CHAPTER 20
H ow was it, the more I watched him, the less I knew of the man?
Four days had passed, and on a campus that housed thousands of students and staff, between classes, I’d somehow become hyperaware of Doctor Death’s whereabouts.
In addition to neuroparasitology, he taught fourth year and graduate level anatomical pathology, which seemed to take up most of his afternoons, besides the occasional visits to the admin building, where I suspected he attended staff meetings.
Every morning, at precisely seven, he could be seen jogging past the clock tower in his usual campus circuit, four times around, equating to about ten miles.
Not that I could possibly track every moment of his day, of course, I did have quite a bit on my plate, but he rarely passed by without my noticing.
Today was the exception.
Some students had left for the long Labor Day weekend, but I’d stayed. The last thing I intended to do was return to the shitshow with Angelo, though that seemed to have settled over the past week.
I’d gone all morning, to the dining halls, the library, and one of the coffee shops across campus, without having seen Professor Bramwell hustle to and from Emeric Tower, leaving me to wonder if he’d left the island for the holiday weekend, as well.
Since the weather was a balmy sixty-eight degrees, I decided to take one of the campus bikes for a spin. A swipe of my ID card allowed me to rent a bike for six hours at a time, and with the island being about eighteen miles long, I suspected I’d need the time to do some exploring.
Following a five-minute interview from the gatekeeper, who insisted on knowing where I was going, when I was coming back, and if I planned to meet up with anyone, I headed through the campus gates.
The bike accelerated down a slightly terrifying narrow road, steep enough that I nervously kept my hand off the brake for fear of flipping forward.
The path that split the forest wound down the cliff, and as I passed thick stretches of trees, I wondered how the hell I’d get back without destroying my thigh muscles.
Swells of a sprawling forest opened around the occasional cottage-style home–adorable, old-century structures, with asymmetrical, rounded roofs and steeply pitched gables that had me feeling like I’d fallen into a small European country.
Properties in Covington tended to be the usual bungalows and Cape Cods, whereas those on the island were adorable storybook cottages, drowning in overgrown ivy, and beautiful wooden arches brimming with colorful blooms.
The entire island had a magical appeal about it, unlike any place I’d ever been. Like the school itself, it quickly grew on me, luring me into its charm, just as Professor Wilkins had predicted.
The first week of school seemed to have flown by.
I liked my classes—even the dreaded calculus and quantitative physiology lectures—and I finally felt like I was falling into a routine.
A strange, but welcomed, change of life.
Days of trying to squeeze in class and study around full-time work had shifted to long study sessions around lectures and exploration.
Unnerving subway rides at night, surrounded by complete strangers, had given way to shuttle buses with familiar faces–all of them there for the same thing.
While I knew I still had to work out extra cash for Bee’s tuition, I no longer felt the tremendous weight of it pressing down on me.
A few miles up the road, I passed a sign that read Emberwick, and entered what appeared to be a small seaside village–a charming town that ran parallel to a boardwalk and the endless blue beyond it.
To my right, seagulls soared above the pier that stretched hundreds of feet out toward the few fishing boats anchored offshore.
The tires of my bike bounced over aged cobblestones, as I admired ivy-covered brick shops lining either side of the road.
While a few cars buzzed through town, mostly those two-seater smart cars, the bike racks outside of the shops stood packed–-undoubtedly the main source of transportation for most of the island.
When I caught sight of the apothecary shop, I slowed my bike, spying an open spot on one of the racks in front.
Once parked, I peered through the window of the shop next door to the apothecary, called Glaucus, a place which appeared to sell good luck charms to fishermen and sea travelers.
Small trinkets lay displayed in front of the window, a variety of engraved medallions, stones, hooks, and what looked like strings of tiny bones.
A wooden brochure rack beside the door held booklets of Dracadian Folklore, and I nabbed one when I noticed Free to take scribbled on a paper stapled to the wooden post.
Flipping through showed a brief description of different stories– Sirens of Bone Bay, The Cazanute, Mangurdame of Devil’s Perch, Nereides of Squelette Lake– all of them tales of different locations on the island. The place had so much history and lore, I could’ve probably spent hours studying it.
