by Kass Morgan
“What is that?” Dahlia said, plucking the note from Scarlett’s hands. The sisters in the hall grew quiet as Dahlia read the letter aloud, her voice steady, her shoulders square. Only her trembling hands gave away her nerves.
The house fell silent, but it was a far cry from the heavy silence of undisturbed sleep. The air felt thin, as if their screams had used up all the oxygen, making it difficult to breathe.
Jess was the first to speak. “Only a witch could have done this. No one else could have gotten through our protective spells.”
Hazel nodded, her eyes wide and frightened. “The new moon is in two days,” she said hoarsely. Juliet and Etta traded long looks.
“We have to do something,” Mei said from the hallway. “Call the police, or—”
“No,” Dahlia interrupted, her eyes narrowed at the letter. “None of us are going to the police.”
“We have to, Dahlia,” Scarlett countered automatically. Tiffany had been kidnapped and the struggle had clearly been violent. There was no time to worry about magical protocol, not when her best friend could be bleeding to death.
“And what do we say, Scarlett? ‘A witch kidnapped our witch sister using witchcraft’?”
“We can leave the magic out of it. We just have to find her.” Scarlett tried to push aside the image of Tiffany’s tear-streaked face as she cried out in pain. Or worse, her face still and silent as the life drained from her body.
“There is no leaving magic out of it. Magic is the motive and the weapon and the victim. And hopefully magic is what saves her,” Dahlia insisted. “If we call the police, we’ll spend the next twenty-four hours answering pointless questions instead of looking for Tiffany.”
“Dahlia’s right. The police are out of their depth—and we can’t risk that kind of exposure. Not yet, anyway,” Juliet said.
Scarlett hesitated, then let out a long sigh and released the phone that she’d been gripping in her pocket. “So what do we do?”
Everyone fell silent again; the only sound was the beating of the rain against the windows.
Dahlia looked around Tiffany’s room, taking in the chaotic scene. Her eyes landed on the pool of blood on the floor, and for a moment, her steely resolve seemed to crack. Her face crumpled and she let out a sob. Scarlett had seen her president cry only once, when her grandmother died. Somehow, on this already horrible night, it made things feel even more hopeless. But the moment was over as quickly as it came; Dahlia regained control once more and set her jaw determinedly. She took a deep breath and gazed out over the coven: Juliet and Jess clutching each other. Vivi, pale as a sheet, standing next to Ariana, who had tears streaming down her face. Scarlett knew Dahlia must have felt the weight of every sister’s anxiety on her shoulders.
“We’ll find the Henosis talisman, like it says.” Dahlia refolded the letter carefully. “We don’t have any other choice.”
“But the talisman’s a myth,” Mei said, looking from Dahlia to the frightened faces of her sisters.
“So were witches. And then we came along,” Dahlia said.
“But we have only two days.” Scarlett pressed her fingers against her temples. “And if we don’t find it . . .” She couldn’t even manage to translate her terrifying thoughts into words.
“The Ravens have done the impossible before. We’ve been outsmarting our enemies for hundreds of years. Even the blackest magic can’t stand up to our combined powers. Tiffany is our sister. We will find her together.” Dahlia lifted her chin and gazed at each of the sisters. Hazel pressed her lips together and nodded. Vivi’s face was ashen but determined. Sonali had a hard look in her eyes.
“Together,” Mei repeated, reaching out to grab Scarlett’s hand.
“Together.” The word echoed like a chant in the hallway.
Together.
Scarlett forced a smile for her sisters, then turned to Dahlia. “I want to scry for Tiffany. Make sure she’s okay. The letter says no outside help, but it doesn’t say we can’t use our magic.”
“Maybe we can try to find the writer of the letter, too,” Vivi suggested. “There’s got to be a spell for that.”
“I’ll prep the kitchen,” Etta said. She nodded at Hazel and Juliet to follow her.
“I’ll check my grimoire,” Mei said, spinning on her heel.
