Gabriella Poole - Divided Souls (Darke Academy)

he’d been, their bodies crackling with passion. It couldn’t be Ranjit .

Remembering Carnegie Hall, summoning all her power, she concentrated it on a point between her and the corpse.

Richard, watching, stepped warily back, his phone at his ear. She ignored him, feeling the power of the spirit extend beyond her as it had

done before. Easy. She reached out with it, invisible tangling cords of thought and force coiling round the elusive body. And the power

intensified.

The little waves were no match for her, though their phosphorescence was scarlet now in her field of vision. The power was fully outside

her now, the sea air crackling with it. She took a breath, drew the corpse towards her using the invisible force. The body came easily to

shore, and she hauled it out of the water to collapse like an emptied sack on the pebbles and sand.

‘Bloody hell,’ whispered Richard, snapping his phone shut.

She closed her eyes, staggering, not weak but very dizzy. In a second he was beside her, gripping her arm to steady her, then helping her

drag the grotesque thing well clear of the water. Grains of sand clung to it, and the dead weight of it furrowed a deep channel in the beach

until they could move it no further. They let it slump, face down. Or so she assumed, Cassie thought, feeling the beginnings of hysteria.

She whimpered again, drained by the effort, terrified of seeing whatever face the thing had left.

Richard’s arms were tight around her, turning her away from the sight. But his shocked whisper was in her ear, too. ‘How the hell did you

do that?’

He wasn’t the only one asking. Slowly she became aware of voices behind her, people spilling out from the school – all Few, since they

were so close to the common room.

‘Jesus.’

‘What is it?’

‘You mean, who is it …’

‘Did you see what she—’

‘How on earth—’

‘It’s like frigging Carnegie Hall all over again. What’s she done?’

‘What has she done?’

‘My God …’

If they didn’t shut up she was going to kill one of them. Tears stinging her eyes, Cassie crammed her hands over her ears, shutting out

the hubbub, forcing even Richard away.

Then she thought: Why am I just standing here!

Before Richard could grab her, she’d bolted back to the drowned corpse, falling to her knees beside it. With a high-pitched intake of

breath, then a shriek of revulsion, she reached out and shoved the thing on to its back.

No. No, she was being stupid. Of course there was no reviving it. There was no face to receive the kiss of life; nothing left but a vague

semi-human shadow of a person. Tears rolled down her face and on to what had been living flesh. Grief, she knew it. Grief, but relief as

well. Because as unrecognisable as this thing was, it was not Ranjit.

Unless Ranjit Singh was wearing Yusuf Ahmed’s pendant.

Cassie was reaching out to touch the distinctive gold shark tooth with a trembling finger when she heard the commanding shout.

‘Don’t touch him. Don’t touch anything.’

She turned, her vision still blurred by both power and tears, and saw a familiar figure approaching through a crowd of students – a crowd

that parted for him without a word.

‘Move away, Cassie,’ said Sir Alric Darke.

Behind him she could make out the familiar figure of Marat, silent and squat as ever. And just as she’d seen him once before, he held a

sheet draped over his arm. A shroud, all ready. As if he’d been waiting for this moment.

Sir Alric gazed down at the remains of Yusuf with an unreadable expression. What could she read there? wondered Cassie. Pity? Grief?

Anger?

Nothing. Nothing at all. Except perhaps perplexity.

‘There’s nothing more to see here,’ said Sir Alric abruptly, turning to face the gaggle of watchers. ‘I’ve called the authorities. Return to

your rooms. And for God’s sake, try for once to refrain from pointless gossip. You’ll get more information as soon as I do.’

The crowd dissipated, but there was no shaking the air of dread and thrill that hung over the beach. Cassie remained where she was,

staring down at Yusuf until Marat stepped briskly past her and flung the sheet over the corpse.

The careless gesture reminded her so much of what had happened with Keiko it was painful. A terrible shard of remorse went through

her, and she snapped her gaze up to Sir Alric, who remained stony-faced.

‘What happened to him?’ whispered Cassie.

‘I don’t know any more than you do.’

‘Don’t you?’ She glowered at him.