by Kass Morgan
No, Mason. I don’t know. Explain it to me, she wanted to shout. She wanted to shake him until he said something that made sense. But she could already tell his mind was made up. Maybe it had been for a long time, and she’d just been too busy, too oblivious to notice. “You don’t mean that, Mason. You love me and I love you. We are supposed to be together.”
His face fell. She knew what he was thinking—he didn’t believe in “supposed to” anymore. But it really didn’t matter which words she used. She could see that from his resolute face and his squared shoulders. This wasn’t a spell, where if you said the right things and held the right cards, someone would love you the way you wanted him to. There were love spells, yes, and it would be possible to woo him back magically, to force him to act like someone in love. But that was all it would be: an act. You could bend a heart to your will, but underneath, it still beat to its own rhythm. There was no changing that.
“I’ve given this a lot of thought,” he was saying. “And I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do this here, tonight. I love you, Scar, but I think we’d be better off as friends.”
Her throat was thick with unshed tears. Friends. Screw that. She took a stumbling step back.
“Scarlett, wait.” He started after her.
She raised a hand to ward him off, stopping him with her magic. “Please. I . . .” Shit. She was going to start crying, right here. “Later,” she managed, practically flinging herself into the party.
She needed to get out of here. Now. Before she really lost it, before she brought this party crashing down around them.
She pushed her way through the crowd on the dance floor, shoving people aside with her elbows and her mind. The party throbbed around her, everyone shrieking with laughter, dancing, kissing, staring up at the décor in wonder. For everyone else, everyone but Scarlett, this was just another amazing night at Westerly.
The exit was finally in view when her mother and Eugenie stepped into her line of sight. Shit. She could not handle them right now. Not at her most vulnerable. She couldn’t stomach her mom’s disappointment, her sister’s ill-disguised glee. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how she’d break the news to her mother. She was stumbling back through the party, looking for another exit, when someone grabbed her arm.
Jackson. Oh God. She just couldn’t. “Jackson, can you please yell at me another time?” she said, angrily brushing away a tear that had escaped down her cheek.
Jackson’s expression shifted instantly, losing its usual sharp edges. He looked at her with something bordering on understanding, like he knew what it was like to lose your shit in the worst possible place. Of course, given that Harper was his stepsister, he probably did. Scarlett’s heart gave a painful squeeze that had nothing to do with Mason.
Until a few days ago, she’d had no idea that Jackson was Harper’s stepbrother. She’d always liked Harper, but they’d never been that close. After she died, Scarlett never let herself think about Harper’s family or all the people she left behind. The collateral damage of what happened reached so much further than she’d ever imagined.
Now Jackson took her by the elbow and steered her through the crowds toward a side exit she hadn’t noticed before. It led to a path that wove through darkened woods, running parallel to the front walk.
“It dead-ends half a block from the main entrance,” he said. “Last I checked, there was a whole row of cabs waiting; I’m sure one will take you wherever you want to go.”
For a moment, she just stared. “Why are you helping me?”
He shrugged, looking as uncomfortable as she felt. “Like you said, I can yell at you another time. Go home and get some sleep.”
Scarlett took a few steps down the path and then turned to thank him. But he was already gone.
Chapter Twenty-One
Vivi
Having now attended a grand total of three parties, Vivi could confidently say that Homecoming was the best one of her life. It wasn’t just the lively, romantic music of the jazz band, the festive mood of the glamorous crowd, or the way the warm, late September air caressed her skin as she twirled on the dance floor with Ariana. It was the feeling of knowing that she could go anywhere and find someone who’d be happy to talk to her, from her new sisters to their countless admirers.
