CHAPTER NINE

It was drizzling as they stepped out from the protective awning while the doorman opened the cab's back door. They slid inside, the small suitcase in Annie's lap. Claire gave the driver her address, then massaged her hands.

Annie touched those hands. "You're going to break a finger if you keep that up. If this is too much, tell me, you don't have to come."

Claire looked away, out the window, as she said, "I do. I have to face it. I'm going to have to testify, so I better start prepping for it now."

"Why is this going to trial?"

Claire shrugged. "Apparently the little shit wants to watch me squirm, humiliate me even more. He refused a very generous deal. Up here," she said to the driver, getting cash out of her wallet. She paid the driver and they got out in front of a four story building, half a mile from Jack's, on the upper west side. The building didn't have a doorman. Claire punched a code into the barred entrance door, and opened it, waiting for Annie to proceed. They took the elevator to the third floor, Claire digging for her keys as they ascended.

Small pieces of yellow crime scene tape remained on the doorframe. Claire ignored them and unlocked the door, not knowing what she'd find. Probably a disaster, investigating detectives usually went through everything, but she found the place neat. She flipped the master switch and lights cut into the gloom of a rainy day. "I'll be damned, they cleaned up after themselves."

Annie put her suitcase and purse against the antique secretary and looked around. "What did you expect, fingerprint dust and overturned drawers?"

"Kind of." She rubbed the back of her neck, fighting a mild panic at being here again. "But then, the crime took place in the bedroom, and…" she stopped talking as she took her first tentative step into her room. The broken window had been replaced, and the sills wiped clean of the gray dust CSU used. Her bed was stripped, the sheets being evidence, and the bloodstains on the mattress made her shiver. Cold sharp steel sliding across her neck as the man smiled. Pounding, painful incessant pounding as sweat dripped down on her, until he shook as he ejaculated. Fear, paralyzing fear, revulsion, alone and helpless as he disappeared through her bedroom window and down her fire escape. It was jumbled in her mind, a random slideshow on meth, and her eyes were transfixed by the bloodstained mattress – a larger spread near the head of the bed, a smaller dried spot where he would have forced himself into her.

Annie put her arms around Claire, trying to transfuse love and security into her trembling friend. "Let's flip that over," she said. Claire heard her and nodded, but it took a few seconds before she moved out of the security of Annie's gentle hug. Together, they turned the mattress over, and then Claire went to the linen closet. As she shook open a fitted sheet, she looked at Annie and said "Can you sleep on this bed?"

"Yes." She helped get the sheet around the corners of the mattress. The bed was made in a few minutes, and then Claire wanted out of the room. They went to the small living room. Claire stopped and turned into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator.

"Beer or Diet Coke?" she said.

"Diet Coke, please." Annie sat on the couch, running her fingers over the fine leather and saying a silent prayer of thanks to the animal for giving its life. Claire joined her and passed the can of soda. Annie popped its top, sipped the rising foam, and then looked at her friend. "A bad thing happened here, Claire, but are you going to let it define the rest of your life? Are you going to let that little prick win?"

Claire crossed her legs, resting her can on her knee. "I don't know," she said.

Annie put her drink down and got up. She opened her suitcase and took out candles, mostly white, with a green one and a red one added to the load in the crook of her arm. She placed them around the living room, and Claire realized there was an order to what she did. That completed, she got two more candles, pink ones, and took them into Claire's bedroom. Claire was fascinated with the preparation for some ritual involving herself. Annie was totally focused as she put incense burners in the living room and bedroom and put little cones in them. The last thing she took out of the apparently bottomless suitcase was a small bottle of oil, which she put in her pocket.

"Blessed be, orders the Goddess," she whispered, "peace and safety to all who enter with pure hearts. Pain and divine punishment upon evil hearts." She struck a wooden match and moved to each candle. "Love is pure, love honors our Goddess, protects those who do her will." She lit the green candle and looked up. "The darkness of the forest shall devour those who disregard her will." She lit the incense cones and whispered "Carry my prayers to the Goddess." Then she walked into the bedroom, and Claire, fascinated, followed. Annie struck a fresh match and held it to each candle in turn, whispering "Special protection be upon this room, cleanse it of evil memory, bathe it in love while assigning his doom." She lit the incense, held her hands together, and bowed her head. The candles burned brightly. "As he brought evil to the innocent, may it return three-fold unto him." She sprinkled the oil in the little bottle around the window and doorway.

Annie returned to the living room and sat on the couch again, reaching for her drink. "The candles burn down and then you'll feel better being here."

"If only it was that simple," Claire said.

Annie smiled. "C'mon, you've seen me do my thing before."

"I did like seeing the frat boy fall on his ass in a washtub of beer bottles and ice. I wonder if they ever got all the glass slivers out of his butt."

Annie shrugged. "I shouldn't have done that, it's not good when I lose my temper." She pulled her cigarettes out of her pocket and cocked her eyebrows.

"Of course," Claire said. "I don't have an ashtray, but a saucer works." She went to the kitchen and came back with a chipped white saucer. Annie lit up, drawing deeply on the cigarette, regretting the habit but unable to break it.

"You know that asshole frat boy blamed a rival for that tumble," Annie said, dryly, smiling at Claire. "And it's probably what happened, two drunks competing for my attention and grabbing body parts I prefer not to have groped." She saw sadness fill Claire's eyes and kicked herself for bringing it up. "I'm sorry, Claire."

Claire looked at her. "It's OK. It's a funny story. I have to find a way to deal with this, Annie, I don't want people tip-toeing around me, afraid of saying the wrong thing."

