Bones and Ashes (13 page)

Cassade set the lamp down on the desk and picked up a half-finished letter from the ledger. She held it close to the light so she could read it. “It’s signed Thaddius Grimwood,” she said, examining it. “He was Lady Grimwood’s husband. This must be Lord Grimwood’s study.”

No one had been here for over two hundred years. The brownies would have kept it free from dust. It was as if Lord Grimwood had only just stepped out of the room. The fire had been made up, ready to be lit. A book lay on the sofa, still open to the page he had been reading. It was a dead man’s room. His private study.

A row of red leather bound books filled the top shelf of the bookcase. Cassade pulled one out and opened it, squinting to read the tiny handwriting. Each volume was stamped with roman numerals. There were over twenty volumes, although the set wasn’t complete. Three volumes were missing.

“They’re his private journals,” Cassade said as she scanned the fragile pages. “The Inquisition would love to get their hands on these.”

A mummified hand lay under a glass dome. It resembled a claw with long, black nails that curled round. Raiden touched the glass and the fingers moved. She jumped back.

A noise came from outside in the passageway. They both turned. “We should go,” Cassade said. Instead of replacing the journal, she pulled more volumes off the shelf.

“What are you doing?” Raiden asked.

“He’s not going to miss them. I’m just borrowing them. I’ll replace them once I’ve read them.”

Raiden sighed and shook her head. She went first, carrying the lamp as Cassade had her arms full. Cassade pulled the door shut behind them. Raiden could sense someone else here. A feeling in her stomach told her to get out. She was relieved when she stepped out into the storage room. Raiden set the lamp down and blew out the flame. She closed the panel as soon as Cassade was through. It clicked back into place, fitting back seamlessly. No one would ever know there was a door there.

Footsteps approached on the other side of the panel. Raiden held her breath as she waited to see if whoever was on the other side would open the panel. The footsteps paused and then continued on. 

“Who do you think that was?” Cassade asked.

“Maybe it was Lady Grimwood,” Raiden said with a shudder.

“Let’s get out of here.”

They all but ran along the corridor, back to the entrance hall. Mrs Lynch looked at them suspiciously as she passed.

“I need to get Deg some blood from the kitchen,” Raiden said.

Cassade wasn’t listening. She was already deeply engrossed in one of the journals. Raiden didn’t know how she managed to walk and read at the same time.

She left Cassade at the bottom of the stairs and went down to the kitchen. Huge saucepans containing some sort of broth were bubbling on the stove, but the kitchen was deserted. She quickly poured blood into a saucer for Deg and then fled.

As soon as she set it down on the floor of her bedroom, Deg pounced on it greedily and began lapping up the blood. She took off her coat and gloves and sat down at her dressing table. Unlacing the strings of her reticule, she tipped the amulet out. The tarnished chain pooled in her hand. She held the gem up to the light.

Deg stopped lapping up the blood. “Baad,” he said.

“It’s just an amulet, Deg.”

He backed away, shaking his head. She rose and moved toward him. He vanished. She turned around. “Deg?” There was no answer. She looked down at the amulet. The faceted jewel was lacklustre and dull. It looked like glass and paste and yet Matherson had hidden it in a shadow box. He must have considered it valuable. She opened the pouch tied at her waist where she kept Marielle’s bones and slipped the amulet inside.

****

Grumble was late dismissing them from supper. Raiden had to hurry to her room to change for the theatre. Her grandmother had never taken her anywhere publicly before. She wouldn’t be introduced formally to society until she made her debut next year, but Cassade had been to the theatre with her family several times.

Marielle took out a dress from the wardrobe and laid it on the bed, while Raiden went to wash. She should have worn the dress from the previous night, but that had been ruined with lemonade. This dress was made from black silk with a heart shaped bodice. Raiden stretched her arms up and the ghost lifted the heavy mass of fabric over her head. Raiden shivered at the touch of her icy hands as she did up the laces down the back. Marielle opened her jewellery box and took out three fat silver spiders. The biggest one had a large clear jewel for its body, while the other two were smaller and made entirely of silver. They looked as if someone had taken a living spider and coated them in liquid silver. Their legs wriggled frantically. One tried to scurry away and Raiden quickly slapped her hand over it to stop it.

Marielle deftly braided sections of Raiden’s hair. She took the biggest spider and pressed down on the jewel and the legs snapped together securing Raiden’s hair. She put the two smaller ones either side to help hold her hair in place.

Raiden outlined her eyes in black with the fairy paints. She didn’t want to disappoint her grandmother tonight; it was rare she spent time with her. She pulled on long black gloves. Marielle lifted the cover from the mirror so she could see her reflection and then left her. Raiden smoothed down her dress as she anxiously checked her appearance.

