Bones and Ashes

by Gemma Holden

  Hearing a noise, she opened her eyes. Deg approached her cautiously. “Raadin hurt?” he asked tentatively.

  She hurt, but it wasn’t just the bruises. It hurt inside. There was a tightness in her chest that made it hard to breathe. She didn’t feel angry or upset, just empty.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” she said to him. “You don’t belong here.” Deg hung his head. “But I don’t belong here either.”

  The imp tucked his small body next to her. He stared up at her with sad black eyes. He seemed content to sit with her in the darkness. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself.

  The sound of someone clearing their throat made her look up. She got to her feet and went over to the dressing table and pulled the cloth from the mirror. A skeleton was on the other side. He wore a white shirt and a black waistcoat. His eye sockets were empty in his skull. He had taken out his glass eyes for the night.

  “Xan,” she said, sitting down at the dressing table.

  Her godfather, Xavier Xanivar, or Xan as she called him smiled - as much as a skeleton was able to smile. “I hope I didn’t wake you,” he said.

  “No, you didn’t wake me.” She was glad the room was in darkness so he couldn’t see her clearly.

  “I thought you would still be at the theatre with Eleanor.”

  “We left early. Grandmother wasn’t feeling well.”

  “I see. I’m afraid I’ve been neglecting my duties as your godfather. I forget how quickly time passes. Now you’re back in London, you must come and visit me at the museum.

  “I’ll try.”

  “Did something happen at the theatre?” he asked. “You seem very quiet.”

  “Nothing happened. I’m just tired.” She did her best to smile at him.

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  “No. There’s nothing.”

  “What about a story?”

  When she was younger and alone by herself at her family’s castle in Northumberland, Xan would often read to her through a mirror. His voice might be the only voice she heard that week.

  Xan moved away from the mirror. He reappeared a few moments later with a brown leather bound book. “This has just arrived from America. The story was serialized in the newspaper over there. I think you will like it. It’s about a girl who’s left at a boarding school while her father is away with the army. The headmistress, Miss Minchin, makes Miss Grimble look like a kitten.”

  “Does her father ever come back for her?” Raiden asked.

  Xan hesitated before he answered. “Eventually. But it’s not his fault he can’t be with her. Circumstances prevent him from returning to her.”

  She didn’t know if they were still talking about the book or her own father. She covered the mirror while she changed into her nightdress. Bruises were already beginning to appear on her hip and shoulder. She pulled the cover off and then climbed into bed. He waited for her to snuggle down under the covers before he opened the book to the first page and began to read. The soft sound of his voice lulled her to sleep.

  Chapter Eleven

  Raiden examined herself in the mirror. There was a large bruise on her hip, her elbow was grazed and her right shoulder was various shades of purple and black. She winced as she did up the tiny buttons that ran down the front of her dress. It hurt to raise her arm. She was having to dress herself, having sent Marielle away so she wouldn’t see the bruises.

  She checked her appearance carefully in the mirror to make sure there was no visible evidence of what had happened last night. The majority of the bruises were covered by her dress and the marks from where the lady in the mirror had tried to strangle her were beginning to fade. She tied a cameo around her neck to hide them. She was getting adept at hiding bruises now.

  She entered the sitting room to find Cassade reading one of Lord Grimwood’s journals. The water witch didn’t look up as Raiden took a seat opposite her; she was too immersed in the book.

  “This is fascinating,” Cassade said, finally setting the book down. “He didn’t just keep a journal of what was happening at the time, he writes about the whole history of the Grimwoods. Did you know he was the royal physician to King Charles? We associate necromancers with the dead, and yet all the knowledge we have about the human body comes from their research and dissections.”

  “Which volume is that,” Raiden asked. Cassade had taken the first three books, but according to the roman numerals stamped on the side, this one was the fifth volume.

  Cassade looked guilty. “I may have gone back to replace the earlier ones. And I may have borrowed the next few.”

  “You went back there alone?”

  “Yes, last night.” Cassade was usually against doing anything reckless, unless a book she wanted to read was involved. “I checked on the zombie when I was down there. You need to get rid of him. He’s starting to smell.”

  “I’ll sneak him out this afternoon and take him to Aren.”

  Cassade opened the journal again. “Lord Grimwood writes a lot about magic mirrors as well.”

  Raiden looked up. “What does he say?”

  “He says that the mirrors used to imprison witches were originally used for storage. Why take half a dozen trunks with you, when you could put all your belongings into a single mirror and just take the mirror with you. It was the Inquisition who had the idea of putting a person inside. It was the perfect prison. At one point, the Inquisition had 150 mirrors where they could imprison witches, but some were lost over the years. Others were destroyed with the witch inside so they could never escape.”

  Raiden shivered.

  “He also says there were master mirrors; mirrors that could control other magic mirrors. There were five of them known in the world. The Inquisition had one. Lord Grimwood said they had to be careful about talking through a mirror as the Inquisition could be listening. There were four others, but no one knew exactly where they were.”

  Cassade broke off her lecture as Heather burst into the room. She quickly slipped the journal under the table into her lap and picked up ‘A Vindication of the Rights of Woman’.

