Bones and Ashes (20 page)

Chapter Sixteen

She kept to the road. Tobin wasn’t coming. He had never failed to come to her before. She had to get back to the school somehow, but she had no money to hire a hansom cab and to walk back across London would take all day. Without Tobin, she didn’t even know the way.

A carriage pulled by four white unicorns came down the street. The unicorns had blue feather plumes on their heads and elaborate silver harnesses with tiny bells. Their manes and tails had been allowed to grow long. They swept the floor and yet somehow they avoided picking up any of the filth. The carriage pulled to a stop. As she walked past, the door opened.

“Lady Feralis,” came a voice from inside.

She kept walking. The carriage drew abreast with her, the door still open. The carriage pulled by the zombie horses came round the corner, heading toward her. There was nowhere to hide.

“Lady Feralis, may I offer you a lift?”

Inside she could see two empty seats, but she couldn’t see who had spoken. The other carriage was coming closer. She could see the rotting flesh on the dead horses.

She climbed in.

The door shut behind her. She looked around, but the carriage was empty; there was no one there. She went to sit down.

“I offered you a lift. I don’t believe I mentioned anything about sitting on me.”

She jumped up and spun around. A fairy sat on the seat, his back against the cushions. It was the fairy from the theatre who had been so rude to her. The seat dwarfed his tiny body; no wonder she hadn’t noticed him. Prince Valerian was dressed impeccably in a black suit, one leg casually crossed over the other. His wings were tinted black and his black hair was slicked down under his top hat. He would have been handsome by human standards were it not for his eerie orange eyes and his long pointed ears that marked him as one of the demon races.

The carriage began to move. She sat down on the seat facing him. Her grandmother had said to stay away from him. Fairies were dangerous. They wouldn't do something without wanting something in return.

“Where to?” he asked.

She hesitated. If he took her back to school would that mean she was indebted to him? He could ask for anything in return. She had once heard a story of a fairy that had helped a farmer. He had fixed a wheel on his cart. In return, the fairy had asked for the farmer’s child. The farmer had refused. He lost everything, including his wife and all his livestock. In the end, he had given the fairy the child.

“What will it cost me?” she asked.

He met her gaze. “I want nothing in return.”

She didn’t believe he didn’t mean to trick her in some way. “Smallpeace, Dawes and Pumprey, the solicitors.”

He arched a slender black brow, but made no comment about her choice of destination.

He settled back against the seat. “Something you have is of interest to me.” She looked at him blankly. “The amulet,” he prompted.

“Amulet?” she said, conscious of the heavy chain around her neck.

“The amulet is mine. I purchased it from the previous owner, but he died before I could collect it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know you are lying. You cannot lie to my kind.”

Raiden frowned. “I thought it was you that couldn’t lie.”

“If I couldn’t lie, then how could I have told that walrus of a baroness last night that the dress she was wearing flattered her?” The fairy leaned forward. Even though he was tiny, Raiden drew back. “You can pretend you know nothing of what I am speaking, but didn’t your grandmother warn you about the consequences of angering me.”

Raiden swallowed. “What do you mean you purchased it from the previous owner?”

“James Matherson offered to sell me the amulet; it had come into his possession. I paid him fifty thousand pounds for it, but he died in a fire before I could collect it.”

So that was where James Matherson had got the money from and why he hadn’t given the lady in the mirror the last missing piece of her mirror. He had intended to sell the amulet instead.

“What makes you think I have it?”

“Lazare believes you have it. He would have made his move by now, but he doesn’t want me to know you have it.”

“I don’t understand. Why do you want the amulet?”

The lady in the mirror needed the amulet to escape her mirror, but why would Prince Valerian want it?

He tapped his silver topped cane against his crossed leg. “Did you know the Inquisition control all the archaeological excavations in this country? Anything found becomes the property of the Inquisition. Of course, they claim it’s so the objects can be studied and displayed, but in fact it’s because they don’t want any powerful objects to fall into the wrong hands. Humans cannot make magical items; they can only use them. Two thousand years ago, the greater demons ruled most of Europe. They had a great empire. They ruled this country as well at one time, before the empire crumbled and fell into ruin. They made things, powerful things. They were lost over time, buried deep in the earth. The amulet is one of those things.”

“If I did have it, shouldn’t I give it to the Inquisition?”

“Do you trust them to have such a thing?” the fairy asked. “They claim they’re preserving your history, or are they keeping it for themselves, for their own power? They hate magic and those that can use it. They would be happy to see all of you dead.”

“You think I should trust you with it instead?”

The fairy shrugged. “I don’t intend to do anything with it. I simply wish to make sure no one else has it, especially Lazare.”

The carriage stopped. The ogre driver opened the door. He was dressed smartly for an ogre in a charcoal grey coat and a black bowler hat on his bald head, not the usual shabby clothes most ogres wore.

“You can think about what I’ve said. If you were to give me the amulet, there would be enormous rewards. Most of your stories are about what happens when humans anger my kind. They don’t mention how generous we can be. You’re about to make your debut to society soon. With one word I can make you popular. You will be adored. People will throw balls in the hope of gaining your favour and whatever you wear will instantly become the latest fashion. You will have power that is unmatched.”  

She thought about what he would do to her if she didn’t give him the amulet. He could ruin her socially. “I will think about what you’ve said.”

“See that you do. My offer will not be valid forever and then I will have to resort to more persuasive means.”

****

The ogre helped her out of the carriage. He shut the door and then heaved his large bulk up onto the driver’s box. Raiden pulled open the door to the solicitors. She had to find Aren and stop him going to see Matherson.

