Bones and Ashes (7 page)

“What did Eleanor say about it? Did she mention the title?”

“I don’t remember.” She moved to leave, but Sylvia blocked her way.

“I asked you a question. What did she say?”

After Raiden, Sylvia was the next in line to inherit. “I have to get back to school,” Raiden said. She met her aunt’s gaze, refusing to be intimidated by her.

She feared for a moment Sylvia would force her to answer. Instead, she smiled. “Yes, go back to school. You have no magic, no beauty; at least you should have an education.” She walked over to the hall mirror and began to admire herself, tilting her head one way then the other. “I feel so sorry for Eleanor. It must be such an embarrassment for her, her granddaughter not having any magic.”

Raiden said nothing. Why did her aunt hate her so much? It wasn’t just her aunt. There was Blaize and Glacia as well. Why did they all despise her? There must be something wrong with her for them to all hate her.

There was the sound of pounding feet and a child came hurtling down the stairs, crying out, “Mama, mama.” She had a mass of blonde curls and china blue eyes. Elissa threw herself at her mother, hugging her skirts as she was too small to reach any higher. Usually, Sylvia would tell her off for running in the house. Instead, smiling, she picked her up.

“My beautiful little girl. I missed you so much.” She hugged her tightly, but over her shoulder she stared coldly at Raiden, watching for her reaction.

Elissa finally noticed her. “What is she doing here?”

“Hush, darling. She’s going now,” Sylvia said.

“Good. I don’t want her here.” Her cousin curled her lip in distaste in a mirror image of her mother. Raiden turned her back to them. There was no need for salt; the fairies wouldn’t want her cousin anyway.

Evans opened the door for her. She stopped at the gate and turned back to look at the mansion. Her gloved fingers gripped the cold railings. This wasn’t her home. She didn’t belong here. But she didn’t seem to belong at school either. So, where did she belong?

“Raiden!”

She turned to see who was calling her name. Across the road, Aren had just climbed out of a hansom cab. He waved to her and ducked back round the side of the cab, out of sight of the house. She watched for a break in the traffic and then ran across the road to meet him.

“I was worried I might miss you,” he said. “I saw Tobin waiting, so I guessed you were still inside.” 

He looked smart in a dove grey suit, with a black neck tie and top hat jammed down on his fair hair. He had blue eyes like his mother, Sylvia. Raiden smiled up at him. She was so happy to see him. After her mother had died, Sylvia had taken care of her and Aren had become like a brother. There were only three years between them. Then Sylvia had given birth to Elissa and everything had changed. Aren had been sent away to school, while Raiden was left alone in Northumberland with only the ghosts for company. 

“Your mother’s inside,” she said.  

“I know. I saw her go in. That’s why I waited for you out here.” He took her arm. “We can talk in your carriage. I don’t want you to be seen speaking to me.”

He hurried her to where Tobin waited. “She hasn’t forgiven you then?” she asked.

“No.”

Raiden didn’t quite know what had happened between Aren and Sylvia. Only that he had been disinherited and as a result she was to have no more contact with him. She had Peters take letters to Aren in secret.  

Raiden squeezed his arm. “She will forgive you eventually.”

He shook his head. “No, she won’t.” His expression was grim.

He was thinner than when she had seen him last; his cheekbones were hollow and there were shadows under his eyes. The strain of being cut off by his family and having to support himself had taken its toll. 

They reached her carriage. Aren opened the door and helped her inside. “I got your note this morning,” he said, after he had settled himself in the seat across from her. “Why did you want to see me?”

Aren worked for Smallpeace, Dawes and Pumprey as an evoker. He dealt with the ghosts for them. “A man died in a fire last week. His name was James Matherson. In the newspaper it said your firm were handling his case. The only reason your firm would be handling the case is if he’s not completely dead.”

“He’s a ghost,” Aren said. “He didn’t cross over. My firm is in charge of settling his affairs and laying him to rest if necessary.” Aren frowned. “Why do you want to know about James Matherson?”

“He died in a fire. The door was locked from inside the room.” She met Aren’s gaze. “It was how my mother died.”

“Surely you don’t think there’s a connection?”

“I don’t know, but you could speak to him. You could ask him what happened.”

“He’s newly dead Raiden. He’s likely still confused. He could be violent. He might not have even realised he’s dead.”

“He’s already been here a week. He only has five more weeks before he has to move on.”

