Gothikana

The aftermath of learning that little legend had been a thoughtful silence. Ethan had insisted that it was just a story, a piece of oral history that had been passed down student to student, a legend to explain the mysterious disappearances of people. Jade had agreed, even as she’d swallowed and fidgeted, her body unable to comply with her words.

They had gone for dinner and Corvina had let the myth settle in.

She’d never been afraid of ghosts, never really encountered any. Her mama had told her they were real, that they were good and bad, helpful and harmful, and that she needed to be aware of that if she ever encountered one. Corvina never had, and she didn’t even know if she believed her mother about it. All she’d had were the voices, and those whispers in the dark didn’t scare her; they were familiar. At least, they had been.

But something about this story unsettled her. Maybe it was the voice she’d heard in broad daylight in the woods, or the constant flickering of light in the corner of the room wherever she was. Something about this legend unnerved her. Maybe it was the legend itself – it clearly made everyone uncomfortable.

Hours later, she did her prayers and turned off the light, still unsettled. Jade had gone with Troy after dinner, so Corvina had finished some of her reading for her classes and decided to turn in early.

The tower began to settle in for the night with some groans and creaks. A cloud of bats flew outside her window on their way somewhere, nocturnal and creepy. Shadows weaved around the room from the little light outside. 

Something made the hair at the nape of her neck prickle. Suddenly alert, she lay on the bed silently, keeping her body still as her mind tried to understand what was going on.

A flicker.

She watched quietly as in the corner of her room, the one where she’d lit the incense, the smoke flickered softly, once, twice, before the shadows and smoke began to sway together.

Phantom ants crawled over her exposed arms.

Clutching her blanket to her chest, she watched as the smoke took a shape and drifted away towards the door. She closed her eyes, shaking her head.

No, it was an illusion of light, or perhaps even her mind playing tricks on her.

‘Find me.’

The soft, feminine voice echoed in her head, followed by that ugly coating on her tongue and that rotten smell. Heart pounding hard in her ears, Corvina opened her eyes.

The corner was as it had been, undisturbed, lit by the moon. The ants had fled her skin. The coating had washed off her tongue. The scent had gone as quickly as it had come.

Who the hell was this voice?

**

Corvina left her bed as the first light of dawn filtered in through her windows. Sleep had eluded her the entire night, her mind warping around questions and theories of everything odd that had been happening in the few weeks she’d been there. She’d tossed and turned the whole night, unable to relax her brain long enough to grab a few minutes of sleep.

She needed air. 

Taking a quick shower and donning one of her thin black sweaters and a long dark maroon skirt that flared when she turned, Corvina left her wet hair to air-dry. Adjusting her crystal bracelet that her mother had made for her when she was four – with an obsidian, a tiger’s eye, an amethyst, a labradorite, a red garnet, a malachite, a turquoise and a moonstone – she settled it over her pulse, letting the weight and the warmth seep into her. It had always been an anchor for her, something Dr. Detta had told her she could train her mind to use to focus and settle in times of stress. Her mother had said it was for protection and for amplifying her elemental sensitivity. She didn’t know about that, but she knew it made her feel better.

Hooking on the pendant she’d made herself, a silver star on a long chain that nestled between her breasts, along with her ribbon choker, she put on the white feather danglers in her ears, and felt ready. 

Grabbing the biscuits she’d taken during dinner, she swiped on a deep maroon lipstick that matched her skirt, and picked up her bag, walking out of her room, leaving her slumbering roommate behind.

Descending the castle stairs, she escaped into the fresh, dewy morning air. The dark woods beckoned, the chill biting her skin. She hadn’t gone into those woods in over a week, both because of the voice and because last time she’d been spotted coming out with the silver-eyed devil. But she needed to go into those woods. She didn’t know why, couldn’t explain the reasoning behind it for the life of her, especially knowing she shouldn’t go there.

She had to.

Starting down the incline, feeling the wind blow over her wet hair, she headed towards the left of where she’d entered the woods last time, not wanting to end up at the lake again.

The foliage thickened around her as the castle disappeared from the view at her back. The air felt heavier, somehow more sinister with the knowledge of everything legends said had happened in the woods decades ago. There was a natural order to the world, a system that could not be inverted. Taking a life was unnatural, something against the very basic cycle of life and death. An act of such severity tainted the energy around it.

