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dripping hair over my shoulder, to leave a trail of fresh raindrops across her immaculate handiwork. David followed close behind, guarding my back as Teresa, Ethan, and Connie also came inside.
    Neko glanced up the instant we passed over the threshold. He’d been setting out food, piling treats high on the coffee table, but as soon as I entered the room he ceded all of his attention to me. I shook my head at his silent question. I didn’t need him to serve me. Not yet.
    I was more concerned about Cassie.
    She crouched on a wooden chair that had obviously been dragged in from the kitchen, pressed into service because Cassie’s soaked clothes were covered with mud. Her head was buried in her arms, and she slowly rocked back and forth. Tupa huddled beside her, one small hand balanced on her knee. Zach stood over both of them, his face drawn as he supported his broken arm with his good one.
    Everyone else in the room studiously avoided looking at them, giving them some semblance of privacy in the crowded space. But I crossed over to my student, ignoring the fact that my dress left a wet trail on the hardwood floor, on the well-placed throw rug. “Cassie,” I said, kneeling before her and reaching for her shoulder.
    She flinched before I could touch her. But she stopped rocking.
    “Cassie,” I said again, dropping my hand. “I’m so sorry. Let’s get you to a doctor. There’s a hospital in Pine Ridge.”
    “No,” she said, and her voice was thick, clogged with tears.
    I wasn’t sure how to respond. Even if she looked like a naive little girl, she was a full-grown witch. She had autonomy over her body, just as she had the right to control her magic. She could decide if she wanted medical attention.
    “You have to eat something,” I said. And Neko manifested by my side, holding a laden plate in one hand and a mug of fresh apple cider in the other. I glanced at the food—treats from the Cake Walk bakery, sent along by my best friend Melissa to celebrate the official launch of the Jane Madison Academy.
    When she’d prepared the pasteboard box of goodies, Melissa couldn’t have predicted how welcome her Butterscotch Blessings and Lemon Grenades would be. How necessary they’d be. When witches stretched themselves to accomplish prodigious magic, they needed something to anchor them back in the mundane world—food and drink, consumed immediately after the effort. Given the horror Cassie had experienced, she needed the grounding even more than the rest of us.
    “Cassie,” I whispered, edging the plate closer. “Please.”
    When I got no response, Tupa took the mug of cider from Neko. “Cass,” he bleated, touching the rim to his mistress’s fingers.
    The attention seemed to reach her when nothing else would. Her entire back tensed, and her neck grew stiff. But she raised her head enough to take the mug, to hold it in trembling hands. I barely squelched the urge to rub a streak of mud from her forehead, to smooth the spikes of blond hair that had worked loose from her braids.
    “Drink, Cass,” Tupa urged.
    Like a child swallowing from a sippy cup, Cassie complied, gulping once, twice, three times. I passed the plate of food to Tupa, hoping he could work additional familiar magic there. He selected a morsel of blondie and held it under his witch’s lips. Cassie hesitated, swallowing hard, tightening her fingers around the mug.
    But then she opened her mouth and let her familiar feed her, bite by painful bite. I waited until she’d finished the entire Blessing before I spoke again. “Please, Cassie. Let us help you. Let us take you into Pine Ridge.”
    She shook her head. “I don’t need that. He didn’t—” A sobbing breath shut her throat, and she gulped noisily. “He didn’t do anything.”
    The satyr might not have succeeded in raping her. But he’d done plenty. All of us could see that.
    Still, she was allowed to refuse treatment.
    “Come upstairs, then,” I said. “Lie down in the guest room.