It felt like the entire school had shown up tonight. A few kids from her art history class were gossiping at the bar. A pretty redhead she’d chatted with once in the cafeteria was dancing by herself under a lemon tree. Etta swayed with an androgynous-looking person with razor-sharp cheekbones and a heart-melting smile. Juliet and Jess were kissing under the twinkling lights, and Tiffany was swaying with a handsome guy Vivi recognized from the PiKa mixer. Even Professor Barnum was there, sucking down a whiskey by himself in the corner. The only person she hadn’t seen was Scarlett, but no doubt she was somewhere in the throng of people, judging the partygoers with the imperious gaze that scared Vivi a little less now that she’d seen the softer side of her Big.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” Vivi shouted to Ariana in the middle of the sweaty crowd moving to the beat of the band. “I still haven’t learned the spell that keeps you from needing to pee every thirty minutes when you’re drinking.”
She pushed through to the edge of the crowd and made her way to the bathroom. The line was long, but Vivi struck up a conversation with an anthropology major who’d recently returned from a year abroad in Peru. Just a few weeks ago, Vivi would’ve been far too intimidated to make small talk with upperclassmen, let alone a poised older girl who’d just received a grant from National Geographic, but becoming a full-fledged Raven had tempered her fear of embarrassment and rejection. What did it matter if someone didn’t like her? She had a whole houseful of friends waiting for her.
Vivi had finally made it to the front of the line when Tiffany sauntered toward her holding a drink in each hand. She looked just a tad unbalanced but somehow still impossibly elegant in her golden cocktail dress. “Do you want one of these?” she asked Vivi. “The bartender insisted on giving me an extra one ‘for good luck,’ whatever that means.”
“I’m fine,” Vivi said with a smile. “If I have one more sip, I might not make it.”
“We wouldn’t want that.” Tiffany giggled. “Can’t have our new superstar peeing her pants.”
“Superstar?” Vivi repeated. “Hardly.”
“No, listen to me, Vivi.” Tiffany stepped forward until her face was right next to Vivi’s. “I felt your power during the ceremony. And I know what happened in the tomb. I want you to know that it’s okay. It’s okay to be powerful. Do you understand me?”
“Um, yeah. I understand you,” Vivi said, pulling back slightly.
Tiffany’s expression turned serious. “You should never apologize for being powerful.”
“I won’t . . . I promise.”
“Okay, good. Because we need witches like you. Everyone will want you to learn to control your power, but don’t ever lose that feeling you had the other night. That’s real magic.”
With that, Tiffany spun on her heel, tilted to the side as her shoe sank into the grass, righted herself, and sauntered off.
“Go drink some water!” Vivi called after her.
By the time Vivi left the bathroom, her feet were smarting from the hours she’d spent standing in high heels. She scanned the grounds and spotted a few wood benches scattered at the far perimeter of the festivities, near a large pond. Vivi eased off her shoes and, enjoying the feel of the cool grass underfoot, made her way to one of the benches. The music thrummed in the distance, the lights twinkling like fireflies. She didn’t know how anyone could look at all this and not see magic.
She still couldn’t believe this was her life. Just that morning, she’d moved into a sweet little bedroom on the fourth floor of Kappa House. It had cheerful rose wallpaper and gilded furniture, including a desk that looked like it belonged in a palace in France and a twin bed with golden posts, a little black crystal ball topping each one. Dahlia
had said she could redecorate the room however she liked, but Vivi thought it was already perfect. For once, everything in her life was perfect. She had friends. She had sisters. And she had power. If my mom could only see me now . . .
Someone coughed and a dark shadow shifted on the bench several feet over. Vivi started, surprised to realize she wasn’t alone. “Hello?” she called, her voice wavering slightly. You’re a witch, she reminded herself. The things that go bump in the night should be afraid of you now.
“Vivi?” The shadow stood and stepped into the wan light of the clearing.
“Oh, Mason,” Vivi said with relief while her heart continued beating quickly for a different reason. His hair was tousled and his bow tie hung undone around his neck. He smelled faintly of smoke. A tumbler was in his hand, nothing left in it but melting ice.
“What are you doing out here all alone?” he said. It was a question that would’ve mortified Old Vivi, an acknowledgment of her awkwardness or friendlessness, but it didn’t bother New Vivi at all. She’d become the type of girl who could sit alone on a bench by the forest and look thoughtful and mysterious instead of lonely.