She walked on, seeing the thick, roughened barks of tall trees, lush with dense growth, webbing through the overhead sky like splinters, cracks in a glass barely holding together jagged edges, ready to bleed anything it touched.

She didn’t know if she was overly sensitive or had an overactive imagination or both, but after learning of the legend, she could feel something different in the air around her skin. It was entirely possible that she was imagining it. She didn’t know. Her own mind was unreliable. 

Minutes later, the woods cleared, making a natural path towards what looked like some old ruins. Corvina made her way towards it. A lone, broken wall of stones crumbled to the soil, roots winding themselves around it, binding it to the bosom of the earth.

Corvina walked slowly to the remnants of the once-tall wall, taking in the open area. It was squared off by two stone walls, one with a tall arching window still intact. The other two walls were completely missing. Instead of the third wall, what looked like a broken gargoyle tipped over the far left, a dried, crusted fountain with something resembling lion heads screaming up at the sky beside it.

A tree stood right beside the gargoyle, a tree unlike any she’d ever seen before. In the middle of a thicket, it was the only tree without leaves, its branches naked and weathered and browned, webbing out into the sky in a scary, twisted shape. But that wasn’t what made Corvina pause. It was the eye carved into the trunk of the tree, one single eye so realistic it looked like the tree was watching her, the eye moving as she moved. It gave her the creeps.

Turning around, she came to a stop at the rows of crude, unmarked stones on her far right.

Graves.

A shudder finally stole over her.

The cawing of a crow broke her out of her trance. She watched a crow – not the one who’d been with her by the lake, this one was larger – perch himself on one of the stones.

Shaking herself, she smiled at the crow. “Hello,” she spoke softly, crumbling one of the biscuits in her hand and trailing it on the wall. “Aren’t you fearsome? I met your friend the other day by the lake. Surprisingly, I don’t see you guys on campus at all. Why don’t you come to the university area? Is it because of other people? Or do you have a nest in the woods and like to stay close?”

As she spoke to the bird in soft, soothing tones, she watched him tilt his head at her before flying to the wall and pecking at the crumbs she’d left. He looked up, cawed again, and began to eat. Another crow flew in, hopping on the wall beside the first, and gobbled up the biscuit.

Corvina crumbled another in her hand and put it on the wall as another crow, the one she recognized from the lake with his slightly bent beak, flapped his wings at her and ate.

“What place was this?” she mused out loud, crushing the last of the biscuits in her hands and giving it to the birds, one of whom took a large piece between his beak and flew away, probably to his nest for the little ones.

Brushing her hands off, she turned back to take in the ruins. They were older than old. They looked ancient. Her eyes swept over the area, going to the graves on the right, and a pile of junk she could see beside it. Intrigued, she crossed over to it, the sky grey overhead, the soil soft beneath her feet, tendrils of overgrown grass brushing against her ankles along with a low layer of mist. The grass got longer the closer she got to the graves.

Corvina looked around at the stones, counting as the wind caressed her hair.

One, two, three, four… fifteen.

Fifteen unmarked graves.    

Did the school know about them? Had they been the ones to put them there? And if so, then why were they unmarked? Unless they were the students from the legend. Could they be? Fifteen of them?

Mulling over the questions assaulting her mind, she crossed the small graveyard to the other side, her eyes on the pile of what looked like broken furniture and debris in one pile, intensely damaged by the elements.

One singular item beside the pile arrested her attention, the only thing covered up in the junk. Corvina touched the cover, feeling the solid mass underneath her palm covered with a dark tarp that was completely out of place with the ancient feel of the area. The tarp was new, which meant it was recent.

Biting her lip in a moment of hesitation, Corvina inched forward and extended her hand to the side, taking a hold of the tarpaulin, and tugged it upwards to uncover whatever it was protecting. Little by little, it came up, exposing dark wooden legs at first, then the base, and finally the body of what looked to be an old, damaged piano.

It was a piano.

And there was only one person she knew who would care enough to cover a piano. It meant he’d been to this place, to this graveyard and these ruins. He knew of these graves.

