The Ravens

by Kass Morgan

  Daphne was silent for a moment. “There’s an old inn a couple miles from campus called the Rose and Thorn,” she said finally. “I’ll meet you there in an hour.”

  Next to her, Dahlia began to mutter a spell. “I call to the Moon and to the Tower, source of the shadows that seek to devour.”

  “Mom, I can’t stay in Savannah,” Vivi said, taking a step away from the older girl. “You don’t understand, it’s not safe for—” She cut herself off with a gasp. She’d just caught sight of her reflection in the gold-framed mirror behind Dahlia’s desk. But it wasn’t her, not really. Her skin had grown paler and taken on a greenish tint while her face was bloated and misshapen, like a body decaying underwater. She made a noise that was half sob, half shriek as a worm twisted its way out of the reflection’s ear.

  “Vivi?” Daphne said sharply. “Are you all right?”

  Vivi turned away from the mirror and took a deep breath.

  “Vivi?” Daphne said again, more urgently this time. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “You were right, I’m not safe here.” When Vivi finally found her voice, it was trembling. “Please, please, Mom, I need to get out of here. Tell me where you are.”

  This time her mother didn’t hesitate. “I’m on Jekyll Island, south of Savannah. Thirty-eight Wisteria Lane. You’ll be safe here, I promise.”

  “See you soon,” Vivi said faintly. She ended the call and turned around to see Dahlia smiling at her.

  “Great job,” she said.

  “Was all that really necessary?” Vivi gestured toward the mirror, where, mercifully, her reflection had returned to normal. Despite taking a few deep breaths, she was shaking, and her heart was still racing from the image of her dead body.

  Dahlia shrugged. “It worked, didn’t it? Now, ready for a little road trip?”

  Chapter Thirty

  Scarlett

  “We’re trying to stop Gwen, not make tea,” Scarlett mut­tered as she stormed out the front door, startling Mei, who was scattering juniper, patchouli, and chamomile on the front steps, a protective measure against wicked magic. As the scents hit her, all Scarlett could think of was Gwen snapping the rat’s neck in the shed. A few herbs were not enough to protect them.

  “Where are you going? We’re supposed to stay together,” Mei called after her. Scarlett said nothing as she strode down the brick path. For the first time since arriving at Westerly, she felt like the outside world was safer and more welcoming than Kappa House.

  As she marched down Greek Row, she passed PiKa House with its stately columns. Her heart wrenched and her mind helpfully provided plenty of mental images of what her ex—the guy who, until two days ago, Scarlett thought was the love of her life—could have done with her Little.

  For the past two years, Scarlett had had a vision of her future. It had been laid before her so intricately and clearly in her mind, it was almost as if it were real, like that part of her life was already established and just waiting for her and Mason to step into it. With Tiffany gone, Scarlett hadn’t had a chance to grieve for the future she’d lost with Mason—at the moment, her future felt like a giant question mark—but now, as she hurried down the sidewalk, stepping over the gnarled tree roots sticking up through the cracked pavement, grief and anger washed over her in equal measure.

  How could their meet-cute at the Pikiki be just an anecdote from a failed relationship? How could everything they’d built over the past two years, every inside joke, every conversation, every “I love you,” just vanish, crumbling to the earth like it was no more meaningful than dust? How, when she saw him across the quad, was she supposed to walk by him like they were nothing more than strangers? How had they shared their last kiss without her even knowing it was the last?

  And, she thought as she angrily brushed away a tear, how could he already have fallen for someone else? How could he do this to her—and with her Little? How could Vivi do this to her?

  And Vivi wasn’t the only Raven who’d betrayed her. Instead of chastising Vivi, Dahlia had practically laughed about it. That wasn’t like her. Dahlia knew what Mason meant to Scarlett. Knew how long they’d been together. How devastating it was when one sister betrayed another.

  There wasn’t much Scarlett was sure of anymore, but she knew these two things were true: she was going to rescue Tiffany and she would do it without her so-called sisters.

