How to Raise the Dead

by Leigh Kelsey

  “Then what?” Naia asked tentatively, peering at Kati over the tops of her knees, almost hiding behind them. “And I never said murder, or rituals, or anything like that. I just asked where you went.”

  Kati stared into her mug, realising she was right. “I might have been waiting for it.”

  Rahmi nudged Kati with a slippered foot. “Waiting for what?”

  “For us to turn on you,” Naia guessed before Kati could say it herself. “Why can’t you believe that we’re your friends?”

  Kati shrugged, sullen and silent. It would take too long to explain everything, so she went with the easiest explanation. “I had friends before last December. They weren’t best friends, but still, they’re pretty okay people. Or I thought they were. When the news broke, they stopped replying to my texts. Tabby, the only one who bothered speaking to me, told me to stay the hell away from her. I haven’t heard from any of them since.”

  “Oh,” Naia breathed, her big eyes soft with sympathy. “I’m sorry, Kati.”

  Kati shrugged. It still hurt, their sudden abandonment, but she’d got over it. Mostly. She’d seen them out once, all gathered together at Starbucks the way they always had, and they didn’t seem to mourn the loss of Kati from their friendship group. She’d point blank ignored them, and they’d done the same. It was done. And Kati had decided she was finished with friends full stop.

  She should have stuck to that decision—look what had happened at the first test of Naia’s trust. Kati wasn’t angry at her anymore, she was just … sad.

  “We’re not them,” Rahmi said gently. “And we’re not going anywhere. But you can’t sneak out during the day, Kati. If the teachers find out, you know what they’ll think. And everyone else, too.” Rahmi pursed her red lips, a dark look in her eye. “It’s bad enough for you now, please don’t make it worse for yourself.”

  “I know,” Kati sighed. “I know, Rahmi. But…” She dragged a hand through her hair. “Look, I’m going to sound completely crazy, but I had this dream. I was at SBA, walking through the corridors, and the dream took me up to the third floor, to a classroom I’d never been to before. And when I actually went there, it was real. It felt like I was being guided there.”

  “Why?” Rahmi pressed gently. She didn’t laugh at Kati like she was completely mental; she was just confused, and still watching Kati with sad amber eyes like she was an abandoned puppy in a rehoming center.

  Kati never meant to admit it, hadn’t even said it to Dolly, but somehow she ended up confessing, “I thought it might be Theo. I thought he might be trying to tell me something, that he’d cast a spell on my dreams, and…”

  Naia leaned forward, on the very edge of the chair, her feet slipping off the end of the cushion and thudding into the carpet. Her eyes were blown wide behind her glasses, intrigue and curiosity replacing suspicion and guilt. “Did he give you a message?”

  “I don’t know.” Kati glanced down, turning the mug around in her hands. She noticed Rahmi had given her the same purple mug as before, the one she’d conjured just for Kati, and guilt twisted her stomach at how easily she’d given up on her and Naia. She owed them an honest explanation, at least. “In my dream, it led me to a table with look, listen, and learn carved into it above Theo’s name. In real life … it was just Theo’s tag, the graffiti he used to draw everywhere, but underneath it, it said T.O.A.”

  “T.O.A.,” Naia repeated, a gleam in her eye. Interest sparked. “Do you know what it means?”

  Kati shrugged, scrubbing the last tears off her face and feeling both better and worse for having admitted this out loud. “Never heard of it. He hasn’t written that before, not that I’ve seen, and I’ve never heard him mention anything like it.”

  Naia’s eyes were distant as she mined her encyclopedic mind for answers; she gripped her mug so hard her knuckles went white. “But if he has left you a message, we need to find out what it means. It’s in a code, obviously, but what code? There are all the mortal ones, but there are a few supernatural codes as well. And it won’t be easy, not with only three letters to go on. But then again, it could be an acronym, an organisation. We’ll need to go to the library.”

  “Slow down,” Rahmi said with a laugh as Naia made to bolt. “It might just be coincidence—it could be nothing.”

  Kati evaded their gazes. “The dream didn’t feel like nothing. And it led me there, to a room that actually exists, that I’ve never seen before. It’s important somehow.”

