How to Raise the Dead

by Leigh Kelsey

  Still, the idea of him closeby spun through her mind and she couldn’t seem to get rid of it.

  “Can you go over it again?” Naia whispered, scuffing the floor outside the supernatural history classroom. Her hands twisted the hem of her SBA jumper into baggy knots and her panicked eyes practically screamed WE’RE GOING TO DO SOMETHING AGAINST THE RULES.

  “Calm down,” Kati said gently. “It’s going to be fine, all you have to do is ask Lavellian if he can give you another book about the necromancer/reaper divide of the 1700s. You told me and Rahmi the other day that you wanted to know more about that period, so this should be no problem.”

  “It’s true,” Naia admitted, chewing her lip. “I do. The chapter in our book was really basic, it didn’t even go into the emancipation of the Reaper Thirteen, or the Indigo Coat Rebellion. And the Chance Vs Bailiff case only got a brief mention, and I’ve heard enough about it to know it was a pivotal moment of harmonising necromancer and reaper communities into one big society.”

  “Perfect!” Kati grinned. “Just say all of that to Lavellian.”

  Naia twisted her jumper tighter. “I guess I could.”

  Rahmi jogged over to them from the ladies toilets, smelling of perfume and anti-bacterial hand gel. “That queue is unacceptable. Did you see it? Snaking around the damn corner. We need more bathrooms.” She had the hard, badass look to her that Kati secretly thought of as Rahmi’s get-shit-done face. “I’m going to ask Miz Jardin about it, I’m sure there are some empty rooms we could reappropriate.”

  Kati smirked. “You should write to the academy newspaper about it.”

  “I should!” Rahmi said fiercely, and then frowned. “There isn’t an academy newspaper, though. Should I set one up?” Her amber eyes glowed.

  “Yeah, go for it,” Kati encouraged. “Maybe you can write a pro-Kati piece and make everyone like me.”

  Rahmi’s expression turned avid. Ah, shit. “A tell-all piece, your side of the story—”

  “No, no, not what I said—” Kati rushed out.

  “You could give me your take, an exclusive story! I bet if people knew everything you’ve gone through, they wouldn’t be so harsh to you.” Rahmi looked ready to get out a pad and pen and begin interrogating her—sorry interviewing her—right that second. The best thing about this damn academy was that it had no journalists, and Kati had just fucking created one.

  Way to go, Wilson.

  “Oh, look,” Kati said gratefully, “the door’s open.”

  She’d never been so relieved to walk into their supernatural history classroom before, especially since it was the most haunted room in the academy and the temperature was often below freezing, something no amount of space heaters, cosy charms, or layers of clothing could change. Kati had a cardigan and a Bring Me The Horizon hoodie over her usual SBA jumper, and she still shivered as a chill wind lifted the hair off the back of her neck, goosebumps rippling all along her arms.

  “Hey, Lavellian,” Kati greeted, along with the other students who filed in after them.

  Lavellian was the old-fashioned eccentric she’d seen in the first assembly, and the master of the male dorms. A ghost who’d lived in the Edwardian era, his clothes were heavy on velvet, brocade, and opulence. Tonight, his outfit was a three-piece suit in viciously red velvet with a yellow flower-patterned shirt, a matching bowtie, and a gold watch chain dangling from his waistcoat pocket. He twirled his eagle-headed walking stick as they greeted him, beaming wide enough to split his face in two. Souls knew how his outfits changed—he’d been dead for over a hundred years and was quite firmly a ghost.

  “Lavellian,” Naia said, her voice a shadow of its usual enthusiasm. “Could I speak to you for a second?”

  “Of course, dear student!” Lavellian replied, his eyes alight. He had a forgettable face—grey eyes, a weak chin, a non-existent mouth—but his eccentricity more than made up for it, making him a larger than life—and death—character and a favourite teacher of most students at SBA.

  “I was—um—wondering if—if you had any books on what we studied last week? The necromancer/reaper divide. I’d—um—really like some further reading.”

  Lavellian beamed. “Of course, of course. I’m so pleased you enjoyed the topic, dour as it is. Here, let me find a book for you.”

