Nocticadia

by Keri Lake

“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.”

She didn't need to tell all that! What an asshole. 😧

If I wanted to save this study, to keep it from slipping into failure, I needed to find another victim. The reality weighed heavily on me, and yet, at the same time, the only reason I’d made progress so swiftly was because I had sought out test subjects. Without them, I’d have been in a stagnant state of growing toxin in moths.

Use Lippincott and Gilchrest 😐

Beside me, Lilia looked around at the dark and dilapidated trees that hid the long stretch of dirt road. “What is this place?” I rolled the car to a stop just outside of a black, wrought iron gate with Bramwell Estate etched into its metal. “It’s where I grew up.” Beyond the gate stood the dark and dreary gothic mansion with its stained-glass windows, steep gabled roof and turret.

This place was just down the road and they used to school to "sneak" around?

“The decision was made the moment I met you, though. To stay here. I choose you.” Damn her. Damn this. What the hell was I doing to this girl? What the hell was she doing to me? I pushed past the revolting lack of feeling and hooked my finger beneath her chin, turning her to face me. “I choose you,” I said, and pulled her in for a kiss, feeling the smile against my lips. “And believe me when I say, you’re hard to forget, Miss Vespertine.”

It's weird that he keeps calling her Miss Vespertine, instead of her given name. I'd even take a cringy nickname.

“I feel like I should hate this parasite more than I do. Everything about it fascinates me, though.” I sighed. “Welcome to my world.”

The idea that she’d spied on us, that she’d gone so far as to take pictures for a fucking scandal, had my stomach twisted up in knots. I’d always joked that Covington was home to the worst souls, but here, they were a different breed. A scheming, manipulative genre of human beings. “Why?” “Seriously? You rat me out, and you’re asking why?” “She was withholding information on everything. My father. My mother!” “Oh, boo-fucking-hoo.” The way she mocked me sent an itch to my palm–the longing to haul off and smack her tempting my restraint. “You tried to get me kicked out. Lucky for me, Lady Gilchrist was willing to strike a deal.”

“Seems it won’t be your room for long,” she said, and she slinked away like the snake she was, offering some reprieve from the smug grin plastered to her face.

No, Lilia. *You* are a snake. Mel being classist doesn't change she is getting payback for a betrayal.

The sound of her snorted laugh as I passed grated on my nerves, and something inside of me snapped. On a capricious twist, I dropped my bag and suitcase and slammed my fist into her cheek. A scream tore out of her, as she stumbled backward into the wall.

Lilia blaming Mel for something that was *her dumbass fault* is so eye-roll inducing.

I reached over the edge of my bed, and from my suitcase, I pulled out my mother’s painting of the swing and the ocean. Through a mist of tears, I stared at the view I’d hoped to one day make a reality for me and Bee. Even as brief as my visit at the house had been, it felt like home. My true home.

Each of The Seven removed their pins from their gowns. My heart rampaged inside my chest, slamming against my bones. I knew every face behind every mask,

Then why do they wear masks, if everyone knows eachother? Theatrics? 😆

“Considering the timeline you gave me, and Francesca having confirmed that she enjoyed the black rock tea from the apothecary, yes. I think it gave her enough resistance to avoid infection.” “Not enough to keep Lippincott from reinfecting her, though.” His expression turned somber. “I’m afraid not. I’ve since learned the effects of the tea wear off, if not consistently replenished.”

I would've thought this is a conversation they would have before seven weeks of study.

Two small black frames each held a moth, and frowning, I rounded his desk, coming to a stop before them. Patroclus and Achilles had been etched into small gold plaques below each preserved moth. They’d passed two weeks prior, having completed their lifecycle. What had compelled him to keep them? The gesture was so wildly out of character for Devryck, yet adorable at the same time, that it brought a smile to my face.

A tight grip of my throat lifted my chin, sealing off the air to my lungs as he held me steady.

Really don't like his restricting her breath is a thing and always mentioned. That is unsafe and can result in brain damage. Don't do this at home, folks!