“Trust me, being the new kid gets old pretty fast.”
“Yeah, but if things didn’t go well at one school, you could try something completely different at the next one. You could write angsty poetry with the goth kids, or join the fencing team, or decide to wear a top hat and monocle every day.”
Vivi cocked her head and furrowed her brow. “Maybe . . . if you were the new kid at school in 1894.”
Mason laughed. “Fair enough. But I do think there’s something to be said for making friends who haven’t known you your whole life and who think they know you better than you know yourself.”
Vivi considered this. On the one hand, she’d give anything for a group of friends who knew her that well. But on the other, it was freeing to make a radical change, like rushing a sorority, and not have anyone judge her for it. “So what would you do if none of that mattered?”
“I’m not sure,” he said as he placed his silverware on the table and ran his hands through his curly hair. “I guess that’s the problem.” He smiled and shook his head. “Sorry, that’s too much deep talk for breakfast.”
“Does this count as deep?” Vivi asked. “Feels like advanced small talk to me.”
“You’ve got a lot to learn about the South, sweetheart,” he said, exaggerating his drawl. Even though she knew he was teasing her, the word sweetheart made her chest tingle. “The only things you’re allowed to talk about at breakfast are the heat and sports scores.”
“Well, it’s not that hot out and I don’t know anything about sports, so I guess we’ll have to sit here in silence.” She paused. “Or else see if it’s not too late for me to transfer to Oberlin.”
He laughed. “So what about you, New Girl? Who are you going to be at Westerly?”
“That’s . . . a big question.” In any other situation, she would’ve steered the conversation toward less personal ground, but Mason was looking at her with such interest and sincerity, it felt almost rude not to answer truthfully. “I guess I want to find something I’m passionate about. Something real.”
“What does real mean?”
“Something that’ll help me understand the world, like environmental science or history or psychology.” She paused, waiting for him to call her out on her pretension, but he merely nodded, encouraging her to continue. “I’ve spent too much time surrounded by people who refuse to accept reality. I don’t want to be afraid of the truth. Does that make sense?”
“Yes,” he said, nodding slowly, though his expression had turned serious. Maybe she’d gone too far and he was figuring out how to extract himself from the conversation. She was considering faking a text from Ariana just to give Mason a way out when she was saved by the arrival of someone else joining them at the table. At least, so Vivi thought, until that person stopped to rest a hand on Mason’s shoulder. “There you are,” she drawled. “I thought we were meeting on the quad.”
It was the girl from the rush party who’d handed her a sparkler. She bent to kiss Mason on the cheek, and Vivi’s stomach flipped like she’d just missed a step on the stairs. Uh-oh.
“Shoot, sorry. I lost track of time.” Mason’s chair scraped against the floor as he rose abruptly and picked up his tray. “I’ll just return this. Be right back.”
“That’s all right,” the girl said sweetly as Mason hurried off. She turned to Vivi. “I’m Scarlett. Vivian, was it?”
“Yes. Vivi.”
“So, Vivi, I see you’ve met my boyfriend.”
The word landed hard, sending ripples of embarrassment and disappointment through her. Boyfriend. Of course Mason was taken. And by a Kappa, naturally.“Yeah, he showed me how to use the waffle maker,” Vivi said quickly. “Cooking’s not really my thing.”
“Always the gentleman,” Scarlett said, the sweetness draining from her voice. “You’re so brave, coming to breakfast dressed like that.” She nodded at Vivi’s sweatpants. “I wish I could be so . . . uninhibited.”
Vivi blushed and, to her annoyance, she was still searching for a retort when Mason returned and took Scarlett’s hand. “Stay out of trouble, Vivi,” he said before following Scarlett out of the cafeteria.
Too late. She was already knee-deep in it.
Chapter Eight
Scarlett
As Mason walked Scarlett to class, clouds gathered, dark and low, on the horizon. She wasn’t 100 percent sure if it was her or Mother Nature brewing the storm.