  As predicted, he led Naia over to the bookshelves at the back of the classroom, spanning wall to wall and tall enough to brush the dark beams of the high ceiling, each one packed full of centuries of supernatural history. The second his back turned, Kati headed for the cabinet behind the podium he gave his lectures from, her chin high, confidence exuding from her as if she had permission to be browsing textbooks.

  Rahmi took her seat with an anxious look between her two friends, but Kati gave her a reassuring smile as she began thumbing through the textbooks, an uncanny sense deep down telling her to check the title pages. It took four books for her to find something—Theo’s sign scribbled on the title page—but the second she did, she grabbed it, quietly closed the cupboard, and took her seat as if she’d done nothing wrong.

  Which technically she hadn’t. These books covered the syllabus of their third term, so they’d get to them eventually. But if Lavellian asked, she’d claim something similar to Naia—advanced reading, interest in other topics. She didn’t hate history, and she was okay at it so far, so it would be somewhat believable.

  “Got it?” Rahmi whispered when Kati dropped into the seat beside her, laying her assigned history book on the table above her purloined one and absolutely refusing to look shifty. It wasn’t as if she was stealing it—she’d give it back as soon as she was done. Or worst case scenario, she’d hang onto it until their third term when she’d actually need it.

  “Got it,” Kati whispered back, but didn’t dare open the book for a better look at Theo’s graffiti’d name until Lavellian was back on his podium. His enthused, cultured voice could still be heard at the back of the room, discussing the court case Naia had mentioned; Kati guessed he’d be distracted for another minute yet, at least.

  Eventually, Naia took her seat beside Kati, clutching three books and looking supremely uncomfortable. Guilt pricked Kati but she had the textbook her vision had led her to at least; Naia’s discomfort hadn’t been for nothing.

  “I’m never lying to a teacher again in my entire life,” Naia whispered. “Never ever. Rahmi can do it.”

  “Why me?” Rahmi protested quietly. “Just because I’m an impeccable liar with a seamless poker face and a constitution of iron.” She grinned. “Oh, that’ll be why.”

  Kati shook her head in fond exasperation, but she reached across desks to awkwardly pat Naia’s hand. “Sorry, Nai. I won’t make you do it again.”

  Naia nodded, but she didn’t look angry; if anything she looked surprised, and it took Kati a while to realise she’d called her by a nickname. Oh well, it wasn’t as if she’d planned on ditching her friends now anyway. She might as well get extra familiar with them. “Good. But I’m glad it worked. You got the book, right?”

  “I did,” Kati confirmed, lowering her voice and facing forward as Lavellian took to the podium.

  Naia nodded, nervously arranging her books on her desk, and Kati realised her motive for helping was twofold as she said, “When you’re done with it, could I … borrow the book?”

  Kati laughed under her breath. “What, you want to get two terms ahead of the rest of us?”

  “No,” Naia said quickly. And then, “Maybe.”

  “You can have the book, Naia, no problem. But when you graduate SBA a year before everyone else because you’re such an advanced genius, don’t forget about the people who helped you on the path to greatness.”

  Naia rolled her eyes, opening her book to the page Lavellian had just announced. “As if I could forget you two.”

  Kati smiled to herself, and forced herself to pay attention to Lavellian’s lecture for a whole fifteen minutes before she allowed herself to open Theo’s textbook.

 
There in his familiar graffiti style was his name. And right below it, in his scribbly handwriting, were the words LONG LIVE T.O.A.

  Kati swallowed the sudden knot in her throat, closing it quickly. Long live T.O.A… It sounded like something a fanatic would write. A zealot.

  Someone else could have written it, she told herself. And it could mean the Opal Army, the anti-Black-Brooms group.

  It could.

  But the words felt desperate even inside her own mind.

  WHO WOULD’VE GUESSED THE RUMOURS WERE RIGHT?

  Kati sank into a gloom for the whole next week, spending most of her time shut away in her room, finishing her assignments in record time and ignoring the textbook with Theo’s tag in it, along with that stupid phrase. Long live T.O.A.

