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“Who wants—” Gabi began, opening the coffee canister and the bread box filled with various boxes of tea.
“Coffee,” Victoriya demanded, dropping into the chair beside Eilidh and rapping the girl on the head.
“I’m fine,” Eilidh mumbled but Victoriya looked sceptical. “Can I have tea, Gabriella? Or—should I call you Pride? Is it rude to call you Gabriella?” Eilidh’s red-rimmed eyes fixed nervously on Gabi, her round face red and tear-stained but her eyes somewhat less haunted than before. Whatever Maisie had done, the fox seemed to be a comfort.
“You can call me Gabi,” she said after a moment, her heart pounding in anticipation of rejection. This was Joy’s coven, Joy’s family. Surely, they’d shun any hint at familiarity with the woman who’d hurt Joy and then fled after Joy hurt her back. “What tea do you want, Eilidh?”
Eilidh hauled herself out of her seat and came over, trying a smile that didn’t quite warm her eyes. “What have you got? I just had green tea last time because it was all I could find.” She peered into the bread bin cluttered with boxes in various colours and brands, and said so quietly that only Gabi could hear, she asked, “How is she? Joy? I should have asked before, but with Freya…” Eilidh swallowed the words, and then filled her lungs with shuddering air and pressed on. Gabi was struck with sudden admiration for her bravery; she certainly hadn’t been as strong when her mum died. “You’re worried, right? So, it must be bad? Is she … is Joy okay?” Eilidh’s bright blue eyes met Gabi’s, bleak and full of dread.
Gabi bit the inside of her lip and bought herself a moment by pouring boiling water over the tea bag Eilidh selected—peppermint and green tea. “Paulina took her wand,” she replied in a voice so quiet she hoped to hide her fury.
Eilidh’s eyes widened. Filled with rage. “She—how?How is that legal?”
“Paulina doesn’t care about legal.” Gabi became aware of her lip curling back and straightened her expression, stirring Victoriya’s coffee next, then making her own extra strong. Eilidh put a regular tea bag in one cup and an apple and cinnamon bag in another, and Gabi wondered if she needed the normal act of making tea to steady her the same way Gabi did.
“Can you get something to her?” Eilidh whispered, fire and retribution in her eyes. Her hand was white-knuckles on the mug handle, and it occurred to Gabi that Eilidh had never once asked if Joy was guilty. She knew for a fact she was innocent.
“I’m going to try.” Gabi stared at the mugs, trying in vain to burn away the image of Joy in the cell, weak and terrified, her skin translucent and red around her eyes. “Tomorrow morning.”
Eilidh nodded, her blonde and blue hair swaying. “I’ve got a key for her house. Could you take her a bag of crystals? Just a small one? If she doesn’t have her wand … she’ll need them.”
Gabi smiled, as warm as she could make it. “If there’s anything else she might need, bring that too. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get them to her, or if they’ll be confiscated, but I’ll try. The way she’s been treated, you’re right, it’s not legal.”
Eilidh looked at her, endless depths of emotion in those grieving blue eyes. “We’re gonna help. You get that, right? Not just this one time, with … with sensing whoever killed … her. But until Joy’s out, until she’s free. We’re gonna help you, whatever you need.”
Gabi nodded, wordless. Her throat was dangerously close to closing up, so she began depositing the cups on the table in the hopes of scattering the choked emotion.
“So, what’s next?” Victoriya asked, looking right at Gabi, seeming to echo Eilidh’s statement of cooperation and assistance.
Gabi swirled the contents of her cup and took a long drink of bittersweet coffee. “I need to go over my notes and photos from yesterday again.” She shouldn’t be telling them any of her process but if this meant getting Joy out… “If you all intend to help with this, you need to be officially listed as consultants. There are forms to fill out.”
“Whatever you need,” Salma agreed in her rich voice, her ivy still wrapped around her hand even as she lifted her mug to her full lips. “And I was thinking, if you had any evidence from the killer … we could try a locator spell.”
Gabi shook her head helplessly. This was useless—all of it. But the coven were helping, and the more help Gabi had, the quicker she could work. She took a breath, held it, and let it out slowly until she wasn’t blinded by pessimism. “There’s nothing for you to get a trace on, Salma. For now, just—”
Gabi stopped dead. She’d noticed something in the morgue, while Victoriya wrapped her hand around the dead girl’s wrist. Her mind had been processing it all this time, ticking away in the background while she was focussed on Victoriya fainting and Joy’s incarceration.
Freya hadbloodunder her fingernails. A sure sign she’d scratched her killer. It would take days for the lab to get back any sort of DNA match but with those nails … if Joy had killed her, she would have scratches somewhere on her body.
Hope—this was a glint of hope.
Gabi’s breath stuck in her throat; her heart raced so fast she went dizzy. She didn’t bother explaining her revelation to the witches; she just shot out of the kitchen, coffee still in hand, and raced into the morgue she’d forgotten to lock.
There was Freya, the sheet pulled back over her arm, and there, when Gabi leaned close, was the blood and skin cells. How she’d missed this before she didn’t know, except stress and lack of sleep and the shock and absolute pain of seeing Joy again had muddied her clarity. It didn’t matter; she’d seen it now and that was what was important.
She put her coffee on a table at the side, breathing quickly, and jumped out of her skin when the witches—all five of them, the fox included—poured into the icy room. Salma’s arm was around Eilidh, but the young witch wore an expression of defiance and hope, of all things.
“What—” Gus began but Salma shushed him.
“Let her work,” she murmured quietly, and they gave Gabi space.
Little tremors ran through her hands, adrenaline pumping through her veins and Gabi flicked through the folder of photos she’d printed that morning before going to see Joy. There, a close up of Freya’s right palm. She must have been blind to have missed the blood before, but she reminded herself it didn’t matter.
“I need everyone to leave,” she announced without turning. “I have to write a report, and then I have to conduct a physical examination.”
“What’s going on?” Eilidh asked in a strained voice. Hopeful but trying to repress it.
“Eilidh,” Salma said, soft but stern. “Let’s leave her to it. Gabriella, your dad has my number. Please call if you find anything.”
