gold chain around her neck, lying like ice against her skin. The cold sensations sank deep into her spirit, blanketing whatever she was or might have been.
This was her life now, she thought, glancing into the cells as she passed, watching woman after woman meet her gaze, then look away. A few stood, chins lifted, quietly defiant, but they were in the minority. Most had been beaten, emotionally if not physically. They, like her, were trapped in a cage designed to hold them forever.
There was no presumption of innocence for a witch.
“In you go.”
Shea looked at the guard in front of her and then turned her head toward the open cell door. Swallowing the bitter taste of fear and regret, Shea walked into the narrow, cheerless room. Pale green walls here too, in a cell no bigger than six feet by five feet. There was a slender bunk covered by a thin mattress, a bare toilet and a tiny sink with buttons rather than faucet handles. A single hard chair was the only other appointment in Shea’s new home. Glancing around, a fathomless well of desolation rose up within her. She let out a long sigh and slowly turned to watch the guard close the cell door, shutting her in.
Smiling, the guard stepped close to the bars and Shea moved back two paces, driven away by the cold gleam in the guard’s eyes.
“I heard about you,” the woman said, her voice nearly lost in the surrounding swell of sound. “Killed a man today, didn’t you? Enjoy it?”
“Of course not,” Shea said, arms tightening around the bundle of bedsheets.
“Sure, I believe you.” Sarcasm was thick in her voice and the woman’s eyes flashed with something dangerous. “Everyone knows what happened. Word spreads fast in a place like this. You used magic to kill a man.”
A swift, sharp stab of regret shot through her but she defended herself anyway. “He was attacking me.”
“Found you out, didn’t he?” the guard taunted. “Knew what you were and so you had to kill him. Shouldn’t have done it in front of witnesses, though. That was stupid.”
Shea took a deep breath. “That’s not what happened.”
No one would believe her. No one would ever hear her side of the story. New laws were being rushed through Congress every day. Laws that said dangerous witches weren’t entitled to a trial by their peers—because their peers were in prison. No human jury would sit on a trial for a witch because they were too afraid of retribution.
So there were no trials anymore.
Witches were now immediately imprisoned and, if deemed warranted, executed.
“It’s exactly what happened,” the woman said. “You’re no better than your aunt. And if you weren’t wearing that chain around your neck, you’d kill me in a heartbeat to escape, so don’t bother telling me any lies.”
The slurs on her aunt stung. Mairi had been one of the kindest, most gentle people Shea had ever known. And in one horrifying instant, she’d become Public Enemy Number One.
Shea’s gaze dropped to the name tag the guard wore. JACOBS. When she spoke again, it was in a calm, rational tone. If she could win this woman’s understanding, maybe even make a friend here, there was a chance she could make her new life a little less hideous. “Officer Jacobs . . .”
“Don’t say my name!” she shouted, cheeks paling even as she pulled a nightstick from her belt and slapped it hard against the white gold bars, making Shea jump back farther and drop the sheets and blankets to the cold, cracked linoleum floor at her feet.
The harsh whack stilled everyone nearby. The silence was almost as unnerving as the racket had been before.
“Don’t ever say my name,” the woman said, eyes wide, mouth twisted into a feral snarl. “You try and spell me, witch, and you won’t live to see your legal execution. You’ll die right here.”
Shea’s gaze locked with the guard’s—and what she read in those dark brown eyes sent a chill racing through her. There was no safety anywhere now, she thought, realizing that the guards here had complete control over the inmates. And the “accidental” death of a witch wouldn’t even raise an eyebrow.
“Don’t you push me, Witch. Understand?”
Shea nodded, holding her breath, leery of even thinking about arguing, lest it show on her face. Slowly, the women around them came to life again and hushed voices once more whispered into the stale air. Seconds ticked past and the activity in the prison continued as if