“Great galloping… gah!” Sophea struck a dramatic pose and waved a hand around. “Now Gilly’s disappeared.”
A little chill caressed Rowan’s spine. “Are you sure? No, that’s a stupid question. Of course you’re sure. Has the captain been notified?”
“Ha. Big fat lot of good that would do.” Sophea set down one of the bags, using the other to gesture. “I told one of the officers that Gilly never came back after we had seen her, and he just said that if passengers wished some privacy, then it was nothing to do with them.”
Rowan raised his eyebrows and pondered whether it was worthwhile to demand the captain search the ship. “We were the last ones to see her?”
“Yes. She ran upstairs right after the captain passed us.”
“Hmm.” His mind turned over memory of their return to the ship. “Tell me again how you found out that the first priestess was missing.”
Sophea gave him a long look. “Why? Do you see a connection other than they’re both underwear priestesses, and no one is overly alarmed if they disappear or have their respective heads lopped off? It was a head that was under that blanket, wasn’t it?”
“It was. But I’d like you to tell me about the situation with Ipy.”
“All right, but I demand you tell me what you are thinking, because I’m totally clueless.” Sophea spent the next ten minutes telling and retelling the conversation with Bunefer and Gilly.
“Hmm,” he said again, thinking about it.
“Okay, your turn to dish. Hmm what?”
“Hmm, does it strike you that each time a woman has disappeared, the captain has been present or just left the scene?”
Sophea opened her eyes wide, goggling at him in a manner he found especially adorable. “You can’t… the captain? I mean, I don’t like the man, but… really? You think he’s the madman?”
“He’s certainly got a temper on him and a bit of a dictator attitude.”
“Yeah, but lots of people are bossy like that, and it doesn’t make them a murderer.”
“True, and I’m not ready to accuse the man. I just think it’s interesting that one of the last people to see the two women is him. And evidently he had an argument with Ipy before she was killed.”
Sophea obviously mulled that fact over. “Does that help us find Gilly?”
“Not really, no. If you would like, we can search the ship.”
“It would make me feel better knowing we at least took the time to hunt for her in case she’s in trouble.” Sophea set down the other bag.
On the way out of the room Rowan asked, “What is in that bag?”
“Your costume.”
“I don’t want to wear a costume. Come to it, I don’t want to go to the costume party. I just waded through a lake of fire. I want to make love to you, try to contact the archimage, and then go to sleep. I’m willing to forgo the last two so long as I get the first one. You’ll notice that nowhere on that list is spending time with the others on this cruise while wearing fancy dress.”
“Gabriel is doing it,” she told him as they headed for the lowest deck. “You can just suck it up, buttercup, and do it as well. It’s our last night on the ship, and Captain Bossy Pants AKA the Possible Executioner has requested our presence.” Sophea’s face looked unusually drawn, and instantly Rowan wanted to sweep her up into his arms and kiss her to the point where she forgot her troubles. “Besides, this isn’t a horrible costume. I had the shop lady set it aside the second day, so no one else would grab it. Do we split up or search together?”
They had reached the lowest level of the ship. Rowan hesitated a moment, then said, “We search together.”
She smiled and took his hand, a gesture that kicked his dragon fire into high. “I like it when we think alike.”
“Oh, you’re thinking about making love to you, too?” he asked with an innocent expression.
She laughed and pinched his arm. Rowan enjoyed the warm glow her presence brought him as they searched all levels of the ship.
Almost an hour later, they emerged from the dining room, hot, tired, and without any success. “Shall we beard the lion in his den?” Rowan asked, gesturing toward the bridge.
“Do you think it will do any good?” she asked.
“We won’t know until we try.” Rowan didn’t wait for her to answer and pounded on the door to the bridge.
It was opened by the captain, whose eyes narrowed when he saw who it was. “What do you want, dragon?”
“A few answers, ferryman.” Rowan wrestled for a moment with his dragon fire, but managed to keep it from flaring out around him. “Are you aware that another passenger has disappeared?”
“Another passenger?”
“The first one was decapitated, if you recall,” Rowan said, wondering if the man was just pretending to be dense or if he really cared so little about his passengers.
“She did not disappear. She was found,” Kherty said dismissively.
“Only after she’d been killed. Now a second one is gone.”
“I know.”
“And are you doing anything about it?”
The captain shrugged. “I am informed that you just searched my ship—did you find anything?”
“No.” Rowan felt an irrational anger build toward the man. Dammit, it wasn’t his job to be searching the ship. Why wasn’t the captain taking more of an interest?
“Then there is nothing more for me to do. Sending men from their duties to search the ship after you just did so—yes, my crew reported your actions—would be a waste. I prefer to wait patiently for the woman to return.”
“With or without her head?” Sophea asked sweetly.