“Meet in the greenhouse in fifteen.” Dahlia held on to Scarlett’s hand as the rest of the sisters dashed off to prepare. “Scar, are you with me?”
“Dahlia, I can’t feel her,” Scarlett whispered.
Dahlia tightened her grip on Scarlett’s hand. “She’s Tiffany. No one messes with her. Remember the time she got locked in the coffin during Hell Week? When she couldn’t spell her way out, she managed to claw her way out without an ounce of magic. She’s a survivor.”
Scarlett shook her head. “You saw all that blood. We’ll be lucky if she’s even conscious, let alone strong enough to fight back. We tell every pledge, ‘Just because you’re made of magic doesn’t mean you can’t be hurt.’”
“Tiffany has grit, Scarlett,” Dahlia countered. “And she needs your strength right now.”
“We need to save her, Dahlia.”
“And we will. But if this person’s looking for the Henosis . . . well. We all remember what happened to Evelyn Waters. We need to be careful, Scar. If anything goes wrong . . .”
“Then together we’ll be strong enough to beat it,” Scarlett replied, sounding far more confident than she felt. They would have to be strong if they were going to find her best friend.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Vivi
The rain landing on the greenhouse’s roof sounded like thousands of sharp-beaked birds trying to smash through the glass. It was still hours before dawn and pitch-black outside, with heavy storm clouds shrouding the stars. But although most of the Ravens had just been roused from sleep, there was nothing drowsy about their expressions as they stood holding hands in a circle ringed with white taper candles. Some of the girls looked frightened, some angry, but most of the older girls looked stony and fierce, gathering the strength and focus they’d need for the task at hand—finding Tiffany.
Vivi stood next to Ariana, who was gripping Vivi’s hand so tightly, it made her bones ache.
“Just a few hours ago we were in this room and she was teaching me how to perfect minor arcana skills. And now she’s . . . gone,” Ariana said, holding back tears.
“She’s not gone—she just needs to be found,” Vivi said firmly.
Tiffany was Ariana’s Big and the two had grown close during the rush process. But Ariana’s distress couldn’t compare to that of Vivi’s own Big, who was standing across the circle, trembling visibly as she watched Juliet light the candles.
Vivi wished someone would enchant the candles to provide more light, as the flames did little to illuminate the darkness beyond the walls of the greenhouse. Although she was surrounded by a coven of powerful witches, she still felt exposed and vulnerable standing next to the glass wall. Someone had managed to gain entry to Kappa House despite its myriad magical protections. And that meant whoever it was could do it again. Was this what her mother had foreseen weeks ago? Or was there still more—something worse—yet to come?
The decision not to go to the police worried her. She understood Dahlia’s reasoning for following the instructions in the note. Plus, whoever had taken Tiffany had done so by employing wicked magic, rendering the police pretty much useless. But a girl was missing and her kidnapper was still out there. Someone who’d promised to come back for more Ravens.
Dahlia moved into the center of the circle and knelt to examine a cauldron Etta had filled with a brew of red wine made from grapes that grew wild in a graveyard in Burgundy, mugwort, and cedar to enhance visions.
“Sisters,” Dahlia said as she stood back up. “Join me.”
The girls moved in until they’d packed themselves as tight and close to Dahlia as they could. Overhead, the storm battered the windows with frenzied abandon.
Dahlia opened her fist and let the fabric flutter down into the cauldron; the unstained portions of the material turned dark red as the wine seeped into the satin.
The other girls began to hum, and Vivi felt the telltale throb of energy in her chest. For the first time, she was afraid to let it spread through her body. She’d seen the ugly side of magic tonight, and she wasn’t eager to open herself up to something that could be so dangerous. But as she clutched Ariana’s hand, Vivi reminded herself that finding Tiffany was worth every risk.
“I call to all the Queens, ancient as the dawn,” Dahlia whispered. “Show us the sister who is missing and gone.”
The rain picked up and the humming was nearly drowned out by the shriek of the wind rattling the glass panes of the greenhouse. Then the cauldron began to glow from within as the liquid started to bubble and boil; the dark red-wine mixture turned thick and black as tar. An image appeared on the uneven surface, and although the face was distorted by the rippling liquid, there was no doubt who it was.
