18
When she reached her bike in the parking lot, Shea pulled out her phone and called Deb.
“Professor Raymond. How can I help you?”
“Hey, Deb. I mean, Labrys. It’s Havoc.”
“Hey, sweetie! How’s your face?”
Shea cringed at the word sweetie. “Swollen, but it’ll heal. How’s everyone else?”
“Okay, from what I’ve heard. Mostly bumps and bruises. You showed some real grit out there, girl. You sure I can’t talk you into becoming a prospect?”
“Well, that’s part of why I’m calling. But first I need a favor.”
“Sure, anything for you, baby.”
It took all of Shea’s willpower not to let herself get distracted by Labrys’ game playing. “I think the Confederate Thunder is behind these hex poisonings. Including Pipes.”
“Really?”
“They’re the ones that stole a ton of hex from the Jaguars last summe