  Scarlett pulled out the slip of paper she’d folded up in her pocket. The one Jackson had given her. She dialed his number and held her breath.

  It rang only once before he answered. “Scarlett?”

  She raised her eyebrows. “How’d you know it was me?” she asked. She hadn’t given Jackson her number.

  “Just a lucky guess.” He paused, then sighed. “That, and I was hoping you’d call. I haven’t been sure what to do. It’s pretty hard to just calmly head out to a party or something right after you find out witches are real and there’s an evil one on the loose.”

  Just a few hours ago, his words would’ve released a wave of guilt and fear in Scarlett. For centuries, nothing posed a greater danger to witches than the threat of discovery. In the name of mortal fear, witches had been burned and drowned and institutionalized and incarcerated. The stories were true, and her mother and Minnie had made sure that Scarlett knew her witch history by heart.

  But now, it was almost comforting to know that there was someone else to share her burden, someone she might actually be able to trust. Even if he was human. “In that case, how would you feel about helping me track down said witch?”

  “Sounds dangerous.”

  “Extremely.”

  “What do your sisters think about it?”

  “I don’t know,” Scarlett said, glancing over her shoulder despite the fact that Kappa House was already out of sight, concealed by the veil of moss that draped from live oaks that lined their street. Deep down, she knew Dahlia had a point. Leaders didn’t do stuff like run off on a rogue mission. But then again, Ravens were supposed to put Kappa first. Tiffany was her best friend, a fellow sister in grave danger. Screw behaving like a well-groomed presidential candidate. First and foremost, Scarlett was a friend. She needed to act like one now. “There’s one sister who can’t afford to wait.”

  The line went quiet for a moment. Scarlett didn’t blame Jackson for hesitating. In fact, she respected him for how quickly he was able to grasp the seriousness of the situation. “Can you come pick me up?” he said finally. “We can see if she went back to her apartment or if she’s still at that freaky cabin.”

  “You sure you aren’t a witch?” Scarlett asked as she fished her car keys out of her purse. “Because you just read my mind.”

  * * *

  When she got to Jackson’s place, she was surprised by the lack of furniture and the presence of a murder board. Also by the fact that he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

  “Just a sec,” he called over his shoulder as he reached for a T-shirt and pulled it down over an impressively muscled and lean chest. He disappeared into a small bedroom in the back.

  “Suspect number one, huh?” she said as she looked at her picture. It was pinned on a map of Savannah along with photos of her fellow Ravens, all of them connected by a tangled series of strings. Over Psi Delt House was a picture of Harper. Scarlett’s breath caught in her chest at the sight of her wide smile. She looked so . . . alive. Next to that photo was Scarlett’s own face, circled in red Sharpie.

  “Sorry, I obviously need to update that,” Jackson said, coming back into the room with a sweatshirt on.

  “No problem,” she said, but guilt flooded in once more. The map, the near-empty apartment. This was the chaos she and Tiffany had left in their wake.

  “Can I ask you something?” he said.

  “I think you’ve more than earned the right,” she said, expecting more questions about being a witch. But Jackson’s question surprised her.

  “When I ran into you at Homecoming . . . was that about Gwen? Had she done something then?�
��

  Scarlett shook her head. “That was about my boyfriend dumping me.”

  He let out a low whistle. “At Homecoming?”

  “Obviously, that’s not important in the scheme of what’s happening now,” she said defensively, feeling hurt and embarrassed all at once.

  “I think we really are in the Upside Down if someone dumped you.”

  “A few days ago you would have thought I deserved it,” she countered.

  “No one deserves to get dumped like that at a dance in front of her family and friends.”

  “Not even a sorority witch?” she said lightly.

  “Well, maybe some sorority witches do. But you’re different than I thought you were.”

