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I tell my mom I’m going to a friend’s place, which isn’t technically a lie, and then I hop on my bike and ride down to the edge of town. There are some shops run out of the warehouses on the other side of the train tracks here.

People think it’s just homeless people who live here, and the city has given up on trying to run them off. Mainly because it never works and it costs too much to jail them. That, and no one actually owns these buildings anymore. It’s become a sort of self-sendee homeless shelter.

Except these people aren’t homeless. But only those of us who need the supplies they sell actually know that.

I lean my bike against the railroad crossing sign and then walk down the incline toward the warehouses. People mill about outside, sort of like you might expect at a flea market, but the tables are lined with magic wares instead.

I pass by all of that and head around to the side of the warehouse farthest from the tracks. There’s only one door here, toward the back. It’s my mentor’s shop. She doesn’t really sell anything. More like she teaches things.

Before I reach the door, it opens, and a young man steps out. His gaze falls on mine, and his eyes narrow as if inspecting me.

“Are you lost?” he asks.

I roll my eyes. “No one finds this place by accident. I’m looking for Esme.”

“Is that really such a good idea?”

I cross my arms and take another step closer. This time, I’m the one scrutinizing him. Dark hair, soft brown eyes, and the lightest dusting of freckles on his nose. He can’t be much older than me, though he’s certainly much taller.

“I’ve never seen you here before,” I say. Then I walk past him and head into Esme’s shop.

The young man is right behind me, catching the door before it closes and following me inside. Creeper.

“She’s not here,” he says from behind me. When I whirl toward him, he adds, “She went out. But maybe I can help. Name’s Finn.”

“Esme never leaves here,” I reply, challenging him.

“It was an emergency. She said she had to find someone and asked to me watch the shop.”

“Find who?” I step closer. “Why would she have you w'atch the shop? I’ve never even seen you before.”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Like hell.” My insides twist. I don’t have time to hunt Esme down, but she’s the only one who can help with the transformation spell, seeing as how I’ve never actually done one before. “Look, I need to find her. It’s an emergency. Lives are at risk.”

Finn’s eyes widen. “That’s what Esme said when she left.”

“I don’t have time for this.” I brush past him, then pause in the doorway. “Listen, when she gets back, tell her Hadley was looking for her, okay?”

Instead of responding, he grabs my arm and spins me toward him. “You’re Hadley?”

“Yes. And I really need to talk to Esme. I have maybe forty-minutes left before one of my friends dies, and she’s the only one who can help me. So, if you’ll excuse me.”

I try to break free of his grip, but lie’s still holding my arm. Meanwhile, I’m trying to figure out why I told a stranger about my situation. It’s as if the words left my lips without permission.

This time, I'm more direct. "Let go of me," I insist, tugging harder to free myself.

“I’m sorry,” he says, releasing my arm. “It’s you. You’re the one Esme is looking for.”

In that case, I’m glad this guy isn’t blabbing off to anyone where Esme went. But it raises a ton of other concerns.

“She could have called.”

Finn shakes his head, a dark, heavy look overwhelming his expression. “She said she had to talk to you in person. It was right after she read her tea leaves this afternoon. I’ve never seen her in such a panic over a reading before.”

“Well, she didn’t come to my house.”

He must read the concern in my voice, because he reaches out and touches my shoulder. “She’ll be okay. She’d want you to stay focused. Maybe I can help. What do you need?”

“A transformation spell.” I clasp my hand over my mouth. Why did I say that? Shapeshifting spells are frowned on by the magic users this side of the tracks.

He drops his hand and heads toward Esme’s mixing counter. As lie’s shuffling some bowls around, he says, “Don’t worry. I’m not going to tell anyone.”

“Funny, I’d told myself the same thing.”

He reaches up onto one of the shelves and grabs a bottle of absinthe. “I tend to have that effect on people. I guess you could say it’s my gift.”

“It’s a little invasive, don’t you think?”

He shrugs, then grabs an apple and cuts in half with a boline. He’s cut it across the core, revealing a star in the middle. “They say the truth will set you free.”

I cross the room and come up to his side. “Do they?” I peer down over his work. “Can we use something other than absinthe?”

“You’re worried it’s poisonous,” he says.

“It is poisonous.”

“That's a myth. But even if it were, the healing properties in the apple and juniper would cancel it out. Well, that and the spell.” He cuts his gaze to me as he puts the juniper and the absinthe in a wooden bowl together. “You do have a spell, right?”

I stop myself from growling. “Of course I do. I wouldn’t do this if the tea leaves hadn't suggested it to me.”

He arches an eyebrow. “And you know the consequences of this decision? I mean, besides the obvious?”

Well, no. I’d intentionally not read that part of my tea reading. But I’m not telling him that, and I back away before he can try to get it out of me. “What I do with my body is my choice. No one else’s.”

He brushes off his hands and nods. “No arguments there.” He lifts Esme’s blessed rose water and pours a splash over the herbs. “You must really love this friend. To make this kind of sacrifice.”

I clench my teeth. He doesn’t know the half of it. If this doesn’t go well, I’ll be dead anyway. Then it won’t really matter much if I have the curse of shifting on my shoulders. “Are you almost done? My situation is kind of time sensitive.”