“Just taking a breather. What about you?” Somewhere nearby, an owl hooted. There was a soft rustle of an animal moving in the underbrush; the sounds of the party were a low murmur in the distance. “Where’s Scarlett?”
Mason gave her a pained smile. “We just broke up.”
“What? Like, tonight?” Mason nodded. “Shit. I mean, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay.” He gestured to the spot on the bench next to Vivi. “May I?” When Vivi nodded, Mason sat down heavily beside her, the heavy fabric of his tux pants brushing against her leg. Vivi shivered despite the warm night air. “I love Scarlett and I’ll always care about her, but to be honest, we weren’t meant to be together.”
“From the outside, you looked like the perfect couple,” Vivi said. Of course, she of all people should know that things weren’t always as they seemed.
“I used to think that too,” he said, shifting to look at Vivi. The moonlight illuminated half his face, casting his cheekbones in high relief. “But things just . . . changed for me this year.”
Vivi took a sharp, shallow breath as she met his gaze. His hazel eyes shone in the moonlight as they searched hers. The air between them felt charged, and for one fleeting, desperate moment she wanted to ask if the breakup had had something to do with her. But she knew that was silly. She and Mason had barely even talked. Whatever connection she felt with him was just on her side. A crush, that was it.
As if eager to change the subject, Mason smiled and said, “So I hear you’re a Kappa now.”
“The rumors are true,” she said, trying to keep her tone playful and light despite her racing heart. It was beating so loudly, she was almost tempted to cast a silencing spell lest Mason realize what his presence was doing to her.
He shifted again, his knee grazing hers. She’d never been this close to him before, so close that she could reach out to touch him if she dared.
“That’s a shame,” he said.
“Why?”
Mason turned to her with a wistful smile. “Because that means I can’t offer to be your waffle-making tutor. It’s purely altruistic, of course, but I don’t think the . . . optics would be great.”
Vivi froze on the bench as the meaning of his words filtered through her defenses. Oh my God . . . he does like me. She wanted to stand up and squeal, spin in a circle, text Ariana. Anything to release the fizzy joy bubbling up in her stomach. Or go full New Vivi and lean in for a kiss. For the first time in her entire life, a boy she had a crush on liked her back. Yet—the realization sank through her, heavy and sobering—there was nothing she could do about it.
Things had changed for her this year too. Magic had blown her entire life open. It gave her the power to alter her appearance, to reroute wind, to summon the most ancient and mysterious forces on earth. It had the power to welcome her, an only child, into a family of amazing women. But it couldn’t change the fact that Mason was the ex of one of her new sisters.
Mason was right. Vivi was a Kappa now. And if she had to choose, the answer was clear . . . “Yeah, it probably wouldn’t be a good idea.”
Mason leaned back against the bench and sighed heavily before turning to her with a sad smile. “The Kappa bond is pretty strong, huh.”
“It is . . . and I’m really lucky to be a part of it.”
Mason nodded, then fell silent. “Take care of her for me, will you?” he said finally.
“I will.” Vivi took a deep breath and forced herself to stand up. “Bye, Mason,” she said, and turned back toward the party, wishing she knew a spell to heal an aching heart.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Scarlett
“Not again,” Scarlett whispered. She crossed her arms over her chest and hugged herself as she shivered in her thin nightgown. She was in the second-floor hallway of Kappa House. All the doors to her sisters’ rooms were closed. But she could hear the rumble of thunder and see the storm booming outside the window at the end of the hall.
The sconces on the walls flickered. She heard laughter, deep and throaty, behind her. But when she whipped around, there was no one else there.
The pictures, she realized. The photographs on the walls were all laughing at her. Row upon row of portraits, Raven sisters of old, pointing their fingers at Scarlett and cackling with glee. Even though she was horrified, her eyes went to the faces she knew best to see if they were laughing too. Her mother. Her sister. Dahlia. Mei. Gwen. And, finally, Harper.
