Dragon Soul (Dragon Falls, #3)(50)

“Spiteful,” Barbie agreed, shoving the overnight bag at me. “We brought you and your employer some clothing.”

“We just couldn’t live with ourselves knowing that you and your boss were here without anything to wear but those ghastly costumes.” Ken smiled sympathetically at me. I eyed first her rotund shape, then Barbie’s slim, tall form, and decided not to point out that neither Mrs. P nor I had body types similar to theirs.

“Thank you, that’s very thoughtful of you. Um. How is it you found out about the attack on our things?”

“The captain, of course. He was most interested in your experience,” Barbie said, trying to nonchalantly peer over my shoulder into the cabin.

I could hear faint noises of chatter coming from Mrs. P’s room, but figured it was better to let go the explanation of why there were seven women stuffed into a single bedroom. I had a horrible feeling the captain wouldn’t allow it. I shifted slightly to the side to block the view of Mrs. P’s door, and said in a carefully neutral tone, “That’s awfully sweet of you to think of us.”

“Sweet is what we do best,” Ken said, beaming at me. “Isn’t it, Barbs? It comes with the territory.”

Barbie looked less than thrilled, but summoned up a weak smile.

“Territory?”

“Yes, you know.” Ken waved a hand in a vague gesture.

“No, I’m afraid I don’t know,” I said, more confused than ever.

Her eyes opened wide in surprise. “Oh, didn’t we tell you? Barbs, can you believe it? We didn’t tell Sophea who we are when we met her earlier.”

“Who are you?” I asked, suddenly worried.

“We’re cherubs. From the Court of Divine Blood, you know? And so of course we’re here to help you and your employer. We know all about her and what you’re both doing here.”

If I hadn’t been startled by the news that the two older women standing before me were cherubs, I was by what Ken was hinting. “The court of what, now?”

Ken giggled while Barbie tsked, and said, “The Court is what mortals think of as heaven. It’s not, of course, but it’s what they based the idea on centuries ago.”

“And you’re the little winged fat babies who float around ceiling decorations in cathedrals and rococo buildings?” I asked, my skepticism obviously showing, because Ken laughed.

“No, of course not. That’s the mortal conception of us. We are as we appear, of course,” Barbie said gruffly.

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.”