Poppy's POV

　　The fabric is cool and smooth beneath my fingertips, the scent of lavender and forest clinging to it like a memory that refuses to fade. Ally's clothes, so carelessly handed over by her oblivious foster parents, are now mine to command. I can barely suppress the shiver of anticipation that snakes down my spine as I slide the shirt through my hands, feeling the power that it wields.

　　"Are you sure this will work?" My voice is but a whisper in the ...