  The more she thought about it, the less it sounded like something a gentry-like group would say than a group obsessed with family purity, black magic, and torture. It was easier to think someone else had scrawled that in the book than Theo. It wasn’t as if the book belonged to him after all—anyone could grab a book from the cabinet, as Kati had proven.

  It could be someone else’s message. But that felt like denial.

  On Sunday morning, another dream swept her up and tugged her to the death magic theory classroom, where peeling up the current display in the back of the class revealed an essay written by Theo, Colen Greensmith, and a guy called Joshua Salazar.

  She woke with shaking hands, her heart in her throat and a bad feeling gripping her like a fist. Whatever that essay was, it was important, she could sense that much from the dream. Full of dread as she was, she still needed to read it. The idea made her feel sick but it was unavoidable.

  Kati didn’t dare sneak out in the middle of the day to investigate it, so she waited for the sun to set, ignored the bags under her eyes and the tightness in her chest, and set off for the library.

  Mr Worth was nothing if not reliable. With no classes to teach tonight, he sat in the same chair at the same table in the alcove as ever, a pile of books beside him, scribbling away in a notebook. His head was dipped, his nose nearly brushing the page, but his breathing was fast, as if he’d just run a marathon. Kati frowned but didn’t remark upon it as she pulled out the seat opposite him and said, “I need something from your classroom.”

  “My classroom?” he asked, glancing up. His voice was breathless; he really had just run here. But why pretend to be so absorbed in his work?

  Kati narrowed her eyes. “How long have you been here?”

  He shrugged, his eyes going distant. “Oh, I don’t even know. An hour or so?”

  “Don’t lie to me,” Kati said coldly.

  He sighed, putting down his pen, but said nothing else.

  “Fine. I’ll just break into your classroom.” She shoved to her feet, ignoring the lance of pain in her chest as one of the few people she’d hoped she could trust deceived her. It was easier to be angry than upset, so Kati wrapped fury around herself like a comforting blanket.

  “Kati.” He rushed to his feet, reaching out to catch the sleeve of her jumper. His eyes were soft and apologetic when she glared into them. “I’m sorry. I can’t tell you where I’ve been, but I’ll let you into my classroom, okay?”

  “Fine,” Kati spat, then lowered her voice. “But don’t you dare lie to me again.” She didn’t care that he was her teacher; he’d agreed to be her friend, to help her and offer support in dealing with the repercussions of Theo’s actions.

  “I’m sorry,” he said again. Not promising anything, she noticed, her mood darkening further.

  Kati tugged her wrist free and turned on her heel, stalking out of the library and ignoring the terrified gasps and glances of someone in her path. They already thought she was a murderer; fuck what her bad mood made them think now. She couldn’t give a shit anymore. They might be right about Theo but they’d never be right about her, and just the fact that they jumped out of her way or flinched when she scowled at them fuelled her hatred of them.

  “Katriona,” Mr Worth said softly, catching up to her outside his classroom. “You need to calm down.”

  Kati threw a look so seething with fury that even he backed off a step.

  “You’re proving everyone right,” he pointed out, sounding sad about it.

  “I don’t give a shit. Unlock the door.”

  “I’m a teacher; you can’t order me around or people will notice, and then they’ll look closely at both of us.” But he still unlocked the door with a flick of his wand.

  Kati wasted no time in heading for the back of the class, ripping off the crinkly border of the display currently enthusing about concealment charms and their many applications. The door snicked shut as Mr Worth gently closed it, crossing the room to her.

  There, exactly where she’d known it would be, was an A4 printed report on the obsolete crippling curse. Kati scanned it feverishly, her heart sinking at the contents of the essay—while it seemed to argue with itself, presumably because the three people who wrote it argued, it concluded with saying the crippling curse should be brought back and used as punishment for those who broke the law.

  Her brother thought a spell that broke someone’s limbs so they couldn’t work any magic due to excruciating pain should be brought back?

  Kati stumbled away from the wall and bumped into a table, sinking against it.