Corvina inhaled deeply, trying to ascertain what his role was in all of this. One of the girls he’d been with had disappeared, another had killed herself, and he knew of these graves. Could he be responsible for them? Could he truly know what the hell was going on? The thought sent goosebumps over her skin.

Swallowing, Corvina threw the tarp over the piano again and adjusted it the exact way it had been. It was time to head back.

She headed towards the castle, taking the same route she’d taken, thinking about everything she’d uncovered since coming to Verenmore. She was halfway up the incline when she felt a presence other than her own.

Pausing, she turned, looking around, trying to place where the eyes were, but found nothing. For once, she knew it wasn’t her imagination. The hair on the back of her neck was prickling with awareness, and even as she began her ascent, she couldn’t shake off the sensation of someone watching her, no matter how many times she turned to check and found nobody.

Exiting the woods, she marched straight to the Academic Wing with her bag, intending to return some books to the library.

Verenmore had a giant, and she meant giant, library down in the dungeon. She’d finally gone to it a few days ago, borrowing two books for her economics assignment, and spent the entire day cooped up there. 

While studying interested her well enough, she wondered sometimes what exactly she was doing at a university in the first place. She’d always wanted to be in a school environment with people but she had never been very ambitious about getting a degree or getting a job. It was a new start, a new chapter for her, but some days, she wondered if she wasn’t there only escaping for a while before she had to return to the life she had known if this wasn’t simply a bridge between her past and her future.

Her passion, her satisfaction, had always been in the simple things – reading, making candles and incense, finding crystals, doing readings, being one with nature. But it had become monotonous in her old town. She wondered if it would feel the same if she began somewhere else, somewhere new. However, it was because of her mother that she was there in the first place.

Her mama, Celeste Clemm, had been in college when she’d met her father and gotten pregnant. She’d been given a choice by her parents – to abort the baby and finish her studies, or have the baby and be cut off. Her mother had chosen her, left everything and everyone behind with her father, and made a life for them. And then, within a year, her father had killed himself. Corvina didn’t know what he looked like. Her mama had never talked about him when she did talk. On days she had decided to talk, Corvina had been happy enough to chat about whatever made her happy. Her mama had loved her but had slowly become… different. Corvina was there for her because she had wanted something better for her.   

It was a sobering reminder, one that steeled her spine. She entered the gardens in front of the Academic Wing, or what they called the back lawns, and saw a few students already milling around before classes began. A few faces from her classes she recognized nodded at her, and she reciprocated in kind as she made her way to the underground library.

“Hey, freaky eyes!” Roy’s loud voice called out from behind her amidst the following giggles.

She decided to ignore her and her clique of girls, but Roy had other ideas.

“I heard you’re practicing black magic now.”

What the what?

Corvina turned around, frowning at Roy, who sat on one of the ledges between the lawn and the corridor, wearing jeans tucked in black boots and a light top, playing with a strand of her sunny hair, surrounded by four other girls.

“Et tu, Roy?” Corvina clicked her tongue. “I had better hopes from you than to fall for stereotypes because going by them you’d be nothing but a stupid blonde bimbo.” She couldn’t believe she’d actually said that in front of a bunch of people.

Roy huffed, her light eyes taking Corvina in from head to toe. “Well, I’m just telling you what the rumor mill is churning. You’ve been doing animal sacrifices and giving blowjobs in the woods, apparently.”

Corvina felt a laugh bubble out of her. “So wait, am I going to the woods to be witchy or slutty? I’m confused.”

She saw Roy’s lips tip upward before she controlled them. “Just letting you know.”

Corvina studied the girl for a long moment, understanding dawning upon her. She was watching out for her in her own brash way.

“I appreciate that,” she told the other girl sincerely. “But anything I do or don’t do privately is strictly my business.”

With that, she turned and walked down to the library. Libraries had been her solace throughout her life, her most favorite place. It was the smell that greeted her first and foremost – the beloved smell of old paper, browned books, and musty library. It was a distinctive, comforting smell.

Taking the books out of her bag, she set them on the desk, intending to head to the back area to search for more. The librarian, an old woman with white hair and wrinkles and dark, knowledgeable eyes, a woman whose name she didn’t know, put her books away, watching Corvina.

“Need more?” she asked in her papery voice, and Corvina gave her a smile.

