The Ravens Read online

  A murmur went through the crowd and a moment later, a current of electricity buzzed through Vivi’s fingertips. The sparkler crackled to life in her hands, sending bluish-gray sparks streaming into the air.

  Vivi gasped. Ariana looked at her in astonishment as her own sparkler erupted to life, red sparks raining down at her feet. All over the garden, sparklers lit up one by one.

  But not all of them caught fire.

  “I think I got a dud,” a girl to Vivi’s left complained, shaking the sparkler and then trying to light it with a nearby candle. Another girl in a silver gown hit her sparkler against her palm as if willing it to catch fire.

  “But we didn’t even light them,” Ariana whispered to Vivi, waving her sparkler in a figure eight.

  “Must be a party trick or something,” Vivi said, even though that didn’t explain the electricity still buzzing in her fingertips.

  “God, I hope I get a bid,” Ariana said longingly.

  Vivi felt a prickle on the back of her neck and glanced over her shoulder. The beautiful girl who’d handed Vivi her sparkler was staring at her. There was a strange, almost challenging look on her face. But instead of looking away, Vivi met the girl’s gaze. “Me too,” she finally said, and she realized that she meant it.

  Chapter Six

  Scarlett

  Scarlett stood on the roof of Kappa House, gazing out over the quiet campus. The recruitment party had ended hours ago and the rest of the girls were sleeping. The night was dark and starless, the only light coming from the antique gas lamps flickering along the path to the house. Somewhere overhead, ravens circled, and an owl hooted in the distance. A light breeze rustled the trees of the forest that edged up against their backyard.

  Scarlett didn’t know why she was up here. She didn’t even remember coming to the roof. A cooing sound came from the aviary behind her. When she turned, she could see all the birds lined up, rustling in their sleep. The ravens were their familiars and they were once kept in the girls’ rooms to watch over the sisters. But as time went on, it was thought to be cruel to keep them in the confines of the sorority. They could serve their purpose and still be free to roam. Now they resided here and were able to come and go as they liked. But they always returned.

  One raven’s eyes popped open and looked at her. Yellow eyes glowed in the dark. Scarlett was sure it was her favorite, Harlow.

  Suddenly, she heard shuffling behind her. “Hello?” she called. “Is someone there?”

  All that met her was silence.

  She spun once more and noticed a pentacle etched into the roof at her feet, the circle rimmed with coarse salt. A long white tapered candle dotted each point of the star. The ritual layout looked familiar, but Scarlett had never used it herself. White was for banishments or bindings—for getting rid of negative things in your life or preventing your enemies from harming you. Had one of her sisters been performing a spell up here and forgotten to clean up after herself? It seemed unlikely. Scarlett’s unease intensified.

  That was when the chanting began. She didn’t recognize the words. It sounded like ancient Greek, but not any of the blessing chants she’d memorized. This was something else, something darker. The words sounded guttural. Whoever was speaking them practically snarled each syllable. “What’s the matter, Scarlett?” a husky voice rasped in her ear. “Did you forget the words?”

  Scarlett spun around in horror. A cloaked figure had appeared on the roof, blocking the doorway down to the house. It approached her slowly, leaving bloody, smeared footprints in its wake. Scarlett opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but she choked on her own tongue. She made to run, but her muscles were frozen in place, magically bound so she was nothing more than a terrified statue.

  “Or is it something else?” the voice rasped.

  The chant had become a growl. The wind picked up, out of nowhere, and flung Scarlett’s dark curls into her face, obscuring her vision.

  The figure leaned in, so close that Scarlett could feel its hot breath on her cheek. Then it tore the hood from its head and Scarlett gasped.

  Harper.

  Her hair was tangled around her pale white skin. Her eyes were dark fathomless pools, wild and wide. A tear dripped down her cheek, leaving a blood-red trail. Around her neck was the silver heart-shaped locket she always wore. “Guilt will be the death of you, sister,” she whispered.

