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Parked outside her mother’s psychic shop the following Saturday, Naomi downed the last of her smoothie.

Located not far from a small theme park, the shop wasn’t close to Tia’s home.

The woman didn’t drive—her license had been revoked again—so Alfie generally took her to and from work.

Today, however, he had car trouble. As Naomi was due to meet Tobe at a jewelry store near the shop, she’d offered to pick her mother up.

She screwed the cap on her empty bottle and stuffed it into a cupholder. Tobe wanted help selecting a birthday gift for his grandmother, who collected brooches like it was her purpose in life.

Really, when it came to demons, you couldn’t go wrong with any kind of jewelry so long as it was shiny. Even if, like Naomi, you weren’t a person who wore bling a lot, your inner entity would still go gaga for the stuff.

She nabbed her keys and slipped out of the car. A breeze whispered over her, cool and refreshing. Though it was early evening, plenty of pedestrians dotted the sidewalk—strolling, window-shopping, or stopping to chat with others.

Using her key fob, Naomi locked her vehicle. She waved at Konstantin, who’d parked a few car spaces behind her. She’d been keeping a close lookout for signs of any other tails, but she hadn’t spotted any. There’d been no more peeps from the Lemures , but a few notable things had occurred . . .

Several well-known hangouts for dark practitioners had exploded— thanks, Dad. Subtle is thy middle name.

Jolene had approached a former dark practitioner who—anxious to compensate for the misdeeds he’d committed in his younger years—acted as a consultant for all things dark magick.

He’d examined the cleric’s sword and explained that it was bespelled to psychically weaken its victims, making them easier to defeat. Lovely.

Luka had released Iain, who had so far completely avoided Naomi.

Still, Tobe had taken it upon himself to confront the psi-demon and issue some warnings of his own.

Iain had admitted that his obsession with Naomi had been a result of her song and had claimed he was deeply embarrassed.

He’d also assured Tobe that he had no intention of making contact with her.

Here’s to hoping.

Naomi crossed the street and strode toward Tia’s shop. A black awning shaded the storefront. Two red neon signs hung in the window—one saying Psychic Readings , while the slightly smaller one below it said Open .

Oblivious humans and demons popped into the store all the time, either for consultations, out of curiosity, or to buy merchandise.

Tia was always available to do readings.

The angel cards, crystals, and supposed palm readings were all for show, though.

Really, she used a mix of her exceptional intuition and her demonic ability to pick up surface thoughts.

Some people had natural shields that kept their thoughts protected—Naomi was one of them —but her mother was still damn good at reading her.

Naomi had spent a lot of time here as a kid, since her mother had liked to do the whole “And this is my daughter—she inherited the family gift” thing.

Tia would telepathically tell Naomi something about the human, such as what they were thinking at that moment.

Naomi would then repeat it aloud and watch the client’s face go slack in wonder.

Maybe she should have felt bad about fooling all those people, but Tia had made it seem like a game, so she’d initially found it fun. Later, though, it hadn’t felt right. Her mother had said, “We’re part of an imp-dominated lair, sweetie—we never do what feels right.”

As a kid, watching her mother work, Naomi had admired how well Tia could read people.

Even as an adult, she still found it impressive.

Tia took in every micro-expression; noticed anything about a person’s voice or body language that gave away details.

But it had been somewhat annoying for Naomi when she was a teenager who wanted to sneak off and do unadvisable things, because it was hard to get a lie past Tia.

Naomi pushed open the shop door, causing the chimes there to jingle. The smells of herbs, scented candles, and incense tickled her nose.

The color scheme was all blues, purples, and pinks.

Framed ethereal pictures hung on the walls.

Soft mystical music played low in the background.

A seating area was set directly across from the cluttered cashier’s desk.

The lighting was gentle—a combination of flickering candles and old lamps that featured purple shades.

Various merchandise was scattered around—some in glass cases, some on shelves, some near or on the cashier’s desk. There were also candles, crystals, angel statues, books, herb packets, pendulums, charm bracelets, essential oils—on and on it went.

Naomi blinked in surprise at the sight of Tobe leaning over the desk, smiling at the blonde imp behind it, who wore a gypsy-style dress. “I thought we were meeting up at the jewelry store,” she said to her anchor.

He gave a dry look. “Oh hi, Nome. Yes, I am fine, thanks.”

