Ash frowns, and it’s clear by his expression that he doesn’t like this situation in the least. “Even if you go in by yourself,” he says, “we should know your location and be nearby. As much as I hate to agree with her, Aarya’s right that apothecaries are tricky. They are just as likely to hurt you as to help you.”

For a second I’m silent. “I get that you’re trying to make sure I’m safe, but I gave my word to Matteo and I’m not going back on it.”

Aarya starts to talk, but Ines cuts her off. “Aarya, you want to go because apothecaries are rare and a valuable resource. And believe me, I understand the curiosity.” She looks momentarily at me and then Ash. “I want to be an apothecary. But taking advantage of Matteo’s information will end badly, and will break any chance November has of gaining Matteo’s trust in the future—trust she may very much need. And as much trouble as November might have going on her own, it will be nearly impossible with all of us. Do you truly believe that a Bear apothecary will hand out information and poison to a Wolf, a Jackal, and a Fox?”

Aarya grumbles and Ash looks down at his plate, clearly frustrated.

“Besides,” Ines says, getting up from the table and crossing the room, “we don’t have much time. If November is going to go, she needs to do it today.” Ines disappears into the living room and comes back holding the phone book. She drops it on the table in front of me. “Wherever the apothecary is, you should be able to get the address in there.”

Ash stands, too.

“And where are you going?” Aarya asks, looking put out that she didn’t get her way.

“To buy more burner phones,” Ash says, heading for his jacket. “November needs a way to reach us.”

My stomach does a fast flip. I was so busy thinking about how I couldn’t break my word to Matteo that the reality of the situation hadn’t hit me—I’m going alone.

I exit the taxi, which looks straight out of the 1940s, and pull my hood up around my face. I know it’s absurd, given everything else that’s going on, but there was something exhilarating about riding in the backseat of that British cab and paying with British pounds. However, the moment I turn the corner, my thrill fades. Before me is a row of proud old buildings with elegantly decorated shop windows, one of which belongs to an antiques store with a hand-painted sign that reads ARCANE MINDED just like Matteo said it would.