensed more from her than anger, more reasons to want to work together besides the logic behind it.