  Without warning, she shoved Scarlett. Hard. Scarlett stumbled backwards and tripped over the railing. With a scream, she felt herself freefall toward the ground four stories below, her stomach in her throat, and—

  “Scarlett!” Tiffany yelled. “Wake up.”

  Scarlett startled upright in her bed, drenched in sweat. Tiffany stood over her, looking worried. “You were shouting in your sleep.”

  Scarlett drank in her bedroom with a gasp of relief. It took a minute for her heart to return to its usual rhythm. She pressed her palm to her chest, shutting her eyes against the light streaming in through the sheer curtains. It was just a nightmare, she told herself. “Thanks for getting me. I hope I didn’t wake the whole house.”

  “Sounded like a bad dream,” Tiffany said, perching on the side of the bed.

  “That’s an understatement.” Scarlett shook her head.

  “Well, it’s over now. You’re okay,” Tiffany said, rubbing her hands together in anticipation. “And everyone’s already up and getting ready for the selection ceremony.”

  Tiffany’s eyes landed on Scarlett’s bedside table, where she’d laid out Minnie’s tarot cards the night before; she’d tucked the set her mother had given her in her desk drawer.

  “I’ve always loved these cards,” Tiffany said, flipping through the deck and admiring the simple yet distinctive etchings. The cards were old but well preserved, and one of a kind. “That Minnie had excellent taste.”

  “She did,” Scarlett said. “I’m just glad Eugenie didn’t get them.”

  “Seriously. I guess I’m lucky I’m an only child. No one to fight me for my mom’s cards when she passes.” Tiffany’s eyes welled up.

  “Tiff . . .” Scarlett said softly, putting a hand on her friend’s arm.

  “I’m fine!” Tiffany said in an artificially bright tone, blinking away her tears as she set the cards back down reverently. “Now, up and at ’em—it’s time to pick our latest round of victims.”

  After Tiffany bustled from the room, Scarlett groaned and forced herself out of bed. Note to self: be a better sister, she thought as she pushed aside her curtains and opened the windows to let in fresh air, hoping it would wake her up a little. From her balcony, she could see the red brick of the campus buildings that formed a rough square around the quad, a bell tower at its heart. In the other direction were the old, thick trees that marked the start of the woods on campus. One of the ravens from the aviary swooped toward the trees and disappeared from view.

  It was all reassuringly normal, everything exactly as it should be. Except for one thing. There was a slight metallic glint in the ivy along the wrought-iron latticework of the balcony. Scarlett moved closer, brushed some of the leaves aside, and dug her fingers into the groove to free the object. Last year this room had belonged to a senior named Lyric; she’d since moved to New York City to work at a social-justice nonprofit. Perhaps she’d accidentally left something behind. Scarlett yanked away more of the ivy to get a better angle. She tugged at the object again, and it came loose and landed in her palm. Scarlett stared at it for a long moment, her pulse picking up. It was a silver necklace. The chain was kinked and tangled, and the small silver heart was tarnished.

  It had been two years, but Scarlett would have recognized it anywhere. It looked exactly like the one Harper used to wear.

  * * *

  The sisters sat in a circle on the south lawn. Dahlia picked up a bottle of bubbles, the kind they’d all played with as kids, and blew them up into the air. A distraction spell, to keep the rest of campus from noticing what they were doing. Each girl held a Kappa Book in her lap. F
rom far away, they looked like an ordinary study group. But from up close, they were deciding the fates of the next class of Ravens.

  “In front of you, you’ll find a full profile on each girl whose ability was strong enough to ignite a sparkler last night,” Dahlia said. “Let’s start reviewing our potential sisters.”

  Scarlett sat between Mei and Tiffany, only half paying attention as the book spread across her lap shimmered, its blank pages shifting to display images of the freshmen who’d attended their recruitment party the night before.

  “The first girl is named Starla. She’s the oldest of three girls . . .”

  Scarlett stared at the face of a white girl with wavy brown hair, and for a moment, it was almost like Harper was looking up at her. Her breath caught in her throat. But when she blinked, the picture rearranged itself. The girl’s hair was two shades lighter than Harper’s, her nose longer and her lips wider.

