I shrug, taking a moment to touch up what little makeup I wear, peering into my small, handheld mirror when I say, “About that—”

He looks at me.

“I think my days as Avalon are over.”

He sighs, clearly disappointed.

“I mean, don’t get my wrong, I really have enjoyed it, and today, well, up until the fiasco anyway, I felt like I was starting to get really good at it—like I was able to reach people—help people—but now—well, maybe it’s time to bring Ava back on board. Besides, school’s about to start up and—”

“Are you quitting?” He frowns, obviously not thrilled with the idea.

“No.” I shake my head. “No, I just, well, obviously I’ll need to cut back, and I don’t want to cause you any more problems than I already have.”

“No worries.” He shrugs. “I’ve already put Ava back on the schedule, figured you’d have to cut back your hours anyway, but, Ever, you can start up again anytime, the clients love you, and I—well—” His face flushes. “I’ve been very impressed with your performance as well. As an employee.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head and sighing when he adds, “Man, I’m about as far from smooth as it gets.”

But I just shrug, wondering who’s more uncomfortable here, him or me.

“So, any idea what you’re gonna tell her tomorrow?” he asks, desperate to move on to something else.

“Nope.” I drop my lip gloss into my bag and snap the bag shut. “Not a clue.”

“Well, don’t you think you should think about it? Come up with some kind of plan? You don’t want to get caught before you’ve even had a chance to drink your first cup of joe, do you?”

“I don’t drink coffee.” I shrug.

“Fine, elixir, whatever.” He laughs. “You know what I mean.”

I heave my purse onto my shoulder and glance at him. “Look, don’t get me wrong, I love Sabine. She took me in when I lost everything, and in return, I’ve done nothing but make her life a living hell on an ongoing basis. And while I’m perfectly willing to come clean, if for no other reason than the fact that after all this, she deserves to hear the truth, or at least some semblance of the truth—it won’t be tomorrow morning. Not even close.” And even though I try not to smile when I say it, I can’t help myself. When I think of my plan, my fail-safe, foolproof plan, my whole face lights up.

For now, all of my energy, all of my light, all of my good mojo—as Jude puts it—needs to be saved up and channeled exclusively toward Roman. I’ve got to extend my love, peace, and goodwill toward him because approaching him this way is the only way I can win. The only way I’ll ever get what I want.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned through all this, it’s that resistance never works. Fighting the war against what I don’t want only serves to manifest that very thing. And that’s why Roman’s power over me weakened when I appealed to Hecate—because I stopped obsessing about it for five minutes and it started to deteriorate as a result. So, with all this in mind, I think it’s safe to assume that by pouring my energies into what I do want—peace between us and the rogues along with the antidote to the antidote—well, it can only result in a win.

So, when I go to him tonight, it won’t be as an enemy, as someone who plans to connive and fight to get what they want. Instead, I’ll approach him as my higher self—the purest, clearest form of me.

And then I’ll offer him the chance to rise up from the depths and meet me on that very same level.

And I’m so lost in my thoughts, so lost in the excitement of my plan, at first I don’t even hear Jude when he says, “Where you headed?” Squinting at me, his psychic radar on its highest alert.

But I just look at him, unable to keep the smile from my face when I say, “I’m going to go do something I should’ve done a long time ago.” Pausing when I see the way his head tilts, the way his brow creases, the way his aura wavers and flares, and wishing I had time to stick around and reassure him, tell him it’ll all be okay. But I don’t, I’ve wasted enough time already. So, instead, I just look at him and say, “Don’t worry. This time, I know what I’m doing. This time, everything’s gonna be different. You’ll see.”

“Ever—” He reaches toward me, hand clawing at the air before falling empty at his side.

“No worries.” I shrug. “I know exactly what to do. I know how to handle Roman now.” I nod, taking in his thick tangle of dreadlocks, seeing how the last few weeks of summer surf have lightened them to a sun-bleached blond. “I know exactly how to fix it, exactly how to proceed,” I add, seeing the way he tilts his head, leans back on the stool, and rubs his chin thoughtfully. His malachite ring glinting before me, nearly the same shade of green as his tropical gaze, which is narrowed, assessing, tinged with more than a slight bit of worry. But I just ignore all of that. Just brush it right off. For the first time in a long time I finally feel powerful, sure of myself, and I won’t allow room for anyone to plant even the smallest seed of doubt. “I went to the Great Halls of Learning—” I pause, knowing he needs more convincing than just my nodding head and confident word. “And—well, let’s just say I got a good lead. A very good lead.” I press my lips together and hike my purse higher onto my shoulder, knowing I should probably leave the conversation right there.