The Ravens

by Kass Morgan

  Vivi wrenched herself from side to side, trying to scare them off, shake them loose, but their pecking only grew more painful and intense. With each strike, they dug deeper into her skin.

  They were going to rip her chest open and expose her heart.

  I call to the Emperor and the Empress, Vivi thought, screaming the words inside her head. Help me with my distress. It was a catchall spell Scarlett had taught her, a powerful invocation that could be used in any emergency. But without her cards or the ability to speak, there was nothing Vivi could do. She was far too inexperienced a witch to perform magic with just her mind. There was no way to break the magical binds Dahlia had placed on her.

  Dahlia raised her arms higher and the birds’ pecking grew more urgent. Vivi could feel blood spilling down the front of her shirt as the beaks dug deeper into her skin. The pain was already almost too much to bear.

  Dahlia’s chants had turned into a screech. She tilted her head back even farther, shouting straight to the dark sky. A jagged bolt of orange lightning sizzled through the clouds, and a moment later, a crack of thunder shook the ground. The air smelled thick and bitter, heavy with the choking smoke of wicked magic.

  Another lightning bolt tore through the sky, and Dahlia’s fingertips began to glow. She laughed and spun as her hair flew around her face. “I call to Death and to the Tower,” she cried as she clutched the talisman. “Call home this witch and give me her power.”

  Something began to flow out of Vivi. At first, she thought it was more blood, but it was coming from places the birds hadn’t touched. She tried to wrench her head around for a better look, but she was too weak to move.

  She was dying, and Dahlia was taking her magic.

  “I call to Death and to the Tower. Call home this witch and give me—” Dahlia went silent as the orange glow began to fade from her fingertips. She lowered her arms and turned, searching the dark woods for something to explain what’d gone wrong.

  Another bolt of lightning flared above, and Scarlett stepped into the circle. Her dark eyes burned with fury and surging magic, and her skin seemed to glow from within. She strode forward to face Dahlia, unfazed by the grim accoutrements of wicked magic. “I can’t believe it was you all along.”

  For the first time that evening, something akin to fear flashed across Dahlia’s face. “Scarlett, hold on—”

  Scarlett cut her off by raising her hands. The wind immediately picked up. Trees snapped and creaked as they rubbed against one another, and rain began to fall, softly at first and then suddenly much harder, coming down in sheets that doused the candles.

  A moment later, the birds vanished, and Vivi exhaled in relief.

  “What did you do to Tiffany?” Scarlett demanded.

  Dahlia extended her hands, and the candles flared back to life, the flames leaping to double, triple their original height. In the firelight, her face took on a strange cast, as if it were bending and snapping out of shape. “You don’t understand.” Dahlia was shouting to be heard over the rain and the wind, but there was a desperate plea in her voice. “You have to let me explain.”

  “Explain?” Scarlett spat, her mouth twisted with disgust. “There’s no way you can explain killing my best friend.” She flexed her outstretched hands and Dahlia flew backwards.

  The next moment, Vivi’s rigid limbs went limp and the invisible cords binding her wrists and ankles vanished. By the time she rose unsteadily to her feet, she could feel power beginning to surge into her body, like water being sucked into a growing tsunami.

  She felt the earth respond to the return of her magic. The ground trembled under her feet and the leaves began to shudder, as if quivering in anticipation of her call. But Vivi couldn’t focus on anything except Dahlia’s face, which seemed to be transforming.

  Her nose shrank her eye and hair color shifted, her glamour was losing its form, her concentration pulled in too many other directions to maintain the mask.

  Vivi gasped and Scarlett staggered backwards. Far above, one particularly ominous storm cloud reached a finger down, almost like a tornado. But neither girl noticed—they were too horrified by the sight right in front of them.

  The sister staring back at them wasn’t Dahlia.

  It was Tiffany.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Scarlett

  If Scarlett hadn’t been witnessing this with her own eyes, she never would have believed it. But there was no mistaking who the blond, narrow-faced girl standing across from her was. Her best friend.

  “What the hell’s going on? I thought you were dead.” Scarlett’s eyes stung, though she wasn’t sure if it was from the rain, her tears, or both.

