The Ravens (The Ravens #1) - Kass Morgan Page 0,34

the front door. Scarlett had wanted to cast a spell to figure out who had left them—and why. Scarlett thought they were a message—a threat—but Dahlia had waved it off as a stupid prank and insisted that Scarlett get rid of the cards before the pledges arrived. “We don’t want to scare them off before they’ve even pledged,” she said. “Don’t make this into something bigger than it is.” After all, Dahlia pointed out, they had done a tarot-themed recruitment party last year; someone was probably still pissed that she hadn’t gotten a bid. People were always jealous of the Ravens. Dahlia had promised her that their secret was safe.

Now Scarlett wasn’t so sure.

Dahlia didn’t look worried, though. Just irritated. She always hated when sisters challenged her authority. “We’ll cast a protection seal on the house once the pledges leave. Let everyone know. We’ll need all hands for the rite.”

Scarlett nodded, not trusting her voice quite yet. She let go of Dahlia’s arm and swung the large front door shut.

She had just gotten to the living room when she heard another heavy thud. Steeling herself, Scarlett stalked down the hall and wrenched the door open again. “Gwen, we told you, you can’t—”

She froze. There was no one there. Rap music floated from Psi Delta Lambda House down the street. Cicadas chirped, unseen, in the grass. But the street was completely empty. Just a few parked cars and a tattered red communal campus bike propped up against an oak tree.

Then she saw it. Something small and silver glimmering in the walkway. It was one of Gwen’s rings, the silver skull. It must have fallen off while she scrabbled at the ground. Scarlett moved forward to pick it up and her foot hit something soft. She glanced down and let out a shriek. At her feet was an enormous jet-black raven, its neck twisted at an unnatural angle. She recognized it from the aviary on the roof. Scarlett’s heart beat wildly. This was an unequivocal sign. It meant only one thing.

Death.

Chapter Eleven

Vivi

It’d been nearly twenty-four hours since the ceremony, but Vivi’s heart hadn’t stopped racing. She felt almost hypnotized by a combination of power and vertigo, as if she’d launched herself off a diving board and was now falling through the air, unsure what would happen when she hit the water. Or if she’d hit it at all. Everything she thought she’d known about the world had been wrong. Magic was real. She was a witch. And she wasn’t the only one.

On the short walk from her dorm to Kappa House, Vivi pulled out her phone and called her mom for the third time that day. Once again, it went straight to voicemail. She’d never minded when her mother went off the grid in the past, but this was an emergency. She had to find out how much Daphne knew about this. Was she also a witch? Were her tarot readings actually legitimate? Or was she as naïve as Vivi, unaware that magic was very, very real?

Magic. She kept remembering the pentacle blooming out of her candle flame. The buzz in her fingertips. She wanted to feel it again. To understand it. To know what she’d been missing all these years. To discover how it was going to change the rest of her life.

She used her newly issued key to let herself into Kappa House, then paused on the threshold, marveling at the fact that the interior looked completely different than it had during her previous two visits. Today, it was filled with modern, light wood furniture and cozy, blush-colored cushions that made the rooms look airy and inviting.

Vivi began walking toward the living room to wait for the others, but she’d barely made it two steps before a hand pressed against her shoulder, holding her in place. “Watch out.”

It was Mei. She was standing in front of Vivi, pointing at a straight line of pinkish-gray salt on the floor that Vivi had almost walked into. In Mei’s hand was a jar of what looked like crushed-up herbs floating in oil. It reminded Vivi of the rosemary olive oil her mother liked to cook with.

“Sorry, I didn’t see that,” Vivi said, glancing at the salt before turning her attention back to Mei. Instead of the purple tips she’d sported last night, her hair was now jet-black and cut in an angular bob that emphasized her high cheekbones. “I like your hair. Did you . . . I mean, is it . .