by Jaye Wells
I frowned. “Do you think she was telling the truth?”
“About being raped?”
I nodded.
She pressed her lips together. “Yeah.”
I didn’t ask how she knew. Instead, I said, “If she won’t give up a name, why did she come to you?”
“She’s worried she might be pregnant.” The word lay there on the table between us like a loaded gun. “Wanted to know her options.”
“Jesus, Pen. What did you tell her?”
“That’s the rub. She said if it turns out she is, she wants to abort.”
I slapped my beer on the table. “Christ, Pen. How old is she?”
“Fifteen.”
“So she’ll need parental permission.” According to state law, all minors had to have a parent’s consent for the administration of an abortive potion at a government-approved clinic.
“She asked if there’s a way around the permission.”
I scrubbed a hand over my face. “Stop right there. If you tell me anything else, I’ll have to report it.”
“Jesus, Kate, I’m not going to help her get a back-alley potion. Give me some credit.”
I held up my hands. “No judgment, okay? I know the laws haven’t kept up with the times. But since I’m on the federal task force I can’t afford to have even the appearance of being an accessory to helping a minor break the law.”
“Right. And I can’t afford to have my license revoked. Besides, I’m not going to be responsible for sending that child into the Cauldron to get a dirty potion from a charlatan wizard.”
I leaned back and crossed my arms, thinking over the options. “How long ago did the rape happen?”
Pen cleared her throat, as if it were tight. “Couple of weeks.”
“She has a couple of weeks until she knows for sure, then.”
“In the meantime, my concern is the guy who did it.” Pen rubbed her arms, as if cold. “She said she was working on a project with him after school and he made a pass at her. She refused and he seemed to back down. He even offered to get her a soda to make up for it.”
“A real Prince Charming, huh?” I said.
My friend made a disgusted face. “Anyway, next thing she knew she woke up and he was standing over her doing up his pants.”
Chilly dread slid under my skin. “He slipped something in the drink.”
Pen nodded.
“There’s a potion making the rounds at colleges and high schools,” I said. “It’s a clean potion originally used as a sleeping pill for severe insomnia. The kids call it DTF. There are even fan pages for the potion on social media sites.”
“What does DTF stand for?” Her tone was flat, as if she didn’t really want to know.
“Down to fuck.”
Pen paled. I couldn’t blame her. Just saying those words made nausea bloom in the back of my throat. I’d seen humans do all sorts of horrible things to each other, but this felt way too close to home. Not just because it had happened at Danny’s school, but also because of Pen’s own past with sexual abuse. Dealing with this case was clearly already taking a toll on her, and I hated knowing it would only get worse.
“Why didn’t she report him?” I asked.
Pen picked at the label of her beer. “She was scared. Her attacker told her no one would take her word over his. He even said the school might take away her scholarship.”
“Scholarship?” My eyes widened. I paused, wondering if I should even say what I was thinking. Meadowlake didn’t offer many scholarships. In fact, only one was offered to each incoming class in the upper school. That meant it was one of four kids—one of whom was Danny’s special girl. “Pen, it’s not—” I leaned forward and whispered, “Please tell me it’s not Luna.”
Pen hesitated and her gaze lowered. “You know I can’t tell you.” I’d been friends with this woman for a decade, and her body language was screaming guilt.
“Fuck—it is her.” My stomach recoiled. Just that afternoon I’d spoken to the girl and had no idea she’d been suffering under the weight of such a horrible secret. “Jesus.”
Her head jerked up but her shoulders slumped in surrender. “You can’t tell Danny.”
“Of course not,” I said, lowering my voice.
“Her mom works two jobs and her dad is gone. This school is her big chance to improve their lot.”
“And then some privileged asshole uses that against her.” I smacked the bottle on the table, wishing it were the attacker’s head instead.
Pen leaned forward on her elbows. “What are our options here? Legally.”
