Gothicana

‘You didn’t find me.’

Chills skittered over her body and she was suddenly empty and turned around.

“What did you see?” he demanded, his eyes serious as he tucked himself in and came to her.

She opened her mouth to speak but the voice came again.

‘I needed you to find me. You’re next.’

She began to shake, gripping her hair, not understanding what was happening to her mind. It had stopped. It was supposed to have stopped. She hadn’t heard a voice or seen a shadow in weeks. It had been blissful. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not again. Because it just meant her mind was still splintered.

“No, no, no, no, no,” she started to chant, rocking like she used to when something upset her as a kid, closing her eyes, trying to escape.

A tight pain in her scalp made her snap out of it.

Vad stood before her, looking pissed and concerned, his hand gripping her hair tightly in his fist as he tilted her face up, demanding all her concentration.

“Talk to me,” he commanded, and she caved, gripping her wrists, her head slightly clearing. He gentled his hold a bit but didn’t let it go, his silver eyes intense on hers in the moonlight and the candlelight.

“I heard the girl again,” she began, detailing out exactly what she’d seen and experienced, and what the voice had said.

“I don’t even understand how my subconscious could be doing this,” she said after she finished. “I don’t know what clues it could have picked up to make this happen. And why now? Why when we were in the middle of-” her voice broke on a sob, all the confusion, the frustration, the fear, the anxiety mounting inside her, trying to drag her deep into the pit of despair the likes of which she would never recover from intact, not with her genetic history.

“Hey, hey, come here,” Vad pulled her in closer, engulfing her in his arms. Corvina inhaled a lungful of his scent, replacing the ugliness the voice carried with the warmth of the burning woods and headiness of the brandy, a scent she recognized in the marrow of her bones. He tucked her in tight, rooting her in place, anchoring her, protecting her from things neither of them understood or knew about.

Corvina buried her nose in his chest, wrapping her arms around him, taking in the comfort he gave, a comfort she had been unfamiliar with until him, her frame tucking perfectly with his.

He held her for long moments, pressing soft kisses to the top of her head, swaying her slightly and Corvina let her heart settle, her mind clear, and her eyes open.

She pulled away a bit and looked up at him. “Sorry for pulling out of the moment. Literally.”

His lips curled slightly as he cupped her face, his thumbs wiping the tears she hadn’t even realized had fallen down her cheeks. “You feeling okay now?”

She gave him a nod, fixing her gown straps, realizing her breasts had been uncovered the entire time.

Corvina sat down on the window ledge, watching him perch himself on the opposite side, the candles burning behind him, casting him in his black clothes in an eerie glow.

“I don’t even know what I’m supposed to find.”

He gazed at her thoughtfully for a long minute, tilting his head to the side. “Have you tried asking Mo?”

Corvina blinked at his suggestion.

“Considering these voices are internal, that they’re your subconscious,” he explained at her obvious confusion, “they come from the same place. Since Mo is a voice you have known your whole life, one that you trust, why not try asking him? What could it hurt?”

It had to be the most bizarre conversation she’d ever imagined having with him. It also made a weird kind of sense.

“You want me to ask now?” she raised her eyebrows.

He shrugged. “I’d rather you do it with me. Just in case.” Just in case she had a breakdown.

Corvina sighed and closed her eyes. She felt him take her feet in his lap, rubbing the arch in circles she was sure he must’ve meant as comforting but were slightly arousing, especially considering the way she’d left them both hanging.

She focused on his touch, letting it anchor her, and thought to herself.

‘Mo? Are you there? I need your help. Help me. Tell me what I’m meant to find.’

She waited. And waited. And waited. And nothing.

Slumping in defeat, she opened her eyes and gave a shake of her head. “I don’t know how to talk to him. Usually, it’s the other way round.”

He tapped her feet with his fingers, playing a tune she couldn’t hear on them. “Trust yourself, little witch. I do.”

She sighed, looking out at the moon, and blinked, something suddenly coming to her, something from her childhood, an old ritual she and her mother performed only a few times in her life.

“The moon,” she gasped, turning to look at Vad. “The Black Ball. Is it always held on the same date?”

Vad frowned. “No. The dates change.”

“But it’s always a full moon?” she asked, her heart pounding.

She could feel his confusion at where she was going with this. “Yes. At least to my knowledge. Why?”

Corvina pushed her hair back with her hands. “There’s a special full moon every five years. It’s called the Ink Moon. Not many people know about it,” she informed him, seeing his gaze sharpen. “Mama told me it was the most powerful full moon on earth, one that spiritually had the power of many eclipses. I was born on an Ink Moon.”

“Okay,” he processed what she was telling him. “So, the Black Ball falls on this Ink Moon every time. What does that mean?”

She grit her teeth in frustration. She wished she had any idea.

“I don’t know. But mama used to say energy is high that night. If so many people were murdered on these grounds on such a night, and of them claimed to be an actual witch who cursed the killers, the energy that night must be powerful,” Corvina felt goosebumps litter her arms at her own words.

“You think the disappearances are truly something preternatural?” he asked her, his fingers frozen on her feet.

Corvina pondered his words.

“Honestly, at this castle, I’m begi