“You might not like this,” Reese said. He was sitting on the floor at her feet. Beside him on a tray was a bowl of steaming water, a small sachet of dried herbs, and a pure white cloth, about the size of a washcloth, made of new lamb’s wool.

Jo herself was still sitting on the couch wearing nothing but her underwear and the puffy dark green bathrobe. She’d refused to take it off until the last minute—she felt too vulnerable without it.

She still wasn’t sure why she’d agreed to let Reese try this ritual. Maybe it was because of her background as a Wiccan—rituals and spells comforted her. Or maybe she was touched by his wish to help heal her pain. At any rate, if it helped take the edge off her insatiable lust and eased the throbbing between her thighs, the ritual would be worth any amount of discomfort and embarrassment.

But Reese’s words weren’t exactly encouraging.

“I won’t like what?” she asked cautiously.

He sighed and raked a hand through his tousled hair. In the firelight, his face was earnest and she could see the auburn highlights in his brown, almost-curly hair.

“You have to tell me,” Reese said in a low voice. “Tell me your hurt—tell me what happened to you—before I can try to heal it.”

Jo almost balked. She hadn’t told anyone in detail about her attack since she’d first found her way to Miranda, so many years ago, and she didn’t want to dredge up the old pain again. She opened her mouth to refuse . . . but the serious, hopeful look on Reese’s face stopped her. What if this ritual really could help her? She shouldn’t refuse to participate in it just because it made her uncomfortable. She needed to at least give it a chance.

“All right,” she said at last. Taking a deep breath, she tried to think how to tell the old pain. But there was no gentle way to go about it—she would just have to come out with it, like ripping off a bandage. “There’s no nice way to say this,” she said at last. “I was raped.”

She saw Reese wince but to his credit, he didn’t look away from her. Instead, his hand crept up to take hers. Though she generally avoided skin-to-skin contact with him unless he was in his Fox form, Jo let him hold her hand.

“Go on,” he said quietly.

Jo swallowed hard. “It wasn’t just once and . . . and it wasn’t just one man. They . . . it was done to me repeatedly, over a few days and nights. I . . .”

She closed her eyes and suddenly she was back on the jogging trail in the woods by her campus apartment, so many years ago. It was late afternoon and the sun was beating down in brilliant profusion. But it was shady and dim in the shadows of the trees where Jo was jogging.

She wore a pair of running shorts with a sports bra and a tank top. Her long hair was back in a ponytail and she wasn’t even thinking about her surroundings. Her thoughts were on the poli-sci midterm she was taking next week. Inwardly, she was reviewing her notes, wondering if the test was really going to be as hard as everyone seemed to think—

“Hey, pretty lady.” The man popped out of nowhere, blocking the jogging path so that Jo nearly ran into him. He was wearing a plastic Batman mask—the kind trick-or-treaters wear on Halloween. Why would a grown man be wearing a mask in the middle of the day?

“Excuse me.” She veered to go around him and suddenly another masked man was there. This one was wearing Bugs Bunny. The childish mask clashed with his big, burly frame. He was built like a linebacker running to fat, Jo noticed—he probably outweighed her by well over a hundred and fifty pounds.

“Hey!” She tried to dodge again, to turn and go back the way she’d come, but a third man was there, already in her way. His mask was just a generic ghost with empty black eyes and a howling O of a mouth, but that scared Jo most of all.

“Hello, baby,” he drawled, crowding forward so she was forced back against the big man wearing the Bugs Bunny mask. She hit his chest and thick arms wrapped around her like bands of steel.

“We don’t want to hurt you,” Batman mask said, telling the first of many lies. “We just wanna have a little fun.”

“Let me go!” Looking over her shoulder, Jo could see the college campus and even the dorm where she lived. It was all right there—so normal and safe out in the sunlight. But she had entered the shadows now and something told her she wasn’t going to leave them for a long, long time.

She opened her mouth to shriek and a meaty hand clamped over her lips.

“All right now—no need to get upset,” the ghost-masked man said. “We’re just going to go someplace private and get to know each other a little better. Okay?”

It was most definitely not okay with Jo. Panic burned in her throat like bile and she kicked and wiggled and almost got away—but the man in the Bugs Bunny mask reeled her back in with a curse. Lifting her easily off her feet and tucking her under one arm, he took her off the jogging path. With the other two men following, they went deeper into the woods.

“The bastards,” Jo heard Reese growl and realized with surprise that he was seeing this too. That somehow he was reliving it with her.

She thought she should probably be shamed by the knowledge that he was seeing this—seeing her lowest and most vulnerable moment. Instead, she felt comforted—it was horribly hard to be here again and see her younger self being attacked but she felt reassured knowing she wasn’t alone this time.

The three men dragged her to a cabin in the woods—really nothing more than a shack with a broken stove and a rickety iron bed frame without a mattress. There was nothing but box springs on the rusty frame but it had four posts. The men stripped her and tied her arms and legs down—one to each of these—spread eagle. Then they put a piece of silver duct tape on her mouth to stifle her screams.

