Nocticadia: A Dark Academia Gothic Romance

Somehow another week passed.

Stealing away with Devryck had become my favorite dangerous game. The leering glances in class, the brush of hands as we passed in the courtyard. Stolen kisses behind buildings, and in empty classrooms. In the darkest corners, hidden from prying eyes, we were more than professor and student. We were forbidden. Scandalous passion and the ache of longing, wrapped in a blazing fire too powerful to smother.

At night, we held trysts in the most obscure places. Sometimes, his lab, his office, the top of the clock tower, anywhere that was warm, hidden away from others, and lacked cameras. After sex, he’d pull out his books, and we’d lay naked in quiet study until it was time to return to our sleeping quarters. Three days before, we’d met in our secret little room in the rotunda, where he’d helped me study for my parasitology exam, quizzing me while I rode his cock.

Sex had become easier, more thrilling, and I found myself far more in tune to my body than I’d ever been before. He taught me things I never knew about myself, unlocking the dark fantasies tucked deep inside my head that I’d always feared were some strange anomaly. I felt safe voicing them to him–the desire to have him bind my hands and grab my throat–and I enjoyed the nights when he’d indulge them while whispering dirty secrets in my ear. At times, he was rough and abrasive and used my body to burn off the frustrations of the day, but then afterward, he would lie beside me and trace the contours of my bones with his gentle fingers, telling me how beautiful I was. I knew that what I felt for him had evolved into something completely foreign.

A beautiful complexity that was as pure and thrilling as it was forbidden.

And in the wake of everything, the stresses that’d plagued me only weeks ago withered to calm. It seemed Spencer had finally come to terms with some things, as he hadn’t bothered to approach me since that day in the hallway. I’d caught him hanging around Kendall more frequently, and made a point to wave when I passed him on campus, which he awkwardly reciprocated.

I paid off all of Bee’s tuition, which in turn eased some of the pressure on my relationship with Conner, and with that off my shoulders, I was able to focus on my studies, acing my exams. The measly four hours of sleep I’d always mustered had somehow blossomed to six, and I’d had to start setting my alarm just to ensure I woke up on time each morning.

I forgot the world outside the gates of Dracadia.

If Heaven existed, I’d found it in those ancient, dark hallways, under cold misty skies with autumn’s wet leaves sticking to the soles of my boots, in the scent of coffee and old books. And him. My moody and devilishly handsome professor.

Camped out at my desk, I flipped through one of the texts on the Cu’unotchke tribe I’d borrowed from the Adderly library. While most students weren’t allowed to remove the texts, Kelvin had let me check it out on the promise that I would promptly return it afterwards. I’d hoped to learn more about the black stone teeth, but most of what I’d read up until that point had been folklorish tales about the tribe–how they’d supposedly hunted the godfearing and put evil serpents in the bellies of good Christians.

At a knock on my door, I frowned, closing the book. A shock of surprise jolted me when I opened the door to Professor Gilchrist.

“Miss Vespertine, may I come in?”

I didn’t know why I suddenly felt like I was in one of those vampire movies, debating whether I should invite the demon of the night inside. Was it even normal for a professor to visit someone’s dorm? I’d never seen anyone else visited by a professor.

“Sure.” Stepping aside allowed her access into my room, and I scanned the space for anything personal I may have forgotten to put away.

Once inside, she closed the door behind her and crossed her arms behind her back. “Miss Vespertine, I’ve been struggling with something for a while now. And I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s best to confess.”

“Okay.” I bit the inside of my lip to hide my trepidation.

“I know the woman in the study that you wrote was your mother.” She crossed the room, staring at the picture of me, Bee, and my mother. “The moment I saw you, it was as if I was looking right at her again.”

“You knew my mother?”

“I was an undergrad when I first heard of the Crixson Project. At the time, I didn’t really have much direction in mind. I just knew I wanted to get into some fast-paced science, and the Crixson Project held so much potential. I signed on as a lab assistant and secretary for Dr. Warren Bramwell.” She turned to face me, gaze cruising over my room as if looking for something else to examine. “For the participants involved, it paid handsomely. A life-changing sum, in many cases. Your mother was part of the control group. Seeing as she was a native Dracadian who’d lived here all her life, Dr. Bramwell hypothesized that she might have had some natural resistance to the toxin. In hindsight, he was correct, but that isn’t what was most compelling about her time in the study. It was the pregnancy.”