“I am so sorry I missed our breakfast, Scar,” he said again. He’d been brimming over with apologies since they’d left the cafeteria. “Let me make it up to you. Why don’t we skip? We can go down to Miss Deenie’s and get some real food.”
“I would, but one of us is clearly already full,” Scarlett said icily.
“Scar, it was just breakfast.”
But it wasn’t just anything. Some of us don’t skip. Some of us care. Some of us show up where we are supposed to be instead of making waffles for wide-eyed freshmen. It wasn’t just that she’d found him playing waffle sous-chef for that unfortunate freshman charity-baby witch. She could usually set her watch by Mason.
“I can’t skip,” she said firmly.
“Scar . . .” he pleaded. But when he realized that she was standing her ground, he sighed, gave her a quick peck on the lips, and moved on, his shoulders slightly slumped.
After he disappeared into the fog that had suddenly descended like a curtain, Scarlett couldn’t bring herself to go into the lecture hall. Instead, she strode back across campus toward Kappa House, clenching her fists so hard, her nails left crescents in her palms.
Just who the hell does this Vivi girl think she is?
How could Mason stand her up for the same irritating girl whom Scarlett hadn’t even wanted to vote into Kappa? She was beneath them, this girl with her ratty clothes and childlike innocence. Was this what Mason was talking about when he’d asked her if she ever thought about just saying screw it all and traveling the world? Screw that. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and she forced herself to take slow, calming breaths. She could not use major arcana right now. Not with so many witnesses. But she felt the magic itching in her veins, begging to be let loose.
It wouldn’t take much. Not at this point with her nerves as frayed as they were.
“You might want to get inside soon,” a surly voice said.
Great. Jackson had just jogged up beside her on the quad.
“Why’s that?” she replied coldly.
“Don’t witches melt in the rain?”
Scarlett nearly tripped over her sandals. She forced her expression to stay calm, removed. Forced herself not to study him too hard out of the corner of her eye. “Someone’s been reading a little too much urban fantasy.”
He kept pace with her. “Just calling it like I see it.”
“Jackson, I’m not in the mood.”
“Come on, Scarlett. Take a joke.”
She whirled on him finally, her hair whipping as the storm kicked up more power. “Leave me alone,” she growled. If not for the burgeoning thunderstorm soaking up all her power, she would have already cast a distraction charm to send him away. But her control would be tenuous right now. Irritating as he was, she didn’t want to make a mistake and hurt him. She couldn’t go through something like that again.
Jackson set his jaw. For a moment, she thought he’d refuse. But with a deafening clap of thunder, the rain began, and he scowled, flung up the hood of his sweatshirt, and stalked away.
She watched him leave, every muscle in her body taut. She crossed her arms over her chest, cut off the quad, and headed into the forest that ran alongside campus. It was a slightly longer walk to Kappa this way, but the trees provided cover from the worst of the storm.
Normally at this hour, the path would be crowded with students who lived in other parts of campus. Right now, thanks to the rain, it was abandoned. With the dark clouds above, it looked like nighttime almost. Scarlett picked her way through the gloom, scowling.
At least the weath
er matched her mood.
Vivi. What the hell was she going to do with her? She’d known she wasn’t Kappa material from the moment she’d set eyes on her. She was rude and unstylish, and she had flirted with Scarlett’s boyfriend right in front of her.
Sure, Mason had apologized for flaking on her. But she couldn’t help noticing the way his eyes had tracked that Vivi girl as they left the dining hall. Or the way he’d been smiling and laughing before Scarlett approached their breakfast table . . .
And the way he’d stopped smiling and laughing when Scarlett took Vivi’s place.
It’s just all the distance. The summer apart had been a mistake. She’d have to remember that going forward. Because they would go forward. They had their life plan all set. This? This was nothing more than a blip. Hardly worth worrying about, really.
Tell that to this thunderstorm, she thought wryly, cutting through a small wooded park that led to Greek Row. Another rumble of thunder sounded, followed by a crack. Like someone stepping on a branch.
