Gothicana

CHAPTER 16

Corvina

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 ru

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.