Nocticadia: Chapter 41
It was clear Dean Langmore didn’t believe me, as he stared back at me with skepticism shimmering in his eyes. Not that I could blame him, really. Playing ignorant wasn’t something I enjoyed, but for the sake of securing my place in Bramwell’s lab, I was willing to risk scrutiny.
“So … let me get this straight,” he said, flattening his hands against his paper-cluttered desk. “You were attacked in Canterbury gardens by some masked man. A bird mask, is that correct?”
“Yessir. Like a plague mask.” If it was true that I’d only hallucinated the mask, I didn’t see any harm in mentioning it, if for no other reason than to derail whatever theories they’d constructed around Bramwell.
“Right. And Spencer was where?”
I honestly couldn’t recall exactly what had happened to Spencer. The last thing I remembered was that he’d jogged off toward the mausoleum. “He took off.”
“He left you there to be attacked by this man in a bird mask?”
“Yes. I don’t know where Spencer ran off to, but he wasn’t there to help.”
“But you claim Professor Bramwell heard you scream and came to your aid.”
“Yes. He fought the bird man.” Even if I hadn’t actually seen that happen, I had to admit, I enjoyed the fantasy of it.
“Right. And in the meantime, you escaped back to your dorm?”
As much as I’d have loved to end the story there, I couldn’t tell him that. There were cameras posted outside of every dorm. He’d have surely called me out on the lie right then and there. “No. I wasn’t feeling well when I left the party. I ended up passing out. Professor Bramwell carried me to his car, intending to drive me back to my dorm.”
“But …”
“I threw up. In his car. And I was humiliated. I asked him to pull over and that’s when I jumped out and ran.”
“To where?”
“The chapel.” After speaking to Professor Bramwell, I knew the chapel had no cameras posted outside. Apparently, Jesus didn’t like spies, and that was fine with me. It also happened to be the only building left unlocked that late at night. “After what happened, I was horribly shaken and scared. I hid in the pews of the chapel all night and prayed.”
“Uh-huh.” The disbelieving tone of his voice matched the look he gave me right then. “But you did not report this to campus police?”
“No. I know it was wrong, and I should have.” Gaze lowered to my lap, I fidgeted with my hands, wondering if any of my lies sounded remotely believable. Were victims allowed to be disputed, or was that just an unspoken rule? “But I’m reporting it to you now.”
“I’ve spoken with Spencer. He did say you weren’t feeling well when you left, and that you did, in fact, see a figure in the gardens. Where your stories differ is the part when he ran away. He says something, or someone, attacked him.” Of course he did. It was almost artistic, the way Spencer manipulated stories. If I’d had even the slightest doubt about what’d happened between him and Mel, my situation surely cemented it in my head that the guy was shady.
“As I said, I can’t recall where Spencer ran off to.”
“He claims it was Professor Bramwell who attacked and knocked him out.”
The urge to choke out a laugh wobbled in my throat. All that came to mind were the few times throughout the night when I’d talked to Professor Bramwell and noticed Spencer’s disapproving scowl. “That’s absurd. I specifically saw Professor Bramwell fight off the man in the mask. Spencer ran off.”
“Spencer does have injuries that support his claim. A rather unpleasant-looking black eye.”
“And, what? Because I don’t, my claims are dismissed?”
“I didn’t say that.” Langmore threw up his hands and shook his head, clearly uncomfortable with my rebuttal. “Those words did not come out of my mouth, Miss Vespertine.”
“I have reason to believe I was drugged, Sir.” The moment I said the words, his mouth clamped shut.
“Perhaps you should consider testing–”
“I was given noxberries. A known hallucinogenic. I suspect that Spencer gave me the drug.” I’d avoided the accusation up until that point, because accusing Spencer would’ve undoubtedly made my life all the more complicated. He was Lippincott’s son, and Lippincott happened to be the keeper of my scholarship. As the provost, he held the ultimate decision whether, or not, I’d be permitted to continue my education at Dracadia, and considering that I’d finally gained an opportunity to find out what’d really happened to my mother, I didn’t want to screw that up by pissing him off. Yes, the right thing to do would’ve been reporting Spencer, but I kinda lacked evidence at that point, and getting myself kicked out of Dracadia over speculation would’ve pissed me off. “I accepted a drink from him earlier in the night–I’m sure there are a number of witnesses from the gala I attended who can attest. Unfortunately, urine tests won’t pick up on noxberries.”
“You’re certain that you were given noxberries.”
“Of course not. The only one who could confirm that is Professor Bramwell, but at this point, you might deem that a conflict of interest, based on Spencer’s accusations. So, why don’t we do this, since I am the victim in this situation …” Having to admit that, to actually say the V-word, burned like acid on my tongue. In my own quiet space, I’d deal with the anger of having been drugged, and since my suspicions led me to believe it was Spencer, I’d make a point to keep my distance from him. “In the interest of not rousing a bunch of scandal, I won’t press charges against Spencer. I will avoid him, as I should have from the beginning. You have my report on the man in the mask. Perhaps you might put your efforts into him, since I’m telling you he is the one who attacked me.” Unfortunately, he’d be chasing thin air with the lead, and while I felt slightly bad for leading him on that goose chase, I didn’t need Spencer throwing Bramwell under the bus–particularly after I’d negotiated a pretty sweet deal with the professor. Not to mention, Spencer knew damned well that Bramwell hadn’t attacked him. The whole situation felt a little vindictive, if anything, especially considering Spencer still harbored animosity about his friend getting kicked out. It wouldn’t have surprised me if the guy had given himself that black eye, like something straight out of Fight Club.
“Are you certain of this, Miss Vespertine? We do not take these attacks lightly. I want you to feel supported in your account of what happened.”
“I’m certain. We’ll consider this a wash. I’ll be much more careful not to venture out at night.” Ugh. That went entirely against my femininity, but I held onto the fact that it was for a good cause. I had the opportunity I’d been waiting for, to learn more about my mother’s illness, and I had no intentions of getting wrapped up in Spencer’s vengeful little web as a distraction.
“Very well. We will pursue this masked man in the meantime, for the sake of campus safety. And I would ask that you report any additional concerns directly to me.”
“Of course.”