I chewed on my bottom lip. “If she’d gone and gotten a rape kit done this would be a lot easier. Since she didn’t, it’s going to be his word against hers. And since she won’t give you a name…” I trailed off, letting Pen come to the conclusion without saying it out loud.
“I’ll keep working on her, but she made me swear not to tell anyone. She seemed really scared that he’d find out she talked.” I just nodded because there wasn’t anything to say to make the situation less shitty. “But you know what really worried me?”
I shook my head.
“She seemed way more worried about being pregnant than the fact she’d been violated. It was almost as if she blamed herself.”
“That’s common with rape victims.”
“I know,” Pen snapped.
“Hey.” I tilted my head down to catch her gaze and reached across to touch her hand. “I know you do. And I’ll help in any way I can. You know that.”
Pen swallowed hard and nodded. “Thanks, Kate. I’m just worried there’s not much we can do, you know? I told Principal Anderson we might have a sexual predator among the student body but he brushed me off.”
I patted her hand before withdrawing to grab my beer. I didn’t want to tell her it was hopeless. During my time as a cop, I hadn’t worked on too many rape cases, but it was well known that they were incredibly difficult to prove. But charges couldn’t even be filed without Luna naming names. Still, given the stigma rape victims faced, I couldn’t blame the girl for not stepping forward.
But more than the shitty odds of proving the case, I was worried about Pen herself. The previous fall she’d had a horrible car accident that resulted in some broken bones and, worse, a broken sobriety. In an effort to relieve the pain of her injuries, she’d fallen off the wagon and taken pain potions. While she seemed to have kicked the urges quickly, the stumble had affected her emotionally. I knew she was still attending Arcane Anonymous meetings, but she’d also been more withdrawn in general.
While I pondered all that, Pen finished off her beer and went to get another, grabbing one for me, too, without asking. When she came back her expression had cleared, as if talking it out had alleviated some of her worries. That or she simply had decided it was time to change the subject. “Enough of that. What’s up with you besides being attacked by dogs?”
For the first time in a long time, I actually had something else to talk about besides work. “Well… something very interesting happened at the school today with Mr. Hart.”
Her eyes widened. “Spill it, sister.” According to Pen, all the single women at Meadowlake had crushes on the guy.
I sucked on my teeth for a moment to draw out the suspense. “He asked me out.”
“Shut up!” She leaned forward. “Tell me everything.”
After I told her about the awkward conversation that ended in setting the date, she frowned. “Where was Morales when all this happened?”
“He walked in at the end and overheard.” I forced a casual shrug. “He read me the riot act about it later.”
She snorted. “I just bet he did.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I couldn’t quite meet her eyes.
“Please, Kate, that boy’s sweet on you and you know it, too.”
“He is not.” I adjusted uneasily in my seat.
“Mmm-hmm. Didn’t you tell me he left the ball in your court?”
I s
ighed. “Sort of.”
Pen shook her head. “Why haven’t you followed up on that?”
I took a swallow of beer before answering. “It’s too complicated.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Because you work together or because you think he’d be too difficult to control?”
This was the problem with having a counselor as a best friend. She never let me wriggle out of difficult discussions. “Both,” I admitted grudgingly.
“Plus it probably dings your ego that he called you on your bullshit last time.”
“Hey!”
“Girl, please. The more emotionally unavailable that boy is the more you want his D.”
“I do not.”
“Uh-huh.” She smiled knowingly. “Okay, so how does Mr. Hart fit into this?”
“I don’t know if he does.” I shrugged. “He just asked and I said yes.”
“Do you like him?”
“He’s nice,” I said. She looked unimpressed by my passion. “Smart and cute,” I added quickly. “Normal in a good way.”
There went that eyebrow again. “I see.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Relax.” Pen raised her hands. “Drew’s hotter than Georgia asphalt in August. He’s exciting and dangerous. But most of all, he challenges you.”
I couldn’t really argue with any of that. “So?”
