Bones and Ashes (9 page)

The metallic hide shimmered in the light, like oil in water. Full black silk skirts billowed out from the bodice. Raiden braced herself on the bed frame while Marielle pulled the laces tight. She hated being primped and fussed over. What would she do when she was presented to society? Then there would be balls and parties every night and she would have to change her dress several times a day.

She sat down in front of her dressing table so Marielle could do her hair. Raiden winced as her hair was brushed and then curled with hot irons, and then as pins dug painfully into her head. In the mirror, Raiden could see Marielle looking at the marks on her neck. For once, she was glad Marielle couldn’t speak and ask her about them. Satisfied with her work, the ghost disappeared and came back with half a dozen black rosebuds. She cut them off at the stem and wove them into Raiden’s hair. Marielle clapped her hands together and gestured toward the mirror. Raiden stood up and looked at her reflection. Her golden blonde hair contrasted with the black dress. A few loose tendrils brushed her bare shoulders. The bodice was cut modestly, but laced tightly. Raiden smiled at Marielle in thanks. If only she knew it was a waste of time and that Raiden would spend the evening standing by the refreshment table.

Marielle disappeared through the wall to help the other girls get ready. Raiden opened a small box. Inside were fairy paints; they were small blocks of colour to paint her eyes. She used the tiny brush to smudge black around her eyes and over her eyelids. She retrieved her bottle of perfume from under the chair where the imp had thrown it. It was made from black roses. Xan always bought her a bottle for Christmas. There was only a small amount left now; she would have to make it last a few more months. She pulled the stopper out and trailed the dark liquid along her throat and wrists.

She tied a black lace choker with tiny black pearls around her throat to cover the red marks. Last, she slipped the heavy ring off her finger and pulled on long black silk gloves that reached just past her elbow. She kept her black ankle boots on. Marielle wasn’t here to stop her wearing them and her dress reached to the floor, so no one would see them.

She felt self-conscious with her shoulders bare. She paced the room, trying to calm herself, a feeling of dread in her stomach. What if Blaize accused her of breaking her mirror in front of everyone?

“I thought I might find you pacing,” Cassade said.

Raiden jumped as Cassade appeared behind her. She was wearing a black silk dress with tiny cap sleeves and long white gloves. Pearled silver combs held her golden brown hair up. There were more pearls at her throat and in her ears. She seemed calm and composed. She didn’t show any sign of being worried about tonight.

“Heather is meeting us in the hall. We should go down before Grumble comes looking for us and escorts us in personally.” Cassade tugged her gloves further up her arm; she
was
nervous.

“Do we have to?” Raiden asked.

“The sooner we go, the sooner we can leave.”

Raiden followed Cassade out of the room. She felt tense. She wasn’t afraid of zombies, or ghosts or even dead bodies. But Blaize was another matter.

Chapter Seven

The hall had been transformed for the night. The chandelier had actually been lit and fires blazed in the two fireplaces. The spiders that had previously been hidden were now visible. Their webs completely covered the dark wooden beams and hung like silver nets stretched across the ceiling. The tables had been removed, except for one to serve as a refreshment table. There were no chairs. Grumble may have prevented them from sitting in the corner all night, but she couldn’t prevent them from standing in the corner.

Blaize stood in the centre of the hall, her dress a low-cut deep red gown that gradually darkened to black as it went down. Glacia stood by her side. Jewels glinted in Glacia’s white hair - not jewels, icicles. A bracelet of solid ice encased her wrist and there was frost in her white lashes and over her eyelids. Her dress was made entirely from black leather. The two of them looked bored. They seemed unimpressed with the party. A group of girls was gathered around them, standing as close as they dared. They weren’t friends with Blaize; they just wanted to seem as if they were. The few boys Raiden could see looked uncomfortable; they were vastly outnumbered by the girls. Blaize looked over as they entered. Her gaze swept over Raiden’s dress and then she turned her back to them, dismissing them as insignificant. Raiden was relieved. Blaize hadn’t stormed over and accused her of breaking her mirror.

The hall was a swirl of black. There were dresses made from fabric and the skins of creatures Raiden couldn’t identify. She passed a girl from the year below her. The girl’s dress was sheer, like spun silver. It had a strange pattern, like tiny shapes stitched together. She realised they were the wings of fireflies. It must have taken hundreds of them to make the dress and hours for someone to piece them all together. Three black winged butterflies were pinned to the girl’s hair. Their dark wings opened and closed, trying to escape, but the pins held them fast. Another girl wore a dress which looked as if it was spun from spider webs. A huge silver spider wrapped around her wrist like a bracelet, its legs locked together.

Miss Grimble patrolled the hall, guarding the doors. Her ill-fitting black dress had been in fashion twenty years ago. Her grey-streaked hair was curled into ringlets and threaded with ribbons. It looked strange with her bony face, like a skeleton wearing a wig. Miss Radbone’s mirror had been hung on the wall. She sat staring down at her desk, her dark eyes gazing at nothing.   

