Gothikana

The air around Verenmore was gloomier that day. The weather was morose, a fine sheet of rain consistently falling from the sky, the clouds overhead grey and rumbling like starved beasts waiting for a scent of prey, the wind cutting like knives on the skin. The energy of the people was depressed, the second similar suicide in as many months pushing spirits low and suspicions high. The rumor mill was working overtime, from whispers of ghosts and monsters to theories of black magic and mental breakdowns.

Corvina spent the day lingering on the edges of such conversation unintentionally, not knowing what to believe anymore, especially with her own bathroom incident. The spectacled guy at the Admin pretty much reinstated everything that Roy had, telling her that they indeed had a landline but that she needed a special permission slip from one of the Board members or faculty to make her call.

She needed to call Dr. Detta as a matter of priority but she didn’t know whom to approach except Vad. And she didn’t want to approach him, not knowing that he would try to have the conversation she was dreading with her. Since classes had been canceled and the library was closed, most students were either hanging out in their rooms or the Main Hall.

And Corvina needed some quiet.

The woods were out of the question – both because of the weather and because of the mirror incident. She had no shame in admitting how spooked she was, that slight shadows were making her heartbeat triple, that the thought of an unknown voice invading her consciousness again and bringing terrible scents with them terrified her. She flinched at every mirrored reflection on the windows passing them. And she didn’t know where to go for some peace of mind.

Leaving Erica, Jax, and Ethan sitting together in the dining area, Corvina excused herself and decided to just find another place.

As she walked out of the Main Hall towards the exit, an open wooden door on iron hinges to the right caught her eye.

The Vault.

They had already opened it?

Curious and hopeful, Corvina pushed up the strap of her bag and entered the door, coming to a wide set of stone steps that went down into some kind of dungeon just like the library. Silently, she descended, the natural light darkening, replaced with a muted yellow glow.

A dungeon – much smaller than the library but still very, very spacious – came into view.

The muted light came from the small chandelier hanging on the low ceiling, two solid stone pillars supporting it. There were paintings of the castle on the wall to her left and a small fireplace in the middle of the wall opposite her. A seating area was positioned in front of the fireplace in plush black and red couches and ottomans with the same lion heads on the arms as in the library, a black wooden table right in the center of it.

But it was to her right that her eyes went.

One lone piano sat pushed against the wall with a wooden bench in front of it, the same piano she had seen in her tower. It had been moved. That’s why she couldn’t hear the music anymore.

Corvina headed towards it. She’d never seen a real one before, one that was functional anyways, and she was curious to explore it.

The piano was black but old. She imagined it must have been a beautiful polished black once, but age had weathered it a bit. The cover was down, making it appear flat since it wasn’t playing. She remembered it had been lifted on its stand when he’d been playing it that first night. The keys though, they gleamed in the light from the chandelier.

Black and white, so silent.

Corvina extended a finger, stroking the keys, feeling its texture, spreading her hand over the wooden top, feeling the different sensations it created on her palm. Biting her lip, temptation overcoming her, she pressed one white key and the abrupt melodic sound echoed in the dungeon, leaving the silence afterward even quieter. Pulling her hand away, feeling like she was trespassing on something personal, she turned and headed for the seating area instead.

She wondered when he’d had the piano moved there, if he’d done it to keep his distance from her. She also wondered about how he could’ve had the Board open the Vault when it had been kept shut tight for years. She’d come here to avoid him, she had meant to avoid him, but seeing the piano made her wonder if she should. Was this the universe telling her not to run from him? She needed a sign from the universe, just one more answer showing her some direction.

Thoughts running amok in her head, she sank down on the rich, plush cushioned seat, toeing off her boots and curling her legs by her side. The dungeon was cold but she was grateful it was empty.

Happy enough to be alone, she tucked herself tight in one corner of the couch. Finally settled in, she brought out her old library copy of Dracula and started reading about a devil in an old castle on a hill while sitting in one.

**

The music jerked her awake.

Corvina sat up abruptly, the book on her chest falling to the ground with the motion, a crick in her neck making her groan.

She twisted her head to the side where the music was coming from and felt her breath catch in her throat.

The way she’d seen him the first time in the dark greeted her in the light. His eyes were closed, his face tilted forward, his spine curved as he played not just with his fingers but his entire being.

Vad Deverell.

The silver-eyed devil of Verenmore.

The dark god who played like it was both a curse and blessing.

Her multi-faceted, enigmatic one-time lover who knew the secrets of her soul.

He’d found her.

Somehow, someway, after she had gone out of her way to avoid him, he had ended up in the exact same space. Their paths kept weaving together, bringing them closer to each other. If him being there in the moment wasn’t a sign from the universe right after she’d asked for an obvious one, Corvina didn’t know what it was anymore.

Picking up her book from the ground, Corvina bookmarked the page she’d fallen asleep on, and put it on her bag, fully turning to see him play.

It was something else, an experience to watch this man lose himself in the music his fingers created without even looking. He knew those blacks and whites like the back of his hand, and he existed between them as he played on, the melody less haunting, less anguished and more soulful, more mysterious this time. The sight, the sound, the sensation did something to her. 

