The Ravens (The Ravens #1) - Kass Morgan Page 0,73

not for the rest of the night. Her fingers itched to check more on her phone. Recent messages. Social media. Maybe Mason had texted. Or called. Or posted something.

He hadn’t.

Scarlett hauled herself out of bed and threw on a robe. Then she shuffled down the long hallway in the general direction of the kitchen. Maybe she’d make some tea. Brew a little sleeping draft. As she passed Tiffany’s bedroom, she heard a heavy thunk inside, like a footstep. Scarlett hesitated. The house was silent, heavy with sleep.

She pressed her ear to the wood. “Tiffany?” she whispered. No response, although she thought she heard something within: tap-tap, tap-tap, followed by a shuffling sound, like furniture being dragged. She knocked softly, then reached for the doorknob.

It turned easily in her hand. She pushed open the door. “Tiff?”

The bed was rumpled, unmade . . . and empty. Frowning, Scarlett flicked on the light. Then she screamed at the top of her lungs.

Blood. Everywhere.

On the crumpled sheets. Splattered across the walls like paint. Pooled on the carpet. Smeared across the shattered glass of the mirror. The balcony doors were flung open, shuddering on their hinges, creaking and tapping out a rhythm against the wall as they blew in the storm’s wind. And right by the windowsill, on the cream-colored wallpaper, she spotted a single bloody handprint.

Scarlett screamed again.

This time, footsteps thundered from all sides. Doors opened, people called out, asking what had happened. But Scarlett could barely hear them over the rapid pounding of her heart; she hardly noticed the faces filling up the doorway behind her, the added shouts and screams that echoed her own.

That was when she noticed it. Placed delicately on the pillow like an invitation, a single red envelope. To the Ravens, it read in neat cursive writing. Writing she didn’t recognize.

She grabbed it off the pillow and opened it just as Dahlia’s voice rang out behind her.

“Everybody, get back. Scarlett, come on.” Dahlia’s hand came to rest on her shoulder, warm and strong. “Let’s get you out of here.”

But Scarlett was frozen to the spot, reading the note:

If you want to see your sister again, find the Henosis talisman. No outside help. No police. I will come for it the night of the new moon. Fail, and your sister dies. Fail, and I will take another and another—until I have what I want.

“What is that?” Dahlia said, plucking the note from Scarlett’s hands. The sisters in the hall grew quiet as Dahlia read the letter aloud, her voice steady, her shoulders square. Only her trembling hands gave away her nerves.

The house fell silent, but it was a far cry from the heavy silence of undisturbed sleep. The air felt thin, as if their screams had used up all the oxygen, making it difficult to breathe.

Jess was the first to speak. “Only a witch could have done this. No one else could have gotten through our protective spells.”

Hazel nodded, her eyes wide and frightened. “The new moon is in two days,” she said hoarsely. Juliet and Etta traded long looks.

“We have to do something,” Mei said from the hallway. “Call the police, or—”

“No,” Dahlia interrupted, her eyes narrowed at the letter. “None of us are going to the police.”

“We have to, Dahlia,” Scarlett countered automatically. Tiffany had been kidnapped and the struggle had clearly been violent. There was no time to worry about magical protocol, not when her best friend could be bleeding to death.

“And what do we say, Scarlett? ‘A witch kidnapped our witch sister using witchcraft’?”

“We can leave the magic out of it. We just have to find her.” Scarlett tried to push aside the image of Tiffany’s tear-streaked face as she cried out in pain. Or worse, her face still and silent as the life drained from her body.

“There is no leaving magic out of it. Magic is the motive and the weapon and the victim. And hopefully magic is what saves her,” Dahlia insisted. “If we call the police, we’ll spend the next twenty-four hours answering pointless questions instead of looking for Tiffany.”

“Dahlia’s right. The police are out of their depth—and we can’t risk that kind of exposure. Not yet, anyway,” Juliet said.

Scarlett hesitated, then let out a long sigh and released the phone that she’d been gripping in her pocket. “So what do we do?”

Everyone fell silent again; the only sound was the beating of the rain against the windows.

Dahlia looked around Tiffany’s room, taking in the chaotic scene. Her eyes landed on the pool