Gothicana

They pushed the heavy door open, the first ones in class, and entered.

A board graced the front wall, and huge windows graced the back and sidewalls. They were clearly in a corner room of the castle. The flooring had three levels – the lowest with a large desk for the teacher, basic long desks, and chairs on the second and third level in neat rows.

Corvina was in love.

Heading to the back of the class, to a seat in the corner with windows on both her right and her back, Corvina placed her books on the table as Jade jumped to sit on it, and looked out the window.

A deep, drop-dead gorgeous cliff went vertically down from the castle wall and into a sea of green, the view absolutely breathtaking.

“Wow,” she felt the word escape her mouth as her eyes grazed over the entirety of the panorama at her feet.

“I know right?” Jade said from her place on the desk. “I’m scared of heights but even I love the view. That’s the one thing this place has got going for it.”

Corvina’s attention returned to their half-finished chat before the view had distracted her. “So, why didn’t they shut down the Ball?”

Jade sighed. “They did actually. For a decade, I think. People went missing anyways.”

“What the hell,” Corvina repeated as she put the books in her bag. Goosebumps erupted on her arms as she processed what Jade was telling her. If what she said was true and the pattern held, someone would go missing the night of the Ball this year.

“This castle has so many secrets,” Jade whispered, looking out the window. “I love this place but it scares the fuck out of me.”

Corvina could understand why. As beautiful as it was, there was something not right about the castle itself. She’d been sensing it more and more each night. It was like ants crawling over her skin – that feeling of wrongness, of something macabre. But she didn’t voice it. There was no point in scaring her already apprehensive roommate.

“When is the Ball?” she asked instead.

“June 15th,” Jade told her. “Just a few months away.”

There was still time.

Students started to file into the classroom, bringing their conversation to a halt. Corvina took her seat and brought out her old notebook, picking up one of her old pens, and opened to a new page.

The ghost of a melody drifted to her mind.

The same melody he’d been playing that night, that haunting melody of anguish that had somehow wormed its way into her being. She closed her eyes, hearing it in her memory, the notes flowing like blood through her veins, his posture, his closed eyes, his pained stance etched on her mind. Whatever fascination Corvina felt for the silver-eyed man, she’d been trying to nip in the bud. But sometimes, the music, the man, the moment, came to her mind unbidden.

Shaking her head to dispel the image, she stared around at the full classroom. There were a total of forty students in her class, twenty-eight boys and twelve girls as she mentally counted. A few of them were chatting with each other, but most of them were pretty quiet like her. Maybe it was the feeling of being in a new environment, meeting new people, or a combination of both that had everyone slightly wary. Considering they all came from some kind of a damaged background, she didn’t find that surprising in the least.

Sitting at the back with Jade, she looked down at her open notebook and the little doodles she’d drawn in her handwriting. She was excited to take notes. Having never been to a school before – as her mother had homeschooled her – the experience while terrifying was also thrilling.

From what she understood, Verenmore offered all students two years of an associate degree in general studies, after which a student could choose to go to another university to get a bachelor’s degree in their specified field or complete the degree at Verenmore itself, or simply go out in the world with the associate degree. It was a pretty good way for the University to not only cultivate a sense of loyalty amongst the students to give back but to empower the kids from bad backgrounds to live a better life.

Suddenly, the little noise in the class fell to a hush, making Corvina glance up.

The air shifted.

The silver-eyed devil walked in with a diary in hand, striding with confidence, his broad shoulders back, his wide chest steady, his long legs eating up the distance, commanding the molecules around him to shift. He was in another black outfit – black pants and a black button-up shirt tucked in, two buttons at his collar undone, sleeves folded over his muscled forearms. There was no shadow on his jaw, the clean, sharp lines stark against the tan of his skin. In the daylight, Corvina could see that the streak of grey in his hair was not the only one. There was slight premature grey at his temples, and Jade had been right – he made it work for him really, really well.

His mercury eyes roved over the sitting students, passing over her before suddenly snapping to her again. She saw him take her in under the broad daylight filtering through the arched windows just as she’d been doing to him. She knew what he would see – black sweater, brown lips, fishtail braid, black ribbon choker, nose pierced, silver danglers, and her odd, violet eyes.

Her palms began to sweat as his eyes lingered on her, before moving on.

“I’m Vad Deverell,” he spoke, addressing the class, his deep, gravel voice dripping with authority. “You will refer to me as Mr. Deverell. Not professor. Not my first name. I’ll be teaching you Language and Literature this semester that is one of the core subjects of this course, hence mandatory. We’ll be covering the fundamentals of literature, the different schools of critical thought, and study some classics with the perspective of why they are so. Following so far?”

Most of the students nodded.

“Good,” Mr. Deverell leaned against the table, putting his diary on the desk, hands on either side, hands she’d seen work a piano so masterfully. “For the classics, I’ll give you all a choice between a few. Whichever you decide, we’ll study. For my class, you’ll need to write two papers for the entire semester – one creative and one critical. And I don’t want answers from the book. Think free. Give me the context of why you choose a certain topic. And we’ll go from there. Any questions?”

A girl at the front in red raised her hand.

He nodded for her to go on.

“Aren’t you a student yourself, Mr. Deverell?”

His silver eyes glinted in the light from the window. “A doctorate student, yes. I’m completing my thesis this year.”

“What is your project on, if you don’t mind me asking, sir?”

“Don’t call me sir,” he commanded, his hands gripping the table at his side, his eyes coming to Corvina. “My thesis is the correlation and influence of music on literature through the ages.”

Damn.

Damn.

He was unsettling. Very unsettling in a way that made her want to squirm in her seat, especially when he looked at her like that and talked with that intelligence. Corvina could admit she’d never encountered that. And she wasn’t the only one who felt that. She could see a few flustered girls around the class, and she knew they were feeling whatever was rolling off him.

Corvina broke their gaze again and looked down at her notebook, her chest heaving. She realized it was possibly the first time in her life she was feeling lust induced by an actual man and not a fictional character. This was what it felt like – writhing, hot, velvety. This was lust. And she wanted to roll in it.