Vivi nodded. “Let’s take her upstairs so we can keep an eye on her until Dahlia tells us what to do.”
“I’ll do it. You stay here and hunt for the talisman. We can’t waste any more time.” Ariana looked at Miss Irma uneasily, clearly not keen to be alone with the bewitched librarian with creepy dilated eyes. Gingerly, she touched Miss Irma’s elbow and guided her back into the elevator. “Come with me,” she said to her. “We’re going to find you help.”
As the elevator doors closed, Vivi turned and headed to the first row of shelves. She didn’t even know what they were searching for. None of the Ravens had any idea what the talisman looked like.
Luckily, most of the items in the glass cases were labeled: BURIAL JAR (301 BCE); CURSE POPPET (75 BCE).The latter, a clay doll with metal nails driven through its neck and heart, made her shudder as an icy numbness spread through her limbs. It felt like the reverse of harnessing her power, a deadening instead of an awakening. She was reminded of what she’d felt when they’d cast the spell to look for Tiffany—the unmistakable sense of wicked magic. Vivi wondered how much further Gwen would be willing to go to get her hands on the talisman and how many Ravens she’d willingly harm in the process.
The fact that Tiffany’s kidnapper had already come here looking made the idea of finding the Henosis talisman on campus seem slightly more probable, though Vivi still had no clue where to start. Scarlett had taught her a spell to reveal traces of magic, but that would help only if the talisman was in the building. Still, it was worth a try.
“I call to the Queen of Wands,” she whispered. “Reveal the signs of magical bonds.”
At first, it seemed like nothing was happening. But then Vivi spotted a faint gleam on the handle of a nearby dagger. She stepped to the case for a closer peek and saw what looked like glowing fingerprints, as if her magic had revealed the grip of the last person to wield it. “‘Dagger, fifteenth century,’” Vivi read from the card. “‘Believed to be a murder weapon.’” Did that mean a witch had used this to kill someone?
Vivi continued to scan the items but didn’t see anything else until she turned into the next row and came face to face with a bowl that was glowing so brightly, it looked like someone had placed a light bulb inside. “‘Ceremonial bowl, third century BCE. Discovered in the Temple of Apollo,’” Vivi read aloud.
Halfway down the row, something in another case was glowing. Inside was a red cushion like those used to display jewelry in museums, but there was nothing on it—only the faint outline of a necklace.
The outline was glowing.
Vivi turned to look at the information card next to the case. “‘Decorative pendant. Origin uncertain. Also known as the Henosis talisman. Missing since 1997, presumed stolen.’ Oh my God,” Vivi whispered as her heart began to pound. The card included a photograph of a small blue glass oval with smaller ovals set into it. Like an evil eye, except the center wasn’t a black circle. Instead, it was a small, red seven-pointed star. Vivi pulled out her phone to take a photo and was just about to text Ariana when the sound of distant laughter made her start. “Ariana, is that you?”
There was no answer save for another peal of laughter.
Then the overhead lights began to flicker.
On-off.
On-off.
On-off.
“Ariana?” Vivi called again. The cold, numb feeling she’d felt looking at the doll returned, but this time, it didn’t seem to be emanating from a specific object—it felt like it was coming from the air itself, closing in on her, invading her every time she took a breath. She reached for the wall to find a light switch but instead of touching cool plaster like she’d expected, her fingers brushed against something hard, bumpy, and throbbing. The wall was moving. Vivi jerked her arm back with a gasp. “What the—”
She aimed her cell phone flashlight at the wall and shrieked.
The wall was swarming with enormous, dark brown cockroaches. They skittered over one another, spilling from the tops of cases. There were hundreds—no, thousands—of them, swelling in a wave toward Vivi, a dark mass dyeing the floor black.
Vivi’s head swam with horror as she stepped back, her mind racing for an explanation. Another distant laugh echoed over the shuffling of the insects. We made her hallucinate spiders, Scarlett had said about Gwen. Maybe this was also magic.
Vivi took off running toward the sound of laughter, her stomach roiling as her feet skidded over the insects. Not real. Not real. Not real, she told herself, praying it was true.
She focused her energy on the overhead lights, repeating an incantation to turn them back on, and after a few tries, the lights blazed to life. She squinted into the glare and could just make out a dark-haired figure disappearing around a corner.
A figure who looked exactly like Gwen.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Scarlett
Scarlett could feel her classmates watching her as she hurried across the quad, though she wasn’t sure if their curiosity had been piqued by her unladylike haste or her decidedly uncharacteristic outfit. Scarlett hadn’t worn jeans on campus since she’d started at Westerly, and she hadn’t worn flats since Tory Burch ballet slippers went out of style, but for the first time in her life, she was too busy and exhausted to worry about what she looked like.
Thirty-six hours had passed since Tiffany was taken, and the Ravens had found nothing. They’d scoured the archives, tried various summoning spells, called numerous alumnae from that time period—including Scarlett’s mother—but come up empty-handed. For her part, Scarlett had been secretly trying to track Gwen, but the girl hadn’t been back to her apartment in days. And when she’d tried scrying for her, Gwen hadn’t shown up anywhere, which was incredibly concerning. It meant she either was dead . . . or had somehow magically covered her tracks. Scarlett felt each second ticking past with the beat of her own heart. Each wasted minute was another one Tiffany was spending alone, consumed by terror and pain.
Scarlett wasn’t used to feeling so powerless and she didn’t like it, but she was desperate enough to do something she liked even less—ask for help. That was why she was now walking across campus, taking long, purposeful strides. There were only a few minutes left before his class let out and she didn’t want to miss him.
The moment the class doors swung open, she spotted him, squinting into the distance with the serious, intense gaze that always made him seem slightly out of place among the carefree Westerly students. “Come with me,” she instructed; she grabbed Jackson by the arm and led him onto a secluded path that looped behind the academic buildings.
“Are you kidnapping me?” he asked with a mix of boredom and amusement, as if she were a puppy who refused to leave him alone.
Scarlett winced at his choice of words, and Jackson’s face softened a tiny bit. “What’s going on?”
The unexpected note of concern in his voice was almost enough to undo her, and to her dismay, she felt her eyes prickle. Get it together, she ordered herself. Crying in public wasn’t an option, let alone crying in front of Jackson. “Look, I know you don’t like me, and I don’t particularly like you either. But I think we could help each other now.”