“Look,” they said. “I don’t know what’s going on with you…three.” She’d nearly said “four,” almost giving away that she could see the invisible person still inching toward the dark-haired duo. “But we’re just innocent bystanders, totally willing to forget everything we’ve seen or heard in exchange for being allowed to walk away.”

  Tabitha made a noise of protest, but Ramses squeezed her fingers until she squealed. Chloe hoped she got the picture. They’d let these four thin themselves out and then come back for the wyvern.

  The dark-haired couple had another whispered exchange, but the way the woman moved the gun in a shooing gesture lifted Chloe’s spirits. Until Ramses looked again at the willowy woman. Attractive as the other one was, this one would be the hardest to walk away from. Stunning wasn’t a description Chloe had ever used for a person; only a true work of art could rob someone of their senses, but this woman was godlike. If Chloe hadn’t been wearing shoes, her socks might’ve popped right off.

  And the goddess’s stare was like a laser, pinning Chloe to the spot, stripping her to the bone and laying all her secrets as bare as a bobcat. Luckily, Ramses was in charge of the body, so she didn’t have to suffer the humiliation of going weak in the knees. And everywhere else.

  “She is very beautiful,” he said in their mind.

  The longer they stared, the more Chloe thought beautiful wasn’t enough. Maybe an adequate adjective didn’t exist.

  “Focus, Chloe.”

  Right. They had a job to do. No time to get lost in those eyes, legs, cheekbones, lips…

  “Your name is Chloe?” the willowy goddess said.

  “Fuck, Ramses, she can read minds.”

  “Tabitha said it,” he replied dryly. Aloud, he added, “Correct, lady, and you are?”

  The goddess frowned slightly, probably because Ramses had nearly m’ladied her. “I am never living this night down,” Chloe muttered.

  “Helen,” the goddess said, studying Chloe like a scientist with a microscope.

  Ramses tensed. “She’s reaching for something on her back.”

  “No talking,” the black-haired woman snapped, focusing on them again. She gestured. “Get in the barn.”

  “No.” Helen seemed even taller as she faced down the gun. “You can’t put them in there with a wyvern.”

  Oof, that commanding tone. Chloe would have followed her into the pits of Tartarus.

  “Seriously, Chloe?” Ramses said in their mind. “If we make it out alive, you are never facing this woman on your own.”

  The black-haired woman tilted her head as if bored. “You’re choosing death instead?”

  “We’ll go in the barn,” Ramses said aloud. They could outmaneuver a sick wyvern but not a bullet.

  Helen took a step forward. “They’ll be killed.”

  Ramses pulled Tabitha with them so Helen was between them and the gun. He made it to the opening in the barn when the invisible siren knocked the black-haired woman’s gun arm into the air.

  A shot cracked through the night sky. Helen drew something from behind her back, and Ramses threw Tabitha into the remains of a horse stall in the corner. He turned and rushed toward the wyvern, and Chloe lost sight of the battle outside. She heard another shot and several yells, trying to determine anything so she could feed Ramses the information while he focused on…whatever the hell he was up to.

  “Ramses, what the fu—”

  He ran up the wyvern’s tail, put a hand on its back, and leapt over it. It grumbled, milky eyes searching the gloom, head turning toward them. With a sharp whistle, Ramses drew the hunting knife Chloe only ever used to cut rope and stuck it in the thin, molting skin of the wyvern’s bony ass.

  It shrieked, the bird and cougar sounds joined by several dozen paint cans rolling down a hill before it bolted upright and shot out the barn like its hair was on fire.

  Ramses followed, knife in hand, pausing at the door as the wyvern trampled through the campfire, whirling and snarling and flapping its wings like a pissed-off chicken. Everyone outside dove for cover or backpedaled away. The crack of a tranq gun sounded from the left, the sound nearly lost in the roars. The wyvern flapped harder, taking to the air, but another crack came from the right, and it faltered, its roars fading.

  Chloe caught another sound. Music? Her thoughts went to the teens who’d fled. But one roar had driven them off. Surely, they wouldn’t be tempted back by more. No, it wasn’t a radio. Someone was singing.