  “I know, and I’m sorry.” Tiffany’s voice sounded thin and almost contrite as it carried over the howling wind and the whipping of the tree branches. Wet leaves rained down on their heads, followed by loose sticks and branches. A tornado-like funnel swirled above them, roiling the debris in a whirling circle. “I had to make it look like I was the one missing so nobody would find her.”

  Her? Scarlett’s confusion curdled into disgust as she remembered all the blood in Tiffany’s room. If Tiffany herself was fine and had been walking around wearing Dahlia’s face for days, then that meant . . .

  “You killed Dahlia,” Vivi said, apparently reaching the conclusion at the same moment.

  “I needed her power,” Tiffany said, still facing Scarlett. “If you’d just let me explain, you’d understand.”

  “Understand?” Scarlett’s voice rose to a nearly hysterical pitch as she realized her best friend was trying to justify murdering their friend. Beautiful, brilliant, fierce Dahlia, who put her sisters before everything. Who’d stay up all night helping you brew a potion to calm midterm anxiety or drive four hours to get you if you got stranded in a freak snowstorm—even if said snowstorm was a product of your own foolish making. Dahlia, one of the most talented, committed witches in a generation, gone. Snuffed out as carelessly as a candle at the end of a ritual and with as little remorse. “There is nothing you could say that would make this okay.”

  “Oh, really? Okay, try this: I spent years listening to all those speeches about Ravens putting each other first, but when I really needed you all, no one was there for me.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “All I wanted was to help her.” Tiffany’s voice cracked slightly. “The doctors couldn’t do anything more, so I found a spell in the grimoire. It was major arcana, something I couldn’t do on my own, so I went to ask Dahlia if we could perform the ritual as a house.”

  Her mother. Of course. Scarlett’s stomach sank as she remembered how thin Veronica Beckett had been at Homecoming. Tiffany had tried to put on a brave face, but Scarlett knew Veronica had been given a terminal diagnosis and had just a few more months to live.

  “But Dahlia wouldn’t even think about it,” Tiffany continued. “She said it was an outdated spell created before we really knew how diseases worked and that it would ‘mess with the natural order of things.’ As if that’s a good enough reason to let my mother die.”

  The pain in Tiffany’s voice made Scarlett’s heart cramp. She could only begin to imagine how her friend—and her friend’s family—had suffered. But there were certain forces that even witches couldn’t change, and death was one of them. “Would she want you to do this for her? Would she want you to become this?” Scarlett asked quietly.

  Tiffany was drenched, her limp hair plastered to her face, but she radiated power. Scarlett could feel it emanating from her, filling the air with the pungent scent of rot. That was what happened when you contaminated your magic. Tiffany might’ve accumulated an unnatural amount of power, but it had come at great cost.

  Another bolt of lightning tore through the sky, and for a moment all Scarlett could see was blinding white. When her eyes adjusted to the dark again, she saw Tiffany looking at her with a sad smile that made Scarlett’s blood run cold.

  “It’s too late now,” Tiffany said, stroking the t
alisman around her neck. “I’ve already collected the power of three suits. Mine. Dahlia’s. And a Cups witch I met over the summer. All I need to collect is a Pentacles, and I’ll be able to do whatever the hell I want.” She turned to look at Vivi hungrily.

  Scarlett stepped between Tiffany and her Little. “You’re not going to hurt anyone else. Especially not her.”

  Tiffany raised a mocking eyebrow, then threw her arms to her sides and shouted into the rain, “I call to Death and to the Tower. Call home this witch and give me her power.”

  Scarlett started at the words of the spell, one she knew well but had never heard spoken aloud. It was the deadliest major arcana spell—one that required an entire coven to perform. Surely even the stolen power of two witches wouldn’t be enough for Tiffany to do it on her own. But then the talisman around Tiffany’s neck began to glow and a strange smell filled the air. The rain running down Scarlett’s skin turned thick and sticky. She looked at her arm and gasped, then shielded her face and turned to the sky.

  It was raining blood.