Scarlett let out an anguished cry at the sight of her best friend. Bright red scratches raked down both sides of Tiffany’s face, bloody streaks from her temples to her chin. Her mouth was gagged, her eyes wide with fear as she struggled against some kind of invisible bond.
“Oh my God,” Ariana whispered as tears began to stream down her face. “We have to help her. Now.”
“Show us who did this,” Dahlia commanded, an edge of desperation in her deep, sonorous voice.
A plume of smoke rose out of the cauldron, and a pungent, rotten stench hit Vivi with the force of a wave. She covered her face and stumbled back while a few of the other girls gagged.
The smoke grew thicker until, with a sound like eardrums popping, the cauldron exploded, showering a portion of the circle with scalding liquid. Dahlia yelped and winced as she muttered a healing spell; next to her, Mei did the same for Jess, who was clutching her wrist, her face contorted in pain. Vivi turned around to help Hazel and Reagan extinguish the candles that had tipped over and now threatened to set some of the drier plants alight. “What was that?” Vivi asked once the candles had been snuffed out.
“That,” Dahlia replied, her hoarse voice sounding in the darkness, “was wicked magic.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Scarlett
“Tiffany, wherever you are . . . we’re coming for you . . .”
Scarlett stared at the bright morning light filtering through her balcony doors. She’d locked them tight when she returned to her room after they’d cast the spell. Or tried to cast it, rather. Dahlia was right—wicked magic had interfered with the spellcasting, just as it had when Scarlett had tried to divine Gwen’s intentions.
In her arms she held the stuffed elephant from the antiques shop. It was missing a leg. She could have fixed it with a simple glamour, but both she and Tiffany liked it just as it was, loved so much it was practically disintegrating. She wished there were a spell she could cast on it that would lead her to Tiffany. But because the spell last night hadn’t worked, Scarlett didn’t know what would. Whoever had taken Tiffany had erected a strong, protective wall of magic around both of them—one that even the Ravens couldn’t penetrate.
Mei was asleep in Scarlett’s bed; neither girl had wanted to sleep alone. Not after what happened to Tiffany. Every time Scarlett closed her eyes, she saw it. Bright red spray across the wallpaper. Blood everywhere. There had been so much that it was hard to believe that Tiffany was still alive, even after the spell had said she was.
And now they had to find some mystical talisman that might not even exist. Scarlett had no idea where to begin to look. All she knew was that witches were in danger.
And it was all her fault.
Whatever you put out in the world came back to you threefold. And what she and Tiffany had done in their freshman year—what they’d hidden for so long—had finally caught up with them. And now Tiffany might pay for it with her life.
Scarlett quietly slipped out of bed. Mei stirred, and Scarlett put the stuffed animal back into her closet. She padded down to the kitchen. The house was silent. She wondered how many girls had spelled themselves to sleep and how many had spelled themselves awake to be sure they were ready for whatever came in the night. For once, Scarlett didn’t want to use her magic at all; she was saving it up for what was to come. She and her sisters needed to be at full strength to get Tiffany back.
In the kitchen she grabbed a mug and started the espresso maker. As it hissed and sputtered, she stared out the window. The campus was just beginning to rouse. Students rode past on bicycles or walked leisurely with earbuds in, their backpacks slung over their shoulders. It was almost surreal that the world was just proceeding as normal while Tiffany was being held somewhere, in pain, waiting for Scarlett and her sisters to save her.
“Hey,” a voice said, cutting through her thoughts. Vivi stood in the doorway, her hair sticking up slightly, her eyes puffy and red. “How are you doing?”
“How do you think?” Scarlett said, pouring the coffee into the mug. A little splashed over the sides, scalding her thumb, but she welcomed the pain. She deserved it and so much more.
Vivi blinked. “I’m sorry. That was a dumb question. I can leave if you want to be alone . . .”
Scarlett shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I’m just really on edge.”