Because of the overcrowding of ghosts, the government had passed a law some years before stating that any new ghosts had six weeks to see to any unfinished business before they had to move on. It didn’t apply to the old ghosts. She didn’t think anyone would be able to make them move on. They had been here too long and their tie to this world was too strong. 

“Let me speak to him,” she begged. “Please.”

“So you can ask him if he was murdered.” Aren shook his head. “He’s probably confused. They’re vulnerable when they’re first dead. They can’t remember clearly. And if Her Grace discovered I took you to see him...” He stopped and reached across to take her hand in his. He went on more quietly. “You have to let her go, Raiden. She’s dead and there’s nothing you can do about it. Sometimes people die and there are no answers. They’re just dead.”

She knew it was foolish. She had given up thinking she could do something, but when she had seen that Aren’s firm were dealing with the case; she had hoped finally she might be able to find out something.

Raiden pulled her hand away. “I just want to know what happened that night. I have to know.”

Aren leaned back and sighed. “I went to see Matherson yesterday. He never spoke. He just stood there, staring out the window.”

“He might not have worked out how to speak yet. He’s only been dead a week.”

“I’m not taking you to see him,” Aren said.

Now she knew he was a ghost, she could find out his address and go and see him by herself. “I understand. I’ll have Tobin take you back to your office.”

“I don’t want you going to see him alone,” he said, guessing her thoughts.

“It never occurred to me.”

“I mean it, Raiden. He could be dangerous. Ghosts can be unpredictable when they’re newly dead. It’s different from summoning them back with their bones or ashes. You have no control over them. Promise me you won’t go and see him.”

Raiden remained silent. She stared out of the window, avoiding Aren’s gaze.

“Promise me,” Aren said, tilting her chin up to force her to meet his eyes.

“I can’t.”

“Raiden…” He sighed heavily. “Why do you always have to be so stubborn? Why can’t you be agreeable like other girls?”

He climbed out of the carriage. Raiden felt hollow. She would go without him. She would do whatever she had to. But she would rather go with Aren. She didn’t want to go against his wishes or argue with him.  

“I need you to take us to a house belonging to a James Matherson.” Aren was speaking to Tobin. He proceeded to give the driver detailed instructions on how to get there.

“Thank you,” she said when he climbed back in.

He sighed and shook his head. “I know I’m going to regret this.”

Chapter Five

“This is where he lived?” Raiden asked, looking out the window. The carriage had arrived at a street of modest terraced houses. The occupants were middle class, minor witches and businessmen. They weren’t titled, but they could afford to employ servants and to send their children to school. Raiden turned from the window to face Aren. “I thought you said he had no money.”

“He didn’t,” Aren said. “Up until a few months ago he was renting a room in a boarding house and then he took a house here.”

“Where did he get the money from?”

“I haven’t been able to find out. No family has come forward and he didn’t appear to have any friends. The landlady from his boarding house was the only person at his funeral. I intend to speak to her tomorrow. I’m hoping she might know something.”

The carriage pulled to a stop. Tobin opened the door and pulled down the steps. Raiden knew which one was James Matherson’s house. A black cross had been painted on the door. It was a warning there was a ghost in the house that might be dangerous. Ghosts could be volatile. Some people did not deal very well with being dead.

Aren escorted her across the road. He took a key from his breast pocket and unlocked the door.

“Mr Matherson,” Aren called as he shut the door behind them. “Mr Matherson. My name is Aren Feralis. I’m with Smallpeace, Dawes and Pumprey, the solicitors. I came yesterday.”

There was no response. Three doors led off from the hallway. At the end of the hall was a staircase that curved upwards.

There was a light switch on the wall. Raiden flicked the switch and the light overhead came on. She flicked it off and they went off. On, off. On, off. There was only gas or fireflies at home. They didn’t have electric lights yet. It was like magic the way they came on. Magic for those that didn’t have magic, she thought to herself.

Aren put his hand over hers, preventing her from using the switch again.

“He has electric lights,” she said.

“I know. There’s a power station near here at Holborn Viaduct.” He took his hand away. “I’m going to see if Matherson is upstairs.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No. Let me see how he is first. Wait here and don’t touch anything.” He went up the stairs, calling out to the ghost.

The house seemed empty. They didn’t know if Matherson was still here. He could have crossed over. Raiden opened the closest door. It led into the parlour. Yellow and blue floral wallpaper covered the walls. There was a dark blue sofa in front of the fireplace and a cabinet which was empty. The second door led into the dining room. There was something wrong with the house. There was no clutter, no pictures or ornaments. The last door led into the library; at least she assumed it was a library. The bookcases were all bare. A huge mahogany desk dominated the room. She pulled out the drawers hoping to find some papers belonging to Matherson, but they were all empty. A thick black cloth concealed a large shape hanging on the wall facing the desk. She pulled the cover off, expecting to find a portrait. Instead, the cloth fell away to reveal a large rectangular mirror.