“You’re not pretty.”

Raiden froze. In the mirror, her reflection was walking around her room. “No matter how much time you spend on your hair or what you wear, you will never be pretty.” The girl sat down on the armchair. She lounged back, one hand thrown casually above her head. Her black eyes inspected Raiden. “You know she only invited you to come because Xanivar told her to. She doesn’t want you there, not really. No one wants you Raiden; not your grandmother, not your aunt. Not even your father.”

“Who are you?” Raiden asked.

“I’m you.” Her reflection smiled.

“No, you’re not.”

“This is what you really think, deep down. You know it’s true. They don’t care about you, Raiden. You’re an embarrassment. A disappointment.”

“You’re not me. You said Xanivar.”

Her reflection looked confused. She sat up. “That’s his name.”

“I always call him Xan. I never call him Xanivar.”

Her reflection narrowed her eyes. “I’m still right though. They don’t want you, Raiden. No one does.”

Raiden took the cover and threw it over the mirror. Perhaps she was right. It didn’t change anything though. She settled a heavy black cloak over her shoulders and left the room.

Miss Grimble was waiting at the bottom of the main staircase, her arms crossed over her bony chest. Raiden had known Miss Grimble would confront her eventually about breaking Blaize’s mirror. She went down the remaining steps to face her.

“Tomorrow I expect the zombie you have hidden in the storage room to be gone,” Miss Grimble said.

Raiden opened her mouth to explain and then thought better of it. “Yes, Miss Grimble.”

“There’s nothing that happens in this school that I am not aware of.”

“Yes, Miss Grimble.”

Miss Grimble nodded to her and marched away. She might know about the zombie, but she still didn’t know about Deg.

Raiden went to stand by the bay window that overlooked the driveway. Miss Meek fluttered up to wait with her. “You look lovely, Raiden,” the fairy said. “Is your grandmother here yet?”

“Not yet.”

What if she didn’t come? What if her grandmother had changed her mind about taking her?

The carriage appeared just as the clock began to strike the hour. It appeared as if from nowhere. Four white ghost horses pulled it, their transparent bodies glowing in the moonlight.

“There she is,” the fairy said. “Have a lovely time.”

Raiden slipped outside, closing the door behind her, and hurried down the steps to the carriage. A coachman sprang forward to open the door. She climbed in to where her grandmother sat waiting.

Chapter Ten

Her grandmother said nothing as she got in. She stared straight ahead, her back straight, her hands clasped in her lap. Raiden took the seat across from her. The door shut and the carriage pulled away. She leaned forward to wave to Miss Meek.

“Is that really necessary?” her grandmother asked.

Raiden lowered her hand. She sat back in her seat and placed her hands in her lap. “I’m sorry.”

They sat in silence as the carriage passed through the deserted streets. Raiden shifted in her seat. Her grandmother sat stiffly, unmoving. She looked like a statue. Raiden tried to think of something to say to her, but she couldn’t think of anything. She realised they were going to spend the evening in silence. Her grandmother had nothing to say to her. Raiden had always tried to be what her grandmother wanted her to be, but none of it mattered if she had no magic. Without magic, she would always be a disappointment. She sighed.

“Are you unwell?” Her grandmother’s voice was filled with disapproval.

“No,” Raiden said, confused.

“Then there is no need to make that sound.”

Raiden wanted to sigh again, but she stared out of the window instead. The streets were empty now except for the occasional carriage. In the street light, she could see dark shapes moving in the alleys; a flash of gleaming eyes, the brief outline of a creature.

Outside the theatre, dozens of people exited from smart carriages. It wasn’t as crowded as it would have been a few weeks ago, before the social season had ended and most of the aristocracy had left for their country estates for the winter. The people here tonight were those that, for whatever reason, had remained in London or had not yet left.

The coachman opened the door. Her grandmother exited first. Raiden took the hand the coachman offered to follow her. They stepped around a carriage pulled by four seahorses. Their dark blue scaly skin glistened with the water the coachmen were pouring over them to keep their scales moist. Dark green fins ran down the centre of their backs, from the top of their head, all the way down to form long thick serpent-like tails. Instead of hooves, their feet splayed into three talons. Raiden had ridden Cassade’s seahorse Aqua, although the fins that ran down Aqua’s back had been removed so she could be ridden, but these still had their’s intact.

A carriage pulled by six sylphs, who had taken the loose shape of horses, came down from the sky and landed in front of them. The sylphs were transparent, yet she could see the outline of every strand of hair in their manes. They were beautiful, like moving crystal, their bodies constantly flowing. In the sunlight they would be dazzling, but in the dark they looked almost like ghosts.

