by Gemma Holden
“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.
The door opened. Raiden quickly slipped the clipping under a pile of books. She turned around as Cassade came into the room.
“Are you coming down to supper?” Cassade had changed out of her black travelling dress into the grey day dress the students all wore at the school. Her brown hair had been rebraided and pinned up.
“I still need to change,” Raiden replied, pretending to straighten her books. “I’ll meet you in the hall.”
“Don’t be too long or there won’t be any food left.”
Cassade left just as Marielle appeared to help Raiden change out of her dress. Marielle unlaced the dress and Raiden stepped out of it. The ghost lifted the grey day dress over her head. While Raiden did up the buttons that ran down the front, Marielle went to work rebraiding her hair. Outside her room, Raiden could hear girls talking and laughing. She tried not to flinch as a door slammed shut. It was difficul
t being back at school after spending the summer in complete silence. She hadn’t spoken to anyone in months. Sometimes she talked to the ghosts just to hear the sound of her own voice, but they couldn’t talk back.
****
The hall was packed with girls talking and gossiping in hushed voices. The hall was vast, although it was difficult to see how big it was with most of it in darkness. A huge chandelier hung from the ceiling, but it was unlit. The two huge fireplaces on the left side of the hall were both empty as well. Miss Grimble liked to keep costs down. The only light in the hall came from the wall sconces dotted around the room, but they were just small circles of light, which did little against the darkness.
There were a dozen tables in the hall, with enough room to seat twelve girls at each one. At the end of the room was a smaller table for the teachers. Here, the chairs were upholstered instead of the hard wooden benches the students had to sit on. Raiden stepped carefully as she made her way to their seats; she couldn’t see where the spiders were in the dark. Heather, whose bedroom was on the same floor, sat across from Cassade with her earth witch friends Bryony and Marigold. Like most earth witches, she had dark brown hair and eyes.
Rayne, Cassade’s younger sister, waved to Raiden from across the hall. She was a younger version of Cassade with the same golden brown hair, but she had blue eyes instead of grey and a scattering of freckles across her cheeks.
Raiden slipped into the seat next to Cassade just as the teachers began to file in, led by Miss Grimble. Mrs Lynch towered over the other teachers. She had a grim expression on her face. Miss Rudge, the science teacher and the youngest teacher at the school, followed her. Her frazzled brown hair hung in a braid that reached past her waist. Next was Miss Fairbanks who taught deportment. Her appearance seemed to reflect her name. She had fair hair and blue eyes, but Raiden knew from experience she was not at all fair. She had stood by and done nothing when Blaize had emptied out Raiden’s trunk. Miss Meek flew behind them. It was hard to make the fairy out with so little light, but Raiden could just see the sparkle of the fairy dust that fell from her wings.
Deegle came last. He was the only demon that taught at the school. He barely came up to Mrs Lynch’s waist. A pair of spectacles perched on his long nose, obscuring his small black eyes, and long pointed ears stuck out from his head. His skin, which was rough and coarse, was a dark leathery brown. His clawed feet made a tap-tap sound as he walked. His red velvet dinner jacket, scaled down to fit his small body, hung low at the back to discreetly hide his tail. His hands were clasped together. He was always careful with his hands. The thick black claws had been filed down, but they were still razor sharp.
The teachers took their seats while Miss Grimble remained standing. Two teachers were missing; Mr Crandell, who didn’t live at the school, and Miss Radbone, who never ate dinner with them. One chair remained empty. It moved back on its own, then back against the table. Mr Smith, who taught geography, was a ghost who had faded away. No one knew who he was. They simply called him Mr Smith.
“Good evening girls,” Miss Grimble said. She waited a moment for the whispering to stop and for them all to settle down. “I’m pleased you have all returned safe and well to begin another year here. For those that are joining us for the first time, welcome. I’m sure you will adapt quickly to being here. I hope you have already made yourselves familiar with the school rules. Remember, this is not a place for magic. You should have already been educated by your families in that respect. And remember to keep your windows closed at night. There are creatures that can get in no matter how high up you are.”
She paused before she continued. “Most of you know what is appropriate to bring with you when you come here, however it seems some of you are still unclear.” Miss Grimble turned to look at Raiden as she spoke. “It is not appropriate to bring the dead to school, human or otherwise. It is not that I am against the dead, on the contrary, a number of members of my staff are deceased, but we do not have the facilities here to store them. I hope I have made myself quite clear on this subject and that there will not be another misunderstanding this term.”
Raiden didn’t need to turn around to know Blaize and Glacia were laughing at her.
“Before we eat, there is one final thing,” Miss Grimble said. “Tomorrow, we will be hosting a small party and a few pupils from Greyfields boys’ school will be attending.” The hall broke out into chaos as girls began talking. Miss Grimble clapped her hands together for silence. “It’s just a small gathering, however, I expect all the older girls to attend.”