It had gone quiet. She could no longer hear Aren. She moved to the door. She frowned and stopped. She turned around slowly to face the mirror. Her reflection hadn’t moved. In the mirror, she was still standing in front of the desk. Raiden walked back to the middle of the room. Her reflection tilted her head to one side. She appeared to be studying her. Raiden didn’t understand. The girl in the mirror looked like her, but it wasn’t her. And her eyes… In the mirror they weren’t green; they were black. Entirely black.

Her reflection smiled at her, but there was a cruel look in her eyes. Raiden stepped back until she felt the desk bump against the back of her legs. The girl in the mirror moved closer.

Raiden heard a thump. She spun around, but there was no one there. She turned back. Her reflection was back where it should be with green eyes.

She walked slowly up to the mirror. Had she imagined it? It could be a magic mirror. There were no runes or symbols around the frame, but it seemed old. She felt uneasy, as if she was being watched. She moved to the side so the mirror couldn’t see her. She would have to walk past it to get to the door.

She was about to run past, when she felt a coldness on the back of her neck.

She turned around.

A ghost stood behind her. She assumed it was James Matherson. He didn’t move. He stood frozen, staring at her. He was a slight man, a few inches shorter than her, with thinning brown hair and watery blue eyes. His suit was too big for him. The jacket hung almost to his knees and the sleeves reached past his wrists.

He reached out a hand as though to touch her hair. She backed away. His face had a hawkish look to it. He was transparent. All ghosts appeared faded, but he was almost completely white. He didn’t appear confused or upset. He watched her with predatory eyes, his gaze darting up and down her dress. 

She backed up slowly toward the door. “Aren,” she called softly. There was no answer. “Aren!”

The ghost followed her. His legs didn’t move, instead he flowed across the floor. New ghosts forgot they had to move their legs to make it look like they were walking.

She stepped back into the hallway and pulled the door shut in his face. He had only been dead a week; he couldn’t have worked out how to walk through walls yet. 

“Aren,” she shouted up the stairs. There was still no answer. She couldn’t leave without him. She ran up the stairs. On the landing were four doors. One door stood ajar. “Aren,” she called as she pushed it open. The curtains were drawn. In the dim light, she could just make out the burnt remains of a narrow four poster bed. The remnants of the drapes hung down like ghostly fingers. On the dressing table was a lamp and a huge porcelain vase filled with dead flowers. The white floral wallpaper was blackened and she could smell smoke.

This was where Matherson had died.

A full length mirror stood in the centre of the room. The elaborate golden frame curved outwards in the middle before narrowing. The mirror was broken. It had been shattered into hundreds of pieces and then carefully pieced back together. It was almost complete except for one last missing piece near the centre; a small jagged teardrop shape, two fingers wide. 

A groan came from the side of the bed. Raiden rushed round the mirror. Aren lay slumped on the floor, his eyes closed. She shook him. “Aren, Aren, wake up.” He stirred and groaned.

Raiden pulled him up so he was sitting. She gently sifted her fingers through his hair; her fingers came away with blood.

He groaned. “My head.” Aren tried to put his hand to his head, but she stopped him from touching the wound.

“You’re bleeding. It doesn’t look too bad. Did the ghost do this to you?”

He pushed away from her so he was sitting up by himself. “When I came into the room, he was standing there staring at that broken mirror. I tried to talk to him, but he ignored me. I went to touch the mirror and then suddenly he attacked me. He threw me against the wall.”

Raiden helped him to stand. “We have to go.” They had to get out before the ghost came back. She turned to the door. The ghost stood at the top of the stairs. He began to move toward them. Raiden left Aren and ran to the door. She slammed it shut just as the ghost reached the door.

There was a moment of silence and then the handle rattled.

The key was in the door. She turned it, locking them in. There were deep scratches gouged into the wood. Lower down were dents where someone had kicked it. James Matherson had tried to get out. But the key was here in the door, so why hadn’t he simply unlocked it? Someone must have replaced the key after he was dead, but how did they leave the room with the door locked?

The rattling stopped. 

“Is he gone?” Aren asked. 

