Page 2 of From the Ashes
Mrs. Denk's hand came down on my cheek. I reeled back, clutching my stinging face, too surprised to make a sound. The other girls' gasps echoed around the stone walls. Alice covered her mouth with both hands, her pretty gray eyes huge.
Mrs. Denk grabbed my arm at the point where her cane had struck me. Her bruising grip rubbed my sore flesh. "Come with me, Miss Holloway. I have a very special punishment in store for you."
She marched me out of the banqueting hall to the sound of the girls' horrified whispers. I couldn't catch many of their words, but one sounded clear as a bell: oubliette.
Alice had told me all about the oubliette, the narrow dungeon beneath the castle too small to lie down in and accessed via a trapdoor in the castle floor. She'd claimed it was a special punishment reserved for the worst prisoners in the castle's violent history, and for those 'wayward' girls too wicked to socialize with the rest of the students at the school. None of the current students had seen the oubliette, but Mademoiselle LeClare, the French teacher, told them of a girl in her time as a student here who'd died within its damp, lonely confines. I asked her if the girl had simply fallen in or if she'd been thrown in by the headmistress, but Mademoiselle LeClare hadn't been forthcoming with the particulars. The girls believed the worst, however. Rumors of the student's ghost haunting the castle didn't help. I'd not seen any female spirits floating around the castle, however, only a man dressed in blood stained clothes and chain mail that clinked musically as he walked. It alerted me to his presence, allowing me to avoid him. I didn't want anyone there to know that I could see ghosts let alone summon them at will.
We passed through the old kitchen with its yawning fireplace, our footsteps echoing in the disused room. Mrs. Denk pushed me through the doorway to the stairs, not stopping at the ground level, but descending into the stale, damp depths of the castle. I could have escaped Mrs. Denk's grip using the moves Lincoln taught me in our exercise regimes, but a spell in the dungeon would save me from classes for the rest of the day so I decided against a fight. Besides, it would probably only be for a few hours to try and scare me into submission. I could pretend to be contrite if I grew bored.
The stairwell became too narrow for us to walk side by side. My hair skimmed the rough stones overhead and Mrs. Denk had to hunch over. The stairs opened up to a large room with a vaulted ceiling, supported on columns wider and taller than the generously proportioned headmistress. It was colder than the rest of the castle, something I'd not thought possible. The only fire allowed in the school was in the dining room attached to the new kitchen on the ground level. Not even Mrs. Denk had one in her office. I knew because I'd been sent there every day since my arrival.
She finally let me go, but blocked the exit to the stairs. I considered tackling her, but suspected that would only lead to further punishment. I didn't want my food rations to be cut. They were already less than what I'd become accustomed to at Lichfield, although so much more than the meager morsels I'd managed to steal each day living on the streets. If I was to build my strength for a spring-time escape from the school, I would need to eat as much as I could and stay healthy.
"Mr. Fitzroy won't come for you," she said without a sympathetic note in her voice. "They never do. It's best if you learn that now rather than later."
"For once, I agree with you. He's not the sort of person who changes his mind once it's made up." Especially when there was no one to help him change it. Seth, Gus and Cook couldn't manage it. They still feared him, and even if they struck up the courage to challenge him for sending me away, he didn't care enough about their opinions to change his mind. That was the problem—he didn't care enough about anyone. Even me, as it turned out.
I suppressed the rising well of sorrow by biting on my tongue.
"Is this it?" I asked, looking around. The wall glistened with damp and something scratched in the dark corner. I could just make out a large stone slab positioned near one of the columns, and a set of rusty chains hanging from rings attached to the wall. Leg irons puddled on the floor nearby. "No oubliette? How disappointing."
"I am not an unreasonable woman, Miss Holloway," she said. "But I do not tolerate willfulness in students."
There were a dozen responses to that, but I suddenly couldn't be bothered with any of them. I wasn't going to change her mind, or soften her stance. She believed that discipline and routine would fix our so-called waywardness. While that may be true for many girls, it wasn't true for those of us sent there because of our supernatural abilities.
It had taken me a week before I'd seen evidence of inhuman characteristics in the girls, but once I noticed them, I saw more. I counted six out of the eighteen students, and another two I wasn't yet sure about. It had begun with the medium whose gaze followed the ghost as he walked past, but there was also a fire starter, two who could move objects with their minds, and another two whose hands became suddenly and inexplicably hairy when they were upset.
Then there was Alice, a seer, or something of that nature. Or so I suspected. She had strange dreams that were so vivid it took her a few minutes to fully waken. In that dreamlike state, she rambled about all manner of strange things, mostly about a queen trying to kill her.
"You will remain here until you learn to co-operate," Mrs. Denk said, spinning on her heel.
"Will I be fed?" I asked.
"Once per day."
"Per day? You intend to keep me here overnight?"
"If that's what it takes to instill some obedience into you."
"And if it doesn't?"
"We shall see."
"What if I'm still disobedient in a week? A month? Will you keep me in here without exercise or company, or even light?"
"It never takes long, in my experience."
"I'd wager you've never met anyone like me before."
I thought I heard her snort, but I couldn't be certain. Such an unladylike sound from the very dour Mrs. Denk was highly unlikely. It was far too emotional for the wooden matron.
"What if I die down here?" I asked, rather enjoying myself now. It was petty and juvenile to make a nuisance of myself, but it felt bloody good. It wasn't just her I was annoying, it was Lincoln too, in a convoluted way. God how I wished I could be a thorn in his side once again, just to get some measure of satisfaction, even if it was petty and small-minded. "What if the welt on my hand festers?" I showed her my palm, still burning from the strike of her cane. "What will you do then, Mrs. Denk?"
"Do be quiet, Miss Holloway," she said on a sigh.
"And if I'm not? Will you send me back to my guardian?"
She stopped and rounded on me. Her hands linked in front of her, a picture of demure, albeit expressionless, piety. "I don't think you understand, Miss Holloway. Girls are sent here with the understanding that they will never return to the homes they knew beforehand, no matter what transpires. You are unwanted. Cast off. Forgotten. I do not send anyone back to the place from which they came. Ever."
