Yaya gasped, and I felt the dig as if it had been aimed at me. I shoved between them and put my finger into his sternum. “Listen here, hamster balls. You don’t talk to her like that. Nobody talks to my yaya like that. Not even some trumped-up douche who thinks he’s a long-dead god.”

He grabbed my hand and rubbed my finger up and down in a far-too-suggestive manner. “Or what, darling? I think you and I could have a fine time together. Feisty, just like Flora with a longer set of legs. Yes, we could have some real fun.”

Just like Roger, he thought he could pull the wool over my eyes with his deception. As if he could seduce me, making me blind to how he treated my family and me.

Just like Merlin, who’d lied to me, he thought he could seduce me with words and a future that didn’t really exist.

Anger snapped through me, firing my blood like an open flame. I opened my mouth and my fangs dropped down. They hung out under my top lip and brushed along the lower edge of my bottom lip, beads of moisture dripping from them. A long low hiss slid out from deep in my throat as my eyes narrowed. Zeus stumbled back, slipped on a thin patch of oil, and fell onto his butt. He was up fast enough that I couldn’t be sure he even fell if not for the fact that he brushed the back of his pants off and his hands came away slick.

“Drakaina,” he said. “That’s what she is, Flora. Whoever turned her did it with the intention that she would die.”

My mouth dropped open wider, and with the dissipating anger, my fangs retracted, folding back as nicely as you please. “What?”

I seemed to be saying that a lot. What. Why. Where. I didn’t like not knowing.

Zeus snorted and the lights above us flickered. “Drakaina. Serpent. Siren. Shape-shifter. Monster. That is what you are, granddaughter of Flora, long-ago priestess of mine.”

“I don’t want to be a monster,” I whispered, forgetting I’d been angry with him only moments before.

He shrugged. “Not my issue, snake. You’re a true monster, that’s how it is. Not just any old supernatural, but a monster through and through. As bad as they come. Eating people, destroying cities, ruining lives: that is your calling card now.”

His words were too much, the final straw piled onto my shoulders. I spun and bolted back the way we’d come, running for the front entrance. Tad shouted, begging me to stop. I couldn’t, though. All I could think was that I wasn’t going to be able to fit in at all. That people would know me for what I was as easily as Zeus did.

I choked on a laugh, the edge of it more than a little hysterical.

I was a monster. A snake woman who could seduce people and apparently scared even Zeus.

The lady who’d blocked us as we came in glared at me. “Out of my way, girl. I’m a-shopping, you know.”

I didn’t slow down but shoulder-checked her as I went by. She flipped right over backward and landed with an explosion of air as she belly flopped on the hard floor.

Mouth flapping wide like a fish out of water, she finally sucked in a breath only to let out a wail. “Assault! She assaulted me and I peed myself!”

A sharp tang of urine flooded the air, giving credence to her claim along with the puddle that slowly spread around her ponderous body.

Zeus, mighty god of thunder, was the Blue Box Store manager. His voice boomed over the PA system.

“Cleanup in aisle seven.”

I slapped a hand over my mouth, but the shriek of laughter escaped me anyway as I spun and ran out of the store. There was only one place I wanted to be, and I couldn’t stop myself. Couldn’t keep my feet from taking me to the home I’d shared with Roger. The place I’d felt the safest since my earliest memories.

We didn’t live that far from the Blue Box, a scarce fifteen-minute drive, down to Galer Street in the Queen Anne neighborhood. But that was driving and I was on foot. I didn’t slow, though, as if running would take me away from the craziness my life had become.

The first hill was no problem as adrenaline pushed me up it in record time. The second hill was tougher and the third I walked up, panting and sweating despite the chilly weather.

I reached the top of the third hill and stood there, staring at my house. My grandparents’ home. The place I’d thought I’d live until I died. Which in a way, I had. Only I wasn’t truly dead. Even if I had a large stamp of Deceased on my birth certificate.

“Don’t get melodramatic,” I scolded myself. “You don’t know what’s on your birth certificate now. Could say Monster for all you know.” My pep talk didn’t help any.

Parked in the driveway of our house was a black sports car with glittering silver paw prints all over it. I made myself walk up to the car and peer in. The interior was filled with fast-food bags, wrappers, and empty pop cans.

“Disgusting,” I said, as though my being a monster were any less disgusting than the car filled with garbage.

Why had I come here? Not just because it was my safe place, not if I was being honest with myself. A small part of me wanted to be held, to have someone tell me it would be okay. Roger had always been good at telling me what I wanted to hear.

I stepped away from the car and headed for the front door. The house was old, a hundred years and counting. Three stories, it towered over the other homes in the neighborhood, and yet I’d never felt like it was ostentatious. It needed some love; the shingle roof needed to be replaced, and the windows needed to be swapped out for double pane. Lots of love, sure, but I’d been willing to give it what it needed. To take the time . . .