The Ghostly Past

Chapter 22

Clara was still reeling as she pushed through the crowds, stepping into to the bustling ballroom with a sense of detachment. Her skin was still icy, yet she barely felt it, stumbling in her slightly muddy heels. Her body trembled, from shock perhaps.

Tonight, she had almost died. Amelia's memories had led her to the well and Max had been right. If he hadn't been there, if he hadn't been strong enough to pull her back, she would have plunged into the darkness. She would have drowned, if the fall hadn't killed her. No one would have known she was there, lying dead in the dark slimy shadows.

He'd kissed her. The dance, his smile...she had thought foolishly in the moment that it meant something. But it had been a lie. He'd been caught in the moment perhaps. It was clear how much he regretted it.

They were going to die, all of them. 

She had suspected it. It had given her sleepless nights since her discovery of the marked names inside the book of family trees. But with Max's confirmation, it seemed all the more tragic.

She couldn't believe how accepting they all were. There was no great plan to avoid it, only a strange resignation.

Her thoughts drifted over the tale as she accepted a glass of wine from a waiter who stared at her in apparent concern. Jess as the girl had to be Rosa, which meant Leo was Arthur. So who were the others? It meant that Jess would eventually no longer love him, that she would find solace with one of the others. Her heart clenched.

"Clara?" Harriet appeared from a door behind her minus her tray. "One of the other students said they saw you looking upset." There was genuine worry on her face as she caught Clara's arm. "You've been crying. Look your makeup is all smudged. Come on."

She allowed Harriet to drag her to the bathroom. The face in the mirror was pale, her eyes rimmed with dark smudges. She looked tired, Clara thought.

"Sit still and I'll get your face sorted." Harriet said in maternal tones. "So are you going to tell me who made you cry so I can go and hit them?"

"It's nothing."

"Is this about what we were discussing earlier?" Harriet asked.

"I think I'm just tired." Clara gave her a weak smile. "Don't worry about me, honestly. I'd better get back out there."

Harriet looked sceptical, but didn't press the matter, instead watching as Clara reentered the ballroom. She could see Warren drinking with a few men she didn't know. Everyone else were strangers. Leo and the others, including Oliver, had vanished.

"It's happening." She whispered to herself, feeling keenly for Oliver. He was about to be informed by his friends that he was part of some insane reincarnation cycle and would likely commit suicide within the next year. Surely it would have been kinder almost to keep him in the dark, Clara thought, and not burden him with such horrors.

The sound of the ball seemed muted, the laughter, the music floating over the top, the players all from the Academy, it all seemed quieter, fuzzy. It seemed profoundly wrong. How could Mayor Vella throw this party when his son had a death sentence hanging over him? How could anyone bear it?

Across the floor, she saw a single person who seemed to feel as she did. Kim was alone, slamming an empty glass of wine down on a table, her face wet with tears she was trying to hide with tissues from her bag.

Clara weaved her way through to her. "Your makeup is surviving the deluge pretty well." She said lightly as Kim's usual glare settled upon her.

"It's waterproof." Kim answered, giving another dab at her eyes. "What do you want?"