The Ravens (The Ravens #1) - Kass Morgan Page 0,67

coming to the gardens in their ball gowns felt like coming home.

Scarlett had been to the gardens during the day but it was different at night. Lit up by the moon and delicate strings of lights, it was the kind of woodland you found only in fairy tales.

Too bad she wasn’t sure how this fairy tale would end. Was she the fair maiden or the evil witch? Depended on who you asked, maybe. She glanced around looking for Jackson, though guys like him didn’t usually come to these events.

She hadn’t seen him since she left Gwen’s apartment. She’d denied his accusation, of course, and stalked off. But she hadn’t felt totally like herself since then. What did he know? What did he think he knew?

The only consolation was that Gwen didn’t have her magic back. That, and the fact that there hadn’t been a single strange incident since the scarecrows in the yard. Tiffany was right; despite Gwen’s beef with the Ravens, at least she didn’t have any magic to back up her threats. Let her try to come at them. A single mortal girl was no match for an entire coven.

Well? Tiffany’s voice sounded in Scarlett’s head. She blinked at Scarlett, clearly waiting for praise. Scarlett realized she hadn’t actually given it.

“Bestie, I’m jealous I didn’t do it myself,” she said. Tiffany beamed at her.

“It’s amazing, Tiff,” Hazel said, coming up behind them.

Overhead, the string lights that had been spelled through the branches of the Spanish oaks shimmered as they moved like bright golden serpents. Flickering candles lined the central path, and Tiffany had created, in place of the usual dirt track, a solid sheet of ice, clear as glass, that reflected the lights above—an impressive feat given the eighty-degree heat.

“Too bad I forgot my skates,” Mason said with a smile.

“Not to worry.” Tiffany took a big step back onto the ice on her sky-high stilettos and gestured around her. “It’s a special design.”

Magic, obviously. And that was the least of it.

The leaves overhead kept shifting, turning brilliant fall colors—yellow and red and bright orange—then falling from the trees in a shower of what looked like snow, after which buds grew and re-sprouted into spring. It was as if the whole forest were fast-forwarding through the seasons every few minutes.

“These projectors must have cost a fortune,” Mason said when they stepped onto the ice, which felt as steady underfoot as pavement.

“How did you pull all this off?” Scarlett asked Tiffany quietly.

Tiffany shrugged. “Mei helped a lot. And Dahlia and Etta, of course. I even convinced Juliet and a few sophomores to pitch in. Your Little came up big, actually. She’s powerful, that one.”

“You didn’t need me?” Scarlett arched an eyebrow. Between Hell Week and Gwen’s reappearance, she hadn’t had much time to talk to Tiffany. Still, knowing that Tiffany had asked everyone but her for help stung.

“You had your hands full with the new members.”

Scarlett didn’t miss the implication: You’ve already had enough chances to show off.

Mason took it all in, his gaze distant, unreadable.

She squeezed his hand. “Everything okay?” He’d been a little quiet in the limo. She hadn’t thought much about it, but he did seem distracted.

“Sure,” he said, pushing ahead.

A jazz band played in front of a wooden dance floor. Tables dotted the perimeter, and tux-clad waiters circulated with hors d’oeuvres. Westerly students in dresses and suits mingled with alumni and top college brass. Lights twinkled in the tree overhead, these branches also dripping with Spanish moss.

Just to the left, Scarlett saw her mother, draped in a gorgeous jewel-blue satin sheath dress. She was standing with Scarlett’s father and Tiffany’s mother, Veronica. Marjorie and Veronica had overlapped for one year in Kappa. They weren’t close at the time, but they had become friends through their daughters.

Marjorie waved Scarlett over, a strained smile on her face—the one she wore when she had to mingle with attorneys from rival firms. Scarlett was surprised to see it now; Homecoming was her mother’s favorite social event of the year.

“Mother. Mrs. Beckett.” Scarlett hugged Tiffany’s mom. “Tiffany didn’t tell me you’d be here.”

Scarlett couldn’t help but notice how thin Mrs. Beckett was. She wore a scarf bound tightly around her head, and she had deep bags beneath her eyes and hollow cheeks. Scarlett could feel every vertebra in the woman’s back when they embraced. Her heart sank and filled with guilt. How had Scarlett been worried about being left out of Tiffany’s decorating efforts when she should have been asking about