The fact that he played it in her presence, the fact that he had taken her to his space, slept with her, had risked something when he had told her he wouldn’t, said much more than he ever could.

He was attached.

Just as she was.

And Corvina didn’t know where to go from there.

“You’re thinking too much,” his deep voice carried the words to her even as his fingers never stopped and he never opened his eyes.

“You said we wouldn’t do this again,” she reminded him just as quietly, leaning her chin on the armrest.

“That was long before I had a taste of you. Long before I woke up alone in my bed after the best sleep I’ve had in years.”

Her heart thudded at his words, the parched portions of her soul drinking them up like blessed rain after a drought.

The melody built up to a crescendo before slowly falling down, easing into something tender, softer, quieter, before completely fading away with a last note. The silence afterwards felt loud.

“You play so beautifully,” she mused out loud, in a slight daze. “Even your demons must sing.”

His eyes opened at that. “And what do your demons do, little crow?”

She looked away. “Scream.”

“Come here,” he commanded her, and she glanced towards the stairs.

“What if someone comes down? I’ve been told too many times that teachers and students cannot mingle outside class.”

“I think we’re beyond the point of mingling now, don’t you think?” he spoke wryly, pressing his finger to another key. “Come here.”

On slightly shaky legs, she stood up and walked to him. The moment she reached his side, he picked her up and put her on the piano, her ass on the edge and her feet on the bench on either side of his thighs. Heart working double time, she gazed down at his searing silver eyes, taking in his masculine face and that streak of white.

“Tell me about Morning Star Institute,” he ordered her casually, as though just speaking the very name didn’t make her stomach drop.

“I… I don’t know where to begin,” she stuttered, realizing she was again trapped with him even though she was in the elevated position.

“The beginning,” he told her. “I want to know your side of the story.”

“And you… you won’t use it against me?” she gulped, voicing one of her deepest fears.

His eyes flared. “No.”

Corvina took a deep breath in, staring down at her nails. “Can you just… not look at me while I’m speaking? It makes the nerves worse.”

Vad nodded, putting his hands on her thighs and spreading them wider, his fingers playing on her knees. “I’ll be looking at something else. And if you’re good, I’ll make you come.”

A jittery breath leaving her lips, Corvina looked up at the ceiling. “Isn’t that weird for this kind of conversation?”

His fingers moved to the edge of her stockings. “It will keep your mind from hyperventilating. Now, talk to me.”

Corvina bit her lip as his fingers traced the edge of her stockings, back and forth and back and forth, and she caved to his demand. She wanted to tell him, to trust him, and this seemed like the first step. She just hoped he didn’t disappoint her. 

“My mother is schizophrenic,” she spoke the words out loud as his fingers softly caressed the skin of her thighs. It felt bizarre talking about it to him while he touched her with such sexual intent. But it was working in calming her down and refocusing her brain.

“So was my father,” she continued, slightly breathless as his fingers caressed her skin where her stockings ended. “He was never diagnosed but during one of my mother’s sessions, she admitted that he killed himself because the voices told him to, that if he didn’t die, we would. In his own convoluted way, he was protecting us.”

“And you think you inherited it from them?” his words came against the inside of her thigh. This was so, so odd but god did it make her feel less stressed about the conversation.

“The chances with one parent are high enough, with two it’s astronomical,” she informed him as his teeth tugged her stocking down. “My mother has been hearing voices and seeing things for years. It apparently got worse after I was born. She never hurt me, but she wasn’t always present. She feared for the longest time that if I interacted with anyone except her, they would take me away.”

“So she kept you with her, homeschooled you, never let you go out,” he stated, and she lay back on the piano, keeping her gaze straight up.

“How do you even know all that? But yes,” she admitted in a whisper. “She loved me so much but she didn’t know how to love me right. It wasn’t her fault. She never had any help at all.”

“Did you get her help?”

“Don’t you already know that?”

“I told you, I want to hear it from you.”

Corvina nodded, her eyes tearing up as she remembered the day. “I already realized there was something not right when I was in my teens. She’d let me go to the post office in town once a week to send out orders. That’s where I researched more and came across the Institute. I debated for months if I should or shouldn’t. I’d be all alone if they took her away, you know?” her voice cracked on the last words.

He pressed a soft kiss to her skin. “But you did it anyway, didn’t you, you brave, beautiful girl?”

Something inside her flourished under his words. She felt a lone tear streak down the corner of her eye. “It was the day I turned eighteen. I phoned them, and they came the next day to take her away. She was so angry,” Corvina whispered.

“Is she still angry?”

Corvina huffed a humorless laugh. “Sometimes I wish she was. She barely remembers me most days now. Her dementia had grown worse. The medicines they have her on have dulled her memories. It’s a side effect.”

“And you, little crow?” he asked against her flesh. “What about you?”

She swallowed, knowing her admission might change things. “I hear voices too. Always have, one particular voice. Ironically, he’s the one who told me about my mother needing help.”

“He?” his tone was curious.

“Mo,” she told him.