“God!” Reese’s voice in her head was hoarse and horrified.

“You might not want to see this next part.” Jo’s own voice sounded cold and somehow removed. “It might be . . . difficult to watch.”

“No . . .” Outside the confines of the memory they had both somehow fallen into, she felt him interlace their fingers and squeeze her hand. “No, darlin’—you went through it so I’ll watch it. But God—I just wish I could get my hands on those bastards. I’d kill every last fucking one of them!”

So they watched together as the horror played out again. Jo saw herself, as from a distance, while the three men took turns assaulting her. She remembered the leering, bright plastic masks hovering above her . . . their grunts and the reek of sex . . . the trollish laughter as they did what they wanted . . . the pain of the wooden slats in the box springs digging into her back and bottom. And worst of all, the burning agony between her legs. She felt again the shame and fear for her life—would they kill her? Was the rape only a prelude to worse things to come?

“I’ve heard other victims say they wanted to die,” she told Reese as they watched. “But not me—I wanted to live. I don’t know why, but I did. But I also wanted desperately to take myself away . . .”

She watched as her younger self closed her eyes, a look of concentration on her bruised and taped face.

Away, she remembered thinking. Have to get away . . . take yourself away . . .

Finally, mercifully, the scene faded and she opened her eyes to see Reese opening his at the same time.

“What happened?” he asked hoarsely and Jo saw there were tears standing in his eyes. He swiped at them with one arm. “How did you get away?”

“I didn’t,” she said simply. “Not for a long time—not physically, anyway. But that was how I learned I was a witch.”

“How? Did you blast them like you did with Carl and me at the Friendly Bean?” There was an angry growl in his voice—a thirst for vengeance that Jo herself hadn’t felt in a long time—not since she released the incident to the Goddess. Or tried to, anyway.

“Hardly,” Jo said dryly. “I didn’t have that kind of power back then. No, that . . . that time I spent in the shack was the first time I was able to project my spirit into the astral plane. I wanted to get away so badly that the dormant power inside me became active. I was literally able to leave my body—my consciousness was anyway—and fly away.”

“You did?” He frowned. “Where did you go?”

“I saw a beacon shining in the woods and I went towards it.” Jo remembered the bright, golden light she’d seen and the feeling of home and safety that had enveloped her. “It was my mentor, Miranda. She was meditating and even though we had never met before, she sensed my presence.”

“Were you able to tell her where you were?” Reese asked.

“Not at first.” Jo shook her head. “I was too weak—too new at projection. I drifted back to my body even though I didn’t want to. It . . .” She took a deep breath. “It was some time before I was able to project myself away again. And then I only managed with Miranda’s help. She cast a spell, you see—to bring me to her—to strengthen my spirit.”

“What happened then? How long . . .” Reese swallowed and there was a dry clicking in his throat. “How long were you trapped there?”

“Three days and four nights,” Jo said, sounding more calm than she felt—at least in her own ears. “When I was finally able to tell Miranda what was happening to me, she called the police. She was friends with one of the detectives there—she’d helped him find a missing child in the past using her powers—so he was willing to go out looking for me.”

“What happened to those bastards that hurt you?” Reese asked, his voice dipping down into a growl again.

“They’re in prison,” Jo said shortly. “And no, you can’t sneak in and kill them. I’ve given all of this to the Goddess and purged myself of the need for vengeance long ago.”

“You haven’t been purged of the pain though,” Reese pointed out, sounding troubled. “Darlin’ . . . I can’t even begin to understand how you came through that. No wonder you hate men.”

“I didn’t used to,” Jo said wistfully. “I had a great relationship with my father. He would hold me and rock me and tell me bedtime stories . . .” She shook her head. “But he died when I was in my first year in college. My mom died when I was only ten—so that left me on my own.”

“Which was why you wound up at Avalon after they . . . after,” Reese said quietly.

Jo nodded. “Miranda told me to come find her. She said I had power and potential and I didn’t have to let that one awful part of my past define me.” She lifted her chin. “And I’ve tried not to. I haven’t even thought of the attack in years—I haven’t had to. I was safe in Avalon. Safe and comfortable and respected. And now . . .”

“Now you’re here with me,” Reese said softly. “Are you sorry?”

“No . . .” Jo looked down at their entwined fingers. “Not anymore. I suppose I should be but . . . I’m not.” She looked up at him. “Still want to try and heal me? It’s a pretty tall order.”

“I don’t know if I can or not,” Reese said honestly. “But . . . well, I’d still like to try if you’ll let me.”

Jo bit her lip and nodded.

“If you still want to try after what you saw . . .”

“What I saw was three evil males who deserve to die for what they did to you,” he growled. “But none of that was on you, darlin’.”