She followed her grandmother through the crowd of people into the theatre. In the darkness of the carriage she hadn’t been able to see what her grandmother was wearing. She wore a black silk dress with a modest neckline, black silk gloves, and tiny diamond bats in her white hair. An elaborate choker embroidered with black pearls ringed her throat. It wasn’t often Raiden saw her grandmother outside of the mansion. She leaned heavily on her cane. Raiden wanted to take her arm to help her, but she didn’t dare.

They handed their cloaks to a steward. The foyer was packed with people, all talking loudly to be heard over the noise. Her grandmother simply walked through them and they parted for her. Raiden tried to follow, but she quickly lost sight of her grandmother in the crowd. No one moved aside for her. She nearly stumbled into a demon. She felt his spikes through the fabric of her dress. She stepped back and heard a cry from behind her. Another demon clutched his thick tail in his hand. “I’m sorry,” she said.

She pushed her way through the throng of people. The party at the school the night before seemed so childish in comparison. One lady had a silver rope woven through her dark hair. The rope appeared to be moving, weaving its way through her curls. A head appeared. Ruby gemstone eyes looked at Raiden and a forked tongue flickered out, before it disappeared back into the lady’s tresses. She passed another lady with tiny silver spiders dangling from her ears. They were pierced through their middle, their legs frantically wiggling. Another lady wore a necklace with a huge sapphire gemstone. A tiny figure was inside, banging its fist on the glass, trying to get out.

The ladies whispered behind their fans, their eyes calculating and cruel as they watched each other. She could never be part of this. She didn’t want to belong here. On the surface it was beautiful, but underneath she could feel the jealousy and malevolence.

Overhead, a line of fairies flew. Their paper thin wings glowed in the gaslight and their bell shaped skirts bobbed up and down. Demons intermingled with the humans, but there were no zombies or ghosts that she could see.

She finally broke through the throng, but she couldn’t see her grandmother. She stood against the wall, unsure of what to do. A fairy hovered in the air, dressed in evening clothes, talking to a demon and a lady whose dress was made up of tiny black diamond scales that fit her almost like a second skin. The fairy looked over and saw Raiden staring. He wore a top hat on his black hair. Long pointed ears stuck out from beneath it and he had eerie orange eyes. The fairy gazed at her with contempt. Raiden met his gaze. She wouldn’t be intimidated by a fairy when she could squash him with a finger. The fairy said something to the lady and she turned to look at Raiden. The pupils of her pale yellow eyes were slit like a reptile’s. Xan had once told her slit pupils in a creature was a sign they were poisonous. The fairy murmured something and the lady laughed.

Raiden turned her back to them. She could still hear the laughter. She kept her hands by her side, her fingers clenched in her skirts as she looked around desperately for her grandmother.

A hush came over the room as a small man entered. Most of the lords and ladies stepped out of his way and several turned their back to him as he passed. Leathery brown skin and his bulbous nose identified him as a goblin. His black hair was slick with grease. Raiden had read about him in the newspaper. The goblin had disassociated himself from the rest of his race and had made a fortune from cotton. He owned the factory where several ogres had been killed. He was dressed impeccably, in black evening clothes. He wasn’t like the rest of his race who were known for their lack of cleanliness and poor hygiene. 

Goblins were considered a demon race, but their ears were rounded like humans and ogres, not long and pointed like the other demon races. Charles Darwin had proposed a scandalous theory some years before that goblins, ogres and humans must share a common ancestor based on the shape of their ears, although few people would believe humans could be related to goblins or ogres in some way.

“What is that terrible smell?” the fairy said loudly, breaking the silence that had fallen over the crowd with the goblin’s entrance. He turned as if just noticing the goblin. “Oh, it’s you.”

The fairy’s companions laughed. The goblin turned red. “How dare you!”

“How dare I?” The fairy took out a tiny lace handkerchief from his pocket and held it up to his nose. “I’m not the one who came here with your dreadful smell. It can’t be helped I know. After all, your kind bathes in sewage.” 

The goblin clenched his hands into fists. Goblins were known to be cruel themselves, but they weren’t known for their intelligence or wit. The fairy had him at a disadvantage here and he knew it.

“You go too far,” the goblin said, keeping his voice low. “I will call you out.”

The fairy laughed. “A duel! How delicious. But I’m afraid I won’t be able to indulge you. A duel is only between gentlemen, which unfortunately you are not.”

No one interceded on the goblin’s behalf. Raiden could see the lords and ladies all watching and listening, but no one stepped in. Many of them hid smiles of amusement.

