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I reached into my pocket and found my very last copper piece. It was all the money I had left. If I spent it on a drink, I wouldn’t have the coin to pay Widow Martell for another night, and Della and I would be sleeping rough under the stars.

I couldn’t believe this was what my life had come to.

Before I could decline the drink, a sailor stepped in. He had a kind smile and wore a bottle-green jacket like the one the Duke had given me, but his was worn and less… flashy. No tassels or gold buttons. He was also leaning heavily on a wooden crutch.

“Did you really walk in here soaked to the bone on Maris’s night and expect to pay for your own drinks?” he asked with a wink, then passed the woman a coin. She filled my small glass, and he offered it to me.

I raised a brow but accepted the drink. “To the goddess,” I said.

“Wherever she may be,” he replied, swallowing down the liquor.

His smile widened as the tavern roared around us, and the fiddler started playing the goddess song all over again. I was about to tell him to fuck off when a glint of silver caught my eye. Half hidden beneath the open collar of his jacket was a small pendant: a serpent coiled around a crescent moon.

I had seen that symbol before, drawn in the margins of one of our oldest family grimoires. No one had ever explained what it meant.

Della made a series of short, knocking sounds from her perch on my shoulder, then turned around, putting her tail feathers in my face. A clear sign of irritation that I pointedly ignored.

I took the medallion between my fingers, pulling it, and him, closer. There was a protection charm on it. Glancing up at the sailor, I studied his face. His hair was a soft, mousy brown, and his eyes were russet. Unless he was wearing the best glamour I’d ever seen, there wasn’t an ounce of magick in him. Yet he wore this.

“Where’d you get this?” I asked.

He glanced down at the amulet, then back up at me. “A trinket I picked up on my travels.”

I knew that was a lie. Nobody just found a charmed medallion.

“You got this from a witch. A Dark Witch.” I gave it a little tug. “Or you are one.”

He leaned closer. His whiskey breath brushing against my cheeks while he spun a lock of my wet hair around his finger. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But I like the sound of your voice. It’s enchanting.”

I struggled not to roll my eyes because there was more to him than he was letting on. My mind began spinning with ideas, and I latched on to the first one that drove me closer to my goal of finding a buyer for one of my relics. Tapping into the power I was carrying, I focused on my desire: I needed to make money. And I needed to do it quickly.

The vibrations intensified.

Make small talk. Make him think you’re interested.

I startled, glancing down at the hidden pocket. Is one of you… speaking to me? I wondered. No, it couldn’t be possible. That’s not how demonic relics worked. They were imbued with a demon’s power, not possessed by them. I decided it was just my own internal voice guiding me. Flirting was second nature, after all.

Tracing my finger over the curves of the snake, I glanced up at him through my lashes. “You sail these waters?”

He smiled at me like an idiot. “Used to,” he confirmed. “These days I mostly drink beside them. Enjoying the quieter days of my retirement.”

I inched a little closer so that I was speaking directly into his ear. “As you should.”

Without thinking, I stuck my hand in my pocket and wrapped my fingers around my wand. When I did, power vibrated through me, a flash of heat and energy that stole my breath. My eyes flashed with crimson light as dark magick wrapped around the amulet, lowering the spell just enough for me to slip behind.

Go on. Ask your questions.

This time, I couldn’t deny it was the relics talking to me.

I startled at that. Gran had warned me that constant contact with a demonic relic could blur a witch’s wants from a demon’s. They were supposed to be kept in a safe place, brought out only to recharge magick. But those rules had been made for witches with covens, with proper ritual spaces. I had none of those things. My circumstances were very different.

Perhaps it wasn’t a bad thing if they wanted to help me. Just a little. It was only one piece of information. Against my better judgment, I inched behind his protection charm. The sailor’s eyes went glassy, then flashed red.

“Now, where did you get this medallion from?”

“My friends.”

Ah, now we were getting somewhere. “And would these friends be interested in buying magickal objects?”