  “You will never believe what is in London,” Heather said. She had a newspaper in her hands.

  “What is it?” Cassade asked, frowning.

  Heather spread the newspaper out across the table. “There’s a vampire in the country, a real vampire, and he’s staying in London.”

  Cassade appeared unimpressed. “Their kind shouldn’t be allowed into the country.”

  Usually, Cassade was so adamant about different races being accorded the same rights as humans, but not vampires it would seem.

  “I saw him at the theatre last night,” Raiden said.

  “You saw the vampire! Why didn’t you say something?” Heather took the seat next to her. “What did he look like? Was he handsome?”

  “I wouldn’t call him handsome. He was sort of sickly looking. He was very thin and pale.” She didn’t mention he seemed to know her grandmother, or that he had spoken to her.

  “That’s not very romantic,” Heather said, clearly disappointed.

  “Perhaps he hadn’t fed,” Cassade suggested.

  “He can feed from me,” Heather said.

  Cassade rolled her eyes in disgust.

  The bell began to ring. They got up to go to their first class. Raiden stopped at the door to the classroom. She couldn’t go in. Not after what had happened last night.

  Cassade turned back. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” Raiden said. She tensed as she entered the room. Blaize and Glacia were already there. Miss Radbone’s mirror had been hung on the wall. It showed her empty desk.

  “How was the concert last night?” Cassade asked as she took the seat next to Raiden.

  “I don’t know,” Raiden said. “We left before it began. My grandmother wasn’t feeling well.”

  Raiden was spared from having to answer more questions as Miss Radbone took her seat. “Good morning, girls,” she said, in her toneless voice. Her gaz
e was fixed on the back of the classroom as usual. “If you’re all ready, we shall begin.”

  They spent the lesson reciting verbs over and over again. Raiden was conscious of Blaize and Glacia sat behind her, but for once they left her alone.

  The bell rang and Miss Radbone dismissed them. “Miss Feralis,” she called as they got up to leave. “I need to speak with you, if you could stay for a few minutes.”

  After the other girls had left, Raiden approached the mirror. Miss Radbone was straightening the books on her desk. Raiden had never been this close to her mirror before. The teacher looked younger than she had thought, in her mid-twenties perhaps. She seemed so fragile with her large black eyes and long white hands. She looked like a porcelain doll that might break at any moment.

  The teacher looked over her shoulder as if checking to see no one else was there. She turned to Raiden and beckoned her closer. “You have to be careful, Raiden,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “You’re in terrible danger. I don’t know what you did to upset her, or why she would want to hurt you, but she does.”

  “I don’t understand,” Raiden said. “Who are you talking about?”

  “It’s not safe for you here. You should leave the school and go somewhere where there aren’t any mirrors.”

  “You know about the mirror?” Raiden asked, lowering her voice and moving closer. “Who is she? Why does she want to hurt me?”

  “You don’t know?”

  A noise, like the sound of a door creaking open, came from inside the mirror. Miss Radbone froze, her eyes wide with terror. “You must remember; if she can see you, she can hurt you.”

  “Please tell me who she is.”

  Miss Radbone spun around in her seat. She stood up, blocking Raiden’s view of whoever was there. “Please. Please don’t hurt me. No! Please don’t…” She cried out as she was pulled away from the mirror. The surface went black, before it faded away to show Raiden’s own reflection.

  Raiden touched her fingertips to the glass. “Miss Radbone,” she called. “Miss Radbone!”

  She had thought someone was using a magic mirror to attack her, but they weren’t. They were inside the mirror.

  Her reflection changed; black eyes now stared back at her. Her reflection smiled. “Raiden, what have you been up to getting poor Miss Radbone in trouble? I will have to punish her.”

  “Please don’t hurt her.”

  Behind her, the door opened. Raiden turned. Grub had come to take the mirror down. When she turned back, her reflection was back to normal. “Grub,” she called. “I think Miss Radbone might be in trouble.”

  The ogre hurried over. “Miss Radbone?” He knocked on the surface of the mirror. Raiden winced, sure he would break it with his huge hands. “Miss Radbone?”

  An image slowly formed in the mirror. Miss Radbone sat at her desk, her hands clasped neatly in front of her. “What do you want Grub?” she asked. Her voice was calm, but her knuckles were white from where she clenched her hands so tightly.

  Grub wiped his hands on his trousers. “I thought you were in trouble.”

  “As you can see I’m quite well. Now, take me down and return me to my room.”

  “Miss Radbone, about what you said…” Raiden interrupted.

  Miss Radbone stared ahead with her usual blank expression. “I told you, your Latin is quite awful, you need to work on it. I cannot help you anymore.”

  Raiden met her gaze. The teacher’s words were harsh, but her eyes were pleading. “I understand,” Raiden said. The image faded away. Grub lifted down the mirror. “Grub, do you know why Miss Radbone was imprisoned inside the mirror?”

  Grub shrugged his huge shoulders. “She was bad.”

  “But you don’t know why she was put in the mirror? What it was she did?” He scratched his head. “Do you know how long she’s been in there?”