  “Tiffany, no!” The thunder drowned out Scarlett’s scream as a rush of wind struck her, blowing her off balance. There was a loud crack and she stumbled to the side just in time to avoid being hit by an enormous tree branch. The tornado Tiffany had conjured was stripping the tops off the trees. If they didn’t find shelter before it touched down, they’d be flung into the air just like those branches.

  “I call to Death and to the Tower. Call home this witch and give me her power!” Tiffany shrieked. Scarlett spun around and saw Vivi floating off the ground, her limbs as loose and powerless as a rag doll’s. She seemed suspended by an invisible cord attached to her chest. No, that wasn’t right, Scarlett realized with growing revulsion and horror as she watched a dark mass appear beneath Vivi’s white T-shirt.

  It was her heart.

  “Tiffany, don’t!” Scarlett screamed, but her cry was drowned out by another peal of thunder. “I call to Justice and Judgment, whose vision is long,” she said breathlessly. “Set right to what is wrong.” It was more a plea than a spell, an ancient appeal to two of the most powerful forces in the tarot. But it was also major arcana and required the magic of an entire coven.

  The front of Vivi’s shirt had turned red with blood, although Scarlett wasn’t sure if it was from the rain . . . or from the pressure of her heart straining against her sternum as Tiffany did her best to tear it from Vivi’s body.

  Scarlett took a deep breath and shouted with all her might, “I call to Justice and Judgment, whose vision is long. Set right to what is wrong.”

  But the magic refused to heed her call. It was impossible. Tiffany was able to perform major arcana spells on her own only because of the stolen magic running through her veins, amplified by the talisman. Scarlett was no match for her. In a few minutes, she was going to watch Vivi die.

  Something inside Scarlett shriveled. She’d never felt emptier or more powerless in her life. This was it. She’d failed Vivi. She’d failed Dahlia. She’d failed everyone.

  Then she felt a pressure on her shoulder like the comforting weight of someone’s hand. Scarlett spun around and saw no one, but the pressure only increased, sending a jolt of warmth through her. She felt her skin begin to buzz with a surge of new energy, the way it did when she cast spells with her sisters.

  A moment later, they found her. Mei was the first to sprint into the clearing, Juliet at her heels. One by one, the Ravens streamed into the clearing, their confused or weary faces turning fierce as soon as their eyes landed on Scarlett and Vivi.

  Tiffany let out an angry snarl, but Mei and Hazel took Scarlett’s hands, and her fear drained away. She no longer felt the cold of rain-filled night air. She was no longer aware of anything except a growing surge of energy inside her, pouring into her from all directions. Scarlett’s sisters were with her. She could feel the raw, unfiltered power of Juliet’s magic and the steady stream of Jess’s, understated but able to strike with surgical precision. She felt the tingle of Mei’s magic, which felt cool and refreshing whenever she cast a spell. Scarlett even thought she could feel a trace of Dahlia and the intensity of her magic, which always gave off a faintly smoky scent, especially when fueled by great feeling.

  “I call to Justice and Judgment, whose vision is long. Set right to what is wrong,” she called again. This time, her voice didn’t get lost in the roar of the wind. She was joined by a chorus of other voices that made the words sound deep and rich, the voices of her sisters.

  “I call to Justice and Judgment, whose vision is long. Set right to what is wrong.”

  The storm clouds began to fray; a single bolt of lightning cut through the sky. Tiffany was illuminated by the flash, and Scarlett saw her face twisted in agony and her mouth open in a silent scream.

  Tiffany was fumbling for the talisman that, while still around her neck, was floating in front of her, pointing toward Vivi. Then the chain went suddenly slack, sending Tiffany backwards and Vivi tumbling to the ground.

  Scarlett directed some of her sisters’ magic toward Vivi to stop her fall, but she was already floating a few inches above the ground. The blood seemed to be fading from her shirt, and the gruesome mass receded back into her chest.

  Vivi’s eyes opened as soon as her feet touched the grass. She bore no signs of having been moments away from death. In fact, she looked more alive than Scarlett had ever seen her. Her skin shone and her dark eyes seemed to glow as she said something Scarlett couldn’t hear and raised her arms.