“Yes, I’ll be back with a few more hopefully.”

Corvina had already begun working on her paper for Dr. Kari’s class and needed more background on Freud’s theories and Jungian archetypes.

The Psychology section was right at the back of what had once been a ginormous dungeon of the castle. The university had completely redone the space, making it more luxurious than any dungeon had the right to be. Dark, almost black wooden shelves stood tall in neat rows at the back, differentiated by departments. A big fireplace adorned the west wall, the mantle above displaying a range of old swords that must have belonged to the castle. Six armchairs sat in front of the fireplace, looking comfortable with their deep green and brown covers. Long tables and chairs occupied the space between the armchairs and the main desk. Surprisingly, a very modern coffee machine sat in one corner beside the desk, the only thing out of place in the entire ancient dungeon. 

“Go on then, before your classes begin,” the old librarian nudged her forward.

Corvina nodded and headed to the back of the mostly empty library, bypassing the History and the Literature sections, and turned in the Psychology, her fingers running through the old spines of the books. She stopped on Psychology of the Unconscious – Carl Jung and pulled it out, immediately shrieking at the pair of eyes peering at her from between the gap in the shelf.

Heart racing as the book slipped from her fingers, hitting the floor with a thud, she looked at the unfamiliar young boy looking at her with shifty eyes.

“They are here,” he told her in a low voice, looking around to see no one was coming.

“Excuse me?” Corvina whispered, matching his tone. “Who are you talking about?”

“The Slayers,” he fidgeted, speaking in a hushed voice.

“The what?”

Before either of them could say a thing, the sound of footsteps came shuffling towards them, probably after hearing her loud shriek from seconds ago.

The boy ran in the other direction, leaving Corvina standing there, completely perplexed. Who the hell were the Slayers?

She inhaled, shaking her head, and squatted down to pick up the fallen book, just as shoes appeared in the line of her vision – masculine, brown wingtip boots, with black jeans folded over their top. Corvina knew before she even looked up whom they belonged to.

She closed her eyes momentarily, calling for the strength to face him alone in this corner of the library and resist the heat surging through her after a week-long of stares and fantasies. She tilted her head back, her eyes going up the long legs and thick thighs, pausing on the bulge she saw at face level, continuing up his torso to those arresting mercury eyes. He looked taller, bigger from her vantage.

He didn’t say anything, just looked at her on her haunches, and a sliver of something velvety coiled in her belly.

The sides of his square jaw clenched.

He extended his palm to help her up and Corvina studied his hand, that large, beautiful hand. His palm was calloused, the fingers slightly bent, especially the middle and little finger. Corvina hesitated for a second, before placing her hand in his.

The sensation of the graceful fingers and roughened skin sent contrasting little waves over her nerves. Her small hand felt dwarfed in his larger grip, sending her pulse skittering across her body. She felt a small tug, and then she was upright, her body flush against his, her free breasts pressed into his tight torso, her stomach nestling the bulge she had spied moments ago, her hand in his grip, his eyes roving over her face.

He paused for a moment, as though battling with himself, before he stepped to the side, taking her with him, pressing her back into the shelves, and shielding her smaller body from the view of anyone who happened to stroll by. The protectiveness in the move made something soften in her chest, not used to anyone doing something like this for her.

And then an ugly thought wormed its way into her mind. What if this wasn’t anything special at all? What if he did this for any girl who caught his eye? What if she was blowing up something simple into something special because of her inexperience with the opposite sex?

His eyes continued to move over her entire face, his hand holding hers not letting it go. 

“Did you corner Alissa in the library too?” the words left her lips before she could call them back, hanging between them.

She saw his dark brows furrow slightly, his gaze steady on hers. “Alissa? The girl who died?”

Corvina nodded, her throat tight.

“Why would I corner her in the library?” he asked her, tilting his head to the side, his fingers flexing around hers, the other arm coming to the shelf on her side, cocooning them in a dark bubble.

She felt a warm flush climb up her face in his close proximity. “Because you were together?”

A slight chuckle escaped him as he leaned closer, making her pulse flutter as his nose touched it. “I was with her one time, little crow,” he spoke against her neck. “That was before I knew she was a student. I haven’t come this far to risk it all for a random fling.”

