Scarlett’s hackles rose. She knew how he saw her, and she knew why. There were a million movies that depicted sorority girls as vapid, exclusive witches, and she didn’t mean the magical kind. And unfortunately, there were way too many real videos and stories that backed up that image. Scarlett cringed thinking about a YouTube video that had recently gone viral about a sorority girl who wrote an open letter to her sisters detailing every single thing she hated about them. But Scarlett was sure that for every one of those awful stories, there were dozens more about sorority girls who were there for good reasons, who were in it for the sisterhood. And Kappa offered more than just sisterhood; the house provided protection, a safe place where the coven could learn and practice their magic. Not that she could explain that to Jackson.
“All at once,” Scarlett said. “I’m surprised that you couldn’t see that from your position looking down at us poor, morally bereft sorority girls.”
“At least we agree on one thing.” Jackson crossed his arms, his brown eyes flashing.
“If you have such a problem with us,” Scarlett said, picking up steam, “maybe you should be a little more careful where you go running.”
“Is that a threat?” He arched a single eyebrow, seeming to consider her anew. “Because from what I hear—”
Suddenly, his gaze went fuzzy and blank, and his eyes fixed on something slightly above her. It was like she’d just vanished from his world. His head snapped to the side, and without another word, he resumed his jog.
Scarlett turned toward Kappa. Coming down the front walk of the house were Dahlia Everly, the Kappa president, and Tiffany Beckett, Scarlett’s best friend. They walked arm in arm, Dahlia’s blond ponytail a shade darker than Tiffany’s platinum one. Dahlia winked, making it clear who had just enchanted the boy.
“Thanks for that.” Scarlett dropped her suitcases and shot one last glare at Jackson’s retreating form. She had no idea what was wrong with him or why he seemed to hate Kappas so much. A sister had probably rejected him last spring. Some guys could be so fragile and petty.
“What’s with the drama? You looked like you were this close to whipping up a category three,” Dahlia said.
“Hardly. A boy like that certainly isn’t worth getting soaked over.”
“Why were you even talking to him in the first place?” Dahlia’s nose wrinkled. Dahlia was the consummate imperious sorority president; anyone who wasn’t part of the Greek system wasn’t worth her time.
“I wasn’t. He ran into me—literally.”
Tiffany just laughed and held out her arms.
Scarlett sank into her best friend’s hug, squeezing her hard—though not hard enough to wrinkle the silk blouse Tiff was wearing. “I missed you.”
“Same.” Tiffany turned to give her a peck on the cheek. Her dark red lipstick didn’t leave a single mark. Ravens’ makeup never smudged.
“How’s your mom?” Scarlett asked.
A shadow crossed Tiffany’s face. Dahlia shifted uncomfortably. “We’re trying a new treatment. We’ll know more soon.”
Scarlett gave Tiffany another hug. Her friend had spent the summer in Charleston with her mom, who was battling cancer. Last year Tiffany had asked Dahlia to do an all-hands healing spell for her mom; every Raven was a witch in her own right, but together, the coven was far stronger than any individual. As president, Dahlia chose what spells the group would take on, a role she unabashedly relished. A Houston debutante, Dahlia loved being in charge, being the one whom all the other sisters looked to. Her confidence made her a great president, but there were times that Scarlett felt Dahlia prioritized her authority or her legacy over the needs of other girls in the house. And according to Dahlia, Kappa’s history was riddled with failed healing rituals of this magnitude. “Some things just aren’t within our power,” Dahlia had said.
Tiffany had never forgiven Dahlia for shutting her down, suspecting that Dahlia was more worried about the optics of such a spell and its possible risks than about Tiffany’s mom. Scarlett, who’d seen the fear in her usually fearless bestie’s blue eyes, wasn’t satisfied with Dahlia’s ruling either and had asked Minnie about it. What Scarlett didn’t know at the time was that Minnie was close to death herself.
“If there were a cure for dying, we wouldn’t be witches—we’d be immortal . . . The only spells that touch death touch back in equal measure,” Minnie had warned with a sad smile.
Now Tiffany pulled back from the hug with a bright smile Scarlett knew was fake. She blinked fast, clearly willing away the tears Scarlett sensed were always just beneath the surface, even though Tiffany was a Swords, not a Cups.
“How are preparations for rush going?” Scarlett pivoted, letting Tiffany off the emotional hook and looking up at the house.
“Hazel and Jess are glamouring the house right now,” Tiffany said, clearly grateful to have all eyes off her.
Scarlett nodded. Tradition dictated that the sophomore sisters decorated the house for recruitment. This year was speakeasy-themed; she couldn’t wait to see what her sisters had come up with.
“Did you bring the sparklers?” Dahlia asked.
“They’re right here,” Scarlett said, tapping one of her suitcases. “I enchanted them last night.”
Minnie always said that the magic did the real choosing, and she was right—mostly. All girls grew up with magic in them whether they knew it or not. The strength of the magic was what mattered. While magic was only a whisper in some, barely present, others could summon winds with the force of a tornado. The sparklers the Kappas gave out at their recruitment party showed who had the baseline of power required to be a Raven. But it wasn’t just about ability. The Ravens had to be exemplary. It was about personality, pedigree, intelligence, and sophistication. And above all, it was about being a good sister.
“I can’t wait to meet our latest round of potentials,” Tiffany said, tapping her fingers together with a smile.
“Only the best will do, of course,” Scarlett said. Finding powerful witches among Westerly’s froshlings was like searching for diamonds in a sea of cubic zirconias. She didn’t want an unruly sophomore crop when she became president.
“Of course,” Dahlia echoed, a frown marring her perfect features. “We have to protect Kappa. The last thing we want is another Harper situation.”
Scarlett’s stomach twisted and she carefully avoided Tiffany’s eyes. Another Harper situation. Something dark and unspoken passed between Scarlett and Tiffany. Something Scarlett never let herself think about.
Something that could ruin everything she’d worked so hard to get.
Chapter Three
Vivi
Vivi adjusted the strap of her backpack, wincing slightly as the edge of a hardcover book dug into her spine. Once she’d walked through the wrought-iron gate, Vivi let go of her larger suitcase and flexed her cramping fingers. The bus station was less than a mile from Westerly College, but lugging her bulging bags from there had taken nearly an hour and left her palms smarting. Yet, as Vivi took a deep breath of surprisingly fragrant air, a tingle of excitement chased away the fatigue. She’d made it. After eighteen exhausting hours—hell, after eighteen exhausting years—she was finally on her own, free to make her own choices and start her real life.