She whirled around, but the path remained empty. Gloomy. Too dark to see more than a few feet in front of her. Her breath started to come just a little faster.
Snap.
Behind her again. She turned, slower this time, eyes fixed on the trees. There. A faint shadow in the distance. Skinny, tall. She began to whisper under her breath, a low, humming protection charm. But most of her magic had already been poured into the storm, and what remained would barely be enough to light a candle, much less protect her against . . .
What?
She was at Westerly. A few steps from her sorority house. What did she honestly think was out here, stalking her through the forest?
But she knew better than anyone that bad things could happen at Westerly. She could never forget the night with Harper. It would haunt her forever. But Harper was gone. And Gwen was gone too. And while witches were real, ghosts were not . . .
Still, she looked behind her once more and then—
“Boo!”
Scarlett screamed and whirled back around to find Tiffany beside her. Her heart still racing in her chest, she glared. “Not funny.”
Tiffany grinned. “Wasn’t it?” One glimpse of Scarlett’s expression, though, and she sobered. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist. You just looked so tense.”
“I thought I heard . . .” Scarlett glanced back through the trees. No one was there. “Never mind.” She shook her head, willing her pulse to stop pounding. “What are you doing out in this?”
“Coming to find you, of course.” Tiffany pointed at the sky. “I figured something must be wrong. What happened?”
Scarlett crunched on through the woods, toward Kappa House, grateful to have her best friend at her side. At least it would stop her from jumping at every shadow. “Just . . . Mason.” Scarlett sighed.
“Am I gonna need to hurt our resident campus pretty boy for messing with my girl?” Tiffany arched a brow.
She almost smiled. Almost. “Not yet. But I need you to help me dissect what’s going on.”
“Well, then.” Tiffany looped her arm through Scarlett’s. “You’ve got me. But I’m also available for actual dissection if need be.”
Scarlett laughed and felt a surge of gratitude for her friend.
“I’m serious, Scar. Dahlia had me help her dissect owl pellets last night for some spell she’s working on.” Tiffany wrinkled her nose. “I think she was annoyed that I wasn’t more grossed out, but she forgot that I was a biology major for a hot second in freshman year.”
“Did it not occur to you to pawn that task off on your Little?” Scarlett teased as they looped up the path and turned the corner toward Kappa House.
“You know how it is. Dahlia says jump . . .” Tiffany nudged Scarlett. “For real, though, are you okay? Because if Mason needs a reminder that he somehow managed to score the smartest, funniest, hottest woman on this entire campus, I’m your girl. You deserve the best and I don’t want anyone treating you—”
Tiffany stopped short the moment their house came into view.
“Oh my God,” Scarlett gasped.
Tacked to the front door, there for everyone to see, were four tarot cards: The Queen of Swords. The Queen of Wands. The Queen of Cups. And the Queen of Pentacles.
And slashed through each one was a blood-red X.
Chapter Nine
Vivi
As she made her way up the narrow brick path to Kappa House on Tuesday, Vivi realized she’d never actually accepted the offer to pledge. There’d been no RSVP card. No email address or phone number. A flare of rebellion rose up within her, bringing her to a stop. She’d never even heard of this sorority until a few days ago—why would they automatically assume she’d want to join? Yet as she stared at the elegant sorority house, she knew she wouldn’t turn back around.
Although the past few days had been a whirlwind of orientation activities, classes, parties, and appointments with various advisers, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the invitation. It hovered at the edge of her thoughts during her first neuroscience class, which she’d gotten special permission to take as a freshman. She felt a shivery thrill of excitement down her spine in the museum-like rare-books library where, to Vivi’s amazement, anyone was allowed to study. The only thing threatening to dampen her enthusiasm was the memory of how foolish she’d been in the dining hall with Mason the other morning. A cute boy had been nice to her for five minutes and Vivi had somehow managed to convince herself that he was interested. Her stomach clenched as she recalled the look on Scarlett’s face when she’d approached their table, her cloyingly sweet, condescending smile. She hadn’t liked Vivi from the start, and this clearly wouldn’t help. The question was how much it would hurt her chances in the sorority.