  An enormous tree behind Tiffany began to sway as its roots shot up from the ground, reaching toward her like angry snakes. They curled around her ankles and dragged her down. But she barely seemed to notice—she was too busy fumbling for the talisman, which was starting to twitch and writhe. The chain around Tiffany’s neck grew white-hot, and with each twist, it left burn marks on her skin.

  The talisman began to glow even brighter and then, with a crack, it shattered, glass shards exploding in every direction. Tiffany shrieked, a sound more animal than human, then went limp as the whole clearing fell silent. The wind had stopped, the tornado disappearing into the darkness. The spell the Ravens cast had worked. They’d released the trapped magic from the talisman, setting to right what was wrong. But the force had clearly been too much for Tiffany to withstand.

  Hazel fell to her knees, shaking with exhaustion; Jess doubled over and swore loudly while Sonali and Ariana ran to Vivi. Next to Scarlett, Juliet breathed heavily as she examined her outstretched fingertips, which had turned black, scorched by the surge of magic. But Scarlett stood frozen in place, staring at Tiffany, heart pounding as she struggled to catch her breath. Even from a distance, even with her face obscured by the shadow of the tree, Scarlett knew without a shred of doubt that her best friend was dead.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Vivi

  Scarlett was the only person in Kappa House who slept much that night. As they staggered out of the woods, sopping wet and covered in dirt, Scarlett had collapsed against Mei, who’d then cast a spell to make her light as a feather so they could carry her back to the house. Vivi managed to walk, supported by a grim-faced Jess and a terrified-looking Ariana. As the sisters picked their way over roots and fallen branches, Reagan explained that the spell they’d cast to summon Tiffany’s shadow had suddenly stopped working, and, fearing the worst, they had tracked Scarlett through the woods to the clearing.

  The second they made it inside Kappa House, Scarlett immediately curled into a ball on the couch and, after a long pull of Etta’s sleeping draft, fell asleep, though from the occasional noises she made and the look of pain on her face, it was clear her sleep wasn’t restful. Vivi settled into an armchair and gratefully accepted the steady stream of tea Etta kept bringing. She suspected Etta had added a little something to the tea, because with every sip, Vivi felt her shock lessen, and her breath came just the tiniest bit easier.

  As soon as Vivi could speak again, she gave the Ravens the abbreviate
d version of events and shared the awful news that couldn’t wait—Dahlia was also dead.

  The entire sorority was squeezed into the living room, girls sprawling on the floor and perched on every free surface in a spontaneous vigil for the sisters they’d lost. The normally stoic Jess sobbed into Juliet’s shoulder as her girlfriend stroked her hair. Hazel stared off into space, a faraway look in her eyes, while Etta and Mei sat on the couch, trembling as they whispered about how to deliver the horrific news to Tiffany’s and Dahlia’s families. Across from Vivi, Sonali and Ariana sat on the floor watching her anxiously, as if worried she’d get herself kidnapped right from under their noses.

  Vivi tried to give them a reassuring smile, but she knew they’d have no trouble seeing through it. Tiffany and the Henosis talisman were gone. The immediate danger was over. But the losses had shaken Kappa to the core. Though it was hard to believe, their beloved, fearless president was gone. And while the pain over Tiffany’s death would be far more complicated, it wouldn’t lessen their grief over the sister they’d lost in more ways than one.

  Marjorie Winter, Scarlett’s mother, arrived around three a.m. Vivi wasn’t sure if one of the Ravens had called her or if she had a magical means of knowing when her daughter needed her. Perhaps it was the latter, because shortly before dawn, there was another knock on the door, and this time, it was Daphne.

  Somehow, Vivi wasn’t surprised to see her mother on the front steps. She didn’t even bother asking how Daphne knew what had happened. That was just her mother’s way. She always knew. And for once, Vivi found that fact supremely comforting.

  “You’re okay,” Daphne said with a sigh after she’d examined Vivi from all angles.

  “More or less. Do you want to come in?”

  Daphne hesitated a moment, then nodded. “I suppose it makes more sense than standing in the doorway until the sun comes up.” She took a few cautious steps into the foyer, as if half expecting to be thwarted by some spell. She followed her daughter into the living room, but before Vivi could make introductions, Marjorie jumped up from the chair where she’d been keeping watch over Scarlett.