I had the feeling I’d insulted her, but I was still trying to cope with the idea that these ladies thought they were cherubs. “I’m… to be honest, I’m not quite sure what to say to that. I guess I’ll just go with thank you for your concern. I’ll show Mrs. P what you brought us, and if there’s anything we can’t use, we’ll send it back.” I edged the door closed a few inches.

“If you need any help, any help at all, feel free to call on us,” Ken said with a glance over my shoulder. “We will be happy to do whatever you need. Isn’t that right, Barbie?”

“Whatever you need,” Barbie agreed.

Ken beamed at me and patted me on the arm braced against the door. “Any time of night or day. We don’t mind being disturbed at all.”

“Gotcha. Thank you,” I said simply.

“Even something minor, like taking your friend to lunch for a bit so you can be with your boyfriend. Oh yes, we know about him, too!” Ken giggled. “He’s so very rugged and handsome, isn’t he? You’re a lucky girl. I just wish I had a man half so attractive.”

“He is handsome, isn’t—”

“I haven’t had a partner in ever so long,” Ken interrupted me, a wistful expression wiping out her sunny smile.

I shot a startled look at Barbie, wondering what their status was.

“Oh, Barbs and I aren’t partners,” Ken said, rightly interpreting that look. “I mean, we are, but Barbie is—I would never consider myself—”

Barbie grabbed Ken’s arm and gave her a none-too-gentle shove. “Let us know if you need our help,” Barbie said in what I was coming to think of as her usual terse method of speaking.

“Will do, and thank you again.”

I closed the door on the sound of Ken apologizing to Barbie. “That’s an unhealthy relationship if I ever saw one,” I said to myself. I set down the overnight bag, and with a speculative glance at Mrs. P’s bedroom door, made up my mind. I knocked on it.

“Enter,” she commanded loudly over the babble of the models.

I frowned as I opened her door. “You were supposed to lock it.”

Mrs. P sat on the bed, one of the priestess models painting Mrs. P’s toenails. I could hear the shower running in the bathroom, and sitting in a circle on the floor playing cards were the remaining ladies. “I have the sisters,” she said with a shrug.

I did a double take at Mrs. P, not because of the situation, but due to her appearance. “Did you do—did you put on some makeup or something?”

“Why would I do that? Do you think I should get a bikini wax? Khenut says that a landing strip is the in thing.”

“Totes the in thing,” one of the card-playing models said.

“Or perhaps a Brazilian would be better? I read in a magazine that those are also popular.” Mrs. P’s face scrunched up, and I couldn’t help noticing that not only was she gaining color to her skin, there seemed to be a lot less of it on her neck and face. Excess skin, that is. “I have always loved Brazilians.”

“I… you…” I stammered, staring in disbelief.

She gave a dream sigh, and gave a catlike stretch. “The men are so masculine. Very dominating, but passionate. And can they dance!”

“I love a man who can dance,” said Bunefer, who was capping the bottle of nail polish. “It’s so romantic, isn’t it?”

“Okay, first, that’s not the kind of Brazilian that the magazine means,” I said, scooting around the models on the floor in order to sit on the end of Mrs. P’s bed. “And second, I don’t want to tell you what to do with your own body, but I’m not sure you really have a pressing reason to… er… prune down there.”

Bunefer giggled, and slid off the bed, saying, “Bath free? I so need a bubbly soak,” when Ipy emerged from the bathroom with her head wrapped in a towel.

“Ah. Champion. You’re back?” she asked when she saw me.

“Yes.” I glanced at the other ladies. “I wanted to ask Mrs. P a few questions.”

Ipy took possession of the window seat and began to towel dry her hair. “Please yourself. Deal me in to the next round, girls. The latest alimony check is burning a hole in my pocket, and mama needs a new Gucci bracelet.”

“Mrs. P,” I said in a low voice, then tsked and plucked the magazine from her hands. “I want to ask you a couple of questions, and I would appreciate it if you’d tell me the truth.”

“I have done so since we met,” she pointed out, taking back the magazine. “Don’t smear my toenails. I want to look nice when I see my beau.”

I moved my hand away from her foot. “Okay, here goes: do you have a magical ring that can save the world from some bad guy demon lord?”

“I have a shiny, yes. It is my offering to my beau.”

Well, crap. There went my very faint suspicion that Rowan hadn’t been telling me the absolute truth about his interest in Mrs. P. Which just made me feel all the worse for even suspecting such a thing. “And you stole it from this demon lord fellow who is evidently bad news?”

“Bael.” She gave a sniff. “It was not his to begin with, so I don’t see what all the fuss is about.”

“I think the fuss is because this ring is a lifesaver. Literally, if Rowan is to be believed, and I don’t see why I shouldn’t believe him. Mrs. P, I told him I wasn’t going to do this, but I’ve changed my mind—you have to give the ring to him.”

“I do not.” She hummed softly to herself as she eyed an article on how to use erotic novels to spice up your love life.

“Let me restate that: you should give it to Rowan. I know you want to give it to your boyfriend—I’m still a bit confused about all that, but we’ll tackle that one another time—but you have to see that the fate of the world is more important.”

She looked up and pinned me back with a stare that should have scared the dickens out of me. Her eyes were brighter than they had been, the soft lighting of the cabin doing much to diminish the wrinkles that beset her face and neck. “If I do not give the shiny to my beau, we will not be able to be together. Nor will he resume his rightful place in the world. We have been separated too long, gel, far too long. I was cast out of the Underworld by Isis, who was jealous of me, and who swore we should never be together. My shiny will defeat her.”