The Kappas’ four-story gray house was set far back from the street, nestled among the live oaks that cast long shadows in the twilight. The tea lights she’d thought had been strung up for the rush party still hung in the trees, though they created a different effect without the buzz of music and laughter.
Vines curled up the wrought-iron balconies that adorned each floor, and Vivi couldn’t keep herself from imagining what it’d be like to sit out on the wraparound porch with a mint julep. Whatever that turned out to be.
As she waited for Ariana, whom she’d promised to meet outside, Vivi looked at the neighboring houses. Although they were all enormous, they couldn’t have been more different from the sterile McMansions that constituted luxury in Reno. There were sprawling Victorians, a few stately Georgians, and one Greek revival complete with marble columns, all of them with the wrought-iron balconies that Vivi had come to associate with Savannah. Most had ivy covering at least one of the walls, and a few had flaking paint, but while these details might seem shabby in other neighborhoods, here they only added to the feeling of decadence. The houses reminded Vivi of the eccentric British aristocrats she’d read about, the ones who wore designer clothes with muddy boots and let their priceless oil paintings fade in stuffy attics.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” a breathless voice said. Vivi turned to see Ariana hurrying up the walk looking harried but gorgeous in the black cocktail dress Vivi had seen that morning. The night before, when Vivi admitted that she didn’t have any formalwear, Ariana had insisted she come to her room the next day to borrow an outfit—she had half a dozen party dresses left over from her cousins’ recent quinceañeras.
“I wasn’t in any rush to go inside, trust me,” Vivi said. “So should we knock?”
“I guess so.” Ariana eyed the door warily.
“This doesn’t really strike me as the walk-right-in kind of place,” Vivi said. All the shutters were closed, and there were no sounds of activity coming from inside.
As she and Ariana stared at the door, it suddenly opened, revealing an empty vestibule. “Who did that?” Ariana asked.
“Maybe it was the wind,” Vivi said, wondering why the wind always insisted on behaving strangely whenever she was aroun
d. She and Ariana exchanged a look of wordless agreement, then stepped inside.
The recruitment party had been mostly in the garden, and Vivi realized she hadn’t gotten a good look around the interior. Paintings lined the walls; some featured women in old-fashioned clothes while others depicted beautiful but slightly melancholy settings: a forest shrouded in mist, a raven perched on a barren tree in a lonely field. Yet the house itself conveyed elegance and warmth, from the candles flickering on random surfaces to the overflowing vases of flowers scattered about.
“Whoa,” Ariana said under her breath. “Look at this.” She was pointing down a hall that led to an enclosed greenhouse. Moonlight filtered through the glass, illuminating a tangle of plants, potted trees, and vines climbing up the walls.
“I guess the Kappas are into gardening?” Vivi said.
Faint conversation drifted from another room. Vivi gestured for Ariana to join her and followed the sound to the living room, where two girls sat on a pair of couches facing each other. Jess, the Kappa who’d quoted Dorothy Parker at the party, was leaning forward, listening intently. She wore thick-framed glasses that accentuated her delicate cheekbones and an elegant white silk blouse that Vivi would never have been able to keep clean. This evening, her twisted braids were pulled back from her face with a clip.
The white girl talking to her, clearly a new member, twirled a piece of her long black hair nervously as she chattered. “I was obviously really relieved when my boyfriend and I were both accepted to Westerly. But then, at the very last minute, I mean, like, four hours before the deadline, he decided to go to Vanderbilt instead. I had already sent in my deposit and there was nothing I could do. We’re going to try to do the long-distance thing, but I’m really worried because he posted this photo on Instagram of him and this really pretty girl and the caption said ‘The benefits of new friends,’ which could be read a bunch of different ways, but still . . .”
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