Bones and Ashes by Gemma Holden Page B

least she was meant to be, and they weren’t afraid of anything, living or dead. Besides, there were more important things to think about. Aren would come for her this afternoon. He had said she could go with him to see Matherson’s former landlady. That mattered more than Blaize and Glacia. 
    Raiden swung her legs over the side of the bed and got up. All of her dresses had been sewn back together and pressed. Marielle must have spent all night mending them. When she got back from the bathroom, Marielle helped her into a grey day dress. The ghost’s hands were gentle as she braided Raiden’s hair and pinned it up.
    The imp sat quietly on her dressing table, talking to himself in a strange language. Raiden tied a ribbon around her neck to try and conceal the red marks; they were even more pronounced today. It hurt having the ribbon brush against her neck, but at least no one would see the bruises. At breakfast, Cassade and Heather said nothing about last night, to Raiden’s relief. 
    The classroom was almost full when they arrived. Blaize was already there with Glacia and Gale. They fell silent as soon as Raiden came in.
    Raiden pulled out her chair and went to sit down. With her back turned, she couldn’t see as her chair was slowly moved back by invisible hands. She sat down and fell to the floor with a thud. Laughter rang out. She got up and pulled the chair back to the table. This time she kept hold of it as she sat down. 
    The door opened and closed and the room went quiet. A moment later the chalk rose from the desk and floated to the blackboard. The words, ‘The Geology of the British Isles’ gradually appeared on the board.
    Mr Smith, the geography teacher, had once been a ghost, but he had faded away as people forgot about him and he forgot. No one was quite sure how it happened. His link to this world had gone, but he couldn’t find his way to the other side. He was lost, stranded between the two worlds of the living and the dead.
    There was complete silence except for the occasional yawn from one of the girls and the squeaking of the chalk as it moved across the board. Raiden was conscious of Blaize sitting behind her. Her shoulders were tensed, as she waited for her to do something. 
    By the end of the lesson they knew what cliffs harpies preferred to make their nests in and why it was unlikely there had ever been dragons in the British Isles.
    “That wasn’t too bad,” Cassade said as they made their way to the next lesson.
    “She still hasn’t mentioned her mirror,” Raiden said. She would rather Blaize say something. At least then she could try to explain and offer to pay for it to be repaired.
    Mr Crandell, the history master, stood at the front of the classroom. “Take a seat,” he said as they entered. “We will begin right away. We have a great deal to cover this term.”
    Raiden sat down next to Cassade. Mr Crandell was a short man, with white wispy hair and black eyes. Thick white eyebrows and a long thin nose dominated his face. He sniffed a lot, as though he had a permanent cold. He looked harmless, but he was an interrogator and he worked for the Inquisition; he was their spy at the school.
    A small painting of Oliver Cromwell hung on the wall to the right of the blackboard. The former head of the Inquisition and the man responsible for abolishing the monarchy was much admired by Mr Crandell.
    “Let’s see who remembers what we were discussing last term.” He wrote ‘The Battle of Hastings’ on the board and underlined it. “We have the English on the hill and William down here with his army,” he said, making circles on the board to show the two sides. “Now, what was Harold’s fatal mistake?”
    Cassade immediately put her hand up. “William had necromancers in his army, Harold didn’t. When his men died, William had them summoned back to fight. It meant he never ran out of men. No matter how many of his soldiers the English killed, he could just summon them back to