  Rahmi’s gaze was distant; she tapped her fingers against her coffee cup. “Naia’s right, we do need to figure out what it means. But no more midday wanderings. If you have a dream, come wake us up. We’ll figure it out together.”

  Kati stared at them in surprise, vulnerability piercing her chest. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah.” Rahmi shrugged. “That’s what friends do.”

  That statement both filled a hollow chasm in Kati and made her feel sick. “Well. It looks like I’ve never had real friends before.”

  “You’ve got two now,” Naia replied softly, tentatively, curling her knees to her chest again. “If you can forgive me for jumping to conclusions.”

  Kati shrugged. “I’d have done the same. I wouldn’t trust me either.”

  “I should have known better.” Naia sighed. “I know you’re not capable of killing anyone, it’d be obvious if you were, you’re not evil. I shouldn’t have … confronted you. I’m sorry.”

  Kati rolled her eyes, uncomfortable with the whole thing. Her anger had faded, and her sadness was starting to wear off too. They’d be fine, the two of them. “You’re forgiven. You can stop begging for my forgiveness now.”

  Naia rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t begging.”

  “Sure, Clarke, sure.” Kati smirked, feeling both off balance and recalibrated to a steadier, sturdier foundation. She was out of her depth—apparently she had no idea how to have real, proper friends like these—but she’d figure it out. And maybe they could help her if she screwed up again, show her how to be better.

  “I’ll try to be more honest,” Kati said quietly, “if you don’t assume I’m a mad axe murderer at the first secret I keep.”

  Naia held out her hand, palm down. “Agreed.”

  Rahmi and Kati looked at each other, frowning.

  “Um?” Kati asked

  “Put your hand on top and say you agree. It’s binding, but more hygienic than a blood pact.”

  “Actually, a blood pact—” Kati begun.

  “No,” Rahmi shot down. “Don’t even think about it, Wilson. I agree to the terms,” she added, and laid her hand over Naia’s, nearly tipping off the sofa to reach.

  Kati set her hand atop the other girls’ and spoke the words with an exasperated sigh, but a weight had lifted. She’d needed to tell someone about the dream and the graffiti, and Dolly just wasn’t cutting it. “Oh,” she said, “by the way, I have a pug now. She’s a little bitch, but I’m stuck with her for life so you’ll have to get used to her.”

  Rahmi’s face lit up, a beaming smile stretching across her face. “You have a pug? Aww, I bet she’s so cute, can I go say hello?”

  Naia let out a loud, terrified screech that had Kati jumping to her feet, reaching for a wand she’d yet to holster to her arm.

  “What is it?” Rahmi demanded, scanning the room, wand in one hand and her empty coffee cup extended in the other, as if she’d use it to inflict blunt force trauma.

  “We’re late,” Naia breathed, her face drained of blood. “We’re really, really late.”

  Kati glanced at the clock. Shit. Fifteen minutes late to first class. Oh well, it was only P.E. She wouldn’t cry to miss it. Even if they would make a really shitty first impression on their teacher, a renowned hard ass.

  “Don’t worry,” Rahmi said, tucking her wand away. “I’ve got it covered.”

  Kati glanced at her askance; Naia looked ready to die of stress.

  With a wicked little smile, Rahmi added, “My sister told me Mr Prise is terri
fied of ‘women’s problems.’ And, oh no, I just came on my period.”

  SISTERHOOD AND SERIAL MURDER

  Physical education went about as well as it could go. Mr Prise had gone as white as a sheet when Rahmi apologised profusely for the three of them being late, explaining how she’d come on her period just before they were meant to leave for breakfast, and her flow was so heavy, and she couldn’t find a pad or a tampon anywhere. Halfway through, he’d waved them off and said, “Just don’t make a regular thing of it.”

  Mr Prise was a ghost with a voice like a foghorn, a bulldog-like face, and coarse hair cut in a square shape on his head. He’d died in his forties, in the prime of his life—as he said at least three times during their hellish lesson—and reminded Kati of boot camp instructors she’d seen on TV. She despised everything about him, but especially his lesson plan.