Heather was already in their customary place at the refreshment table, sipping lemonade. Her dark green dress appeared almost black in the lamp light. A vine wrapped around her wrist. It wound up her arm and around her neck before it entwined through her hair. Tendrils were growing from the vine, lacing themselves through her tresses and dark blue flowers had opened in her hair. At her wrist, the vine had punctured the skin, to feed from her blood. 

“Have you seen Blaize’s dress,” Heather said, nodding to the centre of the room. “I can’t believe Grumble hasn’t said something to her. Look how low it’s cut. She may as well be wearing nothing.”

“It must be padding,” Cassade said.

Heather shook her head in disgust. “A great deal of padding,”

Raiden resisted the urge to cross her arms over her chest. She felt self-conscious in what she was wearing now. She would hate to have everyone staring at her. Blaize basked in the attention. She wore an elaborate necklace studded with large rubies, drawing even more attention to her décolletage. She ignored the chatter around her as her eyes scanned the room for any sign of competition.

They weren’t the only ones stood awkwardly in a corner. There were other groups of girls Grumble would occasionally try and herd further into the room. She left Raiden and her friends alone; she had long ago given up on them.

Miss Meek fluttered up to them. “Are you having a nice time girls?” She was frantically beating her wings. She wore a black ball gown and from the way she kept sinking, she was having trouble staying in the air with the weight of it.

“Yes, it’s wonderful,” Cassade said. Raiden hoped Miss Meek didn’t detect the sarcasm in Cassade’s voice. “If only it could happen more often.”

The fairy rose up, only to slowly sink back down again. She was panting, her face pink from trying to stay afloat. “Perhaps you should stand closer to everyone else,” she puffed.

“We’re fine where we are,” Cassade said, sipping her lemonade.

“But you’re standing so far away from the other girls.”

“They probably prefer it that way,” Heather said.

The fairy frowned, not understanding. “Well, if you change your minds…” Realising it was pointless to continue, she fluttered away.

Cassade sighed. Raiden felt like sighing as well. It would be another hour before Grumble might let them go to bed. When Raiden was younger she had watched her aunt going off to parties and balls and she couldn’t wait until she would be old enough to go as well. She hadn’t known then she would be making excuses to leave as soon as possible.

No one else came up to speak to them. Heather left to find Marigold. Raiden stood in silence with Cassade, waiting until they could finally leave. Cassade set her lemonade down. “There’s Lord Waterhouse. His family owns several factories that employ ogres. I’m going to speak to him.” She hesitated. “Although I can speak to him another time.”

“Go,” Raiden said. “I’ll be fine.”

Cassade marched over to confront him, leaving Raiden stood by herself. The other girls around her ignored her. She stood there awkwardly. She was the only person standing alone. She didn’t know what to do with her arms. She resisted the urge to cross them over her chest. Instead, she clasped her hands in front of her.

“They make more noise than a nest of harpies,” came a voice next to her.

She looked down; she hadn’t seen Deegle come up. The small demon barely reached her waist. He looked smart in his black dinner jacket and bow tie.

“But they don’t smell as bad as harpies,” she said.

He tapped his long nose. “That’s a matter of opinion. How is your godfather? I haven’t seen Xan in months.”

“He’s well. He’s been busy with the museum.”

“Are you enjoying the party?” he asked. Raiden didn’t answer. He chuckled. “I was hoping to slip out myself, but I’m afraid Grizelda might see.”

Grizelda was Miss Grimble’s first name. “If you don’t want to be here, surely you can just leave?” A number of teachers were missing. She couldn’t see Miss Rudge or Miss Fairbanks. Mr Smith may have been there, but as he was invisible it was impossible to tell.

“Very few of the staff wants to be at one of Grizelda’s parties. Did you know the Greyfields headmaster sends his pupils here as punishment. He threatens them with going to one of the parties here if they misbehave. Apparently, it’s proved quite a successful way of deterring them.”

They stood in silence for a moment, watching the party. “I think I shall make my escape.” He paused. “Although, I can stay if you wish. I’m sure Xan would not want me to leave you on your own.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m sure Cassade will be back soon.”

He made a short bow. “Goodnight then, Lady Feralis. Give my regards to your godfather when you see him next.”

Deegle always used her title when she was alone with him, but she had never heard him address any of the other girls by their titles. “I will. Goodnight.”

She was on her own again.

She hugged her arms to her chest, not caring who might see how uncomfortable she was. She felt conspicuous standing alone. She willed Cassade to hurry up and come back.

A maid walked by carrying a tureen of lemonade to the table. Raiden stepped back out of her way. The maid stumbled and the tureen slipped from her hands. Lemonade poured down the front of Raiden’s dress as the tureen crashed to the floor.