  “Ramses, the siren.”

  He ducked back from the chaos outside and dug out the earplugs, a special pair designed by one of Chloe’s ancestors. They were small loops of wax, but instead of blocking out all sound like those worn by Odysseus’s crew, these were mixed with slippery elm powder and a touch of magic, canceling the siren song only.

  When Ramses placed them just inside Chloe’s ears, the music stopped so abruptly, she expected a record scratch. When they peeked outside again, the wyvern had slowed to the ground, wings twitching, the roars mutating to snores.

  The dark-haired duo was sitting contentedly at the siren’s feet, and nearby…

  “Is that sword flying?” Chloe asked.

  “I don’t know,” Ramses said. “I’ve never seen the like.”

  “I hate to do this to you twice.” Helen walked past, eyes fixed on the sitting pair. “But you will keep wandering into my plans.” She sighed. “Subdue.”

  The freaking flying sword flipped in midair, and the pommel cracked against the back of the black-haired woman’s head, making her slump to the ground. It did the same to the man half a second later.

  “You may as well come out,” Helen said as the sword’s grip settled in her palm.

  Ramses held the hunting knife at the ready as he emerged, but how in the hell was he supposed to fight a flying sword?

  “I’ll make it up as I go,” he said.

  Yeah, that sounded really confident.

  Helen gestured, and the siren’s mouth stopped moving, though she was still invisible. Ramses kept from staring at her, not wanting to clue them in. Helen gave their shared body another intense look. “You seem different from when I first saw you. Is it magic or something else?” She tilted her head with that same laser gaze.

  Ramses tensed. If he could catch her mid-ponder…

  Helen started as if she’d been shocked. “It’s a ghost. Possessing you. It’s been so long since I’ve sensed one.” She straightened, all the power in the world in one fantastic package. “Begone, spirit, cease riding this woman.”

  Okay, ew. “How does she know?” Chloe asked.

  Ramses took a step. Helen brought the sword on guard. The siren advanced a few paces, but Helen held out a hand. “Chloe, if you can hear me, don’t worry. I’m going to help you.”

  It was kind of sweet that she cared. And a wee bit insulting that she assumed Chloe couldn’t take care of herself. Way too many feelings to sort out at the moment.

  Helen began to mumble something in a language that sounded vaguely…Greek?

  “Damn,” Ramses said both aloud and in their head. “That’s an exor—”

  Helen released the sword in order to smack a fist down on her open palm. Golden light flowed from her in a wave, throwing Chloe backward and ripping Ramses from her body in one agonizing breath.

  She landed hard, fought to breathe, the dull pain from hitting the ground nothing compared to the feeling of being separated by force. Her skin felt raw, beyond a sunburn, more like someone had flayed her alive. Agony danced along every nerve, sending spasms and cramps through the body she could no longer move. The scattered campfire, the wyvern, Helen walking slowly toward her; everything faded in and out like a strobe light.

  Helen knelt at her side and placed a cool hand on her forehead. “Easy,” she said softly, and the sound soothed some of the fire racing through Chloe’s veins. “The pain will end soon. In the meantime, perhaps I can banish the ghost.”

  “N…no,” Chloe wheezed. She managed to turn her head, grinding her cheek into the dirt.

  Ramses’s spectral form floundered a few feet away, his blue edges tattered. “Get…away from…her,” he managed, his eyes glowing with rage as they fixed on Helen. He fought to rise but only floated above the ground like a wind-borne leaf. “I’m here…Chlo. Be right there.”

  “No…stay ’way,” she managed, but the effort was enough to make her sob. Still, she’d say it a hundred times if it would save him. “Don’t.”

  Helen frowned and wiped her tears with the back of one soft hand. “Shh. It’ll pass soon. I’ll find the ghost, don’t worry.”

  Chloe looked past her as the siren approached. If she could just get through to one of them.

  The siren frowned too and bent toward her. “Holy shit, Hel, she can see me.”

  Helen’s gaze snapped to her. “What?”

  The siren grinned, stretching her various piercings. “She totally sees me. She’s got the blood of Isis.”

