“Gore,” I said to myself when they left. “Lovely. And me in white lace.”

I returned to the cabin to find the margarita party in full force, with music blaring from someone’s phone, a conga line proceeding around the main room’s furniture, and much boisterous laughter. I warned them about making nuisances of themselves, then gathered up my hat and cutlass, and went to see if Rowan had returned to his own cabin.

I noticed as I trotted down the stairs to our floor that the ship was docked at another small town. Oh good. Maybe Rowan would want to come with me to find a shop with something to wear that didn’t make me look like a reject from a sexy version of Pirates of the Caribbean.

Unfortunately, his cabin was empty when I got to it. Rowan’s bag was gone, though, showing he’d moved his things to mine, a fact that made me feel warm and squidgy, and all sorts of other emotions that I really didn’t want to face at that moment. I peered out of the porthole, noting that a handful of people were streaming down the gangway to the town, clearly fellow passengers doing a little shopping.

“And why shouldn’t Hell have shops?” I asked myself, counting the money I’d tucked into an inner pocket. “I’ll just go see if they have some skirts or something that I can get for Mrs. P and me.” Then I could find Rowan and ask him about those challenges.

Suiting action to word, I made my way to the lower level of the ship, emerging from its dark depths to the brilliant sunshine of Egypt in late summer.

I felt like I’d been punched with a big fist of pure heat. It was way hotter than on the ship, and I thanked the goddess I was wearing a hat. Maybe I could pick up some fans along with the skirts.

I trotted down the gangway, looking around the town that sat right on the edge of the river. Palm trees dotted the shoreline, along with various shrubs and lots of tall brown grasses that rustled in the breeze. Beyond it sat the village, all the buildings made from the same cream-colored stone (or mud, for all I knew). Most of them were low with flat tops, but there was a central building that had beautiful arches and little domes along the length of its roofline.

From appearances, I could be standing at any small village on the Nile, so much so that I had to remind myself that this was the Underworld, and not reality as I knew it.

Behind the village, the hills rose to their flat-topped plateaus, familiar from many an Egyptian mummy documentary about dig sites. I expected to see dogs and chickens and children running around the village, but as I strolled down the main (and only) avenue, there was no one in sight.

“Hello?” I called out, wondering which building housed the shops. “Anyone here?”

A dog bayed in the distance, and at the same time, a low, deep horn sounded from the ship. I dashed back a dozen steps, prepared to see the ship getting ready to go—leaving me behind—but it was anchored as calmly as ever. The gangway was still in place, held down by ropes and stakes. No one appeared at the entrance of the ship, waving on stragglers.

One of the local dogs must have been wary of strangers, because I heard a spate of barking coming from the other side of the big building.

“Huh,” I said to myself, giving the ship one last look before turning to face the town. Maybe it had been the lunch bell or something. Okay, time to get some shopping done so I could go molest a certain brand-new dragon.

I retraced my steps to the center of the village, hearing more barking. This was louder, and accompanied by some snarling, no doubt the local dogs fighting over a bit of food. I glanced around to see if I could locate them, bracing myself for the sight of feral dogs, but still didn’t see any signs of life.

Until I rounded one of the buildings, and then stopped dead in my tracks. Beyond the edges of the village proper, scrubby little shrubs swayed in the wind, petering out to nothing after a few dozen yards. And bounding over the dusty shrubs, heading straight for me, was the most ghastly sight I’d ever seen—a big gray and black dog. No, not dog, a beast! A nightmarish hell beast with slavering jaws, bloodred eyes, and murder in its heart.

My murder!

“Ack!” I turned on my heel and ran like hell down the center of the town, screaming as I did so. “Help! Monster! Carnivorous monster! Someone help!”

The village was dead silent except for my screams and the snarls and slavering panting of the hell beast as it bore down on me, its footfalls dulled thuds on the packed dirt of the village. I rounded the last corner to the ship, and took a chance at glancing behind me. The monster—the approximate size of a pony—was about twenty feet back and closing fast.

There was no way I was going to make the ship in time. I had a choice: I could either stand and face the horrible beast or I could be torn to shreds trying to reach safety.

I was a dragon, dammit. I was a kick-ass dragon, and kick-ass dragons did not run from monsters, no matter how many nightmares they were made of.

I caught a flash of movement from the depths of the ship as I skidded to a stop and spun around, whipping my cutlass from where it was stuck into my sash. “Right. If I’m going down, I’m going to do it with style.”

The dog’s eyes lit with an unholy joy when it realized I was standing still, and it gathered itself in a massive leap, obviously about to flatten me before it ripped me into a million bloody bits. I yelled as I lifted my sword, hoping to catch it either in its throat or in its gut, when suddenly I was hit on the side by a blurred shape. I went flying a good fifteen feet, landing in a patch of prickly grasses, cracking my head on a rock. It took me a minute to gather my wits, but when I sat up, rubbing my head, I beheld the most amazing sight.

Rowan was fighting the monstrous beast.

“Rowan?” I asked, getting to my feet, my admiration unbounded as I watched him wield my Xena sword, parrying the monster every time it lunged at him with snapping, razor-sharp teeth. “Great Caesar’s goatees, Rowan—watch out!”

Just as I spoke, the monster’s body twisted, knocking the sword out of Rowan’s hand. I rushed forward with my cutlass raised high, but I underestimated Rowan. He swung around in a roundhouse kick that had connected with the beast’s neck with a nauseatingly audible crack, before using both hands to pound on the monster’s back, slamming it into the ground with a force that sent dust flying up in a cloud around us.

I choked, coughing like mad, and squinting as I dashed forward, prepared to help Rowan just as soon as the dust settled enough to see.