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 the 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.

“Oooh, new people?” Ken asked, peering down. “Oh, they’re not in costume. I hope the captain doesn’t let them join us. It’ll ruin the whole ambiance.”

A woman led the way to the gangplank, followed by three men, two of whom held armloads of books, while the third staggered along with a wooden table that all but obscured his vision.

Rowan considered them. “That’s curious. I wonder who they are.”

“I have no idea. More people to go to the promised land, do you think?” Sophea asked.

“We wouldn’t have picked them up midway through Duat if that was the case,” he told her.

“Let us go greet the new arrivals,” Barbie said, nodding toward the door into the ship.

“And leave the party?” Ken said, looking horrified. “But we just got here! And I haven’t gotten to show everyone my darling costume, let alone join the costume contest, which you just know I’m going to win because honestly, no one else’s costume comes even close to the quality of mine. No one else has a familiar… er… sheep with them.” Ken gave them a bright, and very brittle, smile. “Present company excluded from that comment about other costumes, of course. Yours are excellent, truly excellent.”

“Come,” Barbie said, jerking Ken forward so that her wig wobbled precariously.

They moved toward the doorway leading to the inner rooms of the ship at the same moment that a second car pulled up, and two more people emerged, but this time, Rowan was familiar with them.

“That Barbie is kind of rude… whoa. More people? Oh, it’s them,” Sophea said, noting the newest arrivals. “Your sister and that guy with the long name.”

“Constantine.” Rowan fought with a spurt of irritation that threatened to blow up into full-fledged anger. “Why are they here interfering? Are they checking up on us? They’ve already seen that we are now dragons—I don’t see why they have to come around bothering us again. Not that I mind seeing my sister, but that dragon she’s mated to is another matter.”