  What monster made them run the beep test for their first ever class?

  The only silver lining was the promise of playing games later in the term, especially levitation rugby. They’d need to learn an advanced weightless spell before they could play, but it was essentially mortal rugby except you could kick off the ground and soar over the other team’s heads—and they could jump up and knock you out of the air.

  “My arse hurts,” Kati groaned as she limped out of the shower block, wrapped in a fluffy towel. “How does my arse hurt?”

  “A firm backside is the key to running,” Rahmi proclaimed, keeping a straight face for all of two seconds before she burst out laughing. Kati found the bright sound smoothed the jagged edges of her mood and had her smiling back. “That and you landed on it when your legs finally gave out.”

  “Ah yes,” Kati muttered darkly. “That.”

  “At least you didn’t hit your head,” Naia said miserably, looking supremely uncomfortable in her towel. It was the same size as Kati’s, but where it almost drowned Kati, most of Naia’s long brown legs were visible. “On the wall.”

  Kati grinned. “You won, though.”

  “It’s not—” Naia averted her eyes, something Kati had learned was akin to blushing for her. “It wasn’t a competition.”

  “Oh, it was,” Rahmi disagreed, finding the bench where they’d left their clothes folded—or in Kati’s case, dumped in a pile. “It’s a horrible contest of physical strength, no skill required whatsoever. No offense to the winner,” she added.

  Kati wriggled her underwear and jeans on without unwinding her towel, pulling her shirt over the top and then letting the towel fall. Her bra required a bit more finessing, fastened around her stomach, shuffled up, and then the straps pulled awkwardly over her arms until they snapped into place. In the end she was rather pleased with herself. “You did well, Clarke. The strongest person in our year.” She play-punched Naia. “If I need a bodyguard, I know who I’m coming to.”

  Naia glanced away. “Just because I ran further doesn’t mean I’m stronger.”

  “What’s wrong with being strong?” Rahmi asked, frowning as she fiddled with her long-sleeved P.E. shirt. “Take the compliment, Naia, you deserve it.”

  Kati nodded, then grabbed her damp towel and held it as far apart as her short arms could manage. “I’ll make sure no one sees anything they shouldn’t,” she told Rahmi, a warm feeling bursting in her chest at the relief in Rahmi’s eyes. Kati angled herself and the towel so Rahmi could change in privacy, but nothing could be done for the damp-edged hijab.

  “It’ll dry,” Rahmi shrugged. “I should have brought a second towel for my hair. Next time I will.”

  “Um,” Naia said, shuffling from foot to foot. “Can you do that for me?”

  Kati and Rahmi each took a side of the towel when Rahmi finished changing and cloistered Naia into their makeshift changing room, ignoring the questioning glances they got from the other girls emerging from the showers. It encouraged that warm feeling in Kati’s chest until she could put a name to it: camaraderie, sisterhood. She felt like she was part of something, firmly a member of their friend group. Oddly, their argument this evening had strengthened their bonds.

  They left the changing rooms in search of plates piled with carbs, laughing and chatting amiably. The good mood lasted until the end of lunch, when they stood up and deposited their trays on the long table on the stage, heading for the door in the exact moment a third year burst into the dining hall, his dark skin shining with sweat and his eyes frantic.

  “They’ve found another one! There’s another body!”

  “Where?” Gull Llewellyn shouted, getting to his feet.

  “Study hall on third floor,” the third year panted. “It’s a kid in my year apparently.”

  “Blood ‘ell,” exclaimed Vickers, the cockney cherub in the ceiling mural.

  And then all hell broke loose. Around them, students shot to their feet, a hundred voices filling the ballroom—students and immortal paintings alike—but Kati looked only at Rahmi and Naia and said, regardless of whether they could hear her over the racket, “I didn’t do this. I swear.”

  “I know,” Rahmi mouthed, reaching across the table to squeeze Kati’s hand.

  Naia nodded, not a trace of doubt in her eyes. Because she trusted Kati after their heart to heart, or because she knew Kati couldn’t have done it because they’d been with her all night?

