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Gabi nodded, already pushing them out of the front door of the Pride House so she could get her laptop to type up her rapid thoughts.
NINE
JOY
Joy startled out of a too-short sleep at the sound of an argument getting closer, voices growing louder, angrier. Her body ached everywhere, her nerves frayed to tatters. She kept her knees close to her chest, bound her arms around them, and strained her ears.
“I’m perfectly capable of doing my job,” spat a voice Joy knew well.
Gabi.
She sat up straighter on the damp mattress, her eyes pinned on the stone archway, tremors moving through her body. Even the drips of water couldn’t calm her now. Was this it? The end? Would she be taken to trial, condemned, and executed?
“That remains to be seen,” replied a gravelly voice. Paulina. Joy pressed both hands over her mouth to trap a whimper. She should fight. She could try to run, at least, couldn’t she?
But would she make it past both Paulina and Gabi and up the long stone staircase?
Joy’s stomach crashed when the two figures appeared from the dark arch, Paulina’s face set in anger as she neared the cells and her red hair frizzy from the damp.
“Get your clothes off,” she spat, flicking a frustrated look at Joy, the muscles in her jaw all clenched.
“What?” Joy’s breath caught at the words, at the look of seething hatred Paulina threw her way. Not even the bars of the cell could protect her from that hate.
But her clothes—she couldn’t do it. The Head Witch has taken everything else from her, but not this, not her modesty.
“Now, Mackenzie. I won’t tell you again.” From the depths of her black cloak, Paulina removed her wand, a stumpy hazel wood, smooth and unadorned.
Shaking so hard her teeth rattled, Joy looked to Gabi for reassurance, but there was such fury in Gabi’s dark eyes that Joy found no comfort there. Her breath shattered and Joy realised too late that it was the beginnings of a sob, the sound ripping free into the echoing cells.
Neither Gabi nor Paulina spoke.
“Why are you doing this?” she tried to ask, her breath scraping. She couldn’t take her eyes off the threat of the wand aimed between the bars.
“It’s a physical examination,” Gabi said—calmer now. Something doused her fury. Joy shook harder, but slowly got to her feet. “I just need to take some photos, check you for cuts and scratches. It won’t take long.”
“You can’t make those kinds of promises,” Paulina disagreed, her hand white on her wand. “It’ll take as long as it takes. Mackenzie, I’m sure I told you to remove your clothes.Quickly, before my patience wears out.”
“You hired me to do a job, Paulina,” Gabi replied coldly. “Let me do it.”
As Joy’s hands shook on the buttons of her coat, Gabi took out a camera and fixed a flash onto the top of it. Joy’s whole body trembled. She didn’t want to take her clothes off, and especially not in front of someone else.
But she didn’t want to be hexed or cursed, either.
“Unlock the cell,” Gabi ordered Paulina—orderedher. The shock of that allowed Joy to slip the damp fur off her shoulders and take hold of the hem of her top underneath. In one rough movement, and before she could really think about it, Joy ripped the purple cotton off her body and over her head. She clutched it hard in her fingers, not letting it fall to the floor like she had her coat, a flimsy safety blanket.
She flinched hard at the squeal of the cell bars swinging to admit Gabi.
“Look at me,” Gabi said calmly, drawing Joy’s focus. “Just me. Okay?”
Joy tried to take a breath, but her lungs wouldn’t fill even a fraction. Her chest tingled, itchy awareness of Paulina seeing her nakedness and the prick of the cold cell combining until it felt like needles pricking her arms, her chest. She refused to take off her jeans and didn't even reach for the button.
“I need you to hold out your arms.” Gabi looked Joy in the eye—steady, gentle. Joy forced her locked fingers to surrender the top, a cry slipping free as it fell, and she held out her trembling arms while Gabi took photos from different angles. Joy’s gaze flinched past Gabi’s bent head as Paulina moved closer, scowling at Joy’s hands, and all at once she wanted to take them back, cover her body, and be sick. “Turn them over,” Gabi instructed, and then, “Eyes on me, Joy.”
With effort, Joy dragged her eyes back to Gabi, the camera held up to her face as she photographed Joy’s palms, the inside of her elbow, and her forearms. “Alright,” she said, lowering the camera for a moment. “Now I’m going to take photos of your chest and stomach. Keep your arms by your side.”
Joy struggled to move her arms, locked as they now were. Her chest rose and fell fast with panicked breaths, her stomach forming knots on knots. She couldn’t keep her eyes on Gabi, had to squeeze them closed as the shutter closed fast, one photo after another of Joy’s body, her skin, the pearlescent bra she’d picked out what felt like a year ago, thinking it was cute and apt because it had little birds embroidered over the cups and Joy was recording numbers of endangered birds that day.
“Turn around, Joy.”
