CHAPTER 11
T he blare of a horn startled me, and I awoke on a gasp pressed against the cool pane of a window.
Drool wet my cheek, and I dragged my arm across my face in as subtle a movement as I could, glancing around to see other passengers also rousing out of sleep.
In the moon’s light, a thick fog hovered over the water, as I peered through the window toward the ocean in the distance.
The ocean.
I’d only seen it once as a teenager. As much as my sister and I always dreamed of going to the beach, my mother had always refused, opting instead for camping trips in the woods. As if my mother had feared the water.
I found it mesmerizing.
“Attention, passengers, we’ve arrived at Thresher Bay, Maine, where the time is five-oh-six in the morning.
Weather is a balmy sixty-four degrees with patches of thick fog.
The ferry will depart at approximately five-thirty to transport you to Dracadia Island.
Please gather your luggage, and be sure to watch your step on the exit ramp.
If this is your first year at Dracadia, congratulations and welcome!
” The train entered an enormous glass dome and slowed to a stop between two other stationed trains, each separated by a narrow platform on which a clock stood upright above a sign with the next departures.
Across from me sat a guy, about my age. He removed his earbuds, his bright blue eyes, a stunning contrast to his dark skin, staring past me, presumably toward the window at my other side.
I felt a small bit of relief on seeing someone else not clad in designer clothes.
Having unbuckled myself, I pushed to my feet and waited as a line of passengers made their way to the luggage rack. An inexplicable tension wound through me as I eyed my suitcase too far away to grab.
Relax, nobody wants your damn suitcase.
At the end of the lineup, the kid across from me gestured to let me go first, and with an appreciative nod, I stepped out into the aisle behind everyone else.
“First year?” he asked, falling in line behind me.
Lips tight, I smiled. “Is it obvious?” I hoped so, considering I was about two years older than I should’ve been for a first year.
“You just look a little nervous.”
“I’m actually a sophomore, but it’s my first year at the university. What about you?” The line moved forward, and I slid my suitcase off the rack, stumbling forward as I hefted it into the narrow aisleway.
“Sophomore.” He pulled a much fancier suitcase off the rack and, in the brief moment before the line moved forward, stuck out a hand. “Name’s Briceson Williams.”
I returned the handshake. “Lilia. Nice to meet you.”
“You, too. Where are you from?”
I glanced over my shoulder, at a blonde passenger who was busy scrolling through Instagram, and turned back around, lowering my voice. “Covington.”
“Ahh, home of the Luminet.” Lips stretched to a smile, he shrugged. “I’m a few towns over, in Lansmot. And I’m kind of a theater nerd.”
Last I checked, Lansmot was the second most wealthy city in Massachusetts. Yet, I didn’t feel like a pauper around him, in fact, I found him to be relatable.
“I actually live above the theater,” I said.
“Seriously? No way! I’m so jealous!” He chuckled and gave a jerk of his head, alerting me that the line had moved forward.
“Yeah,” I said over my shoulder, making my way for the exit. “I know just about every word to Les Misérables at this point.”
“I do, too. But for different reasons, I suppose.” All of us made our way down the platform toward the main part of the station. “What are you studying?” With the wider space, he strolled up alongside me, the two of us walking side by side.
“Medical microbiology. You?”
“Chemistry.”
“Wow. Redox balancing. Hated that with every fiber of my being.”
“Simple computation.”
“Ahh, that was a subtle insult.” I chuckled, my arm straining as my suitcase bounced over the cracks in the concrete behind me.
The station opened out onto a road, where everyone crossed to the ferry boat launch across the street.
Pale rays of sunlight had begun to crest over the clouds, though it would probably be another half-hour, or so, before sunrise.
Eyeing a statue out in front of the launch, I studied the stony profile of man in a colonial style uniform.
The placard at his feet read, Lord Commodore Adderly, and below that, In memory of those who perished enroute to Dracadia .
As I followed everyone onto the small boarding bridge, I caught sight of the murky ocean water below. I’d never been on a boat before, and I really hoped I didn’t get seasick. Especially in front of a load of people I’d only just met for the first time.