“Ah,” he chuckled. “I don’t know if I’m relieved or not knowing it was a voice and not a man in your head when I was fucking you.”

Her eyes went to the beautiful metal and glass chandelier just as his fingers pulled her panties aside. “So, you hear voices.”

“I used to hear just Mo,” she corrected. “Maybe one or two other rarely. I admitted myself at the Institute when they took mama in to get myself tested. Just to know be aware, you know?”

“And?”

“And negative,” she informed him as his finger began to circle her nether lips, making her clench. “The doctors told me I didn’t have any symptoms, and basically wrote Mo off as my subconscious’ way of coping with an absent father in a lonely household. But then, I was too young to show the signs properly, so they told me to keep an eye on things.” 

“There have been other signs?” he asked, his words warm right against her core.

It took Corvina a full second to focus on his words and hold back a full-body shudder. “Since coming to Verenmore, things have escalated. I’ve started hearing more voices, seeing things,” she told him, the fear of her memory with the mirror and the pleasure of his mouth in the present fucking with her mind. “It’s never happened before.”  

“Do you think it’s your mind or this place?” he voiced the one question she’d been struggling with for months.

“I truly don’t know,” she murmured, her hands finding the edge of the piano and holding tight as his tongue flicked out over her.  “There’s a part of me that wants to believe it’s Verenmore, that the things I’ve been experiencing are something external. But I don’t know how that makes anything better, because I’m still the one hearing voices and seeing things. Whether it’s internal or external, it means I’m not okay.”

“It could very well be his place,” he spoke against her flesh. “There are too many things in this world without any rational explanation, things that happen without logic. I wouldn’t dismiss that just yet.”

Her breasts heaved as he swiped his tongue over her again with the last word. One of her hands tangled in his hair as he pulled her hips off the edge, canting it in the air and angling it as he wanted, her body his to direct in the moment as he wished. He didn’t ask her any more questions, his tongue diving deep inside her before coming back out, finding her clit, circling it with a skill she knew was both gifted and polished over time.

She clung to his hair, twisting it in her fingers as her hips writhed on their own, one of his fingers penetrating her as his mouth wreaked havoc on her nub. Her nipples tightened to sharp points on her breasts, unrestricted under her sweater, her mouth opening on a gasp as he curled his finger inside her, finding a spot so deep it sent waves of intense pleasure rolling over her body, blackening her mind, her heart crashing against her ribs with each beat.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” she chanted as her body shook, her heels digging into the air, trying to find some kind of purchase, some kind of anchor lest she get lost. He held her steady, letting her ride wave after wave of pleasure with a wantonness she’d thought herself incapable of until that moment, his mouth slowly decreasing the intensity of his sensual assault, bringing her down on the piano.

Corvina blinked up at the ceiling mindlessly, her legs limp and her arms on the piano, her chest heaving in large gulps of air. It took her a moment to realize he was arranging her panties back into place, tugging her stockings up and skirt down. She lifted herself on her elbows, watching him as he slowly stood up and leaned over her, his hands flat on the piano by her side, his hair messed from her fingers, his lips glistening with her orgasm.

It sent a thrill through her to see him so undone by her, see the cool facade crack open, and reveal the untamed man inside.

He slanted his mouth over her, giving her a kiss so thorough it made her insides clench all over again, the taste of herself on his lips something so forbidden it sent a delicious shiver over her skin. His right hand cupped her breast, less with intent and more with ownership, as he pulled back slightly, his silver gaze molten on hers.

“This is happening, little crow,” he whispered softly against her lips, pinching her nipple between his fingers. “I’m done denying this. You’ve haunted me long enough. And I don’t care if you’re haunted by forces beyond your understanding or if it’s all in your head, you’re mine now. For as long as this madness ensues.”

Her jaw trembled as she looked up at him with burning eyes. “For as long as this madness ensues.”

“Good,” he gave her another kiss. “Now go up for dinner before your friends think you’re missing. I’ll arrange the call to your doctor tomorrow.”

Corvina sat up, her eyes going to the prominent bulge under his zipper. He shook his head. “We don’t have time. Go.”

Nodding, a sudden burst of shyness overcoming her, she looked down at the floor and hopped down from the piano, rushing to her bag and the book, straightening herself up as much as she could. She felt his hand grip her braid, wrapping it around his fist as he turned her head, swooping down for a hard kiss.

“Don’t think about me with that boy at your side,” he told her, his eyes fierce. “The call of these,” he twisted one nipple between his fingers, “is just for me. I’d hate to hurt him.”

Corvina tilted her head back in surprise at the danger emanating from him. “You wouldn’t actually, right? Hurt anyone?”  

Vad pulled away at her question, donning the mask of Mr. Deverell he wore in public. He gripped her chin between his fingers with his other hand and pressed a kiss to her nose piercing.

“You’ll never know, little crow,” his voice caressed her. “Now, go.”

He freed her, and Corvina went to the stairs, climbing them on shaking legs. She glanced back one last time at the man who knew everything about her even as she knew not one thing about him, the imbalance of their power suddenly making her feel like the entire episode had been less an act of affection and more a deal she’d just made with the devil.