  “Don’t say that. It’s insulting. I’m not like the other girls, right? Not like the rest of my sorority?” she said, getting her back up again at the thought of him putting other girls down in order to lift her up.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Given that we just saw Gwen making a Ratatouille sacrifice, I’d say that it’s a compliment. But that’s not what I meant. When I first met you in class I didn’t know you were a Kappa. I just knew that you were smart and untouchable. You kept people at a distance. It feels good to be on the inside.”

  “Even though the inside is filled with witches and witch killers?”

  “Nobody’s perfect,” he said with a smile.

  “You’re different than I thought you were too,” she admitted.

  “Handsomer up close, wittier, more intelligent . . .” he quipped.

  “Not a complete and total asshole,” she said. But in her head she added, Funnier, kinder, more forgiving. “And sort of brave,” she added aloud. She didn’t know many other guys—any other guys—who would take finding out about the existence of witches in stride, let alone sign up to bring one down. “How come you aren’t totally freaking out about all of this?”

  Jackson thought for a moment. “For the record, I am kind of freaking out. But I also think a part of me always knew. I just didn’t allow myself to realize it.”

  “What do you mean?” Scarlett asked.

  “Believe it or not, when Harper and I were kids and she first came to live with us, I wasn’t exactly the confident male specimen you see in front of you. I was a bit of a nerd.”

  Scarlett gasped for effect and found herself smiling for the first time in days.

  “There were a couple of kids who made it their business to turn my life into a living hell, and one day Harper cornered them after school. A few minutes later, they emerged with black eyes. Harper swore she didn’t touch them, but I remember how terrified they looked. When I asked how she’d managed to scare them so badly, she told me it was magic.” He let out a low laugh. “Now I realize it was. And it wasn’t just that. There were a lot of little things. Doors that opened and closed on their own. Sudden rainstorms. Other, smaller things, some that were more of a feeling than anything in particular. When I was younger, I half believed her. And now I know I should have believed her all along.”

  Scarlett took a deep breath. She’d already betrayed her coven, her sorority, when she’d shared their secret. It was wrong to go further down that path. But looking at him, seeing how much he loved Harper, how much he wanted to understand, and knowing she was the only person who could do that for him . . .

  “She was a Cups like me. Her powers stemmed from water. But she could do other things, too. We all can. We are just stronger together. Or at least I thought we were . . .” She trailed off, thinking of what Dahlia had said, what Vivi had done.

  “Gwen’s on her own and she seems pretty damn strong,” he countered.

  “Yeah, because she’s tapped into wicked magic. We Ravens never, ever do that. It’s why we kicked her out and bound her powers in the first place.”

  “And now she has them back—and then some.”

  “Indeed,” Scarlett said grimly.

  Jackson paused to let it all sink in. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you for telling me.”

  “Not sure if you’ll be thanking me after this is over,” Scarlett said.

  “On that note,” he said, grabbing his keys and holding the door open for her, “witches first. I may be brave, but I’m not an idiot.”

  * * *

  The front of Gwen’s building looked dark when they pulled up. Blinds shut, lights off. Then again, the cabin had looked abandoned at first.

  Scarlett cut the engine. “Do you see any signs of life?” she asked, unsure what kind of answer she was hoping for.

  He shook his head. “Not even the upstairs neighbor or the yappy dog that lives in the shop next door. It’s a complete dead zone here.”

  “Maybe she’s still out at the cabin,” Scarlett said uncertainly. The last thing she wanted was to return to that house of horror, but she’d go in a heartbeat if it’d lead her to Tiffany.

  “Her car is here.” He pointed to a beat-up old sedan parked by the curb.

  Scarlett frowned. “I didn’t see it by the cabin.”

  “Maybe she parked somewhere up the road, like we did.”

  Scarlett hunched lower in her seat, one eye on the building. “Something about this feels off. Doesn’t it? I mean, she gets her powers back, which is huge. Then she just . . . comes home to go to bed?”

  “Maybe all that wicked magic tired her out.” Jackson held up his hands in response to Scarlett’s withering glare. “Hey, I don’t know how any of this works. That’s your department. I’m just saying, it’s been, what, three or four hours since we saw her out on Skidaway? Plenty of time for her to come back here, at least.”