I’d pieced together that much on my own, and had figured that was the reason she’d left the study. What wasn’t clear to me was whether, or not, it had been voluntary.

“One night, I was asked by Dr. Bramwell to stay after and input some data. It was as I was mindlessly typing away that I overheard your mother speaking with a certain doctor about his indiscretions leading to her dilemma.”

Dilemma. In other words, me.

A thick churning nausea roiled in my stomach, as I imagined the possibility that she might’ve been talking about Dr. Bramwell. Such a thing would’ve made Professor Bramwell my half-brother.

“He urged her to get an abortion.”

As she went on, my pulse revved with impatience, waiting on the damn punch line to this joke.

“She told him she needed to think about it. Consequently, she left the study and never returned.”

“Which doctor? Who got her pregnant?” I finally asked.

She smiled and shook her head. “Come now. You don’t think I’d hand over such sensitive information without something in exchange.”

Of course not, but I couldn’t begin to imagine what exchange she’d be looking to make. “What do you want?”

“I want you to finish out the semester and leave quietly.”

In one single gasp of breath, I felt spiritless. Soulless. As if she’d reached inside my chest and ripped out my heart. Leave Dracadia? The place that had become my solace, my sanctuary? I couldn’t do that. “You’re the one who invited me here.”

“I made a mistake.”

“This is about Professor Bramwell. Isn’t it?”

Her lips twitched as if to smile, and she crossed the room toward the window, opposite my desk, that overlooked the sea. “He’s exceptional as a professor, you know. He’s never once shown the slightest interest in any student on campus. Which is why I certainly didn’t believe the crap story about the Harrick girl. It was as if he didn’t even notice them.” When she twisted around, the humor on her face had withered. “That is, until you came along.”

“Nothing is going on–”

She held up her hand, cutting me off. “Don’t insult me. While the rest of the campus might be obtuse to your trysts, I can assure you, they’ve not gone unnoticed.”

A person would’ve had to have made the effort to watch us, as careful as we were. We hadn’t even exchanged texts, because Bramwell didn’t want a trace of evidence that someone could use against us.

“Why are you doing this? He’s made it clear that he’s not interested in a relationship with you.”

Hands behind her back, she chuckled. “If that were true, he wouldn’t have paid me a rather special visit yesterday.” The implication in her voice had me frowning.

“When?”

“Last night.” The woman must’ve been off her rocker, because the two of us had spent the entire night together in his lab.

Calling her out on the lie wasn’t going to get me anywhere, though. “Professor, going back isn’t an option. There’s nothing for me in Covington. And my home life has become unstable since my mother’s death. You can’t do this.”

“I can. A meeting with Langmore, and it’s done.”

I didn’t know what that meant. What politics might’ve made that a real possibility. I only knew that leaving was not an option. Not now. “You wouldn’t be here, wasting both our time, if it was that easy. You’re lying.”

For one split second, I thought she’d plow through that door again, out of my dorm room and straight to Langmore’s office to prove me wrong. I expected a smug grin and the pathetic explanation that she was giving me an option.

None of that happened.

Which proved I was right. I’d called her bluff.

She reached into the pocket of her skirt and held up a computer chip. “This? It could end my career. Or worse. So, I need more than your crap promise to stay away from Devryck.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to know who the members of Anon Amos are.”

That was certainly not the significant bit of information I’d imagined she’d be looking for. While tempting, given my distaste for Mel as of late, I didn’t have it in me to rat her out. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Well, I’m asking you to find out. When you do? I’ll tell you who daddy dearest is.”

“Why? What do they have to do with you?”

After a good few minutes of staring, perhaps debating whether, or not, to tell me, she huffed. “I received a threat recently. That they would expose something scandalous. I need to know.”

If I had to guess, it was probably the strange relationship she had with Spencer. What could’ve been more scandalous than her sexual relations with the provost’s son? “Can you at least tell me if Warren Bramwell was the doctor who got my mother pregnant?”

As if my concerns had suddenly dawned on her, she shot back a fiendish smile. “Tell you what. You give me a name? I’ll tell you if you’re fucking your own brother.”

