2. Chapter Two
Chapter two
“ G host stories? Don’t be ridiculous.” I snorted at the student in front of me.
I may be weirdly connected to the history of these creepy gothic grounds, but I sure as hell wasn’t believing my dead, great-great-great-something grandmother roamed the halls as a spirit. I loved a haunting story as much as the next girl, but it was too cliche. Ghosts of the women murdered on the grounds of the university?
No. Just no.
“But your name is Vivian Valentine!” the nerd in front of me said before we were shushed. Libraries were not exactly known for chatting, but apparently, writing my name on an assignment was enough to disrupt some unseen balance within the nerd society.
Four people were now standing around, staring at me with bug eyes as I sat in my seat. I wanted to use my book as a shield.
“Vivianna Valentine was the St. Valentine’s wife!” another said again, followed by a crescendo of hushing. “Legend says he murdered her on Valentine’s Day all those years ago, and his friends followed in his footsteps, stabbing their wives, too. It is said that their bones are under the university itself.”
I grimaced. “Ew. That’s dark. But look, dude…I didn’t ask to be related to a freak who supposedly murdered everyone or a poor wife who just loved the wrong man!”
Those shushers glared at me now, and I lowered my voice. “I just want to get the free tuition and learn how to become the best journalist I can be. Is that too much to ask?”
“Do you think you deserve special privilege?” another student spoke up.
“Tu es sanguis meus,” a whispered voice in the air murmured.
Freaked out by the sudden chill in the air, I looked around.
Were these morons trying to scare me?
This prank wasn’t funny. I stood up and grabbed my bag from the chair, turning to quickly get the fuck away from them.
Before I realized anyone was in my path, I walked forward, smashing into a hard-rigged body. I fell onto the ground so fast my head spun. Disoriented, I looked up to see a man with blue eyes, light brown hair, and a smug ass look on his face.
He was dressed differently than a lot of the guys I had seen here. He had a button-up the same as everyone else and slacks on but no blazer. He looked older than the boys I had come across. Mature even, but not grandpa state.
His arms were practically breaking through the seams of his damn shirt, and I cursed myself for wishing that some of those buttons would pop off.
“Mind watching where you’re going, dickhead? Who the fuck do you think you are?” I said from the ground.
He stopped and looked down at me with a smirk, curiosity painting his beautiful features. It was dead silent now, no hushing students at my outburst. I felt a weird sense of foreboding at that, even more than the intrigue in the man’s eyes.
I waited for him to help me up from the floor, but he just stared at me with amusement before walking right over my legs and leaving the library. With his exit, all the people in the space erupted into whispers, and one of the nerds rushed over to help me up.
“Are you crazy?” she hissed, her look of pure panic evident.
She twirled her fingers in her pigtails and looked over to the doorway as if to ensure the man did not return before she spoke.
“That is Maddox Valentine ,” she said. “He is a direct descendant of St. Valentine, like you! And he pretty much owns this school.”
I looked after the man, understanding the arrogance oozing off every gorgeous pore now.
So that asshole owned the murder castle, huh?
“Did his parents forget to teach him manners when they showered him with money and power?”
Gasps sounded around me, and I rolled my eyes. Geez-us…everyone at this school was brainwashed. Maybe free tuition wasn’t worth it after all. St. Valentine’s University had one, if not the, most prestigious journalism program in the country.
I had to try and make it through this school, at least.
Rich, rude asshole, be damned. They said he worked here, but that didn’t mean I had to be near him. He probably did some hoity-toity shit that matched his perfect lapels. I was sure I wouldn’t so much as cross paths with him.
My watch alerted me to my class time approaching, and I dusted off my stupid required plaid skirt and itchy tights before saluting the nerds.
“Well, as lovely as this uh…history lesson has been, I have class.”
The dorks glanced my way and exchanged a look with one another.
“What class do you have now?” one of them said.
I looked at my phone, scrolling to the time frame listed and sliding my finger over to the title: “The Innovations of Art and Illustrations.”
Some in the group snickered, while others looked even more sympathetic than when I told them my name. “Uh, okay… Well, see ya later, losers.”
I followed the map of the winding paths of the castle-like university, trying to navigate to my stupid lecture. Hopefully, whoever this eccentric human was, the art professor would take some pity on the new kid being late.
