House of Goths
By
Maria Bernard
Smashwords Edition
Published By
Maria Bernard on Smashwords
House of Goths
Copyright © 2015 by Maria Bernard
978-0-9938067-3-5
All rights reserved. Although you've downloaded this ebook, it remains the copyrighted property of the author. This ebook may not be reproduced in whole or in part, by any means, without expressed, written permission. No alteration of content is allowed.
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Your support and respect for the property of this author is greatly appreciated.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
I hope you enjoy the story as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Once you’ve finished reading this book, please leave a review.
Every little bit counts. Plus, I love hearing your thoughts.
Dedication
Many thanks to my husband, Jeff, my very own personal rockstar.
To my readers, thank you for your encouragement.
*****
House of Goths
*****
Chapter 1
“Who do we have here?” Dorian gasped as he and his two housemates approached the old Victorian home they shared. “Dear God, is she... dead?”
“Not dead, just sleeping,” Kell said, hovering his fingers over the unconscious girl’s slightly parted lips.
“Out here on the old chesterfield, on our front porch, in October, why in the world?” Crispin asked the obvious.
The three Goths studied the girl, trying to figure out if she looked familiar.
“She's definitely not one of our ex-girlfriends. Do you know her, Kell?”
“Hmm…” Kell leaned in for a closer look at the small female. She did look somewhat familiar. Yet it was quite dark out and her tousled brown hair greatly obscured her features, making it near impossible to properly identify her.
“Well?” Dorian asked. “Should we call the cops?”
“The cops?” Crispin balked. “Whatever for?”
“Maybe they're looking for her? Perhaps she's lost,” suggested a concerned Dorian. “Surely, someone is missing this girl.”
Hearing the rumblings of voices in the near distance, Becky stirred but didn’t dare wake up. She hadn't slept this well in weeks and she was loathed to interrupt her much-needed rest.
Not since the start of the school year, had Becky felt this level of comfort. Moving into the college dorm had sadly turned from the exciting prospect of forming long lasting friendships to a nightmare of never ending gossip and being cruelly shut out.
Becky had arrived as fresh-faced and optimistic as could be. Her dear grandmother who'd raised her since she was a toddler had scrimped and saved all her life to send her only granddaughter to college.
Gran had such wonderful aspirations for Becky. Her greatest wish was for her shy granddaughter to get a good education but most of all for Becky to have a wonderful time at school, make lots of friends and create long lasting memories.
Unfortunately, Becky's experiences thus far had been the complete opposite of her dear gran’s idealistic hopes for her.
As it turned out, her dorm roommates were the unfriendliest group of females, she'd ever met. Having arrived a day later than most of the girls on her floor had put her at a disadvantage from the start.
Cliques and alliances had already formed. Roommates had been chosen, beds occupied.
No one had made an effort to say hello or to make her feel the least bit welcome. The chill in the air was palpable.
What it was about Becky that made the other girls take an instant dislike of her was somewhat of a mystery to her. The only thing she could think of was that she was shy and nervous. Maybe they found her lacking a certain quality. Perhaps they didn't like that she wasn't wearing the latest fashions, that her hair wasn't blonde, straight or severely parted to the side.
When Becky finally found an unoccupied bed, the girl who had already claimed it as a good place for her clothes just about threw a fit when Becky meekly asked if she could have it.
The following weeks were barely tolerable. College life proved to be cold and indifferent. Classes weren’t quite so bad because her mind was occupied but lunch breaks were lonely and desolate. Becky had all but given up on making any new friends. In truth, she was homesick, lonely and missing her grandmother terribly.
It wasn't that anyone went out of their way to be cruel. For that, Becky was grateful. It was the climate of cold indifference that hurt the most. Perhaps her grandmother had been wrong. College life wasn't about forming meaningful friendships. The best thing she could hope for was to not die of loneliness before going home for Thanksgiving.
She was weary of the endless partying at the dorm, the revolving door of jocks coming in and out of the other girl's rooms. A few times she'd had to sleep on the couch in the common space to avoid walking in on her roommate and her flavour of the hour going at it.
Not only did she feel unwelcome, she felt unsafe and vulnerable with all these strange guys coming in and out of the dorm. Becky did not want to become a statistic. Not to mention, homework and studying were nearly impossible since privacy was non-existent.
When she did speak to Gran on the phone, she didn't have the heart to tell her the truth. Instead, she lied and led the dear old lady to believe that she was having the time of her life.
***
“Should we wake her?” Dorian asked.
“No, we'll startle her and she might scream,” Crispin gasped. “The last thing we need is for our neighbours to think we're sacrificing virgins. They already think we're devil worshipers!”
“Well, we can't just leave her out here. She'll freeze to death,” Dorian fretted.
***
Desperate to get out of the dorm, Becky had quickly taken down the listing from the bulletin board by the student services office. As fate would have it, she'd been passing by when she saw him put it up. She waited until he left before she dared to approach the board.