Just as on the train, we all stored our luggage in a small rack. Briceson gave a slight jerk of his head. “If you tend to get a little nauseous like I do, the cabin is probably best,” he said, as if reading my mind.
A nervous smile lifted the corner of my mouth, and I nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”
He led the two of us inside an enormous passenger cabin with tables and benches, and gestured toward a seat by a small window. Being enclosed by walls had me feeling less vulnerable, and I slid onto the bench across from him. “How long is the ride to Dracadia?”
“About ninety minutes, or so. Not too long.”
“So, the university … what’s it like?”
“It’s a great school. Beautiful campus. If you can get past the ghosts and creepy history.”
“A chem major who believes in ghosts?”
He snorted a laugh. “I didn’t believe in a lot of things before I attended this school. But it comes with the territory. You kinda just have to roll with it.”
After a short announcement from the captain, the ferry idled away from the dock, and I peered out of the window to see the ocean water splashing up as we picked up speed.
I’d studied the map of Dracadia, had seen its position miles out into the Gulf of Maine, where I’d read that the water reached depths of over a thousand feet in some spots.
The thought sent a shiver across the back of my neck.
Please don’t send any tidal waves to tip the boat over.
Getting stranded in the middle of the ocean happened to be a recurring nightmare for me, for some reason.
My therapist had told me that it might’ve been my mind feeling trapped in my circumstances.
Google had suggested that I might soon be facing a dangerous time in my life.
I hoped it was just a stupid nightmare that didn’t mean much of anything, at all.
“Have you actually seen a ghost, or something?” I asked Briceson, searching for distraction from the gurgling in my stomach.
As much as I wanted to stare out at the ocean, seeing it dip and swell with the waves sent a cold tickle to my chest, and I decided against the possibility of painting the table between us in puke.
“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.”
“Well, that’s good to know.”
He hiked his arm up over the top of the bench and eased back into his seat. “So, what does a medical microbiologist do?”
“I want to study diseases. Find cures. You know, save the world. You?”
“Would you believe me if I said I don’t know? I’ll probably become a professor and mold the minds of those who have their shit together better than I do.”
“Well, at least you have a plan.”
Somehow, an hour and a half passed with light conversation, and only a minor case of nausea that I was able to keep in check by breathing hard through my nose.
Watching the sun rise over the horizon, its salmon-colored rays stretching across the water’s surface, also provided some distraction.
Fleeting, as those golden rays disappeared too quickly behind the gloom of overcast.
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.
“Hello, Dracadia,” Briceson said, peering through the window.
“Wow. It’s beautiful.”
“Even more beautiful up close.”
The boat ferried through the crack in the rock, beneath the arch, toward the other side of the island.
Stony spires speared the sullen sky over the dark, wispy crowns of the pine trees, which cloaked the university grounds.
The ferry’s engine slowed as the boat tottered across the choppy waves toward a stone, castle-like structure at the foot of the cliff, whose center looked like it had been carved into an archway.
Flickering torches lit the way through the small tunnel, which opened up into a domed interior, where a number of small boats had been docked.
Attendants inside the rocky boathouse scurried around the ferry, tying it up as we made our way toward the ramp.
Standing on deck beside all the stacked luggage, a middle-aged man smiled at me, and as I reached for my suitcase, he set a gentle hand on my arm. “I got it, Miss. Your luggage will be delivered to your dorm room.”
That same uneasy feeling as before nagged at me. I suspected every other student on the ferry could’ve probably afforded to replace a wardrobe, or missing gadgets, but that wasn’t the case for me. If he lost it, or worse, it got stolen, I’d have nothing.
“Trust me,” he added, and I realized that I was still clutching the handle of my bag. “You’re not going to want to drag this thing up the hill.”
At that, I bowed to the side, noticing through the brick tunnel where the path disappeared up the mountainside.
“Don’t worry, they’re really good about delivering everything with care,” Briceson said behind me. “I was a little uncomfortable at first, too.”
From his coat pocket, the attendant pulled a pen and flipped through the first few pages of the clipboard clutched in his other hand. “Name?”
“Lilia Vespertine.”