The captain shot her a dark look, then started to close the door.
“I think everyone would be happier if a more formal search were instigated,” Rowan said firmly. “One conducted by individuals who know all of the secret places on the ship.”
“My ship has no secret places,” the captain said firmly, and closed the door in Rowan’s face.
Sophea turned to him, her expression of frustration no doubt mirroring his. “Am I crazy, Rowan, or does no one here think it’s a big deal for someone to disappear and possibly be killed?”
He took her arm and led her downstairs. “We aren’t crazy, love. It’s just a different world, one where death is not a permanent end. Most of the passengers consider it an intermediate phase before they go to a new existence.”
“Yeah, well, I’d like to talk to Ipy to see how blasé she feels about having had her head lopped off. I just hope Gilly is okay.”
“I hesitate to say this because it can only sound callous, but I suppose in the end, we’ll find out from her.”
“You mean because…” Sophea didn’t finish the sentence.
“Yes. If she has met with a fatal accident—or deliberate attack—then she, too, will reappear in time. And perhaps she will have seen who her attacker was.”
Sophea rubbed her arms as they entered the cabin. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be a ghost. So if there’s a deadly madman running around, I want him caught.”
He gave her a look that let her see the true extent of his emotions. “I will not allow any harm to come to you.”
She gave him a blinding smile in return, and after inquiring of the priestesses if Gilly had reappeared (she hadn’t), they reentered the bedroom, where Sophea handed him one of the two bags.
He sent her a pleading look. “Do I have to?”
“Yes. Look, it’s not as bad as all that.” She pulled items out of the bag and laid them out on the bed.
He eyed them. One of the objects was a brown fedora. “What am I supposed to be?”
“Indiana Jones.” A fleeting smile graced her lips before she returned to looking worried. “I figured it wasn’t so far off from what you really are. Were. Before the First Dragon bopped you on the head, that is.”
He took the costume, eyed the accompanying bullwhip, gun with holster, and canvas bag, and
decided that the situation could be worse. “I am a sociologist, not an archaeologist, but I agree the costume is not obnoxious. Although I refuse to carry around the rubber snake.”
“I think that’s meant to be more of a prop than anything.” She gathered up the second bag and headed for the door. “Since Mrs. P and her pride of models were heading upstairs to the party, I’ll change in her bathroom so you can have ours to have a shower and stuff.”
“You don’t wish to shower together?” he asked with a waggle of his eyebrows.
“In a heartbeat, but not in that shower. I can barely fit into it as it is.”
He had to allow that the shower was very small.
“It might take me a little longer to get ready, so I’ll meet you upstairs, okay?”
“Very well.” He glanced at his cell phone, willing the mage to call him early. He’d never felt so much like he had his back firmly against a wall, and he didn’t like the sensation one little bit.
Twenty minutes later, he scooped his phone and other items off the table and into the canvas bag slung across his chest, and made his way to the upper deck, there finding the party fully underway. Music played—lively, danceable tunes—at the fore of the ship, the area around it having been cleared to serve as a makeshift dance floor. Beyond that were scattered round tables, two banks of buffet food laid out in the form of a smiling crocodile, and a giant punch bowl. Balloons waved gently overhead, tied to the strings of festival lights that festooned the length of the ship. Standing separated from the others were the captain and two of his officers.
Rowan pushed his hat to the back of his head, feeling rakish despite the silliness of being forced into a costume. Perhaps it was the bullwhip coiled at his belt, or some new dragon emotion running rampant through him, but there was more than a little hint of a swagger when he strolled over to where May and Gabriel stood sipping glasses of what looked to be champagne. “Good evening.”
“It is, thanks to you,” May said, lifting her glass to him.
Gabriel’s lips twisted. “I apologize for not being on hand to help with the challenge. We… erm… we…”
“We were otherwise occupied,” May said smoothly, a smile hovering around her mouth. “Although Gabriel did wrap things up quickly so he could go help you, but the challenge had already started. Was it awful?”
“Moderately so,” he answered, remembering the pain of his burned arm. Absently, he rubbed it.
“There’s only one more to go, and that should not be too onerous.” Gabriel shot him a piercing look that grated on Rowan’s already frayed nerves. “That is, if your soul is not found wanting.”
“I did not kill those dragons,” he ground out through his teeth, and would have given Gabriel a piece of his mind if not for two things: the first was Mrs. P, who was now wearing a Black Swan ballet costume, complete with tiara and theatrical makeup. Behind her a woman followed, a woman who made his heart beat faster just watching her. It was at that moment that Rowan realized that what he was feeling wasn’t just attraction held by a wyvern for his mate but love. Actual love. The kind that hit him hard in the gut and stripped all the breath from his lungs. It pierced his heart, making him simultaneously giddy and a bit frightened. He’d never felt such depth of emotion for anyone, let alone a romantic partner, and here he was completely and utterly besotted with Sophea.