Jo laughed grimly. “Try telling that to the lawyer who represented them. He tried to make it sound like I led them on. He said my jogging outfit was ‘erotic’ and ‘provocative’ and besides, I actually knew one of the attackers—I’d even been out on a date with him.”

“What?” Reese sounded incensed. “Who was it?”

“A guy from my intro to psych class,” Jo said. Her voice still sounded cold to her—cold and unfeeling, as though none of it mattered even though inside she felt stripped bare—raw. “He was the one in the ghost mask. I went out with him once, but he got handsy. I put him off and walked out halfway through the movie he took me to.”

“And his lawyer tried to make it sound like—”

“Like I’d been leading him on for months.” The thought made Jo feel sick. The memory of the trial was almost as bad as the memory of the rape. She’d had little enough self-esteem left as it was, after what had happened in the shack on the dirty, stained box springs. Then, after the lawyer got through with her, she’d wanted to crawl under a rock.

“But that’s a fucking lie!” Reese exclaimed, getting more and more upset.

Jo shrugged. “But my attacker—the one in the ghost mask anyway—had rich parents.” She shook her head. “His name was Pierce Phillip Drummond the Third. I mean, who has a name like that, right? His parents hired this lawyer who was known for getting rapists and murderers off with just a slap on the wrist.”

“But I thought you said they went to prison?” Reese asked indignantly.

“They did.” Jo lifted her chin. “I testified against them. And Miranda helped too—she came and sat with me every single day of the trial.

She . . . she saved my life,” she ended in a whisper. “If not for her . . .”

“I’m glad you had her with you,” Reese murmured.

“I . . . I wish I had her with me now.” Jo’s throat felt tight as some of the ice that had been coating her feelings began to thaw. “I miss her so much,” she told Reese, looking down at her hands. “I feel so alone without her.”

“Look at me, darlin’ . . .” He raised her chin gently. “You’re not alone,” he told Jo when she finally met his eyes. “I’m here for you and I’ll never, ever hurt you like that.”

“I know that . . . with my head,” Jo whispered. The tight feeling had spread from her throat to her chest and her eyes were burning. “But it’s hard to internalize it. To feel it here.” She put a hand to her heart.

“Sweetheart . . .” Reese drew her towards him and he found her face pressed to the broad, bare planes of his chest. Slow, hot tears trickled down her cheeks, wetting his skin but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Jo,” he said. “I’m sorry . . . so sorry. Those males deserved to die for what they did, but we’re not all like that.”

“Men . . .” Jo sighed and swiped at her eyes. “First those bastards who raped me, and then their lawyer who tried to make it my fault . . . not to mention all the times I was attacked after I was kicked out of Avalon. And now tonight, that man in the woods . . .” She shook her head. “I know men aren’t inherently bad, but it’s awfully hard to make myself feel it and believe it after everything that’s happened to me. I guess . . .” She looked up at him. “I guess that’s why it’s easier to trust your Fox sometimes. That and the fact that I don’t ache when you’re the Fox.”

“Let me try to ease the ache and heal the pain—at least a little.” He stroked a thumb over her cheek, brushing away a tear. “Let me try to help, Jo.”

She shrugged and gave a broken little laugh.

“I’d like that. If you think you can.”

“I want to try,” Reese said quietly. “But first I just want to hold you for a while. Would that be all right?”

“I . . .” She sniffed. “I guess so.” Because despite the throbbing between her thighs, which had definitely gotten stronger, she wanted to be close to him. Wanted to feel those warm, muscular arms around her and know she was in the arms of a good man who wanted nothing but the best for her. She hadn’t had that kind of reassurance since she was a little girl.

Reese gathered her into his lap and tucked her head under his chin and simply held her. With a shuddering sigh, Jo melted against him and tried to forget the past.

“It’s all right, darlin’,” he murmured. “Everything is going to be all right.”

* * *

Jo trembled in his lap like a frightened, hurt child and Reese felt like his heart might break from sorrow. God, the things she’d endured . . . it had been almost more than he could bear to watch those three evil bastards assaulting her.

He still wasn’t sure how he’d been able to come into her memories with her—maybe it had something to do with her magic. But for whatever reason, the things he’d seen were going to give him nightmares for months.

We must avenge her! growled his Fox. It doesn’t matter how long ago the attack was—our female was hurt.

Reese agreed. He was already planning to track down the three attackers. Even if they were still in prison, bars and walls weren’t going to keep him out. And he might have a look at that lawyer too . . .

But for now he wanted to hold Jo and try to heal her, although he had serious doubts about the ritual Fiona had given him being able to completely ease her pain.

But even if I only ease it a little, even if I’m able to prove to her she can trust me and I won’t hurt her, it will still be worth it, he thought. God, how he wanted to be worthy of her trust! To be the one to help heal the pain of her past. He knew he could never erase it, but maybe he could make it easier for her to bear.

Lady Moon, he prayed as he stroked her back soothingly and held her tight. Let me be able to help her . . . let me be worthy.