Tempt the Stars

thing the merchant we picked had that we could afford. And we hadn’t had time to comparison shop.
    Of course, it didn’t matter if you were in a nice, all-encompassing robe like Caleb’s. It was a little more problematic when it came to sexy slave girl attire, particularly when the only thing I had on besides the ass-baring panties was a pair of diaphanous, slit-up-to-heaven harem pants and a top that wasn’t covering as much as my bra had. But it was the pants that were really bothering me for some reason.
    “You look like
I Dream of Jeannie
without the ponytail,” Caleb said, helping not at all.
    “I think it looks like they copied it from a low-rent
Aladdin
,” I snapped. “Along with everything else.”
    “If there was copying, I’d say it was the other way around,” Caleb said, glancing a little longingly at the buildings we were passing. The people here might not have wood, but they’d used what they had to full advantage, carving lintels, columns, stairs, even elaborate grills over their windows, all out of the same red stone.
    Caleb looked like he’d have liked a chance to explore a little. He looked like the proverbial kid in the candy store, only without any money. I felt kind of bad for him suddenly.
    But I didn’t think hanging around would be too healthy.
    “What?” I asked.
    “The incubi came from here to earth, right?” he asked.
    I nodded.
    “And this place came first. So I’d say the incubi brought bits of this culture to earth, not the other way around.”
    “Yeah, but why
these
bits?” I asked, still trying to dig one out of my ass.
    Caleb just looked at me. “Really? You have to ask why incubi would encourage an outfit like that?”
    I sighed. “It’s just . . . once, you know? Just once, I’d like to go on a mission without my butt hanging out, or getting shot, or otherwise being an issue.”
    “Look at it this way,” he said, handing me up to the back of the semiwrecked chariot we were about to steal. “Maybe the guards will be too busy staring at it to pay us any attention.”
    “Yeah. Maybe.” Or maybe we were about to make Rosier’s job really, really easy. But at least the shop owner wasn’t trying to stop us, even though Caleb’s outfit was striped and the other guy’s had been plain, and even though his skin had been a different color, and even though I was a blonde and the driver had left with a brunette.
    Of course, he was an incubus, so I supposed that last one could be explained.
    But nobody was asking about the other stuff, either. Nobody was even looking directly at us, as if our glorious presence was too much for them to bear. In fact, Caleb got a little too close to a porter when he was fighting with the camel things, who had been contentedly grazing on the shopkeeper’s wares all this time and were in no hurry to leave. And the man turned over his wheelbarrow, scattering packages everywhere, rather than brush up against the hem of Caleb’s robes.
    Damn it, I hadn’t been here an hour and I already hated this place.
    I really hoped I wasn’t going to be a permanent resident.
    “All right, then,” Caleb said, gathering up the reins. And then he just stood there.
    “All right, then,” I agreed.
    “All. Right,” he said again, his lips pursing, as we continued to go nowhere.
    “Is there a problem?” I asked, after a few seconds.
    He shot me a glance. “You don’t, uh, know how to drive one of these things, do you?”
    I looked at him. “Do I know how to drive a chariot, Caleb? Is that what you’re asking me?”
    He sighed. “Yeah. Me, neither.”
    He fiddled with the reins some more, until one of the camel things turned around and gave him a withering look. Caleb glowered at it. “You know, they don’t cover this in war mage training!”
    “Do they cover stunning spells?”
    “Yeah, why?”
    “Because I think the owner wants his chariot back.”
    And I had to give it to Caleb. He might not be rivaling Ben-Hur anytime soon, but there was nothing wrong with his reflexes. He spun and thrust out a hand, and the pissed-off demon who had just lurched out of the bar went flying. Literally—the spell tore the guy off his feet and sent him sailing back at least five yards, crashing through the open front of the tavern and scattering chairs and tables and patrons everywhere.
    And normally, that would have been that. Except for the fact that we weren’t anywhere normal. So what happened instead was that a now super-pissed-off