It read as follows…
Room for rent in old Victorian house, conveniently close to campus, shared by three Goth males. Prospective applicants must be respectful of differences, have an open mind and preferably be Goth.
Well, she wasn’t Goth or male, that’s for sure, but she was respectful and believed herself to have an open mind. Obviously, since the thought of sharing a house with three strange men didn’t bother her. Two out of three prerequisites weren’t bad odds. Hopefully, he would have just as open a mind.
He being Kelley Keele, or rather Kell as he'd prefer to be called. She preferred Kelley because it sounded less threatening, less murderous. Since he was the only person who'd shown Becky the least bit of kindness, she liked to think of him in the latter sense.
It happened on the first day of life drawing class. Becky had been late as usual since she'd had trouble finding the right classroom.
Of course, that meant most of the drawing stations were now occupied. For a moment, Becky had hesitated in the doorway, searching out an available spot, her arms full of drawing paper and chalk.
The much older instructor was already making his rounds, too busy to notice her and none of the other students offered any help.
Finally, spotting a vacant easel at the back of the studio, Becky started towards it but before she knew it, she heard shouting and scuffling behind her and then a powerful force hit her from behind, winding her an
d nearly knocking her to the floor.
“Freak!” It was the last thing she heard before dropping her supplies.
For a split second, Becky had actually believed that someone had specifically targeted her. When two very large hands grabbed her shoulders, she nearly screamed until she realized that the person who'd caught her before she crashed to the floor, had to have been the real target of the attack.
“Fucking mundanes!” he growled venomously near her ear.
Kell should have seen them coming. The idiots had been heckling him since the start of the school year. Still so fresh out of high school, the little bastards were out to prove themselves and Goths like him were easy targets. In their ignorance, the newbies hadn't yet grasped that in college, differences or rather being odd was completely acceptable if not encouraged, especially in the art department.
His first instinct was to go after the ignorant cowards and rip out their throats, but that would be giving them exactly what they wanted, fodder to fuel their fire and besides, his first concern was for the girl he'd nearly pulverized. Poor little thing, she could have been badly hurt. Righting her to her feet, he then relaxed his hold on her and perused her for injury.
“Are you all right?”
A pair of lovely green eyes stared up at him. The girl was shaking. He frowned, racked with guilt. He could have crushed her, she was so very small. The thought devastated him.
She was staring and she knew it but she couldn't help it. He was quite unlike anyone she had ever seen before. Gaunt, incredibly tall and lanky yet powerfully built with broad shoulders. He had long inky black hair, highlighted with blood-red streaks framing his unforgettable face. His skin as pale as snow, his eyes as black as onyx. He had the cheekbones of a fashion model, a chiseled chin, straight nose and full masculine lips. He was a handsome devil for sure, but scary as all get out!
“Fine... I'm fine,” Becky said, catching her breath.
He quirked an impossibly perfect eyebrow at the sound of her sultry voice. He hadn’t expected that. From the size of her, he’d expected a much squeakier, higher pitch. Instead, her voice was rich, velvety and… undeniably sexy. So much so, that he found himself wanting to hear more of it.
“Are you sure? You could’ve been badly hurt,” he stated with a frown.
Becky blinked a few times before she could respond properly. In truth, she wasn’t so much shaken up by the situation as she was touched by his obvious concern. Had it been so long since she’d been on the receiving end of such kindness? “I’m okay,” she said shakily.
Unconvinced, Kell clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth and proceeded to pick up her strewn items off the floor.
“Here, let’s gather your things together,” he said, bending down in front of her to pick up her art supplies. After a moment, he noticed that she was still standing there, ramrod straight, looking completely petrified.
Not an unusual reaction, he supposed, given his appearance, and the fact that he’d nearly pulverized her. Still, it stung a bit that she might find him so… unappealing.
“You really all right, love?” he asked again.
“Really, I’m okay,” she said with slightly quivering smile.
Becky couldn’t quite explain why she had suddenly frozen to the spot. Perhaps it was because the majority of the class had turned to gawk at them at that very moment. Or maybe because the instructor was approaching them, looking extremely irate. Way to make a first impression. More likely, though, it was because of the dark cloaked character kneeling before her, gathering her things off the floor.
Wait, had he just referred to her as love?
“Is there a problem here, Mr. Keele?” The instructor asked, looking on aghast.
“Oh, you know, same old, same old, Mr. Findley,” Kell said, straightening up to his impossible height of six-foot-four.
“Well, see that it doesn’t happen again. I can’t have you disturbing the other students with your drama,” the doddery older man said before he turned and walked away.
“As if it were my fault…” Kell grumbled, looking at Becky, giving her a conspiring smirk.