“So.” She dragged out the word. “Maybe you’re going out with Mr. Hart precisely because he’s the polar opposite of Morales.”
“Maybe it’s just that I want to have a nice date with a normal guy.”
“Hmm.”
I was saved from having to continue that painful conversation when Baba waddled in with her cane. She had on an acid trip tie-dyed housecoat, and her long gray hair was pulled up into a bun on her head. She yawned and nodded at us. “Commercial break.” She went straight to the fridge and removed a large glass pitcher filled with a liquid the color of urine from a dehydrated hobo.
Pen frowned at the drink the old woman poured into a glass. “What’s that you’re drinking?”
Baba took a good long swallow and let out a satisfied ahh before answering. “It’s kombucha.”
“What the hell is that?”
“It’s fermented tea. It balances the flora in your gut,” she said. “Of course I added a little bit of an herbal kick to it.”
I didn’t want to touch the topic of gut flora, so I raised a brow and asked about the other part. “What kind of herbal kick?”
A small burn escaped her lips. “Just some willow bark and goldenseal for my arthritis.”
I shook my head. “You really need to go see a doctor about that, Baba.”
She laughed. “With what money?” She shook her head and took another sip. “Besides, they’d just give me a prescription for Maslin’s Tincture. This works just as well and is way cheaper.”
I shot her a skeptical look.
“You wanna try it?” Baba asked us.
I shook my head immediately.
“I’ll try it.” Pen took the cup from Baba and sniffed. Her nose instantly wrinkled, but she took a sip anyway. Judging from the expression on her face, she regretted volunteering the instant it hit her tongue.
“Well? What do you think?” Baba asked, a knowing smile on her face.
“It tastes like carbonated vinegar.”
“Great, right?” Baba said.
Pen thrust the cup back at the woman.
“Suit yourself,” Baba said. “Just means more for me.”
Pen took three chugs of her beer to rinse the kombucha from her tongue. Baba pulled out a chair and settled into it. “What are you two talking about anyway? Normally you’re cackling like lunatics in here, but it’s been suspiciously quiet.”
I shrugged and busied myself reading my beer label. “Just work stuff.”
Baba made a dismissive sound at the mention of our jobs. In her opinion, modern women spent too much time being stressed out because of their ambitions. Her husband had been a handyman and she’d supplemented his modest income by selling homemade remedies to neighborhood ladies using their pin money or allowances. “You both need hobbies.”
I snorted. “Who has time for that?”
“Where a person spends their time is the truest indicator of their priorities.”
I gritted my teeth instead of responding. It was easy to judge other people when you spent your day watching TV and brewing suspicious teas. I didn’t have the luxury of deciding not to work because someone else was paying the bills.
A foot kicked mine under the table. I looked up to see Pen shooting me a look. Apparently she’d been able to read my mind with her scary therapist skills. I scooted lower in my seat as regret washed through me at my uncharitable thoughts.
“So how’s your new gig at the community center going?” I asked.
“Great!” Baba said, sitting up straighter. “They paired me up with some really sweet kids.”
“You’ll be able to make a real difference there.” Pen sighed.
“Uh-oh.” Baba leaned forward. “What’s wrong?”
Pen leaned forward and set her arms on the table. “I don’t know. It’s just that playing counselor to a bunch of privileged kids is wearing thin.”
“That’s not all you do,” I said. “There are kids there with real problems that you’re helping.” I shot her a meaningful look.
She pressed her lips together but nodded. “I know. It’s nothing.” She waved a hand. “I should feel lucky.” She took another drink, as if trying to force down a bitter pill.
“Anyway,” Baba said, “the center is great. Oh, I forgot to tell you, Kate.”
I raised my brows. “What happened?” I braced myself to hear about some delinquent who’d given her shit.
“That news lady—the one who was there with Volos?”
My brows slammed down. “Grace Cho.”