  Scarlett shook her head slightly. She was just spooked because of her dream. But that was all it was. A dream.

  Or was it?

  A dream didn’t explain the necklace. Then again, there were a million necklaces like that out there. Even Scarlett had something similar in her jewelry box back home, a sweet-sixteen gift from her parents. There was no proof that the necklace had ever belonged to Harper. It had probably been wedged there for ages. It was just a coincidence that Scarlett happened to find it that morning.

  Right?

  Earth to Scarlett. Tiffany’s voice sounded in Scarlett’s head, and she felt a gentle nudge to her thigh.

  Scarlett looked up, startled to find the entire circle’s gaze on her. One of Dahlia’s perfectly plucked eyebrows was raised as if she was waiting. “Um, yes. I agree,” Scarlett said uncertainly, hoping they were asking if she was on board with the first potential.

  Dahlia nodded, seemingly pleased. “Cast your votes.” She opened a box of snow-white ravens’ feathers and passed them out, one for each of the twenty sisters. People often thought ravens were a sign of bad luck or ill intent, but, like witchcraft itself, their history was so much more complicated than that. As early as ancient Greece, they were associated with prophecy, singled out to keep the deity’s secrets and share its wisdom. Witches, like ravens, understood the secrets of the universe, and both got a bad rap for it.

  It was why, hundreds of years ago, the founders of the coven had named themselves the Ravens. They’d continued to call themselves that even after they’d incorporated as a sorority, cloaking themselves in the protection of the Greek system. What better way to hide in plain sight while recruiting and initiating new members into their coven?

  To vote a Raven in, one simply changed the color of the feather from white to black, a blank canvas transformed by knowledge and ability. By power. When Scarlett was a little girl, she’d dreamed of the day the feathers would transform for her.

  Now Scarlett forced herself to focus on the task. One by one, starting with Dahlia’s, the feathers ruffled, as if disturbed by an unseen hand, the white slowly filling with an inky, iridescent black.

  Technically the feather ceremony was a mere formality—this was just the first step; the real choosing would happen during the first test night, when the sisters saw what kind of crop they were working with this year. If they were lucky, they’d find at least one girl per suit, which would keep the house well rounded. Wands witches like Dahlia worked fire spells. They tended to be healers and athletes. Swords witches like Tiffany specialized in air—literal air, like the wind, and things to do with memory, mental control, and influence. Pentacles witches like Mei worked with earth magic, such as glamours that altered the appearance of things in the physical realm. They usually had serious green thumbs too.

  A Cups, Scarlett was best around water spells—scrying, manipulating minor bodies of water, altering the chemistry of liquids (including beverages). Cups witches were also rumored to have the advantage when it came to casting love spells, though Scarlett herself had never needed to.

  Every suit had both minor arcana—easy everyday spells—and major arcana. The latter were things witches could do only in extreme circumstances or by expending a ton of energy. A Cups could create a rainstorm like the one Scarlett had conjured when Minnie died; a Swords could summon a tornado or hurricane; a Wands could burn a forest to a crisp if she desired; and, in theory, a Pentacles could set off an earthquake, though to Scarlett’s knowledge, no one ever had.

  But the reason it mattered so much who they picked to join Kappa was that the Ravens had discovered how to bind their magic to one another’s. Each full moon, they performed a house-wide union ritual that gave each Raven the ability to use the minor arcana of every suit, not just her own. It was what made them the most powerful coven in the world.

  And these weren’t the only decisions happening today. This was also the meeting when Dahlia would pick jobs for the top contenders for president. Scarlett was keeping her fingers crossed for membership chair. Everyone knew it was the most important job—the lucky sister was tasked with ushering the new members through the pledging process, essentially mentoring the newest class of witches. If the membership chair did a good job, she almost always ended up president.

  And if Scarlett got the job she wanted, she had the perfect way to celebrate. She was meeting up with Mason after this for a proper hello . . . assuming she could get herself in the right mindset for it after everything that had happened this morning.

