Bones and Ashes (3 page)

“I’m sorry,” Raiden said.

Cassade shrugged as if she didn’t care. “It’s his loss. Do you want to take the trunks up to our rooms?”

“Isn’t Grub taking them up?”

Cassade rolled her eyes. “He’s still hauling Blaize’s trunks up. She had five of them.”

It would be a long time before Grub would get round to their trunks. Raiden wanted to wash the grime and dust from her face and change her dress before dinner.

“We could take them up ourselves,” Cassade suggested.

“It means leaving one here while we take the first one up.”

“We’ll just have to be quick.” Cassade carefully set the bowl of water containing the undine down on the floor. “We’ll take your trunk up first.”

“No, you’ve been waiting the longest.”

Cassade left Florence next to Raiden’s violin. They took one end of the trunk each. Cassade went first, walking backward and looking over her shoulder to see where she was going. 

“What have you got in here?” Raiden asked, her arms straining under the weight.

“A few books.”

A few books from Cassade could mean a few dozen.

“Did you see your father over the summer?” Cassade asked as she navigated through crowds of girls and piles of luggage.

“He couldn’t get leave from the army,” Raiden said, hoping Cassade would drop the subject. She didn’t want to talk about her father.

Cassade frowned. “Surely he’s due some leave by now? It’s been nearly a year since you last saw him and Northumberland isn’t far from where he’s stationed.”

“He was needed at the Wall. He said they couldn’t spare him. But he promised he would come back for Christmas.”

Her father served on the Antonine Wall in the far north of the country, keeping the demon hordes that lay beyond at bay. He said he would get leave in the summer and come and see her, but he hadn’t come. He had promised to come home last Christmas as well, but he had written at the last minute to say he couldn’t make it.

“I’m sure he would come and see you if he could,” Cassade said.

Cassade’s father had never let her down. He always kept his promises. 

“I’m sure he would,” Raiden agreed, but she didn’t believe it.

Chapter Two

A life sized portrait of the Grimwoods hung halfway up the main staircase. Lady Grimwood sat on a chair, holding a plump baby on her lap. Her husband and elder son stood behind her, both dressed in black. The younger son, perhaps three or four years old, stood next to her. They all looked so solemn and grave - even the baby.

After her husband had been killed in battle fighting for King Charles, Lady Grimwood had killed her own children, intending to raise them from the dead. But before she could complete the ritual, Cromwell’s forces had arrived to arrest her. Cromwell had ordered the children’s bodies burnt and their ashes scattered. According to the stories, Lady Grimwood had gone mad with grief. Cromwell had walled her up alive somewhere in the manor with her zombies, leaving them to tear her to pieces.

They went slowly up the stairs. With the trunk at an angle, the contents moved down to Raiden’s end.

“Perhaps we should have waited for Grub,” Cassade said, breathing heavily.

Raiden looked up at her friend whose idea it had been to carry the trunk upstairs themselves. “Perhaps we should have,” she agreed.

They were halfway up when Cassade frowned and suddenly stopped. “What is it?” Raiden asked. She craned her head around to see what the problem was. A girl was coming up the stairs. Raiden tightened her grip on the trunk as she passed them. Long white hair, the same colour as her ivory skin, flowed over the girl’s shoulders and down her back. She was so pale, even her eyelashes were white. Her pale blue eyes and her pink lips were the only colour in her face. She wore a white cloak lined with fur over a black dress, and she held a white muff in her long white hands. As she passed it seemed to get colder. Raiden tried not to shiver; it was what the girl wanted.

The girl stopped on the stairs above them and turned around, barring the way. She stared down at them, her lip curled in distaste as though something particularly repugnant was crawling up the stairs. 

“Glacia,” Cassade said in greeting.

“Cassade,” Glacia said, inclining her head. The two of them were distant cousins of sorts, but then a lot of the water families were related to one another in some way. 

Glacia didn’t move. Cassade stared back. Neither of them was going to give way. They were stood in the middle of the stairs and it was a long way down. Raiden’s arms were aching, her fingers turning red. She couldn’t hold on for much longer. 

“Was there something you wanted?” Cassade asked.

Glacia smiled. “No.” She widened her eyes innocently. “I’m not stopping you am I?”

“Of course not.”

“Raiden,” Glacia said, “whatever happened to your dress?”

Raiden knew she was referring to the filth that covered her skirts. “Nothing. What happened to yours?”

Glacia frowned. “Nothing happened to it.” She peered over her shoulder, trying to see the back of her dress. “What’s wrong with my dress?”