  Or plenty of time to go off to wherever she’s keeping Tiffany and torture her, Scarlett thought as a chilling mixture of horror and disgust seeped through her veins. It’d been more than two days already. How much more would Tiffany be able to endure? Scarlett winced as she imagined her best friend’s face twisted in anguish, eyes wide with fear as she watched Gwen approach with a dagger in her hand or a cruel spell on her lips. There were spells that could make you feel like your spine was snapping. Charms that made every breath feel like inhaling fire. Chants that snapped joints and severed limbs. Was Gwen deranged enough to use one of these to get what she wanted from Tiff?

  “Are you okay?” Jackson asked, watching her with concern.

  She shifted in her seat. “Yes, fine. Maybe I should go inside and look around. Just to make sure.”

  “Because that went so well last time.”

  “Hey, last time I wasn’t expecting an ambush. Now I’m ready.”

  He raised his hands in surrender. “Far be it from me to question your witchiness. I’m just spit-balling. Maybe we don’t want the evil witch to find out we’re here and fry us both where we stand.”

  “She won’t fry you,” Scarlett muttered. “I’m going in alone.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t allow that,” Jackson replied. “Wouldn’t be very chivalrous.”

  “Didn’t anybody ever tell you chivalry is just misogyny in a nicer outfit? Besides, only one of us is capable of cursing an attacker.”

  “All the more reason to let me tag along and clean up after you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Is this your way of telling me you like to watch?”

  His gaze flicked down and up as he gave her the once-over. She hadn’t dressed up today, which wasn’t like her. Just jeans and a tank top. The most casual thing she’d worn in public in years. Yet with him staring like that, she felt like she’d just stepped out in a skintight bodycon dress. “Only when it’s someone worth watching.”

  She forced a series of inappropriate thoughts from her brain. Stupid adrenaline. It mixed up signals. Clouded judgment. “Look, just . . . be careful. If you see anything weird happen, the best thing you can do is get out of the way. Protecting you will only make my job harder.”

  He saluted, forcing a cocky grin for her sake. She looked at him a long beat. She’d misjudged him. He’d taken all of it in—learning that magic existed, bursting into an evil
witch’s lair—and he was still smiling, even if that smile was purely bravado for her benefit.

  He straightened up and opened the car door, effectively ending the discussion. Scarlett felt a desire to reach for him, but she stopped herself. They got out of the car, crossed the empty street, and walked to Gwen’s front door.

  His gaze flicked past her, and his lips tightened. Her eyes followed his.

  Scarlett watched tendrils of smoke creep out of Gwen’s front door. Thick, vibrant red smoke, an impossibly bright color. Her eyes widened. As she watched, the smoke shaped itself into an enormous X across the door, like a giant magical DO NOT ENTER sign.

  They traded sideways glances. “Last chance to turn around,” Scarlett murmured.

  To her surprise, Jackson caught her hand and twined his fingers through hers. “I’m not letting you face this alone, Scarlett.”

  For a second, their eyes locked. His hand was warm, and her heart beat against her rib cage, the adrenaline spiking. Her head buzzed from the explosion of unexpected electricity between them. But there was no time to think about it.

  She shook her hand free of his and reached out toward the crimson smoke. It was some kind of wicked magic. She could tell from the way it made her fingers itch, made the back of her throat scratchy.

  She pressed her palms flat against the door. Shut her eyes and drew on the well of power in her chest, the power her sisters shared with one another during their monthly rituals. She pictured it flowing from her, a golden light to drive back the evil.

  Jackson exclaimed softly behind her. When she opened her eyes, the door had swung inward.

  Scarlett stepped over the threshold carefully and walked up the stairs. The hall was dark, and she saw no light coming from beneath Gwen’s apartment door. Still, Scarlett paused to press an ear against it, listening for any signs of movement within.