Conversation in the hall broke off as everyone turned to see what had happened. No one made a sound. The maid pressed her hand to her mouth, tears welling in her eyes. Raiden stood there with her skirts soaking wet and sticking to her legs. She didn’t know what to do. People looked at her with expressions of pity, and then Blaize began to laugh. The rest of Blaize’s group joined in until it seemed like everyone in the hall was laughing.

The maid stood there, her body shaking. “Oh, miss. I’m so sorry. Please, I never meant to.” 

Raiden took a deep breath. She had to get away from them. “It was an accident,” she said to the maid. Although she knew it wasn’t. She had seen the ice that had formed on the floor as the maid walked by. She turned and, keeping her head high, she walked to the door, which now seemed so far away. She caught the heel of her boot in her wet skirts and she tripped and stumbled. She managed to gain her balance before she fell. She got to the door and pulled it open. As soon as the door closed, she leaned against it and closed her eyes.

Laughter and voices from the hall echoed through the door. “How embarrassing. I would die if that happened to me...Did you see her dress? It’s completely ruined.”

She pushed away from the door and started to run, the wet skirts slapping against her legs. She had to get away. They were all laughing at her. She couldn’t do anything right. She ran down the hall, past the classrooms. She didn’t know where she was going; she just had to get away.

She came to a heavy wooden door set in the wall. She turned the iron handle and pushed it open. It led into the courtyard. Outside it was dark; no one would see her here. She sank down against the wall, the rough stone at her back. She rested her head on her drawn up knees and pressed her face against her sodden dress to stifle her sobs. Why couldn’t she do anything right? Of all the girls there, it was her who ended up being humiliated. It was always her. She had no magic. She didn’t belong here. She didn’t belong anywhere. 

The anger drained out of her and she was left feeling numb. She started shivering; her shoulders were bare and the night was cold. She breathed raggedly. It wasn’t just the dress. It was everything that had happened to her today; her grandmother, the ghost, the mirror.

She huddled in the dark. She didn’t feel anything now, just empty.

Hearing a noise, she raised her head from her knees and wiped her wet cheeks with the back of her hand. She stared into the darkness. Someone else was out here. It could be a demon or a creature.

A shape - a human shape - detached itself from the shadows and stepped into the moonlight. She couldn’t make him out clearly in the dark, only that he was wearing black evening clothes. His white hair glowed in the moonlight. It was the boy she had seen from her window the night before. 

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

She didn’t answer. How long had he been standing there?

“Do you want my jacket?” He started to shrug out of it.

“No,” she said. She wanted him to go away. Her eyes felt swollen, her throat raw. She must look a mess. She could feel her hair brushing her neck where it had come down.  

The door opened. Raiden was relieved to see it was Cassade. The boy hesitated. “I’ll go,” he said, backing away into the shadows. He disappeared into the darkness.

Cassade sat down next to Raiden and put her arm around her shoulder. “I heard what happened,” Cassade said. “I think it will come out of your dress.” 

“It’s not about the dress.”

“I know,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

They sat in silence. Raiden rested her head on Cassade’s shoulder.

“It won’t be for much longer,” Cassade said, her voice sounding far away and distant. “Another year and we’ll be free of this place.”

She didn’t argue with Cassade, or point out that once they left here they would be expected to find a husband.

“It all won’t seem so bad tomorrow,” Cassade continued, stroking Raiden’s hair.

“I wish…” Raiden trailed off. She didn’t know what she wished or what she wanted.

“I know, dearest. I know.”

They sat together in the darkness. Raiden stared out into the inky black night. There were no stars. There were never any stars in London. The air was too thick with smoke and fog.

“We should go back inside.” Cassade got to her feet and offered Raiden her hand. “Grumble will come looking for us soon.” She pulled Raiden up. “Go and get some sleep, dearest. I’ll tell Grumble you’re not feeling well if she asks where you are.”

Numb, she followed Cassade back inside. Cassade squeezed her hand and left her at the bottom of the stairs. Raiden could hear music and the murmur of voices coming from the hall. She walked away from the light and the warmth, up the stairs into the darkness.

The younger girls’ floor was silent as she passed. They were all asleep. She took the tiny stone steps up to her bedroom. Marielle sat in the armchair mending one of the dresses the imp had ruined. She set her mending aside as Raiden came in.

Raiden couldn’t speak. She simply turned her back to the ghost so she could unlace the dress. The dress fell in a sodden heap onto the floor. She unlaced her boots and allowed them to fall beside it. The lemonade had soaked through to her petticoats. Raiden stripped them off as well and then pulled on her nightdress. Marielle gathered up the layers of fabric and disappeared. She came back with a damp washcloth. Raiden had forgotten about the paint on her face. She looked in the mirror. Black paint was smeared across her cheeks where she had rubbed her eyes. She scrubbed it off and handed the cloth back to Marielle. The ghost hovered by the door. Raiden knew she wanted to comfort her, but she didn’t want to talk to her. Eventually, Marielle gathered up her boots and left.