  Dahlia finished the vote for a girl named Kelsey; only a handful of feathers changed colors. Next up was a gorgeous South Asian girl with a chin-length bob and piercing brown eyes.

  “Sonali’s mother, Aditi Mani, was a Raven,” Dahlia said. “And although we don’t show special favoritism toward legacies, it is something to take into consideration, since we know magical ability tends to run in families, and her mother was a fairly powerful Cups witch. Yes, Etta?”

  Next to Dahlia, Etta was sprawled barefoot on the grass, dressed as usual like she was about to audition for the part of a fairy in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, her skin milky-white in the sunlight. “You said she wants to go into politics. Are we talking Reese Witherspoon in Election . . . or Elizabeth Warren in 2020?” The other girls around the circle leaned in with interest. Etta’s concern was valid. Witches with political ambitions were always viewed with more scrutiny. Ravens who mixed power with politics had to be beyond moral reproach.

  “Hazel, you spoke to her more than I did,” Dahlia said. “What was your read?”

  Across the circle, Hazel, a Korean-American sophomore from Florida and a Wands witch like Dahlia, looked up from her hymnal. She wore leggings and a running shirt, though judging by her perfectly sleek bun and the lack of sweat on her face, Scarlett guessed it was because she planned to go for a run after this meeting, not that she’d just come from one. Then again, with Hazel, it was hard to tell. She was Westerly’s resident track star, and she had a sprint time that made Scarlett feel terrifyingly out of shape. She also somehow made athleisure look elegant even at a mixer, while Scarlett always felt underdressed in gym clothes, even at the gym. “She’s whip-smart, ambitious, but still scrupulous. More of an idealist than a charmer.”

  “I’m all for a Raven in the White House.” Etta nodded and relaxed.

  “And her name will be Scarlett Winter,” Tiffany teased with a smile to Scarlett.

  Scarlett returned the smile, loving that Tiffany always had her back.

  “But Etta’s right, we should stay vigilant on this one,” Jess, the lead reporter for the Gazette, added in what Scarlett had come to recognize as her “I’ll get to the bottom of this myself” tone. Jess’s suspicion made Scarlett want to root for the new political witch. She knew now what color her feather would be.

  “Do your worst, Lois Lane,” Dahlia quipped. “All those in favor of extending a bid to Sonali?”

  Each girl around the circle picked up her feather. Scarlett snatched hers up from where it had fallen beside her. Again the feathers ruffled and deepen
ed to the shade of midnight. At a whispered command from her, Scarlett’s changed color too, making for a unanimous vote. She gazed around the circle at all the other Ravens, her sisters, with pride. These were girls who, once upon a time, had faced this same process. Whatever faults they might have, they were bound by more than just magic. The Ravens were a sisterhood. A beautiful, diverse sisterhood built on love and power. The girls they voted in now would become their Littles, the next generation. Girls who would one day carry on their legacy.

  “Next up is Reagan Ostrov, who has a very interesting background.” The image of a girl with fiery red hair filled the page, and as Dahlia spoke, words appeared showing Reagan’s history and potential futures. There was a murmur among the Ravens.

  “She’s a witch, although her family descends from a different coven in New Orleans. She’s fully aware of her powers, but it’s unclear what level of control she has. There was a fire at her old school. It was discovered quickly, and luckily no one was hurt.” Dahlia’s smile was grim. “It started in the theater, where, coincidentally, Reagan had just been passed over for the lead in the school play. It took four fire trucks to put it out.”

  “Looks like we have a Fire sign on our hands,” Mei said.

  “Obviously, she is powerful, but she poses a risk. This kind of magic cannot be done publicly.”

  “You can’t be suggesting we don’t invite her?” Scarlett asked, surprised. Scarlett had always subscribed to the notion that Kappa was as much about sisterhood as it was about magic, but Dahlia looked at it a little differently. She wanted Kappa to be the best—the best sorority and the best coven. And to her, that had always meant initiating the most powerful witches.