  Chapter Nine

  The blood of Isis? Helen paused as she leaned over Chloe, the young woman she’d just knocked across the yard. Confusion overwhelmed her pity for a moment. She hadn’t expected the exorcism to be so hard on the living person. Chloe and the ghost must have been very closely joined. For years, maybe.

  But the ghost hadn’t been possessing Chloe when Helen had first arrived. She’d have sworn to it. And if Chloe could see the invisible, that surely meant she could see unquiet spirits as well. Or could she do more than just see them?

  Helen put a hand around the back of Chloe’s neck and lifted her slightly. Some residual energy lingered in her body, making the contact between them practically hum. “Where is the ghost?”

  Chloe shuddered and coughed, tears streaming down her face as her limbs twitched. Her dark eyes bored into Helen’s, fearful, pained, but also a tad defiant.

  Helen’s admiration grew. “Did you allow it to possess you?”

  “Y…yes, you can’t…don’t…” She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

  No wonder the exorcism had cost her so much. The shock to her system must have felt like having a limb torn away. “I’m sorry, Chloe. I didn’t realize.” She brought their faces closer. “But you shouldn’t traffic with spirits. You might encounter one you can’t get rid of on your own.” At least, Helen assumed so.

  Maybe Chloe’s lineage helped her force the entities out of her body at will, but there were ghosts in the world who were more powerful than anything she could have encountered.

  Helen’s travels through Egypt and Persia came to mind. Her skin had hummed there, too, no doubt because of all the ghosts lingering around their statues and monuments.

  A flush rose in Chloe’s cheeks, and her eyes darted to Helen’s lips. Interesting. If she was smitten, she might obey Helen’s request to flee without any magic backing it up. And she had to admit, this close, Chloe was pretty smitten-worthy herself.

  But the point was, Helen could send her off to safety, then take care of the ghost. If she could find it.

  “Would a ghost succumb to your song?” she asked over her shoulder.

  Ligeia blinked into view and tucked the tarnkappe under her arm. “I mean, I don’t think so.” She shrugged and barked a laugh. “I can’t see invisible shit like she obviously can, though. I could have been, like, calling ghosts to me all the time and wouldn’t know it.”

  And they didn’t have anything with them to tackle a ghost besides the few spells Helen knew and the power of her godhood. And that felt a little wobbly after the exorcism.

  “Please.” Chloe grabbed Helen’s arm, hauling herself a little more upright. Her full lips parted, dark hair dangling down her back as she strained upward as if begging for a kiss.

  Behave, Helen told herself.

  “Don’t…hurt…him.” Chloe fell back, forcing Helen to hold her more firmly. She smiled and seemed so happy to have gotten the words out, as if she’d accomplished a mission.

  “Him?”

  With another happy smile, Chloe’s head turned slightly, her eyes trained on nothing. “Ramses.”

  The hair on Helen’s neck stood up. Ramses? As in, one of the pharaohs? Could it be? “How—” She cried out as a shock rolled through her shoulder, and an acid feeling careened down her arm. She dropped Chloe and scuttled several feet away before falling, cradling her arm as it burned with liquid fire.

  “What the hell?” Ligeia knelt at her side. “What happened?” When Helen could only hold her shoulder and groan, Ligeia ran her hands over it. “Lemme see so I can help.”

  But she wouldn’t find anything. Helen knew this pain. The attack of a powerful spirit was like the agony of a kidney stone, not something a person could forget. Even without the blood of Isis, she could nearly see an outline kneeling next to Chloe, a faint glow that disappeared if she turned her head.

  “Stand away, spirit,” Helen said, marshaling her godhood again. She stood with Ligeia’s help, wanting to save all her energy for another exorcism if necessary. “Whatever pact you have with this woman, if you possess her now, it could cause her irreparable harm. She’s too weak.”

  “S’okay,” Chloe said, waving weakly. “We’re cool.” She sounded a little drunk, no doubt the shock making her tired beyond measure.

  “You’re…friends?” Ligeia asked. “With a ghost?”

  “Yes’m.” Chloe’s eyes fluttered closed, and she sagged as if sleeping.