Cassade pressed her lips together to stop herself from smiling. Realising she was being mocked; Glacia narrowed her eyes and glared at Raiden. “You will pay for that.” She turned and stormed up the stairs. Ice formed on the steps as she went.

They continued on up the stairs. The ice was already beginning to melt. “I shouldn’t have said that,” Raiden said. She was becoming as petty as Glacia.

“I hoped it would be different this year,” Cassade said with a sigh.

Raiden said nothing; there was nothing she could say. She always hoped it would be different, but it never was.

They hauled the trunk the rest of the way up the stairs. The landing led to the large bedrooms that belonged to the younger girls who had to share. The bedrooms for the older students were at the very top of the manor, where the servant’s quarters had once been. They took another flight of stairs and then a smaller one. There wasn’t much light. Raiden narrowly missed treading on a huge black spider. The creature quickly scurried away.

They reached a small landing. Here, there were eight doors leading off to bedrooms. At the end of the landing, just before the stairs leading to their floor, was Blaize. She stood waiting with Glacia. Blaize wore her red hair loose down her back, swept over one shoulder. Her flawless skin was as pale as Glacia’s.

Raiden knew they weren’t there by chance. Cassade glanced back at her and raised her eyebrows. Raiden shrugged. There was no other way up; they would have to go past them to get to their floor.

Blaize watched them as they passed her, her eyes intent on Raiden.

“I don’t know why she’s come back,” Blaize said. “She has no magic. She shouldn’t be here.”

“Did you see her dress?” Glacia asked.

Raiden knew they were referring to her. Blaize continued to talk as if she wasn’t standing in front of them. “Someone said she turned up with a corpse.”

“A corpse?” Glacia said with contempt. “Why would she bring a corpse to school?”

“Perhaps it was her mother.”

Laughter followed them as they went up the narrow staircase. Cassade shook her head, but said nothing. The narrow stone staircase twisted round and round. It was awkward trying to get the trunk up; they had to stand it almost vertical and lift it up a step at a time. An archway led off to their floor, although the stairs continued on up. They once led to the attic, but they had fallen in and crumbled. At night, Raiden could sometimes hear something large and heavy moving about up there, but whatever it was, they were trapped in the attic.

There were seven rooms on their floor; four bedrooms, a sitting room and a tiny bathroom with a sloped ceiling they banged their heads on. Cassade’s room was next to Raiden’s. On the other side of Cassade’s room was Glacia’s room. The remaining room belonged to Heather, an earth witch. A tangle of vines was visible beneath her door. 

Cassade pushed open the door to her bedroom and they let the trunk fall to the floor with relief. There was a brass frame bed in the corner of the room, with clean white sheets and a rose coverlet. A huge wardrobe stood next to a dressing table and on the other wall was a fireplace which was unlit. There was no carpet; just bare floorboards. A small square mirror hung above the dressing table. The frame was plain wood; there was nothing to suggest it was anything other than an ordinary mirror.

Raiden turned to go back down the stairs.

“Raiden,” Cassade said, stopping her. “What Blaize said about the corpse being your mother…”

“It doesn’t matter,” Raiden said.

But it did.

“You would think as Blaize has lost her mother as well, she wouldn’t say such things.” Cassade took off her bonnet and gloves and laid them on the bed. “Let’s go and get your trunk.”

Raiden followed Cassade back down the tiny stone steps. She braced herself to face Blaize, but the hallway was empty. There was no sound coming from any of the bedrooms.

“We should get back to your trunk,” Cassade said.

They hurried down the staircases and raced along the corridor, dodging girls in the way.

Raiden stopped as they rounded the corner. Her trunk was open, the contents spilled out across the wooden floor. Her clothes had been kicked about and stamped on. Blaize leaned against the wall with Glacia, looking pleased with herself. Miss Fairbanks, the etiquette teacher, stood nearby talking to a group of first year girls. No one had stopped Blaize, not even the teacher.

Cassade rushed down. “Where’s Florence?” She pulled more of Raiden’s clothes out of the trunk, trying to find the dragon. The cage lay on its side under one of Raiden’s dresses. Cassade scooped Florence out of the cage and cradled him like a baby against her chest. He blinked open sleepy eyes before turning on his side and going back to sleep. He appeared none the worse for his ordeal.

Raiden knelt down and began to gather up her clothes. The heavy items at the bottom of her trunk were still packed in tightly and her violin appeared unharmed.

Cassade gently tucked Florence back in his cage and knelt down to help gather up Raiden’s things. “They shouldn’t be allowed to do this,” she said as she stuffed Raiden’s clothes back into the trunk. “It isn’t fair.”

Raiden said nothing. She looked back and met Blaize’s eyes. The fire witch smiled smugly. Raiden held her gaze, refusing to look away. Blaize’s eyes narrowed.