She staggered on her feet. Started to run. The laughter got louder. Harsher.
She reached the end of the hallway and crashed into solid wood. No door. It was a dead end. She spun around, then froze in terror. There was someone else in the house. Someone coming toward her. Dressed in a cloak—a long flowing garment with shredded sleeves, one hand extended toward her, fingernails like bloody claws. She had long dark hair, glowing eyes. Beneath her hood, a red, red mouth filled with teeth opened wide. Harper. Always Harper.
Scarlett startled awake to the sound of her own gasp. Just a nightmare. Just another nightmare. She gripped her sheets, bathed in sweat, even though for once, the temperature had finally dipped below seventy for the night. Outside, lightning crashed and storm clouds gathered. Her heart continued to slam against her rib cage, an incessant beat, refusing to let her go back to sleep. She wondered if the storm was her doing or if it was just the perfect backdrop for a shitty night.
She reached with trembling hands for the water she always kept on her bedside table, but the nightstand was empty. Belatedly, she remembered why. It came in flashes: The cab ride alone after Homecoming. Stumbling into the empty house. Sobbing her eyes out in the bathroom, then finally collapsing face-first onto her bed, not even bothering to clean off her makeup.
She probably looked like a nightmare now. Judging by the black streaks on her pillow, she figured her mascara was in runnels.
She levered herself out of bed, shivering in the cool evening air. In the bathroom, she ignored the mirror and splashed water on her face. She scrubbed until her skin stung, then buried her head in a towel. When she finally peeked at her reflection, her eyes were puffy and swollen, red veins creeping across the whites.
Another crash of thunder outside. Louder. The storm was getting closer.
She went back into the bedroom, checked her phone. It was just past three in the morning. With a groan, she collapsed back onto her bed, one arm across her forehead.
Didn’t matter. Sleep wasn’t going to happen, not for the rest of the night. Her fingers itched to check more on her phone. Recent messages. Social media. Maybe Mason had texted. Or called. Or posted something.
He hadn’t.
Scarlett hauled herself out of bed and threw on a robe. Then she shuffled down the long hallway in the general direction of the kitchen. Maybe she’d make some tea. Brew a little sleeping draft. As she passed
Tiffany’s bedroom, she heard a heavy thunk inside, like a footstep. Scarlett hesitated. The house was silent, heavy with sleep.
She pressed her ear to the wood. “Tiffany?” she whispered. No response, although she thought she heard something within: tap-tap, tap-tap, followed by a shuffling sound, like furniture being dragged. She knocked softly, then reached for the doorknob.
It turned easily in her hand. She pushed open the door. “Tiff?”
The bed was rumpled, unmade . . . and empty. Frowning, Scarlett flicked on the light. Then she screamed at the top of her lungs.
Blood. Everywhere.
On the crumpled sheets. Splattered across the walls like paint. Pooled on the carpet. Smeared across the shattered glass of the mirror. The balcony doors were flung open, shuddering on their hinges, creaking and tapping out a rhythm against the wall as they blew in the storm’s wind. And right by the windowsill, on the cream-colored wallpaper, she spotted a single bloody handprint.
Scarlett screamed again.
This time, footsteps thundered from all sides. Doors opened, people called out, asking what had happened. But Scarlett could barely hear them over the rapid pounding of her heart; she hardly noticed the faces filling up the doorway behind her, the added shouts and screams that echoed her own.
That was when she noticed it. Placed delicately on the pillow like an invitation, a single red envelope. To the Ravens, it read in neat cursive writing. Writing she didn’t recognize.
She grabbed it off the pillow and opened it just as Dahlia’s voice rang out behind her.
“Everybody, get back. Scarlett, come on.” Dahlia’s hand came to rest on her shoulder, warm and strong. “Let’s get you out of here.”
But Scarlett was frozen to the spot, reading the note:
If you want to see your sister again, find the Henosis talisman. No outside help. No police. I will come for it the night of the new moon. Fail, and your sister dies. Fail, and I will take another and another—until I have what I want.