  The glow didn’t seem to be moving into her, just hovering nearby. Whatever was going on with them, the problem seemed sorted for now. That just left what to do with Fatma, Ali, and a sleeping wyvern.

  “Um, Hel?”

  She turned, following Ligeia’s pointing finger to the barn. The red-haired woman knelt in the shadows, cell phone trained in their direction. “Ah. I’d forgotten about her.”

  “If that’s a live stream, we’re kinda fucked.”

  Helen nodded, resigned to the evening going that direction no matter what. “Let’s just hope this one doesn’t have her own ghostly protector.”

  * * *

  “Chloe? Wake up. Open your eyes.”

  She wanted to tell Ramses to piss off or give her five more minutes or whatever it took to get him to shut up. He wasn’t even supposed to be talking to her. He would bond to Jamie after their mother retired or died. Chloe might see him once in her life if he could expend the energy to appear, but mostly, she’d just have to guess that he was there, just like always.

  Well, almost always. Her mother had battled a particularly dangerous ghost one time, and Chloe hadn’t been able to sleep that night, terrified that other ghosts would come for revenge. “Honey, I’d know if any ghosts came near this apartment,” her mother had said patiently yet firmly. She’d tried to explain the rules that ghosts had to follow, Jamie unhelpfully saying, “Duh,” or rolling her eyes, but neither had said what Chloe had really wanted to hear: that it was all going to be okay.

  “No ghost can beat Ramses, anyway,” her mother had said after Chloe’s third refusal to go to bed. She’d paused, head cocked, and Chloe had known that meant Ramses was speaking to her. “How about he spends the night in your room, watching over you?”

  She’d realized later that an invisible dead person hanging out in her room to protect her from other invisible dead people should have done nothing to combat her terror, but Ramses had been a constant in her life—more than an imaginary friend but not quite a parent—around nearly as much as her hardworking father.

  He had been reading books back then instead of watching so much TV, and she’d woken up several times from terrifying dreams only to relax at the sound of softly turning pages under the glow of her desk lamp. Once, when she’d awakened in tears, she’d turned to find a note on her nightstand that said, Is okay Chlo Im here.

  The words had been clumsy, mismatched, and thoroughly lacking in punctuation, but Ramses had trouble holding a pen. She’d gone back to sleep with the note clutched in her hand.

  She supposed she owed it to him to wake up now, even though she desperately needed sleep, and Jamie…

  Was dead.

  Chloe inhaled sharply, painfully, her eyes flying open to see Ramses’s glowing form and smiling face. Right, yes, she had passed out in a field after being exorcized by a willowy goddess named Helen and a siren, both of whom seemed to want the wyvern Chloe and Ramses had been hunting in the first place.

  Along with Tabitha the journalist and two well-armed unknowns.

  “That’s it, Chloe, come on,” Ramses said, sounding like someone trying to get a baby to walk. “Keep your eyes open. You can do it. But try not to move too much.” He gestured over his shoulder and leaned back so she could see.

  Near the barn, the siren was messing with a cell phone, the helmet she’d been wearing at her feet. Helen was kneeling beside Tabitha’s unmoving body.

  “I hated to knock her out when she already has a head wound,” Helen said.

  “Yeah, but these two gave her that.” The siren gestured vaguely in Chloe’s direction but didn’t look up. “When they threw her in the barn the first time. Probably, like, knocked her stupid or whatever, and that’s why she didn’t come when I sang.”

  Oops, sorry, Tabitha.

  “I just hope she’s not concussed,” Helen said.

  The siren rolled her eyes and turned her back to Chloe. Leaving the helmet unguarded. “C’mon, Hel, you hate humans. Why are you so interested?”

  Chloe nodded toward the helmet, no doubt the source of the invisibility since Chloe couldn’t see through her at the moment.

  “Right.” Ramses knelt by it, flexing his power gently and inching it toward Chloe’s hand while she stretched. “Best if we steal it without them even noticing.”

  “I don’t know,” Helen said with a sigh. “I mean, it’s not hate, really. I don’t like them, but I don’t want to cause them pain.”