  But this morning … this morning Kati had followed a dream up to that room, and tonight there was a dead body there. For the first time, she wondered if the dream hadn’t come from Theo, but from someone else. And if that someone else was trying to frame her.

  PANDORA’S BOX

  Kati, Naia, and Rahmi were pulled along with the flow of gossip-hungry bodies out of the dining hall and past the death magic theory classroom, students moving as one vast panicked, curious beast towards the stairs in the foyer. Kati spied a familiar figure in the doorway and she snagged Rahmi’s and Naia’s arms, hauling them over to Mr Worth. She gasped as someone’s elbow found its way into her ribs, but eventually staggered free of the crowd.

  “What happened?” she asked him urgently. “Is it true? There’s another body?”

  He gave her a serious look. “You know I can’t confirm that.”

  Kati rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah, because it’s going to stay a secret with the entire academy going upstairs for a look.”

  “It can’t be true, though,” Naia gasped, looking at Mr Worth for a sense of calm, her usually neat french braid ragged, either from her worrying it or from the crush of bodies they’d just fled. “Can it? If someone else has died then it’s a … a…”

  “Serial killer,” Kati supplied helpfully.

  Naia shot her an alarmed stare. “But—but this is an academy.”

  Mr Worth sighed, eyeing the students crowding up the staircase, a backlog that had obviously been stopped on a higher floor. If Kati strained, she could almost hear Mrs Balham’s stern voice. “That doesn’t mean it’s safe,” he said sadly, a furrow between his brows. “I doubt there’s much point going to your next lesson,” he added. “There’ll have to be an assembly.”

  Kati fist pumped subtly, and at his blink, she explained, “It’s supposed to be necromancy. With Hale.”

  Naia groaned. “I don’t know why she hates you so much.”

  “Because I’m the physical incarnation of everything that’s ever been evil and bad in the world,” Kati said flippantly. “Like pandora’s fucking box.”

  “You shouldn’t swear in front of a teacher,” Naia whisper-hissed, then to Mr Worth, she said, “I’m sorry.”

  “Did—” Kati stared, not sure if she was mock-offended or real-offended. “Did you just apologise for me?”

  “No.” Naia ducked her head, hiding her face.

  Rahmi cackled, then remembered there was a murder and silenced the sound immediately. “Whoops, that was inappropriate.”

  Kati grinned.

  Mr Worth just sighed. “Do you ladies require my assistance or can I return to my classroom…?”

  “Actually.” Kati pointed at hi
m. “Did you copy those book pages for me?”

  His blue eyes lit up, and he ducked into the classroom, emerging a moment later with a stack.

  “Um. When you said a few pages, I thought you meant three. Five tops.” She squinted at the pile, then grunted as he put it in her hands. It weighed a tonne. “Did you photocopy the full book?”

  “No,” he replied quickly. Too quickly.

  Kati rolled her eyes, laughing softly. “Well, thanks.” She ignored the sly look Rahmi aimed her way. “Let me know if you find out anything interesting about the murder.”

  His eyes hardened. “I absolutely will not.” Glancing between the three of them, he said sternly, “And none of you will look into it yourselves, do you hear me? Stay out of it.” He said the last bit looking Kati in the eye.

  “They’re going to blame me,” she sighed, hugging the stack of pages to her chest.

  His eyes didn’t soften; if anything they turned steely, as sharp as flint. “No, they won’t.”

  Kati just shrugged. It was inevitable. Even though no one could know she’d been up to that room just hours ago, they’d still point fingers at her.

  “Go to the assembly hall. Stay out of trouble.”

  He said the last part as if he didn’t quite believe they would.

  AN UNINTENTIONAL SACRIFICIAL LAMB

  As predicted, classes were cancelled for the rest of the day, and all sixty-odd SBA students were squashed into the assembly hall to listen to Madam Hawkness give a stern warning to anyone who even dared think of black magic, rituals, runes, or murder. She didn’t look directly at Kati when she said it but most of the hall made up for it, students craning their necks to glare at her or give her wide-eyed glances. Or worse, people smiling in fake friendliness, as if the smile would prevent them from being the next victim.