  He frowned and set the mirror down against the wall. “This long,” he said, holding up all ten fingers.

  She had been in the mirror for ten years.

  “Once they’re in the mirror is there any way to get out?”

  He shook his head. “No, see.” He pointed to a tiny chip in the mirror. It was barely noticeable. A tiny fragment, nothing more than a slither was missing. “They take a piece. It has to be whole to get out. If they’re very bad, they break the whole mirror, and then they never escape.”

  He was referring to the Inquisition. Raiden remembered the shattered mirror at Matherson’s house. It was missing one last piece.

  “Thank you, Grub,” she said.

  “Bye, Raiden.” He carried the mirror out, tucked under his thick arm.

  Raiden was left alone in the classroom. The girl who had attacked her was imprisoned inside a mirror. She should be powerless inside it, but somehow she had found a way to influence things. She remembered Cassade’s story of master mirrors; mirrors that could control other magic mirrors, but surely it was just a story. But if the lady in the mirror did have a master mirror, how did she get hold of it when she was imprisoned inside the mirror?

  Miss Fairbanks frowned at Raiden as she entered the classroom and took her seat, but she made no comment about Raiden’s absence.

  “What did Radbone want to talk to you about?” Cassade whispered.

  Raiden was conscious of Blaize sitting behind them, listening. “My Latin,” Raiden whispered back. “It’s getting worse.”

  Cassade frowned. She would know there was nothing wrong with Raiden’s Latin.

  After lunch, Raiden slipped upstairs to change her dress and get her coat and gloves. She hurried down to the older part of the school. She would wait until classes started and then she would take the zombie to Aren. She unlocked the wardrobe. The zombie was still crammed inside. She took his cold hand and helped him out.

  “Go. Home,” he said.

  “Soon,” she said. “You can go home soon.”

  ****

  A bell rang as she opened the door to the office of Smallpeace, Dawes and Pumprey. Peters and the zombie followed behind her. The gas lamps were lit, although it was still early in the afternoon. It gave the office a warm glow. The room would be almost cheerful, were it not for the various dead people sat waiting to be seen.

  A gentleman approached her as she entered. He was a slight man, with a small moustache. His mousy brown hair was neatly combed. He smiled at her pleasantly. “May I be of assistance?”

  “I’m here to see Mr Feralis.” It was strange calling Aren that.

  “If you will come this way.”

  Waiting to be seen was a zombie boy. He could only have been about ten years old. A zombie woman held his hand. She was missing her left arm and the side of her face had caved in. It was unusual to see a zombie child; they were rarely raised from the dead. A skeleton fairy sat in the next seat. To the other side of him was a mummy wrapped in bandages that were brown and stained. A ghost in military uniform sat slightly apart. His red jacket had half a dozen gunshot holes and several stab wounds.

  A number of coffins and a sarcophagus were propped up against the wall. A young man knocked on one of the coffins. “Sir, Mr Pumprey will see you now.” The door opened and a zombie stepped out. He followed the young man.

  The gentleman led Raiden into a corridor with six doors leading off it. Brass plaques listed the occupants of each room. He led her all the way to the end, to a door that was dented and battered as if something particularly large had tried to get in. There was no plaque.

  He knocked on the door. Aren opened it. “There’s a lady here to see you.”

  Aren was in his shirtsleeves. His blonde hair was mused, as if he had been running his hand through it. “Yes, well, um, please come in,” he said, motioning her forward. “Thank you,” he said to the gentleman.

  Aren’s office was half the size of her bedroom at school. It was little bigger than a broom cupboard. A desk had been crammed into the tiny space and two chairs. There wasn’t even a fireplace. He would freeze in the winter.

&nbs
p; “Raiden, I would have come to see you, if you had sent word you needed to see me,” Aren said, as he shut the door.

  “Do you mind me coming here?” she asked. It was his place of work and not exactly proper, although she hadn’t come here unescorted. Peters had been with her.

  He smiled. “Of course not. It’s just that you’re the first person to visit me.” He held out a chair for her. “Why do you have a zombie with you?”

  “I found him.”

  He sat down behind the desk. “You found a zombie? I thought you were back at school now.”

  “I am. I found him on my way to school. But he wasn’t a zombie then.”

  “What was he?”

  “Dead.”

  Aren looked puzzled.

  “My carriage passed him on my way back to school. He was lying on the road. He had been dragged from his horse and killed. It was late; no one else was going to come along and I couldn’t leave him there to be eaten, so I took him with me back to school.”

  “But how did he become a zombie?”

  “I’m not sure. Mrs Lynch said she would hand him over to the authorities. Then, yesterday I saw him with a lady walking down the street and he was a zombie. I didn’t know what else to do with him, so I brought him to you.”

  Aren leaned back in his chair. “There’s a group called the Resurrection Men. They steal corpses and then raise them as zombies and sell them.”

  “Why would anyone want to buy a zombie?” Raiden asked.

  “They make excellent servants. They don’t need to eat or drink or even sleep. You don’t have to pay them wages and they will do whatever you ask. It’s rather like having a ghost for a servant I imagine.” Aren looked at Peters as he spoke.