“Of course you are.” Vivi hesitated, then completely surprised Scarlett by wrapping her in a hug. “I’m so sorry this happened. I know how much Tiffany meant to you. Means to you,” she quickly amended as Scarlett’s heart gave a painful squeeze. “And I’m sure this pales in comparison to what you’re going through with Tiffany, but I was also sorry to hear about you and Mason.”
Oh God, Mason. Scarlett hadn’t thought about him since she’d found Tiffany’s bloodied room. She sat down at the table clutching her mug, staring into its depths as if she could scry for answers there. In one night, Scarlett had lost the two people she cared about most in the world.
“He was right to break up with me,” Scarlett admitted. She didn’t deserve to be happy, to move on with her life with an incredible guy at her side. Harper would never have that chance. And now Tiffany might not either. “He’ll find someone better than me.”
Vivi looked surprised. “Scarlett, he’ll never do better than you. You’re . . . perfect,” she said finally.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Flatter me. You’re a Raven now,” Scarlett said.
“Trust me, it’s not flattery.”
Scarlett huffed out a faint laugh. “Well, Mason can do better. And he will. And I have to accept that.” Scarlett curled both hands around her mug. “I’m not a good person, Vivi. I was awful to you, perhaps a little more than was required.”
Vivi sat down at the table and shook her head. “You helped me. You trained me even though you don’t like me. And you want to find your friend, whatever it takes. Even if it means putting yourself in danger.”
“Of course I have to find her,” Scarlett said. She’d never even considered the alternative. “It’s my fault this happened to her.”
“Scarlett, there’s no way this is your fault.” Vivi leaned forward and reached for her again, but Scarlett pulled away.
“It is,” Scarlett insisted, growing angry. Not at Vivi, but at herself. “It is my fault.”
“How in the world is it your fault?” Vivi argued. “You didn’t—”
“We killed someone, Vivi,” Scarlett burst out.
Vivi sat back in her chair, her face ashen. “What?”
Scarlett buried her face in her hands, pressing her palms int
o her eyes, finally letting herself admit the truth after so long. Finally letting herself remember that night in full relief.
It was March of freshman year and the weather was starting to turn warm. They’d all been at a Psi Delta Lambda mixer and the party was wilder than usual. Everyone was drunk and the crowd had spilled into the backyard, where the brothers had set up the kegs. Dahlia, who was already membership chair as a sophomore, was dancing with Sadie Lane, their president, and some of the other upperclassmen girls while a cluster of Psi Delt guys cheered someone doing a keg stand. Gwen was on a second-floor balcony looking down at them with a vaguely disgusted expression on her face.
“Look at her. That witch thinks she’s above us all,” Tiffany said to Scarlett. “She’s literally standing above the fray. I say we bring her down a little.”
“I don’t know, Tiff,” Scarlett said. Gwen and Tiffany had just had yet another fight—Scarlett didn’t even know what about—and Tiffany was still seething.
“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Tiffany said, her eyes shining as she grabbed Scarlett’s hand.
Scarlett hesitated. She didn’t like Gwen either, now that she’d seen with her own eyes how cruel she could be to Tiffany, but doing anything out in the open like this, with all the sisters and Psi Delt guys there, was risky.
“Do I need to remind you that just last week she called us frivolous bitches who couldn’t even control their magic enough to do a summoning spell?” Tiffany asked. Scarlett felt a flash of anger; no one insulted her spell technique.
“Ugh. She really is the worst. Our spells are flawless,” Scarlett said. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the way Gwen was sneering at them just then, but against her better judgment, Scarlett finally agreed. Tiffany’s grin was infectious, and Scarlett had to admit she was sick of Gwen’s sanctimonious shit. “So what are you thinking?”
Tiffany just kept smiling and made a crawling motion with her fingers. Scarlett laughed. Of course. The only chink in Gwen’s armor was her paralyzing fear of spiders. They’d discovered this during their Hell Week graveyard task when they’d had to collect spider webs for spellwork. Gwen had screamed and cried like a three-year-old.