I was already halfway through the semester and would need to retake all these courses because I transferred so late, but I figured that getting acquainted with extra classes and information was a win-win for me.
I was only a sophomore, and my mother wanted me to get acquainted with the sorority.
Technically, I was a legacy, but I didn’t want anything to do with it despite sharing housing. I planned on tricking my mom when she came to visit.
That life was her dream, and she already lived it. I was tired of living in her world. I actually had a shot at being my own person here.
The nerds’ gasps and spazzing came to my mind, and I sighed.
Maybe not my own person, after all. Now, I’d be living in Vivianna Valentine’s shadow.
The door to the art room was at the very fucking back of one of the hallways, and I was out of breath from the number of stairs I had climbed to reach the stupid place. I took a deep breath, peeking into the door and seeing easels and students with smocks diligently working on their art.
I couldn’t see any professor-looking people, so I quickly and quietly snuck into the room.
There was an empty space toward the very front, and I snatched a smock from someone’s chair and put it on.
“Snooze, you lose,” I mumbled as I walked by.
I reached the easel and stood there, looking at the blank canvas and having absolutely zero idea what the fuck to do with it. I picked up a paintbrush and started scribbling red on the paper.
The students in the room were watching me, being careful to busy themselves with their own art. A few kept staring at me in shock, and I glared at them.
“What are you looking at? Do your doodles, douche.”
The students’ eyes widened, and I smiled, but it was short-lived. The red splotches of my canvas became shadowed. I turned to look and saw the man from the library standing behind me.
“No fucking way,” I said out loud, disbelief making me groan as I rolled my eyes.
The man walked up to me and looked at the red splotches all over the white paper with that stupid, intrigued look in his bright blue eyes.
“Do you always hide in the shadows, waiting to claim someone’s title as your own?” he said, and I fucking lost it.
Screw this asshat for insinuating that just because I was a Valentine, that meant I was somehow trying to use that as a way to overshadow someone else. I wasn’t.
“Listen, fuckface,” I said, getting those stupid gasps again. “I don’t care what my name is. I am proud to be Vivian Valentine. I don’t know my ancestors, nor do I give a flying fuck about them or their history, so just leave me alone.”
It was so quiet that I could hear hearts rapidly beating in the chests of those around me.
“Why are you bothering me? Where is the professor?” I said, turning my head to look around the room.
One of the girls in the back pointed to my side, where the arrogant prick stood.
I paled.
This is my Professor? Just my fucking luck.
“You have my title now, but I am most intrigued by yours.” Professor Dickweed looked at me in surprise.
Like he wasn’t aware of my name, or that, I guess it made us related in some freaky sort of way. Well, whatever, he was still an asshole.
“Are you truly Vivian Valentine?” He took a vial of some type of liquid out of his smock and moved closer to my paper.
“Yes…why?” I said hesitantly, watching what he was doing.
“How could I have missed this? Hmm. Mouthier than Vivianna ever dared to be, but…”
The vial of liquid was raised above the painting, and he tilted his hand. An unseen mixture was poured onto the parchment, and I gasped as an image of a woman appeared underneath my red smudges.
She was naked, a beautiful illustration appearing before my eyes. The woman looked…like me. She had long dark brown hair, curvy hips, and a formed figure eerily similar to mine. I swallowed and realized my drawing in red looked like blood on the hidden image. A woman that resembled me, now smeared in crimson.
“How-what? I…”
The professor smiled and leaned down for only me to hear.
“Vivian Valentine, you certainly know how to make an entrance. Perhaps it is fate to show the blood on your very own ancestor’s body. A message to us all to know our place.”
I let that sink in—a feeling of dread creeping into my veins like a disease.
Did my ancestor truly resemble me that much? Everything about her, from her breasts to her hips, even the fucking birthmark on her ass cheek.
This was too real.
“Such a sweet, innocent view of the world. Like a little virgin. Vivianna Valentini is translated from Latin. In English, it translates to something quite familiar.”
I shivered and realized I had way more in common than I ever wanted from my very dead ancestor.
“Do you fear the past, Little Virgin?” he whispered, leaning closer to my ear. “Or do you fear knowing that history in one’s blood is fated to repeat itself…Vivian. Valentine?”