Greyfields was the equivalent of Grimwood Manor, but for boys instead of girls. The boys from wealthy families used to be sent to Eton to be educated, but after it had been overrun by zombies and destroyed for the second time, the school had been moved to London where the Inquisition could keep a closer eye on the students. Most of the teachers at the school were interrogators who worked for the Inquisition. From the stories she had heard, it wasn’t a pleasant place.
Miss Grimble took her seat and maids began to bring out tureens filled with some sort of broth. Raiden exchanged looks with Cassade. They were one of the few who weren’t excited at the prospect of a party. They knew what it meant - standing in the corner all evening while Blaize held court.
Cassade picked up the ladle and began to spoon the broth into bowls. Raiden looked longingly as maids walked past carrying plates piled with potatoes and roast beef to the teacher’s table. Warm blood was brought out for Deegle and Miss Meek.
Raiden prodded the lumps in her broth with her spoon. She had always thought Miss Grimble kept the hall dark on purpose so they couldn’t see what they were eating.
She hadn’t eaten all day. She ate quickly. There wasn’t much to go around, but then, no one wanted very much. She came to a strange lump. She fished out a finger; the fingernail was black and thick.
Raiden put down her spoon. She was no longer hungry.
“Hodges is losing his limbs again,” Heather said.
Hodges, the cook, was dead. At least, he had been dead for a short time. He had been brought back as a zombie and then his ghost had been put back into his body. He was now classed as the living dead. His body was technically dead, but his mind was intact and he was aware of who he had been. Usually the body was boiled in wine or vinegar to strip away the flesh leaving just a skeleton, so incidents like this didn’t happen.
“Miss Grimble should really insist he have his flesh removed,” Cassade said. She took the finger from Raiden and wrapped it in her handkerchief. She gave it to one of the passing maids, who brought out a fresh bowl.
They finished their broth and then they had to sit and wait until Miss Grimble finally rose from the table to dismiss them. “You may go to bed when you’re ready. I’m sure you are all tired from your journey. Lessons will begin immediately after breakfast tomorrow morning. Do not forget, I expect all the older girls to be at the party tomorrow night.”
Mrs Lynch waited at the door, handing out candles as they left the hall. Gas had been installed in some parts of the manor, but Miss Grimble didn’t trust them with gas in their bedrooms. There had been an accident some years before, and with fire witches at the school, Miss Grimble saw a fire as preferable to a gas leak. Cassade took a candle and led the way upstairs. Blaize strode past, with Glacia behind her, a ball of fire in her hand. They passed a doorway that had been bricked up. Muffled sounds came from behind it.
“A party,” Cassade muttered as they went up the stairs. “How wonderful. I came here to learn, not to be paraded around. I want to be judged by my intellect, not how well I look in a dress.”
“They won’t judge you by how you look in a dress,” Raiden said, linking arms with her friend. “There’s also your family’s social position, their wealth and how much influence they have to take into consideration.”
The crowd of girls they had left the hall with gradually thinned as the younger girls broke off to go to their own rooms, until it was just Raiden and Cassade
left. They made their way up the labyrinth of staircases until they finally reached the tiny stone steps that led to their floor.
“I’m going to bed,” Cassade said, when they reached the top. “Rayne kept me up last night talking.”
Raiden fetched a candle from her room. She held the wick against Cassade’s candle to light it. “Good night,” she said. It was strange having someone to say goodnight to.
“Good night, dearest,” Cassade said. She stopped at the door and turned back. “I’m glad we’re back here together, even if we have to put up with Blaize and Glacia and Grumble’s silly parties.”
“So am I,” Raiden said, and meant it.
After she had left, Raiden set the candle down on her dressing table. Marielle had laid out her nightdress and turned down her bed. The ghost hadn’t waited up to help Raiden with her dress, but Raiden didn’t need her help. Unlike the travelling dress she had worn on the way here, the grey day dress they wore at the school had buttons that ran down the front. It meant a maid wasn’t needed to get into and out of it. Raiden pulled out the pins from her hair and let the heavy mass tumble down her back. She could see an egg shaped lump under the covers on her bed. Peters had put a brimstone in her bed. She held her hand above it. She could feel the warmth emanating from the stone and see a faint amber glow through the blankets. It would keep her feet warm tonight.
Raiden went to the door and turned the brass key in the lock. She took the newspaper cutting out from under the book, where she had hidden it when Cassade had burst in. She had taken it from the newspaper the day before. It didn’t say very much, only that a Mr James Matherson had been in his bedroom at home when a fire had broken out. The door had been locked from inside the room. It was unclear why he was unable to escape; it was suggested that perhaps he was asleep. The Duke of Exeter, returning from the theatre, had stopped and broken down the door to get to him, but the gentleman was already dead.
She took a book down from the shelf. Holding it open by the cover, she gently shook it. A newspaper cutting slipped out from between the pages and fluttered down.