Annie cocked her head and studied Claire. Her face was slowly healing, the swelling was noticeably down, and her bruises had acquired a yellowish tint on the edges. "Do you know if a trial date's been set?"

"No. I'm expecting to hear from Alex Cabot any day, to come in for prep. I dread that."

"Maybe it won't happen."

"It will. Marc Meadows is determined to have his day in court, and I can expect to be humiliated."

"Aren't there restrictions on the questions asked of the victim now?"

"Yeah, but a good defense attorney can sneak them in."

"Do you know who's representing him?"

Claire shook her head. "Someone from Legal Aid. Alex eats Legal Aid attorneys for breakfast."

"Jack told me they took blood from him yesterday."

"Good. One less thing to worry about, he either has it or he doesn't." She slumped on the couch. "I've been thinking about what you said."

"Ah. I doubt you have anything to worry about there, either, it's just a way of making you define who you truly are."

"Does anyone know who they truly are?"

Annie shrugged. "I like to think I do. But then, I have been known to have an ego the size of Vermont."

Claire nudged Annie's leg with her foot. "Yeah, right. I don't think you know the meaning of the word."

Annie was pleased that Claire was relaxed in the apartment. The Book of Shadows had been specific about candles and incense choices, and she'd hastily memorized the incantation. "I thought I'd go home tomorrow," she said, testing the waters, so to speak, of Claire's need for her.

"I hoped you'd be here for the trial." Claire's disappointment carried to Annie's heart.

"Sweetie, Jack will be there. I'll come back if you really want me to, but you need to concentrate on Jack, on healing. You've both been wounded. You need to find your way back to each other."

A tear escaped, and Claire caught it with her finger, determined not to break down here. "I know," she whispered. "I'm afraid of that, of really coming back together. I'm scared I'll freak out and then he will, he won't understand."

"He understands more than you give him credit for." Annie jiggled her can and then sipped from it.

"Can he understand that it's not him? That it's the memory of Meadows sweating on me as he impaled me?" She drew her knees to her chest and hugged them.

"Yes," Annie said. "I know you've been violated, I know how that feels, but at some point you're going to have to trust him with your body."

Claire's eyes were direct. "You know?" she whispered. "When? How?"

Annie lit another cigarette and again offered the pack to Claire. Claire's long fingers nimbly extracted one. Annie lit them both with her pink Bic lighter. She leaned back, on the arm of the couch, after placing the chipped saucer on the cushion between them. "I was in high school. You know what high school's like, if you're at all different, then life can be hell. I was fortunate, in that we lived in San Francisco, where a lot of my kind congregate, so I went to school with a few magical kids. We stuck together and did our best not to play magical pranks on assholes." She drew on her cigarette. "But hey, I was a girl first, and I had a huge crush on Ronnie Church. He was the student body president, a drummer in a garage band, and the best pitcher our school had seen in years. We had a government class together, sat next to each other courtesy of the seating chart. Anyway, he asked me out in the spring, just before baseball season began." Her smile was sad.

"So." She leaned forward and flicked ash in the saucer. "We went to the movies, hit Mickey D's afterward, and then went to park overlooking the sea. You know what happened next." She shrugged. "It was terrible, and I was unable to fight back, I don't know why. When it was over, he drove me home and let me out by the curb. My grandmother was still up. She was the coolest woman on the planet, I adored her, and she returned the affection. She took one look at me and dragged me into the library. It wasn't hard to get the story out of me. I remember crying in her arms, my heart broken and my body bruised. So I know, Claire."

"He went to jail?"

Annie smiled and rubbed the side of her head, cigarette between her fingers. "He went off the Pacific Coast Highway going about sixty the next day."

"Holy shit." Claire took a last drag off her cigarette and crushed it. "I'm not going to ask."

Annie shrugged. "My Nana was not a woman you wanted to piss off, that's for sure. And she was very pissed at Ronnie Church. I was sure I'd never get over it, the rape, that my heart was truly broken. I was indifferent to his fate, though the school went into mourning. I didn't start to heal until I got to Smith. Nana insisted I go East to college, get as far away from the memories as possible. Since she was a wealthy old bag and picking up the tab, my parents didn't argue with her." That sweet smile lit her face again. "And I met you. And Avery. Oh God, dear Avery."

Claire nodded. "That hurt, too, for awhile I didn't think I'd get through it. Jack was so supportive."

"Trust him to be supportive now."

"Was Ronnie the first?"

Annie shook her head. "No, that honor belonged to Dave Dellmer, we were fooling around with spells and one thing led to another."

Claire shook her head, Annie made this magical life seem so real, and Claire admitted she'd seen some strange things with Annie. "How long was it before you had sex again?"

Annie crushed the butt in the saucer. "Remember Tim Richardson?"

"The guy from Harvard? Yeah. He was cute. So our freshman year."

"Seven months after Ronnie. Tim was sweet and sensitive, I loved him, but I knew he'd never accept what I am." She looked at Claire with such sadness. "Sometimes I think you don't accept the reality of what I am."

"Annie." Claire's eyes filled with tears she didn't try to hide. "I love you, and if you tell me you're a practicing, magical witch, then I believe you. I believe in you." She reached for Annie's hand and held it.

"It's OK, Claire, if I didn't live it, I'd probably doubt it, too. And I love you, kiddo, always. So trust me when I tell you not to wait too long to reach out to Jack. It's going to be difficult, the first time, but if there's enough love and trust between you, it will work."