Baba nodded. “That’s the one! She came back this afternoon.”
“What did she want?” I asked.
“That’s the weird part,” Baba said. “She had all these questions about you.”
I slapped my hand on the table. “That bitch.”
“Why would a TV reporter be asking questions about you?” Pen asked.
Before I could answer, Baba spoke for me. “Grace Cho wants to do a special interview with Kate!” She sounded excited, as if she thought this would be my big break. For what, I had no idea. “She said she was interviewing people who knew Kate as pre-research.” Baba looked at me with an accusing glance. “You didn’t tell me you agreed to do an interview.”
“That’s because I didn’t.”
Baba frowned. “She sounded pretty confident the story was on.”
“What kinds of questions did she ask?”
“Just about how we knew each other and stuff.”
It was the “and stuff” that worried me. Baba had never met a stranger, and her default setting was at too much information. “What did you tell her?”
Baba shot me a worried look. “I didn’t tell her any of your secrets or anything.”
“What secrets?” I shot back.
She raised a gray brow. “Mmm-hmm. Anyway, I told her I wasn’t going to answer any questions without clearing it with you first.”
I sighed. “That’s good, Baba. Thanks.”
Baba nodded. “She seemed particularly interested about your time in the covens, and your relationship with John.”
I pointed at Baba. “That’s exactly the stuff I don’t want aired in public. Jesus, can you imagine?”
“Either way, you’re going to have to play this carefully,” Pen said. “If you pissed her off she’s likely to do an exposé or something out of spite.”
“If she contacts you again, let me know,” I said to Baba.
Baba drained the rest of her urine tea and let out a sigh. “Yes, ma’am.” She grunted and pushed herself up from the table. “Okay, my tea’s kicking in. If I don’t come out in half an hour, sen
d in a search party.” With that, the old witch cackled and waddled away.
Chapter Fourteen
On the way to the hospital the next morning to meet Morales, I turned on the police scanner for company. Even though it was early, there was a lot of chatter. Apparently, a few Sanguinarians had been jumped by a group of Votaries the night before. The perps had run off before the cops arrived, but one of the Sang boys had died on the way to the hospital. The other two survived, but had to undergo treatment for broken limbs and hexing.
I cursed out loud as I turned my Jeep into the hospital parking lot. Chances were good the attack happened in retaliation for Charm’s death. I didn’t believe for a second that the Votaries hadn’t heard that Harry Bane, who was the leader of the Sangs, had been beaten within an inch of his life the day before. Most likely some Votary wiz had taken credit for beating Harry, which had inspired others to declare open season on the Sangs.
Morales met me by the elevators at Babylon General. He’d called me at the butt crack of dawn to tell me Harry was awake and with the doctor. I’d thrown on my clothes and hightailed it over to help him do the interview.
“You been here all night?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Gardner took the overnight shift. I got here to relieve her just before Harry woke up.”
I raised my brows in surprise. “Gardner took a shift?” As the special agent in charge of the team, she never took those kind of crap details.
He nodded. “She relieved me at midnight. Just showed up and told me to go home. Said she hadn’t been able to sleep. Guess this A Morte stuff is weighing on her.”
I didn’t have a response to that, so I changed the subject. “You hear about the three Sang guys who got jumped last night?”
He shook his head.
“They claim the attackers belonged to a Votary crew. One of the Sangs died.”
He sighed and shook his head. “Harry better be in a talking mood.”
The halls were quiet as we walked toward Harry’s room. The door was open and inside, a doctor bent over the bed. We loitered by the entrance while he did his thing. I took the opportunity to watch Harry before he put his guard up.
His normally thin face was swollen into an odd shape from all the contusions. Streaks of blood still clumped in his white hair, and the edges of the black ankh on his forehead were blurred from all the bruising. The doctor moved to the right, allowing me a better view of Harry’s mouth. His lips were split and when he opened them to gasp, black gaps showed where teeth had been knocked out.
