From a bird’s eye view of the city, I looked down, wondering if the hitman was already down there plotting my death. It seemed likely. We were pushing for time, but again, couldn’t rush catching Lacey. If she realized what was really going on, she would run and we’d lose our chance forever. Would have better luck finding a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.

I couldn’t have that. It’d ruin all my plans for her.

Enough time had passed and Lacey’s balcony called to me. I flew down, landing on the rail for a moment. My head twisted as I peered into her condo, my talons wrapped around the metal. All the lights were off inside and I saw no movement. My wings flapped a few times as I pushed off the railing. My body melted into a new shape, the edges of my person becoming blurry and confusing. For a moment I was an inky black shape, twisting horns on my head. Then I was Viktor, my shiny shoes tapping against the tiles surrounding Lacey’s infinity pool.

The clothes I dressed one shape in, persisted as I shifted shapes. I didn’t make the clothes, they just survived the magical transformation. It was one indicator I was not a werebeast, like the werewolves earlier tonight. Whatever magic they shifted with, was not the same magic as mine. It was older, less understood, and stranger.

The golden reflection of my eyes looked at me from her windows as I approached. She didn’t leave this door locked. Why would she? She was so many stories up high in the sky. Plus, Lacey had blind spots. She was used to winning at everything, including fate. She never had to take the time to worry about things like helmets or locking doors. A fortunate thing for me.

The door opened silently to a cool, dark room. White marble with golden ripples stretched from wall to wall. She kept the place curiously sparse for a leprechaun. She had her little trophies here and there though, favorites on display.

My favorite was a Rembrandt painting, a seascape with a boat thrashing in a storm. The painting itself wasn’t really to my taste. It was its history I adored. This had been stolen decades ago—in what they still called the largest art heist in history.

I smiled at the painting and then my form grew smaller. Four small legs and one long tail sprouted as I shrunk. Before I was even finished I was silently padding towards her room on cat paws.

Her bedroom door was cracked and I nudged it open with my head, slipping into the room before jumping on the bed. Moonlight laid across her skin in long streaks, showing off the fact she hadn’t even cleaned her road rash. I crawled further up on the bed, my eyes only on her.

The idea of cleaning her wounds washed over my mind—human hands brushing the fabric of her clothes to the side, fingers dancing across her skin. Leaning close, my breath spilling over the red wound, the smell of iron, the taste…