“No, of course not,” Scarlett lied. “It was some kind of weird fucked-up serial-killer stuff.”
“I don’t think serial killers make a habit of using pentagrams and candles,” Jackson said. “That looked like something ritual. It looked like . . .” He paused for a long moment, as if searching for the right word. “It looked like witchcraft.”
Scarlett turned to him. His face was hollowed, his eyes slightly bloodshot. She’d seen him be angry and sanctimonious. She’d seen him be kind. But she’d never seen him be scared before. She put her hand on his. It was warm beneath her grip.
“There’s no such thing as witchcraft.” Her voice sounded thin, even to her. She’d never had to say those words aloud. Most people lived their small lives in an ignorant stupor—too dull or unimaginative to sense the magic lying just out of reach. She’d always pitied them, living in a black-and-white world when there was a dizzying array of colors just beyond the veil. But at this moment, she’d trade places with any of them in a heartbeat if it’d bring Tiffany back. What was the point of magic if you couldn’t protect the people you loved?
“Come on, Scarlett.” Jackson shook his head. “You know what we saw. You know what we felt. That blast that knocked you back—how do you explain that?”
Scarlett shrugged and sat back. “There wasn’t a blast. I just lost my footing when I saw her.”
“Don’t lie to me, Scarlett.” He shifted in the passenger seat and took hold of her shoulder. Turned her body toward him. She set her jaw. But one peek at the expression on his face melted her resistance. She recognized it all too well. Desperation. The kind she was only just beginning to understand, with Tiffany missing.
“I have been watching your house for an entire year,” Jackson said. “There’s something different about you Kappas. Something strange. And I saw your expression tonight. It wasn’t surprised. It was worried.” He paused, his brow furrowing. “Gwen used to be one of you. My sister was her best friend. And I found things after she died—that pentagram on the floor? She drew that symbol in a lot of her notebooks. So . . . just tell me what she was involved in.”
The desperation in his voice was almost enough to undo her. Jackson had suffered as much as any of them. More, in some ways, because he’d had no one to confide in. No one with whom he could share the disturbing thoughts forming from the fragments of his grief. But she couldn’t tell him the truth without endangering the Ravens. “We’re just a sorority,” she said hoarsely.
“Please. Was she a . . . witch? Was it like that?” He sounded horrified. “I mean, did she kill things, eat babies, what the hell—”
“No! Of course not. Harper was nothing like that. That’s wicked magic. We’re not like that.” The words were out of Scarlett’s mouth before she could stop them.
Jackson let go of her and sat back heavily in his seat. “Holy shit. So she was a witch. You’re all witches.”
Scarlett stared at him, frozen with shock at what she’d just done. This went against every rule in the book, everything that her mother and Minnie had taught her, and everything she’d vowed when she was inducted into Kappa. They were forbidden to tell anyone without magical ability the truth about Kappa. About what they really were.
She’d protected her secret fiercely for years, even hiding the truth from Mason. And if there was ever anyone she was going to tell outside of Kappa, it was him. But here she was telling Jackson, a boy she couldn’t stand a few weeks ago—hell, even a few hours ago. Maybe this was the Upside Down. Nothing was as it was supposed to be.
She wrapped her hands around the steering wheel and leaned her forehead against it. “You can’t tell a soul, Jackson. It won’t end well for either of us if this gets out.”
He’d gone still and silent but she knew his brain was racing to process the information she’d just inadvertently revealed. Finally, he swallowed hard and asked, “Did Gwen . . . did Gwen kill Harper?”
A series of memories flashed through her mind: Gwen’s expression of loathing as she turned to look at Tiffany and Scarlett from the balcony. The acrid smell of wicked magic singeing the air. The flash of terror on Harper’s face as the building began to crumble beneath her. The blood on her pale skin. Scarlett shook her head slowly. “Not on purpose. But I’m convinced that Gwen kidnapped Tiffany. For all I know, she’s killed her by now. She hated Tiffany. We’re the ones who got her kicked out of Kappa . . .” She trailed off as a ragged sob tore its way out of her chest. “I don’t know what I’ll do if she hurts her, Jackson. I seriously don’t. I wish she’d taken me instead.”
When she leaned back in her seat again, she felt the soft brush of Jackson’s fingers over her cheekbones.
“I won’t let her hurt you.” He laced his fingers through hers and held tight, and for a moment, the warm pressure was enough to keep the panic at bay. But what would Jackson say when he found out that Tiffany and Scarlett had been taunting Gwen—that they were the ones who’d caused her to lose control on the balcony?
She smiled through her tears. “No offense, but you’re the last person who’d be able to stop her.”
“What, are you doubting my normal-guy powers?” He gave a small smirk.
“I’m sure they will come in really handy when Gwen’s using a mind-control spell on you.”
Jackson’s eyes widened. “Hold up. You all have mind-control spells?”
There was a sharp knock at the window of the car, so close and loud that Scarlett gasped and startled. The fear didn’t fade when she spun in her seat to find Dahlia outside the car, arms crossed. “Shit,” Scarlett swore under her breath. Does she know that I told? She quickly wiped away her tears and rolled down her window. “Hey,” she said, forcing her voice to sound normal.
Dahlia stared pointedly at Scarlett’s right hand. Still wrapped around Jackson’s, she realized belatedly. Scarlett jerked it free and plastered on an innocent smile.
“Where have you been?” The older girl’s eyes narrowed. “I need you at home right now, Scarlett, for house business. Of all the times to run off with . . . someone.” Someone like him, she knew Dahlia meant. Scarlett could hear the disdain dripping from her tone.
“Sorry. Something came up. Something important.” Scarlett turned to Jackson. Forced her voice into a casual, dismissive tone as she said, “Thank you again for your help. Your information was very useful.”
Jackson nodded, not missing a beat. “All right. Well, if you need anything else, here.” He pulled out a piece of paper, scribbled down his number, shoved the paper into her hand, and climbed out of the car. He tossed a backwards wave at them and then walked quickly down the road and into the woods, disappearing into the night.
“What in the world was that about?” Dahlia asked, tucking a lock of blond hair behind her ear. “Are you seriously hooking up at our funeral, Scar?”
“No, of course not. I’ll tell you inside the house,” Scarlett said, getting out and slamming the car door closed. She cast a look up and down the street, fighting a shiver despite the warm evening air. “And we’re not dead yet.” Not if Scarlett could help it. All she could think about was Gwen, who had her powers back. Gwen, who could be anywhere. Doing anything. Gwen, who could be coming after all of them right now.