But Jade told her that Alissa had been hooking up with him, or at least that’s what she’d told Jade. Had she lied to her roommate? And if so, why? What the hell had she been involved in to kill herself afterward? Or was he lying to her?

The nose scenting the line of her neck brought her back.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” she whispered, hoping he didn’t stop, hoping his nose continued to feel its way up her neck. But what was the harm? Who would it hurt if she followed this thread of lust only this man inspired?

“No, we shouldn’t,” he agreed, thankfully not stopping. “I need to stay away from you. I don’t know what sorcery this is,” he whispered to her, his words floating over her face as he leaned closer, “but I have to stop.”

She needed to stay away from him too, for so many reasons, none of which she could remember right in that moment. Her mind was muddled. All she knew was his scent, that scent of burning wood and heady brandy, and his voice – that deep, gravel voice that pebbled her nipples – and those searing silver eyes – those eyes that made her breath catch and lips tingle. She was nothing but pure sensation in that moment, from the roots of her wild, loose hair to the tips of her curled toes, and she was only pressed into him.

His face came closer, along with his whispered demand.

“Stop me.”

Her lips parted.

“Fuck,” he cursed, his mouth inches away from hers, hovering. She inhaled, her chest pressing deeper into him just as he exhaled, exchanging the same breath of charged air between them, the static pulsing between her legs, throbbing, making her wet and swollen and needy.

His hand left hers, going to the side to grip her skirt, his gaze ensnaring hers.

“I told you not to give me those eyes,” silver met violet in a dark corner of the library, “Your eyes have such hunger. Your soul is starved, and your flesh is famished. Tell me, Miss Clemm, do you want relief?”

She did.

Her entire being felt seen, splayed open before him, the cracks in her soil visible, waiting for him to quench its thirst.

“One taste. That’s it.”

Yes, she wanted one taste. He was close, so close, and she was dying to let his taste penetrate her.

He stayed exactly where he was, shielding her with one arm on the side of the shelf, keeping their gazes locked as he slowly began to inch her skirt up. The fabric rustled over her legs, exposing them to the air on one side, adding to the sensory overload in her body, and Corvina felt her breathing stutter.

His hand – his big, naked, skilled hand – brushed over her hip, her thigh, glancing his fingers over her the wet, needy spot between her legs, discovering nothing but flesh.

His breathing grew ragged as his finger made contact with her wetness. “No panties?”

Corvina shivered. “I don’t… don’t like underwear. I skip them sometimes.”

“You’ve ruined me with that knowledge.” His middle finger circled her opening once, and she leaned back into the books behind her, thrusting her hip forward involuntarily, needing more pressure, more contact. But he removed his hand, bringing it out from under her skirt, making it fall back into place.

Eyes on her, he rubbed his wet finger over her lower lip slowly, coating it with her moistness, then leaned forward, licking the juice he’d smeared there.

Her walls clenched.

“Ambrosia,” he muttered, giving her lower lip another soft lick, her head dizzy with the sensations. Their noses brushed, chests heaving, his pupils blown wide, his mouth parted as hers.

“Witch,” he muttered, there, right there, so close she could almost feel his lips.

“Devil,” she murmured back, seeing his eyes flare with molten fire, feeling the heavy bulge of him pressed against her stomach, right where heart coiled deep.

The sound of something crashing in another aisle had them both jerking back.  

He scanned the area quickly, blowing out a breath, running his hands through his hair. For a long moment, he just breathed, as though trying to rein himself him. And then he stepped back, a mask falling over his face as his jaw tightened.

“We cannot let this happen again, Miss Clemm. Do you understand?”

Corvina gulped. “Yes, Mr. Deverell.”

Without another word, he turned on his heels and left, taking the electric air with him.

Corvina collapsed back against the shelf, putting the hand he’d been holding over her chest, trying to calm her racing her, trying to ignore the tingle in her mouth, trying to clench the muscles between her thighs. She didn’t know him, didn’t know who he was. He could be evil. He could be responsible or connected to the disappearances. And he was her teacher. She couldn’t risk it all for him, just like he’d said. This was her new start, and with her history, she couldn’t risk anything. Not now.

Verenmore was her clean slate, and Vad Deverell was her writing on the wall.