Nocticadia

by Keri Lake

I lurched for her arm to pull her up, but halted when, from her mouth, a long, skinny, fibrous creature slithered out past her lips and into the water. Three more tumbled after it–two from her nose.

At least two dozen more poured free, forcing her mouth and nostrils wide. More still after that. They all wriggled toward the plugged drain.

“Little Lily cat,” he said, ignoring my question. “You’re not so little anymore, are you, kitten?” “Don’t call me that.”

“No. Of course you don’t have a boyfriend. Men are dicks, right?” “Pretty much.” “You ever touched one before? A dick, that is.”

Gross

two crossed medical canes, like those used during the plague, with a number seven.

“Very well. I am a pathologist here at the university. The primary researcher for a parasitology project that’s funded by exceptionally wealthy and powerful individuals.”

“Oh. I wasn’t asking your permission, Mr. Barletta. You see, the whiskey you just chugged contains thousands of tiny eggs, each of them encased in a wonderful spore-like outer shell that protects it from the ethanol. In two days, those eggs will be embryonated as they settle into your very nutrient-rich liver. The larvae will continue to grow inside of you and, in another six days, will hatch from their eggs. That’s when the real fun begins.”

“The larvae will then release potent toxins that will breach your blood brain barrier. The toxins will intensify your most basic needs–thirst, hunger, sex. When the parasite finally realizes there is no warm and cozy womb to lay more of their eggs and complete their cycle, the adult worms will then aggressively begin to feed on your liver in an attempt to fatten themselves for survival. You will ultimately go into organ failure and die. And that is when you will finally expel them.”

“What separates monsters from good men is only a matter of perspective. In your eyes, I’m a sick fuck for what I’ve done to you. But I, on the other hand, see you as a parasite.”

The side of it read Dracadian Express in glittery gold font, with the head of a gold dragon curved over the lettering.

“I see you decided to show up,” I said behind the mask and shield covering my face. “Almost started without you.” The cat, whom I’d named Bane, sauntered his way across the room and settled in the corner opposite me, where he licked his paws.

With the forceps, I poked around and lifted out a long, black, skinny worm, about a foot long. “Fucking hell,” I muttered. The head of the worm latched onto my glove, and though I felt nothing, the sight of it chomping onto my finger startled me, and I dropped it back into the decedent’s abdominal cavity. “Damn it!”

Of course she was. Nearly two decades had passed since the scandalous disaster that had loomed over my career like a fucking curse. Six women had died. Two had gone missing. And, somehow, I’d inherited the shitshow job of cleaning up my father’s reputation.

“I’m surprised I managed to catch you in office hours, at all. It’s a wonder you sleep.”

“Attention, passengers, we’ve arrived at Thresher Bay, Maine, where the time is five-oh-six in the morning.

“Name’s Briceson Williams.”

“Medical microbiology. You?” “Chemistry.”

“All I’m gonna say is, you might see some weird stuff. But as far as I know, no one was ever killed by a ghost there.”

When, finally, the dark silhouette of the island could be seen through the fog, I marveled at the arched curve that did, in fact, look like a sleeping dragon. Gray clouds, swollen with rain, loomed like puffs of black smoke billowing upward.

“Lilia Vespertine.” “Lilia … Lilia … ah, yes. Crixson House. Room three-ten.”

“It’s not like that. I, um …. I have a boyfriend?” A lopsided smile slanted his lips as he scratched the back of his head.

“Dracadia was once a monastery,” Kendall said, staring out through the gondola window. “And an asylum, right?” “Yes. It has a rather dark history. But I’m sure that wouldn’t impress someone like you.”

“His associate professor and teaching assistant. Dr. Bramwell oversees the course and gives the lectures for the accompanying class, but his associate and teaching assistant run the Midnight Lab and recitations. Dr. Bramwell is the lead in charge.”

“I see. There’s another class I didn’t sign up for, as well. Entomology. I’m assuming you put me in that class, too?” “No. That was likely Dr. Gilchrist. She’s the Department Chair for the College of Natural Science. The one who petitioned your enrollment.”

“I’m Lilia, by the way.” “I’m Melisandre,” she said over her shoulder. “Mel for short.

“The Rooks. They’re Dracadia’s super secret society,”

“Anyway, rumor has it they were somehow involved in this clinical trial that happened about twenty years ago. A bunch of women were invited to participate in some study for a new medication that supposedly reversed diabetes. They all stayed in Corbeau Hall, which as you saw on the map, is somewhat separate from the campus.”

“So yeah, one night, six out of the eight women drowned themselves in Squelette Lake. And voila! Six skeletons were swept under the rug.”

Professor Bramwell is no underdog at this university. He’s old money, and old money at this school equates to power.”

“Nah. Centuries ago. It’s what the whole Adderly monument is about back at Thresher Bay. That we commemorate a British soldier who drove off the natives on the island and participated in the burning of accused witches is precisely what’s wrong with this country.”

He’s only three minutes older than I am, but he acts like he’s the boss all the time.

Twinssss

He was arrested for the very gruesome experiments he performed on prostitutes looking for abortions.

What in the torture is in this family?!

“Only good men save lives, Devryck. Father isn’t a good man.”

In his black, button-down shirt, black slacks, and black, finger-raked hair, he looked like an ominous shadow moving through the lecture hall with the kind of lethal grace that had undoubtedly obliterated a few hearts. His outfit matched the infamous black, to-go cup clutched in his hand.

Romans 12:17 had been underlined: Do not repay anyone evil for evil.

Aversion to light. Intense thirst. Glow to the eyes. Episodes of paranoia.

Without a doubt, Lilia Vespertine was going to be a massive headache. But she was my headache.

“I was just trying to make you comfortable, is all. Sir.” His eyes skated to me on the last word, his jaw shifting. “You may leave now, Miss Vespertine.”

“Their toxins are the cure. Unfortunately, they’re not easy to manufacture in a lab. It takes a fresh human body.”

Impervious?”

“Impenetrable,

“Tell me you aren’t recording my classes, Miss Vespertine.”

The camera slid closer toward the dark depths beneath her skirt, and the moment she peeled back the hem, allowing some light, my knees damned near buckled. Her pussy arrived in perfect view, shaved clean of every hair, and when she pressed two fingers against her folds, opening herself up, I bit my knuckles while staring down at that beautiful, pink shell. Fuck me. Fuck. Me.

Stop. Stop it now, you crazy fuck.

Don’t do this. The girl had to be at least twelve, maybe thirteen years younger than me. A woman, but young.

A lewd, wet sound, like ASMR porn had me opening my eyes, to see two of her fingers disappearing up inside of her, my voice still prattling on in the background. In and out, she pumped those wet digits, while I unwittingly gave my lecture.

But it was the audacity of this girl that crawled beneath my skin. The way she sat in my class with her wild hair that reminded me of autumn leaves, her mouthy comebacks, and those eyes. Bold, aquamarine eyes that constantly challenged me. Eyes I imagined were staring straight at me while she fingered herself in my class.

The light on her screen dimmed again, and I swiped it up, keeping it from locking.

They had no idea the girl was brilliant and witty. Too damn smart for her age.

Too damn beautiful to be seen as something so simple and entertaining.