“Hello, everyone.” Sophea smiled at them all, then said with a little nod toward Rowan’s gun belt, “I decided that if you were going to have a gun, then I got one, too. And a knife, and a bow and arrows.” She pulled a gun from the holster strapped to her thigh. He had a hard time taking his eyes from the form-fitting black sleeveless shirt she wore, until he noticed the equally tight black shorts.
“Hmm?” he said, wondering if people would think it was rude if he picked her up and carried her downstairs.
“Gun. One. We both have. And now I’m evidently doing a Yoda impression. Oh, you look nice, May. Is that a flapper outfit?”
May smiled and did a little twirl. “It is. Isn’t the beaded dress exquisite?”
“It’s really very pretty. I’m amazed at the quality of these costumes, to be honest.”
“And you’re Lara Croft?” May guessed.
“Yup. Game version, not Angelina movie version. Game version has lots more weapons.” Sophea did a twirl of her own, one that Rowan much appreciated since it allowed him to admire her ass in the tight shorts without having to stand behind her and blatantly ogle. “I feel armed to the teeth. Doesn’t Rowan look dashing?”
“Very Indiana,” May agreed. “Rowan says you had a hard time with the challenge?”
“Oh, it was awful!” Sophea took a deep breath, then launched into a retelling of what they had gone through, finishing up with, “I can’t tell you how thankful I am that Rowan was there, because if it had been up to me to finish the challenge, I’d still be standing on that little plot of land.”
“I’ve never heard of fire we could not harness,” Gabriel said with a frown. “It burned your flesh? Actually burned it?”
“Definitely,” Rowan answered, rubbing his arm again. “But the healing technique you mentioned helped ease it.”
“Hmm.” Gabriel looked thoughtful. “I must mention this to the others. I don’t like to know there’s something out there that is unique to the dragonkin over which we have no power.”
“I think there’s probably a lot of that,” Sophea said. “We still have this third challenge tomorrow, and that’s not going to be open to persuasion by dragons. I’m still a little unclear as to what’s going to happen.”
“As I understand it,” May said, “we present ourselves to a goddess named Maat, and she decides if we’ve lived a good life or not. If not, we have to stay here. If we have, we get to leave.”
“That’s simplifying it greatly,” Gabriel said, nodding. “But that’s the basics of it.”
Everyone looked at Rowan. “I have lived a good life!” he protested, reading the unspoken comment in May and Gabriel’s eyes. At least Sophea wasn’t looking upon him with suspicion—she had nothing but warmth and admiration in her expression, a fact that made him feel several feet taller.
“I’m sure you have,” May said soothingly, then obviously changed the subject. “Gabriel refuses to put his costume on.”
“It’s not a matter of putting it on. It’s what has to come off,” he said, giving Rowan a look that pled for sympathy.
Rowan was having none of it, not because he was being harsh, but because it suddenly occurred to him that if he could admire Sophea’s delightful ass in her Lara Croft shorts, then so could other men. He wondered whether if he tied his shirt around her waist, she’d protest much.
“What is the costume?” Sophea asked.
With a martyred sigh, Gabriel pulled an object from his pocket. It was a black shirt collar with attached tie.
“Magic Mike,” May said with a little giggle. “But he refuses to take off his shirt.”
“I have no need to do so,” Gabriel protested, and snapped the collar around his neck. “There. I’m wearing the costume. Are you happy?”
“Very,” May said, leaning into him and giving him a look that didn’t need any explanation. Rowan eyed Sophea, who was watching the other two dragons with a tolerant smile. That is, she was until she noticed him staring at her.
“What?” she asked.
He nodded toward May and Gabriel, who were now speaking together at a volume meant only for their ears. “Why don’t you look at me the way May looks at Gabriel?”
Startled, she shot May a quick glance before turning back to him. A slow smile took hold of her lips. “You wouldn’t by any chance be jealous, would you?”
“Intensely so,” he said, much to his amazement. Quickly he attempted to make the admission more reasonable. “It’s the dragon emotions.”
“Uh huh.” Her smile grew until she leaned into him and, nipping the end of his nose, gave him a fleeting kiss. “I promise to look at you exactly t
he same way later tonight, all right?”
“Very well, but I will hold you to that.” He caught a movement from the corner of his eye, and asked her softly, “What is Mrs. P doing?”
Sophea glanced over to where Mrs. P was dancing with the captain. “I believe what we’re seeing there is an example of the hoochie-coo done while wearing a tutu. Kind of boggles the brain, huh?”
“It does indeed. I suspect it’s also illegal in many countries, Egypt probably being one of them.”
“Hopefully not so in the Underworld part of it.”
“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.