The same gentleman who had greeted her before stepped forward. “I wish to see Mr Feralis,” she told him.

“I’m afraid he’s not here.”

A feeling of dread settled in her stomach. “Where is he?”

“He’s gone to see a client.”

She was too late. He had already left to see Matherson. “When did he leave?”

The gentleman took out a gold pocket watch. “About an hour ago I believe.” He looked at her stricken face. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“No,” she whispered. “There’s nothing you can do.”

She stumbled out of the office onto the street. She had no money, no way to get back to school. Unfamiliar buildings surrounded her. She was lost without her ghosts. She followed the stream of people, stepping over the filth that covered the pavement. Street vendors shouted to be heard above one another. In the sky, a wyvern swooped down above the traffic, startling several horses. She felt vulnerable without her ghosts. She tried not to flinch as people brushed by. She hadn’t realised how much she depended on them. She simply asked Tobin to take her somewhere and he did. She didn’t know the name of the street Matherson’s house was on or how to get back to the manor from here.

Suddenly, her arm was seized and she was pulled into an alley. She opened her mouth to scream, but a hand clamped over her mouth.

“Yu cum wiv us,” said a voice.

Two creatures each held one of her arms. They reached a little below her waist. They had huge bulbous noses and black eyes with long, almost ape like arms. Coarse black hair covered their bodies. They were some sort of species of goblin - a boggle or a boggart perhaps. There wasn’t much hair on their hands and feet. Those parts looked almost human, with pink skin and black nails. They were small, but strong. Their hands held her in an iron grip. She elbowed her assailant and kicked out at the other one, but it had little effect.

They dragged her further into the alley to where a goblin waited by a tiny, childlike carriage. The goblin had greasy brown skin with a prominent brow, thick lips, and black rotted teeth. He came up to just past her knee. He was dressed in a coarse brown jacket and trousers, with a red scarf knotted around his neck.

“Someone wants to see you,” the goblin said.

The creatures - she had decided they were most likely boggles - dragged her over to the tiny carriage. The goblin opened the door.

“I won’t fit in there,” Raiden said, struggling to get free.

“If you don’t fit, we can always cut off your arms,” the driver suggested.

They shoved her into the tiny carriage. She couldn’t fit. Her knees were tucked under her chin and she had to keep her head pressed down. They stuffed the rest of her dress in and shut the door. The carriage took off. She hit her head on the ceiling as she was bounced around. The carriage swerved. She was thrown painfully to the side, hitting her elbow. She couldn’t see clearly out of the window, just a tiny slither of sunlight that suddenly vanished to be replaced by darkness.

They travelled for what seemed like hours before the carriage finally pulled to a stop. The door opened. The boggles took her arm and pulled her out headfirst. She fell to her hands and knees in the dirt. They were deep underground. Two lanterns hanging from the front of the carriage provided the only light. The carriage was tiny in order to fit through the tunnel, but it could go no further. Ahead, the tunnel narrowed.

“Straight on; they’re waiting for you,” the driver said.

Raiden got to her feet and tried to brush the creases and dust from her dress. “What if I don’t go?” she said.

The driver shrugged. “Good luck finding your way back.” He backed the pony up to a small notch in the tunnel and used it to turn the carriage around. He disappeared down a passageway, taking the light with him. The boggles scurried after him.

She tried to follow him, but when she got to the passageway there was nothing but blackness. She couldn’t see or hear any sign of the carriage. 

With no other choice, she followed the tunnel in the direction the driver had pointed, one hand against the dirt wall, feeling her way. She had to duck down as the tunnel narrowed. Her head brushed the dirt above her and it showered down. It didn’t seem as if there was anything supporting the ceiling and stopping the tunnel from falling in.

Eventually, the ceiling became higher and she could walk upright without having to crouch down. She came out into a hall. The floor was thick with bones that crunched under her feet. The stench made her choke. She pulled a torch from the wall. Enormous stone pillars rose up into the darkness. Under all the bones and filth, the floor was carved from stone. There was a ring of torches in the very centre of the hall. She headed toward them, clambering over the bones. At the centre of the torches, on a huge golden throne, sat the Goblin King.

****

He was the size of a two year old child. His legs dangled over the edge of the throne as his feet couldn’t quite reach the ground. He had a grotesque face, with leathery brown skin. His huge bulbous nose was pebbled with warts and his greasy black hair hung in ropes down his back. On every finger, he wore gold rings with huge gems and in his rounded ears were dozens of tiny gold hoops.

The golden crown on his head was encrusted with dirty diamonds and rubies. She didn’t know if she should point out it was the crown of a queen, not a king.

The Goblin King watched her approach with beady yellow eyes. He chewed on a bone. As she got closer, she realised it was an arm. The juices ran down his chin, onto his already stained silk shirt. More bones were scattered around the throne.

Next to the throne was a small stool on which a tiny man sat. He was twice the size of a fairy. He had a thin, elongated face and the long pointed ears common to all the demon races. The corners of his eyes slanted up. She had never seen a pixie before. They never usually left Cornwall. She wondered if Prince Valerian knew there was a pixie in London. The fairies and the pixies had been at war ever since the pixies had driven the fairies out of Cornwall.

The pixie lounged in his chair, casually sipping blood from a glass thimble. He was out of place here in his elegant clothes. The Goblin King had cruel eyes, but there was something in the pixie’s eyes that made her think he was more dangerous. He watched her closely above his glass.

“Want amulet,” the Goblin King said, tearing strips of flesh from the bone with his teeth.