Vivi tilted her head, considering. “So she hid it in plain sight my whole life? Somehow that seems worse.”
“You think that’s bad? In the middle of my high-school graduation party, my mom gave a speech about how proud she was . . . of my sister.”
“Whenever I fell behind in class, my mom always turned it around on the teachers. She claimed she knew things about them from the cards. Once, she even took on the principal and announced that he was part of a pay-to-play for college admissions. And she decided to do that while I was onstage for the talent show.”
Scarlett laughed. “I’m sure you were super-popular after that.”
“Positively drowning in friend requests. Of course, I guess Mom was probably right about every single thing. I just didn’t believe her,” Vivi said. “And hey, look at me now—about to join the most powerful sorority on campus. If you let me in,” she amended quickly.
“Stranger things have happened,” Scarlett said, selecting a few more crystals for the house’s general supply. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t have much confidence in you at first.”
“This is a really rousing pep talk, Big Sis.”
Scarlett shot her a look. “Let me finish. I was lucky. I didn’t have just my mom growing up. I also had Minnie, my nanny.”
“Of course you had a nanny.”
“She was much more than that. She was with my family through two generations. She was a witch, though she never belonged to a formal coven. She preferred to practice on her own and keep her own rules. There have always been independent witches, some who shunned covens completely, others who chose to guide and teach, like Minnie taught me. Outsider witches are essential. They are impartial and have no stake in individual covens; their concern is for all witchkind. And the independent witch is an additional defense if a whole coven ever goes bad.”
“Do you think my mom is an independent witch?”
Scarlett shrugged. “Maybe. Have you tried asking her?”
“Getting my mom to give me a straight answer would require Swords magic.” Vivi sighed. “Minnie sounds amazing, though.”
“She was. She wasn’t blood and she wasn’t a Kappa, but she was a far kinder teacher than my mother. She filled in the gaps. And not just the magical ones.” Scarlett’s throat tightened. “She passed on last year.”
“I’m sorry, Scarlett,” Vivi said softly.
“Even though Minnie practiced alone, she used to say, ‘A single witch is powerful. A coven is unstoppable.’ You’re powerful, Vivi. Probably the most powerful Pentacles we’ve had in years. If I can see that, so will Dahlia.”
Vivi gave a small smile but then her expression became troubled. “Scarlett, everything that’s going on . . . the burning witches on the front lawn . . . The Ravens are going to be okay, right?”
“Of course,” Scarlett said quickly. “The Ravens have been around for centuries. We’re the most powerful coven in the country. Nothing is going to stop us.”
If only she could believe her own words.
She pointed toward the bookshelves on the far side of the store. “If you want to get ahead, I’d check out The Herb Compendium. I’m assigning that in our next session.”
Vivi practically leaped at the shelf in response.
Which gave Scarlett time to collect what she’d really come here for. Yes, the house-protection spells needed to be renewed. But she also needed something very specific for herself.
She checked over her shoulder to make sure Vivi’s nose was buried deep in the herb book. Then she walked to the back of the store.
To a maroon-shrouded shelf that held a grinning skull.
* * *
Scarlett pulled her jacket tighter around her. Her phone buzzed in her purse.
Mason: Study break?
Scarlett: Can’t. Official Kappa business.
Mason: C’mon. I miss you, Scar.
Scarlett: I miss you too. Txt u later.
She put her phone back in her bag, feeling a pang. That was the third time she’d put Mason off in as many days, but being pledge master was a total time-suck. She’d given the pledges hours of lessons on the phases of the moon, had them practice doing tarot readings for one another, and gone through their wardrobes to select items that were not suitable for Ravens, which frankly had been half of Vivi’s clothes. But she wasn’t working on pledge tasks right now . . . She double-checked to make sure the ring was in her jacket pocket. The silver ring Gwen dropped when she’d come to Kappa House.
Vivi’s locator spell had given Scarlett an idea. She’d modified the spell a little, set it to find the place the ring belonged, not Gwen herself. She’d hoped it would lead her to wherever Gwen was staying, because after charming the registrar, Scarlett had learned Gwen didn’t live in any of the dorms or Greek houses.
Scarlett had had enough speculation and worry. If Gwen had her powers back, if her return was related to all the strange things happening on campus, Scarlett needed to know.
But now, as Scarlett turned onto a dilapidated block lined with neglected houses on the outskirts of Savannah proper, she wondered if this had been such a good idea after all.
The ring pulled her toward a squat, rundown hardware store. It had an aggressive red CLOSED sign hanging beside a narrow screen door, the hinges bent so far they’d nearly broken off. Next to the screen door, an overflowing ashtray held a pile of cigarette butts, one still smoking.
Taking a deep breath, Scarlett knocked on the edges of the screen door. Through the screen, she could see a hallway, then a staircase. “Hello?” she called after a moment. “Anyone home?” From the registrar, she knew Gwen was supposed to be in a medieval history seminar, but she wouldn’t put skipping the class past a girl who liked dabbling in wicked magic. She knocked again.
No one answered.
Heart hammering, she checked over her shoulder. Nobody else in sight. She tried the screen door. Open.
She stepped into the hallway, then hesitated. The ring tugged her up the stairs to a door marked with a crooked 3. She knocked once more, louder this time, counted to twenty, then muttered an incantation under her breath. “I call to the Priestess and Strength to guide me true. Please allow me to pass through.”
She’d learned this spell her freshman year when Dahlia, her Big at the time, gave her a Hell Week assignment to break into the president of Westerly’s office and rearrange her furniture.
That door had proven a lot harder to open than this one. The lock barely protested at all. It screeched inward, the rust just about the only thing keeping it shut. Scarlett swallowed hard, took one last look around the dingy, poorly lit hallway, and stepped into the apartment. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected. Skinned animals, a sacrificial altar still wet with blood, maybe some bones or heaps of grave dirt. A lock of hair. Instead, she found . . . a normal living room.
There was a couch with some pieces of stuffing falling out. A boxy TV that looked like it’d been salvaged from the year 1998. A threadbare rug and a shelf with nothing on it but a few Philip Pullman books.
She headed farther into the apartment on tiptoe. She found a small bathroom with a tight shower and dollar-store shampoo. A bedroom with a twin bed, unmade, and an Ikea dresser with half the drawers open, black clothes hanging out of them.