supposed to be over. They were supposed to be safe. But to use Jackson’s analogy, the call had come from inside the house. Gwen. Tiffany. Even Evelyn, all those years ago. They had all been Ravens. Who knew how he’d react if he found out how powerful witches really were? Or that Kappa had trained murderers among its ranks? Jackson was already asking questions, and when he inevitably learned the entire truth of their history, who was to say that he wouldn’t want to bring the whole house down? He cared about her; she could feel it. But his moral compass pointed more north than hers did. And why would he want to save the house that killed his stepsister?
She couldn’t put her sisters at risk again, not like that. Her sisters were what mattered most in the world. At least, that was what she’d always believed—and she couldn’t stop now.
With a heavy sigh, Scarlett pulled away. She scooped her tea off the bench and lifted it to Jackson in a cheers gesture. “Drink up,” she said. “We have a lot to talk about.”
He flashed her a smile over the rim of the paper cup. It was the most open smile he’d ever given her. Easy. Trusting. He swallowed a large gulp of the tea, then another.
She forced a smile and sipped hers more slowly. Hers was just herbal tea, after all. Chamomile to calm her nerves.
His, however, was a concoction Etta had spent years perfecting. One more sip, and Scarlett could tell she had him by the way his eyelids drooped and his breathing slowed. He wasn’t asleep, not exactly. More just so relaxed, his mind so wide open, that anybody could easily influence him now.
Even a not-too-talented-at-Swords witch like Scarlett. She focused, drawing on the well of power her sisters shared with her. She reached into his mind with a whisper, a nudge.
In the end, it was even easier than it had been with the police. A few smoothed edges, and she made him forget it all. Gwen’s wicked-magic spell, finding her body, the existence of witches . . .
Even their kiss. It would’ve felt wrong, somehow, to let him remember the kiss without any of the context that surrounded it. Whatever they were was based on him knowing the real her. Giving him any memory of their connection without magic would be a lie. She’d lost Mason because she’d never been honest with him. She couldn’t go through that again with Jackson.
Her chest throbbed. Somehow, this felt harder than any of the other duties that had come before. Scarlett knew she was making the right decision. This wasn’t Jackson’s world. To protect him, he needed to remain oblivious.
Still, looking into his eyes, she couldn’t help but wish for a few more minutes of this. The banter between them. The trust that they’d built up by running full tilt into danger together. She even wanted him to keep calling her the Final Girl, even though it brought to mind all the real-life horror that they had been through.
When Scarlett was growing up, Minnie had often explained the history of witches and the special power the Ravens had to share their magic with others. “It’s a sacrifice to be a witch, to give yourself wholly to your coven.” Scarlett had always taken that to mean that witches gave up a little of their autonomy to be protected and to be stronger, to do greater things as a whole. That was what it meant to be a part of a coven, to be a Raven. And it had never truly felt like a sacrifice; being a witch was the greatest gift she’d ever received.
But Scarlett realized she hadn’t understood what Minnie meant. She’d never known what it felt like to sacrifice something she might really want to remain true to her coven. Until now. Magic doesn’t just give, it takes, Minnie had said. It was her turn to pay.
She looked up as the rain began to fall. It wasn’t just any rain; it was her rain, and every drop that touched Jackson was imbued with her magic.
Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs as she picked up his now-empty cup. All Jackson would know when he woke from this half trance was that he’d had a long conversation with Scarlett during which he’d learned the truth about his stepsister: her death really had been an accident. As for Gwen, she’d died from a gas leak in her apartment, just like