Page 3 of The Daughters of Nyx

Thea, who looked about as uncertain as I did, choked on a laugh. “That sounds…” She didn’t finish her thought and grimaced in my direction.

I slowly pulled my hand back and cradled it to my chest. “How do I make surenoneof that happens?”

The psychic quirked a thin brow. “Although our futures aren’t always set in stone, there are choices youcanmake to alter your destiny. But you must understand, Ivy, that you willalwayscome back to this future.”

Frowning, I looked down at the array of Tarot cards spread across the table and the crystal ball in the centre. “Okay, say I believed you…” I looked up and noticed the frustration alight in her copper eyes. “How do I keep it away for as long as possible? I’m not ready for all of—that.” I waved a hand and sat back—as much as I could—to get away from her.

“It is not something you keep away,” she snapped, sniffling. “You are blessed with long love lines, Ivy. Do not take that for granted. You must embrace it. Or the bad will grow stronger and damage your soul.”

My eyes narrowed as I took her in. The fifteen-year-old in me wanted to believe her words. Who didn’t want to know they were about to come in contact with great love? The possibility of magic and a great romance would have had me eating out of her hands seven years ago. But I was twenty-two now and not a child; not naïve, and most certainly not believing anything she had to say.

How many people did she give thisexactreading to? How many people did she convince that they, too, had great love coming for them?

As if having the same thoughts as me, Thea peered at me from the corner of her eye. “We’ll keep an open mind about the love crap. But what can you tell us about the nightmares?”

My teeth clenched as I looked away from the psychic. No pill could chase away the dark nightmares that had been plaguing me the last year. When I could afford it, I’d even

gone to doctors, though nothing prescribed gave me reprieve from them.

So Thea’s brilliant idea was to see someone different. Home remedies and a witchy potion. At this point, we were desperate.

The worst of the nightmares had me screaming in my sleep. They were dark and felt too real sometimes. Too dangerous to exist only inside of my head. They were affecting my best friend now, and I had to dosomethingto get rid of them.

I’d do anything.

Like see a fucking psychic.

Madame Sterling cocked her head and hummed the same tune again. “You have been touched by a curse,” she said, standing gracefully from her chair. “Is there someone in your life, an enemy perhaps, who may have access to dark magic?”

This time, Thea and I didn’t hide the look of disbelief we shared. I could see the laughter dancing in her green-blue eyes. Did we know anyone capable of making my life hell?

Yes. A couple of people came to mind. My mother being one.

Would any of those people usedark magicto give me horrendous nightmares about skulls and blood and creatures made of gore?

No, I didn’t think so.

After a moment, Thea and I both shrugged. “The nightmares are intense,” I said slowly, turning my attention back to the psychic. “Nothing works. I’ve seen doctors and taken medication, but they come back regardless. I just want to sleep.”

Madame Sterling nodded as if she completely understood. “Have you tried herbal teas? I can make you something special to repulse the negative energy that’s giving you the dreams.”

Other than chamomile, no. I shook my head. “I’ll try anything.”

I could see the dollar signs lighting up her eyes, but I was a stickler for a budget, and I had no intention of walking out of here with things I didn’t need. Like a dozen crystals or sage wands. Or books on how to manifest a better sleep schedule.

Up until last year, I’d been fine. The nightmares were triggered around my twenty-first birthday, and although it wasn’t the first time I’d been plagued with dark dreams, it’d been the first time they hadn’t gone away after a couple of weeks. Thankfully, they weren’t every night. I doubted Thea would still be by my side if they were.

But since last week, they’d been getting worse.

Thea and I watched as Madame Sterling strode into the main store, and we followed after a heartbeat. The back antechamber was a little spooky and dank, but standing made my feet ache with the reminder that we’d been sitting for twenty minutes and had learnt nothing.

I’m so getting Thea back for this, I thought, sending my best friend a dark look as her blonde hair bounced against her shoulders. She followed the psychic into the main store and looked around, unenthused, at the array of crystals and dried flowers.

I tried to hide my own interest in it all. The fifteen-year-old inside of me still loved all of this, and if the apartment said anything about Thea and I, it was that the supernatural intrigued us both. We might not have believed all of it—and

especially not Madame Sterling’s brand ofpsychic—but we still felt drawn to the unexplainable.

But who didn’t when they’d had aTwilightphase at thirteen?

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