A foot appeared through the door. Raiden backed up to Aren. The rest of the ghost followed. He shouldn’t have been able to walk through walls so soon after becoming a ghost.

Matherson turned to them, smiling pleasantly. He floated across the floor.

Aren stretched out his hand. Raiden couldn’t see what he was doing, but the ghost stopped. His form wavered and he began to fade. The ghost stared at his hands and cried out. He stopped fading. Aren dropped his hand and collapsed against the wall gasping. “I can’t get rid of him.” His face was pale, his hair damp with sweat. “Without a link I’m not strong enough to make him cross over. I need a piece of his bone or some of his ashes. I’m sorry, Raiden. I should never have brought you here.”

Matherson flowed toward them, his gaze focused on Aren. Raiden left him and skirted around to the door. Her fingers fumbled with the key as she unlocked it.

“Go, Raiden. Don’t wait for me.”

“I’m not going without you.” But what could she do? She had no magic.

The ghost wrapped a hand around Aren’s throat and lifted him up off his feet. Raiden ran to him. The rest of the ghost was incorporeal, but she could feel his fingers wrapped around Aren’s throat. She tried to pry them away, but they were locked tight. Aren struggled, desperately trying to breathe.

She needed her magic to come now. There was nothing else that would stop a ghost. Together they might be strong enough to make him cross over. He was a new ghost; his tie to this world was weak. Please, she thought, please let it come. 

The ghost shoved her away with his free hand. She stumbled back and fell against the mirror. It fell to the ground and shattered, breaking again. The shards showered over the floor. Somewhere, a woman screamed. 

The ghost cried out and dropped Aren. He flew to the mirror and sank to his knees. He tried to gather up the fragments, but his hands kept passing through the pieces. 

Raiden helped Aren to his feet and pulled him to the door. The ghost caught his jacket and dragged him back. Aren pulled himself out of the sleeves and continued running. He took her hand and they stumbled down the stairs. She threw open the front door and dragged him outside. The ghost halted at the threshold. He tried to cross, but an invisible barrier stopped him. He was still tied to the house.

The ghost disappeared and the front door slammed shut.

Aren had one arm around her waist, holding onto her for support. He was breathing hard. “Are you hurt?” he asked.

Was she hurt? He could barely stand. “I’m fine,” she said. “We need to get you to a doctor.” She put his arm around her shoulder and slipped her arm around his waist.

“I should never have allowed you to come,” he said, panting.

She steered him toward the carriage. “When the mirror broke did you hear something?”

“The ghost?”

“No. I thought I heard a woman scream.”

“I didn’t hear anything.” 

Perhaps she had been mistaken.

Tobin opened the door of the carriage and she helped Aren in. “Do you want me to take you home?” she asked.

He shook his head. “If my landlady saw me like this she would think I’d been involved in a fight. I had enough trouble persuading her to let me rent the room.”

She had meant take him home to the family mansion. She had forgotten it was no longer his home. She didn’t even know where his boarding house was. 

“You need to see a doctor. I could take you to Xan,” she offered.

“Take me to my office. I know a doctor.”

“Is he alive?”

“He used to be.”

“It’s not healthy to be stitched up by the living dead. They have diseases.” 

“He’s a skeleton. He’s had all his flesh and organs removed and he removes his hands and boils them in water before he touches you.”

The carriage pulled away. Raiden took out a handkerchief and held it to the back of Aren’s head. There was blood on the back of his white collar and matted in his hair, but the bleeding had slowed.

“What are you going to do about the ghost?” she asked.

Aren leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. “I have to get rid of him. He’s too dangerous. I’ll get an order from a judge to have Matherson’s corpse exhumed so I can get a piece of his bone. Then I will force him to cross over.”

“He might calm down in a few days, once he’s adjusted to being dead.”

“I can’t risk it. It’s better now while he’s still only recently dead. The longer he’s here, the harder it will be to make him move on.”

She said nothing. She would never find out what had happened now. Matherson wouldn’t help her. She would never know the truth. “I should never have made you take me.” She had been so naive to think she could do something. 

The carriage stopped outside a building with a black sign that read, ‘Smallpeace, Dawes and Pumprey, Solicitors’, in gold letters.

“His landlady might know something,” Aren said. “I’m going to see her tomorrow. I will tell you if I find out anything.”

“I could come with you,” Raiden said hopefully.

“Not after what just happened with Matherson. You could have been injured.”

“You’re just speaking to his landlady. What could happen to me?”

“I can’t take you. And if I find out you went there by yourself, I’ll tell your grandmother.”