“It seems I am not welcome here.” The goblin looked around at the crowd, as if hoping someone would step forward in his defence, but no one spoke. “I will bid you goodnight.”

The goblin gave a curt bow and then turned and marched through the crowd. There had always been hostility between the goblin and fairy courts. The two races hated one another. Over the centuries they had often been at war, but there had been an uneasy truce between them since the last war over a hundred years ago.

It never stopped, Raiden realised. The pettiness and spitefulness. The cruelty. It wouldn’t end when she left the school. She empathised with the goblin. He had tried so hard to fit in, but he would never belong here. They wouldn’t let him belong. 

She saw the back of a lady with white hair, talking to an elderly lady with grey hair. Thinking it was her grandmother, she moved toward them, but as she got closer, she realised she had been mistaken.

“You know who that is, don’t you. The girl in the black dress.” The lady she had mistaken for her grandmother was speaking. Her voice was lowered, but still loud enough for Raiden to hear.

“They’re all in black dresses,” the other lady said.

The white haired lady let out a huff. “The blonde one.”

The lady with grey hair turned to peer at Raiden through her lorgnette. “I haven’t seen her before. Who is she?” 

“She’s the Duchess of Northumberland’s granddaughter.”

The small lady gasped. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I am. She looks just like her mother.”

“I haven’t heard much about her.”

“Well…” her voice lowered to a whisper, “they say she hasn’t come into her family’s magic.”

“At her age!”

“No.”

They lapsed into silence. Raiden was aware of their gaze. She stared ahead, pretending to be oblivious to them.

The white haired lady continued. “You remember the scandal with her mother all those years ago.”

“They say the apple never falls far from the tree.”

Her grandmother appeared through the crowd, her steely gaze fixed on the women. “Come along, Raiden,” she said.

She followed her grandmother, not wanting to be separated again. “What did she mean about my mother? What scandal was she talking about?”

“I have no idea,” her grandmother said. “Perhaps she confused you with someone else.”

Raiden knew she wasn’t going to answer her question. The crowd had thinned as most of the people had left to take their seats before the performance began. The fairy with the eerie orange eyes was still there. He was now talking to an elderly gentleman. 

“Do you know who that fairy is?” Raiden asked.

Her grandmother glanced back. “Do not look at him.”

“But --”

“That is Prince Valerian. It is not wise to draw his attention.”

He would have to be a prince. “Why not?”

“He leads society. He can be merciless if he takes offence to you and it takes very little to annoy him. You should stay away from all fairies. Just because you’re too old to be stolen away does not mean they’re not dangerous.”

“You mean he could ruin my reputation?”

“He could do more than that.” Her grandmother’s tone was sharp. “When I had my debut there was a fairy lady. She was high up in the fairy aristocracy. There was a breeze and it blew her back. She tumbled through the air and her skirts went over her head. One girl laughed.” Her grandmother was silent for a moment. “She realised what she had done, but it was too late. They found her dead in her bed the next day, her mouth full of ribbons.”

“She died just because she laughed?”

“They have different rules. They do not abide by the same laws as us. The family got off lightly. They had two young children. They were fortunate they didn’t take the children as well. Fairies are a demon race. They may look human, but they’re not. Do not forget that.”

Her grandmother led her up the steps to another floor. Curtained doorways led off to the boxes. Her grandmother paused to exchange words with a couple.

A man stood by one of the curtains talking to a woman. There was nothing remarkable about him except for his hair. It was a deep red. Raiden knew who he was, even without seeing his face: Lord Ignatius Inferre, the Duke of Exeter and Blaize’s father. The man who had been at Matherson’s house the night of his death and also there the night her mother died.

The Duke must be in his mid-forties now, although no grey marred his hair. It was the same brilliant shade of red as his daughter’s. He threw back his head and laughed at something his companion had said. He moved aside, revealing the woman he was with. Raiden’s breath caught in her throat. It was Sylvia, her aunt. Cut extremely low, the black dress she wore clung to her body and her golden hair was curled into ringlets that bounced when she tossed her head. Her lips were painted a dark red and her eyes were outlined with black. She ran her hand along the Duke’s arm, smiling up at him. He bent his head and put his lips against her ear and whispered something to her. She laughed and swatted his arm playfully with her fan. She was supposed to be in mourning for her late husband.

Her grandmother turned from the people she had been speaking to.

“Sylvia is here,” Raiden said.

They still hadn’t noticed them. They were too immersed in one another. The Duke was widowed; if he were to marry again, his wife would be a duchess. Sylvia would finally get the title she had always wanted. She would also be Blaize’s step-mother.