Naomi rolled her eyes. “I know you’re fine. I spoke to you, like, two hours ago when we agreed to meet up.”

“Yeah, and I knew you’d be late—which you are, in case you haven’t noticed—so I figured I’d wait for you here. It gives me an excuse to chat up Yuliya.”

The receptionist grinned at him. “You never need an excuse to do that, honey.” She looked at Naomi. “Don’t let him give you crap for being late. He walked in here no more than thirty seconds before you.”

He gaped at her. “I can’t believe you threw me under the bus like that.”

The blonde gave an unapologetic shrug. “Sisters before misters.”

A snort popped out of Naomi. “Is my mom around?”

“She’s in the back room getting ready to close up,” replied Yuliya. She switched off the music. “You can go in there if you want; her last client of the day just left.”

“Great.”

“I’ll wait here,” said Tobe, his eyes fixed on Yuliya like she’d disappear if he looked away.

Smiling to herself, Naomi made a beeline for the back room. Pushing aside the privacy curtain, she slipped inside. Dressed in her usual bohemian getup, her mother was in the process of blowing out the candles that were set around the room. “Are you ready, Madam Tia?”

Her mother cast her a smile. “Almost. Thanks for picking me up, sweetheart.”

“Not a problem. You wiped my ass for, what, two whole years? The least I can do is give you a ride home when you need it.”

Tia chuckled. “Well, when you put it like that . . .” She crossed to the circular cloth-covered table that had center-stage. “I haven’t spoken to you much this week, so I didn’t get a chance to ask . . . How are things going with you and Luka?”

Naomi gave a blasé shrug. “Fine.”

“Just fine?” Tia prodded as she began pushing the chairs closer to the table.

“Just fine.”

“Huh. Must be something else that has you looking so content. The resting bitch face has gone. You’re a woman who is quite clearly satisfied with her life—I can tell. That man is doing something right. Maybe you should let this one stick around.”

Naomi felt her brows slide together. “What do you mean ‘let’?”

“I mean that you have a habit of cutting men loose as soon as things get serious.” Tia reached across the table to snatch up the pile of angel cards sitting near the crystal ball. “You avoid emotional intimacy. Yes, you have secrets to guard. But that isn’t the only reason you do it.”

Feeling a little defensive, Naomi folded her arms. “Oh, it’s not?” she asked, snippy.

“No. Throughout your life, no matter your age, you’ve been bombarded with male attention.

All sirens have that problem. There are enough sickos in this world that grown men are attracted to us when we’re children .

We have to deal with them trying to stroke our hair, lure us closer, or watch us play in the park.

It makes our skin crawl. Makes us feel preyed on. Makes us feel dirty and objectified.”

Naomi ground her teeth, recalling those occasions. Recalling the greedy gleam in the eyes of those men. “It must have been harder for you. You must have picked up some of what they were thinking, even seen flashes of what they were imagining.”

Tia swallowed, slipping the angel cards into a velvet pouch.

“I did, but it doesn’t make my experiences worse than yours.

Things get no better for sirens as we grow.

It affects all our interpersonal relationships.

Your friends distanced themselves from you when you were teenagers.

One did it because it creeped her out that her dad would stare at you.

Another did it because her boyfriend was so affected by your song.

A third did it to please the jealous little bitches who bullied you simply because they didn’t like that you took away the male attention they sought. ”

Naomi shoved back the memories that tried surfacing. Memories of how her friends had turned on or away from her. Memories of those previous friends laughing at what the bullies said or did.

“All of that impacts a person’s growth,” Tia went on. “Even when you were a kid, it made you try to fade into the background. You didn’t want to be seen. Which hasn’t changed. You won’t even claim credit for your work because you don’t want the publicity.”

“Yeah, well.”

“Hey, I’m not giving you grief here, honey.

I get it.” Tia placed the pouch of cards in her storage chest. “We reach a point where we loathe attention so much that we feel uncomfortable whenever we have it. Especially since it’s mostly sexual.

So when a guy comes along who, unlike those who came before him, has a genuine interest in us as a person . . . we don’t know what to do with it.

“I had not one clue how to deal with Alfie seeing past me being a siren. I’d come to expect betrayal, resentment, and abandonment. I expected it from him as well, and I almost pushed him away because of it.”