Raiden broke eye contact and pressed down on the trunk, but with her clothes stuffed in it wouldn’t close. The two of them had to press down to shut it. Raiden sighed as she bent down to lift her end of the trunk. She had only been back at school a few hours and already she had been in trouble with Miss Grimble and had a confrontation with Blaize. And she had hoped things would go better this term.

Raiden lifted one end of the trunk and Cassade the other. They balanced Florence’s cage and Raiden’s violin on top. Squawks of indignation came from the cage as the tiny dragon was bounced around as they made their way up the stairs.  

Her bedroom was the same as she had left it three months ago. In the corner of her room was a wardrobe and a dressing table, while against the middle of the other wall was a brass bed. They set the trunk down in the middle of the room.

“I should go and fetch Amatheia before they do something to her as well,” Cassade said. “I don’t think she would appreciate being tipped on the floor.”

Cassade hurried out of the room. Raiden took off her cloak and laid it over the back of the frayed armchair that faced the fireplace. Her boots were loud on the bare floorboards. There was just a small scrap of worn carpet that served as a rug by the bed. She pulled off her gloves and unpinned her sodden hat. Her bedroom was at the very end of the manor. It meant her room was always cold, but her window overlooked the street and in the daytime she could watch the people passing below.

She untied the small leather pouches at her waist and gently stirred the ashes inside. Peters materialised in front of her, followed by Marielle, her maid. Marielle’s fair hair was tucked under a white cap. Her white apron, which she wore over a long black dress, was tied at the back with a large bow. She beamed at Raiden and clapped her hands together when she saw where she was. She was always happy when Raiden went back to school. She seemed to like it here more than Raiden did. Marielle hadn’t been much older than her when she had died and perhaps she liked being around girls her own age. Raiden had always wondered how she had died, but she had never tried to find out. Some ghosts didn’t like to be reminded about when they were alive.

While Marielle unpacked her clothes, Raiden started to unpack her personal belongings. She carefully lifted out her music box and set it on the dressing table. It had been her mother’s. The china ballerina stood balanced on one leg with the other leg extended back. If you watched carefully you could see her eyes blink and her chest move as if she was breathing. She was so lifelike. It was almost as if a real person had been trapped inside. It was possible a real person had been trapped inside, but she seemed so serene, not at all angry.

“Raiden.”

Raiden turned to see who had called her name. The door was shut. There was no one there.

“Raiden Feralis.” It was her grandmother’s voice. She jumped up and rushed to the trunk. Marielle froze, her eyes wide with fear. Only Peters remained calm. Raiden threw the remaining clothes out. She rummaged through the trunk until she found it - a large oval mirror wrapped in heavy black fabric. She pulled off the cloth and propped the mirror up on her dressing table. Her grandmother’s image slowly formed in the mirror’s surface. Raiden clasped her hands together and tried to position herself at the dressing table so her grandmother couldn’t see how stained the bottom of her dress was.

“Why has it taken you so long? I expected you to be at school hours ago.” Her grandmother, the Duchess of Northumberland, was seated at her desk, her white hair pinned up. She wore a high-necked sombre black gown with a cameo brooch at her throat. The most striking thing about her was her deep green eyes; the same green eyes all the Feralis’s had. The same green eyes Raiden had.

“We were delayed,” Raiden said.

Her grandmother regarded her stonily. She didn’t smile. “Tomorrow afternoon, I will be expecting you here. I will inform your headmistress. Tobin will bring you. Do not be late.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” The image in the mirror was already fading away. The surface went black before her own reflection appeared. Raiden sat down at her dressing table. She knew why her grandmother wanted to see her, what it was she wanted to ask her. It was always the same. Tomorrow, she would be called into the study and her grandmother would ask her if she had come into her magic. She would say no, then there would be a brief silence and she would be dismissed. Her grandmother wouldn’t speak to her again until Christmas when her duty dictated it. Raiden supposed indifference was better than disappointment, but disappointment would at least be a reaction from her. She never asked how she was, or expressed any interest in her. If she did come into her magic, would her grandmother suddenly start caring about her?

She covered the mirror with the heavy black cloth. If only her mother was still alive. She would be the heir to the title and she may have had another child, one who wasn’t defective like Raiden was.

Her reticule lay on the dressing table. She drew it toward her and looked around. Marielle had finished unpacking and had disappeared through the wall to help the other girls unpack. With nothing more required of him, Peters faded away. He would come back if she summoned him. Raiden untied the ribbons and pulled out the newspaper cutting. She carefully smoothed out the crumpled paper on the table.