Tucking the booklet into my bag for later, I pushed through the old wooden door of Salty Sea Apothecary, to be greeted by the ring of a bell and a delicious ginger scent.
Candles burned throughout the shop, and a wall of jars stood off to the right of me, filled with all sorts of colorful fluids.
Matcha ginseng elixir. Lion’s mane. Maca.
Moringa. I lifted one of the jars, examining the clarity of the liquid inside, which almost appeared crystal-like.
“Can I help you find something?” a voice said behind me, and I turned to see a striking older woman, with deep, almond eyes and graying hair, whose skin glowed with ageless perfection. Her brows came together as she stared back at me. “Oh, my, you look like someone I once knew.”
“I do?”
“Yes. Did you by chance happen to know a Vanessa Corbin?”
“No, I’m afraid not.”
A flash of surprise lit her eyes, and she shook her head. “You are a spitting image of her.”
Smiling, I shrugged. “They say everyone has a twin.”
“Well, I knew her about twenty years ago, so I suspect she isn’t much of a twin these days.” She twisted toward a small collection of jars on a table behind her and stowed them away on one of the nearby shelves. “Do you live on Dracadia?”
“Sort of, I guess. Going to school here.” I lifted one of the bars of soap and, placing it back on the table, caught a whiff of that delicious scent again. “What is the ginger I’m smelling?”
“Oh, it’s just some black rock tea I made earlier.”
“Black rock tea?” I’d frequented a few holistic shops back in Covington, but had never come across that before.
“Yes, it’s a local tea that we brew here. Takes a bit of time to prepare, but it’ll cure whatever ails ya.”
“Do you have it for purchase?” Not that I had tons of money to spend, but I always kept an eye out for anything that might keep the seasonal bugs away. And with winter right around the corner, it was better to start building up my immunity now.
“Oh, no. It’s too much work to sell it. But how ‘bout this, I can give you a couple tea bags of it.”
“Really? I can pay you.”
“No, no. It’s all right.” She waved her hand in the air and made her way toward the cash register. “Don’t get too many young ones in here,” she said, rummaging through something below the countertop, only the top of her head visible.
“My mom was always into herbal remedies. Never took so much as an aspirin her whole life.”
Frowning, she shot back up, holding a small white satchel of what looked like black crystals inside. “Are you sure you don’t know a Vanessa Corbin?”
“Positive.”
“So strange. She and her mama were long time customers of mine. Vanessa loved the herbal teas and honey gums. Here, I’ll throw in a couple to try.
” From a bowl on the counter, she plucked two golden-colored pieces of candy wrapped in wax paper and deposited them into a small bag.
“Anyway, here’s the tea.” After holding it up for a moment, she slipped the satchel in with the candy.
“Just add hot water, a bit of ginger and some honey, and you will be in heaven. You can even drop the honey gum into it. It’s just raw hardened honey with a hint of elderberry.
” She pretended to shiver and smiled. “So good for cold winter nights.”
“Thank you for this,” I said, accepting the bag from her. “Why is it called black rock?”
“Sourced from the rocks at Bone Bay. Which is why we don’t sell it. It’s dangerous trying to get to it.”
“Dangerous? Is it guarded by dragons, or something?”
“Sharks, mostly. You have to dive into Devil’s Perch. My grandson knew those underwater caves like the back of his hand. But it’s a nursery for some of the bigger sharks. Legendary sharks.”
I couldn’t even imagine diving into something named Devil’s Perch , let alone knowing a nursery of sharks awaited me there. “Is he a shark whisperer, or something?”
Smile fading, she lowered her gaze. “He passed a few years back.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
With a sigh, she stared off for a moment, then smiled again. “Yes, so his brother brings me some black rock on occasion.”
I stared down at the supply in the bag, no more than a small satchel, but considering the danger in retrieving it, I no longer felt right taking it. “Are you sure about giving this to me? I don’t want to take your supply.”
“I insist.”
“Well, in that case, I’ll take some of the matcha ginseng, as well.”
“Very good.” With a quick wink, she nabbed a small box of the matcha from the shelf behind her and rang up the goods for me. When she’d finished, she handed me a slightly bigger bag containing everything I’d bought. “Don’t be a stranger around here, eh?”