  Silently, Mr Worth scanned the report she’d read and sighed. It was a sound of both disappointment and pity.

  “Don’t,” Kati muttered, her voice thick. It felt as if the world had stopped moving, just stuttered to a stop. She’d never hurt so much in her life, her heart a screwed-up, shattered thing in her chest. “I know everyone’s right about him, but just—don’t.”

  Mr Worth watched her stare at the floor, reeling, for a long moment, and then reached inside the collar of his white shirt and drew out a long chain with several charms dangling on the end. Kati lifted her dull gaze to watch him pull the necklace over his head, blinking in confusion as he handed it to her.

  “You need it more than I do,” he said simply.

  Listless, Kati closed her hand around the pendant—a wolf tooth, a bear claw, and a tuft of tiger fur, all extracted after long, healthy lives as per the supernatural charm and potion law. It was still warm from his skin but even that didn’t pierce the fog of dismay over Kati.

  “It doesn’t mean he killed that boy,” Mr Worth said softly, perching on the desk beside Kati. “It just means he believed some questionable things.”

  Kati shrugged, unable to tear her gaze from the talisman. “It probably means he did kill him though.” She dragged a hand over her face, surprised to find her cheeks damp with tears. “Everyone’s right about him. All the bullshit they said and I laughed at … it’s probably all true. I don’t know my brother at all.”

  A gentle weight settled over Kati’s hand, still curled around the charm, and Kati glanced down to find his hand covering hers, heat seeping back into her skin.

  “It doesn’t mean anything. You know most gossip is total shit.”

  Kati smiled weakly. “Maybe.” She looked at him for a long while, Mr Worth holding her gaze with his stunning blue eyes, such a depth of sadness and sympathy in them that Kati internally rolled her eyes at herself for thinking he could be the one attacking people. “I’m sorry I thought you were attacking everyone for a few days there.”

  Mr Worth sat back, blinking and withdrawing his hand from hers, but he said, “I’m sorry for thinking you could be doing the same.”

  Kati snorted, shaking her head. She felt a bit more alive, but her heart still hurt like hell. “Well, as least we’re on a level footing. For the record, I’m not running around the school trying to murder people.”

  He held her eyes as he said, “Neither am I.”

  Kati smiled, then glanced at the charm digging into her hand. “What’s this for, anyway?”

  “Strength of the heart.” He pushed off the desk and put distance between them. “Keep it, I can make ano
ther.”

  Kati ran her thumb over the fur, the claw, the fang, and knew they were rare components, that it could take him months and a considerable outlay to replicate the charm. “Are you su—”

  “I’m sure,” he said before she could form the word. “Keep it, Kati.”

  She did, draping it around her neck and tucking it away under her jumper. The weight of it already felt like a reassurance. Pushing off the desk, Kati dried her face with her sleeve and said, “Sorry for being a dick to you earlier.”

  He shrugged, going over to his desk and getting out what Kati assumed was a lesson plan. “Sorry for lying to you.”

  Kati nodded, watching him. “Still not gonna tell me why?”

  “Nope.”

  She shrugged. “That’s fair. You can have secrets, just don’t patronise me by telling me they don’t exist.”

  He glanced up, meeting her eyes, and offered a small smile. “Noted. You should get to breakfast, Kati, there’s only ten minutes left.”

  Kati’s stomach gurgled at the thought of food but there was something else she had to do first. “Actually, I need to tell Madam Hawkness I had another vision.”

  He nodded, and Kati tilted her head at the easy gesture. No shock at the idea of her having visions. He knew. Which meant the headteacher had told the whole faculty. Perfect. Now they’d all think she was a complete loony as well as a psycho killer.

  “You should probably come with me,” Kati added. “All my visions so far have shown a place, and someone’s been either killed or attacked there. You shouldn’t stay here alone.”

  A small smile curled his mouth. “I assure you, I’m capable of defending myself,” Mr Worth said wryly.

  “Don’t be an idiot. I don’t want—” Kati bit off the words, blushing and glancing away immediately.

  “Hmm?” Both amusement and interest curled through his voice, a warmth that settled in Kati’s belly.