With a tiny shrug of her shoulders, she smiled sympathetically at towering Goth. In that moment, she felt a strange connection to this dark cloaked creature of a man, a stirring of something akin to longing. Or at least belonging with someone rather than being by herself, if only for a fleeting moment.
“You’re a funny little thing, aren’t you?” He smiled wryly at her, displaying a set of perfectly white teeth. “Come, let’s get ourselves situated. I see a couple of spots in the back.” He then proceeded to carry her things, while encouraging her forward towards a couple of unoccupied stations. Then he went as far as to diligently place her art board and charcoal sticks neatly on her intended drawing bench.
“Thank you,” she said as he set her things straight.
“What was that?” he asked, leaning in close. My, he enjoyed the sound of her voice.
“I said… thank you, for your help,” Becky repeated a little louder.
“It’s the least I could do. After all, I nearly crushed you. What is your name, love?”
“Rebecca… or Becky’s fine,” she said shyly. “Yours?” She had heard the instructor call him something earlier but it hadn’t sounded right at the time. As it was she was having trouble averting her eyes from him, yet she didn’t dare make full on eye contact. He was way too intimidatingly different and she was pretty sure he was wearing eye makeup. Instead, she focused on his choice of wardrobe. Now that was something else altogether. Dressed in a pseudo-military jacket, tapered snuggly at the waist, tight-fitting leather pants with zippers on the outside of each leg from hip to ankle, tall sleek boots with more clasps than she had ever seen, he looked positively otherworldly, like some kind of superhero or more likely a villain.
“Kell, the name is Kell.” When her eyebrows shot up apprehensively, he had to smile, realizing that he’d gotten used to pronouncing his name to sound more Kill, ever since he went Goth.
Usually, he got a kick out of people’s reaction to it. With her, though, he felt the overwhelming need to reassure her. “It’s short for Kelley,” he said in a hushed voice spoken for her ears only.
“Kelley…” she said with a shy smile.
“Well, see you around, Becky,” he said with a slight bow before taking his place behind his easel.
***
“Kell? What are you doing?”
“Taking her inside. What does it look like I’m doing?” he said, carefully picking her up. The girl weighed next to nothing. How she managed to come all this way, dragging her oversized suitcase, he couldn’t begin to imagine. “Grab her things, would you?”
“Inside?” Crispin repeated, aghast. “Whatever for?”
“I think I know what this is about,” Kell said with a heavy sigh.
“You know her then?” Dorian asked, picking up the cumbersome suitcase, ignoring Crispin’s incredulous look.
“I’m afraid so,” Kell said, taking her directly upstairs to the spare bedroom.
“Now hold on a minute,” Crispin said, dragging a hand through his black wavy hair. “Where are you taking her? Wouldn’t the living room be more appropriate?”
Ignoring Crispin’s question, Kell carried the unconscious girl all the way upstairs and placed her gently on the mattress. “She’s tired, obviously. She should sleep. We’ll talk in the morning,” he said, backing out of the room, closing the door as soon as Dorian placed her suitcase down.
“I don’t understand,” Crispin said with a frown. “Who is she? Why is she here?”
“Yeah, what he said,” Dorian echoed, looking quite confused.
Kell shook his head and furrowed his brow. “Look, there’s obviously been a misunderstanding. My fault I guess.”
“Yes?” Crispin insisted.
“It’s nothing that can’t be remedied in the morning.”
“Out with it, Kell,” Dorian said.
“It’s ab
out the room for rent,” he said quickly, but not so quickly as not to draw gasps of disbelief from his housemates.
“What? No way, Kell, she’s a girl!”
“And she’s not even Goth!”
“Besides, I thought we had agreed that we were to take a vote on who we would rent to next.”
“Calm down… you’ll wake her,” Kell said with a hushed voice. “Like I said, there’s been a misunderstanding. When I received her text, obviously I didn’t realize who she was at the time. I simply texted back that yes the room was still available.”
“That’s it? So, why was she out on the porch, with her suitcase?” Crispin asked incredulously.
“I don’t know! I have no idea,” Kell spat, losing his patience.
“But you do know her?” Dorian asked.
“Yes… well, only slightly. She’s in my life drawing class. I literally ran into her the other week for the first time,” Kell explained.
“You mean, she’s the girl from the diner the other day? The one who took off when we caught her gawking at us?” Crispin scoffed indignantly.
Kell nodded in response. Why she’d taken off like a shot, he didn’t quite understand. He would have happily invited her to join them at their table. In fact, he had noticed she did that a lot, run off when he’d catch her looking his way.
“Mmm hmm… turned on the old charm again, I see,” Dorian said with a smirk.
“Oh, get off it. As if a girl like this would be into a freak like me,” Kelley said with a shake of his head.
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Dorian piped in. “You know how it is. Nice mundane girls can’t help but wonder sometimes about guys like us. You know what I mean, us bad Goth boys.”
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