I needed to know. I couldn’t stand not knowing. “Fine. Cat. Dark-haired girl. Piercings. She’s one of them.”

“Cat,” she echoed. It wouldn’t have surprised me if she told me Bramwell was my father anyway, just to traumatize me, but a wild surge of relief shot through me when she responded with, “It’s not Professor Bramwell’s father.”

Thank God.

“This is a fun game, isn’t it? Let’s keep going, Miss Vespertine.”

I shook my head. “I don’t care. I don’t care about my father. I never did. Why does it matter now?”

“This file contains more than your sperm donor, I can assure you. But if that’s not enough for you, perhaps you might like to know how your mother became infected with the worms.”

“How would you even know that? It was four years ago.”

“I’m a scientist. I document everything.”

“I thought the files were …” I hesitated to say, not wanting to risk telling her more than necessary.

“Those files were what? Stuffed in some Bankers Box in the bowels of this school? Some of them were, yes. I was tasked with destroying them. A few of the boxes were stolen from me before I could shred them, but not before I’d scanned my own copies.” She twisted the chip around, taunting me with it. “This holds everything those files don’t.”

“I only have to give you a name? One name?”

“Oh, honey. For this? I’m going to need your ass on the next train out of here. It’s just too much risk.” She tucked it back into her pocket, my gaze trailing her every move. “But I’ll tell you what. You give me a significant name this time, and I’ll give you a significant name. Deal?”

It was true what I’d said. I didn’t care to know who my father was, but perhaps knowing would help me begin to piece together the puzzle that still baffled my brain. Namely, how the hell my mother had ended up infected only four years ago. I’d only postulated that she’d come home for her mother’s funeral and had somehow gotten sick. Perhaps something more sinister had been at play, though. “You won’t tell them that I told you?”

“Of course not. I give you my word.”

“Melisandre. She’s the group’s leader.”

Her face blanched. “You’re certain of this.”

“Positive. They meet in some little dungeon in her dorm room.”

Staring off for a moment, she scratched at her face in thought, then quickly snapped out of it. “Very well. Since you’ve been so helpful, I’ll extend you the same courtesy. Your father is–”

My phone buzzed at my hip, but I didn’t bother to look at it.

Gilchrist glanced down and back. “Do you need to answer that?”

“No. My father is who?” The ringing died down, only to start up again. I inwardly growled at the obnoxious intrusion, not offering so much as a peek at who it might’ve been. “Just tell me.”

“Dr. Lippincott.”

The moment she said the name, the world skidded to a halt. I shook my head, trying to process it. Trying to imagine the possibility of truth in it, but I couldn’t. It was absurd. “You’re lying.”

“Why would I lie? He fucked your mother, got her pregnant, and Bramwell kicked him out of the project. So terrified that his wife was going to leave him destitute, he urged your mother to get an abortion. She disappeared soon after.”

I couldn’t deny that her version of the story made sense, but there were a million possibilities. Less traumatizing versions, for certain. “That’s why you invited me here. Why you kept telling me to meet with him. It had nothing to do with my paper. My academics.”

She smirked and shook her head. “You’re smart, I’ll give you that. While I was intrigued by your knowledge on Noctisoma, I found it lacking. Do I think anything you’ve done in your life warrants a full ride scholarship to this institution? No. You’re a dime a dozen, Lilia.”

“How did you even know who I was?”

“All I had to do was Google your name. As I said, you are a spitting image of her. Wasn’t rocket science putting everything together.”

Still reeling from the shock, I shook my head. “You’re a horrible person.”

Brows winged up, she sighed. “I wasn’t. Truly. Not until you came along and fucked everything up.” She held up the chip again. “Before you leave, come see me. I’ll give this to you on your way out.” Wearing a smack-worthy grin, she exited my room, closing the door behind her.

Whether the information she’d given me about my father was true, or not, I had no intentions of acknowledging, or confirming, it. My mother had always described him as a conniving man, and based on what I’d learned from Spencer, it might’ve been the only truth she’d fed me.

No. I wasn’t leaving. I had no intentions of going down without a fight.

Or staying away from Professor Bramwell, for that matter.

Not now.