Chapter Text
You don’t really grasp the whole situation. There you are standing in front of a dead body, right beside the River Seine with Laura pressed into your side. She is crying heavily and you can’t stop her. With that not being enough, you also have seen bite marks on the corpse and if you are honest that troubles you the most.
Alright, there are a few things you have to assess for yourself first:
You were having a great day. Starting off with the idiotic idea of spending a little more time with the girl that you have long forgotten existed. It was too painful to remember why exactly she should be imprinted into your mind, but then she bursts into your life like the tiny ray of sunshine she is and mellows your undead heart.
Which is a contradiction in itself, because you have an aversion against sunlight. Her light is fulfilling though in the most exhilarating fashion. She has her ways of just crashing your regular existence of withering away. Just like all those years ago.
However there you were showing her Montmartre, and all the other stereotypical Paris-sights, you even had lunch with her in an overpriced, pretentious french cuisine restaurant, you chatted with her about her whole being (she was a little reserved and shy at first, but goodness, can she talk) and made sure to get her the best macarons in the city, because you have always known, how much of a sweet tooth she has (you used to buy candy for her, when she was little, which now seems so odd to you). It was an eternity ago and in the same time it wasn’t, because you should know how long forever feels like. She equals just a few minutes in your timeline, compared to the lifespan of a regular human being.
And those minutes with her are worth everything to you.
There is just something about her.
You wanted to say good bye to her after finishing off the day with a walk by the Seine. You even made sure to take a path that would lead you to a central place, where she could check into a hostel and then you would be out of her life again.
That simple.
Instead you are watching a policeman yelling something about ‘recurring animal bite’ in French into his radio and at the same time soothing Laura, who is crying frantically into the collar of your leather jacket.
She must be a very empathic person, because no one is as affected by this as her. This whole scene has caused passerbys to stop, gaping at the dead body in front of them.
You are feeling odd (and frankly spoken are a little terrified) that you of all people get to experience this. However what makes you more uncomfortable is the fact that the policeman talked about ‘it happening again’. You weren’t aware of a vampiric plague in Paris.
The more established clans, to which your family counts (your family, as the one you got to know after you were turned) calls vampires that act out or can’t seem to control themselves, a plague.
They attract unwanted attention to your species that is mostly forgotten by humanity.
It is of utter inconvenience and you know that you have to report this incident to your mother, who is currently residing in Versailles. She will not be thrilled and you have an idea of who exactly gets to have the pleasure of finding the odd one out and dealing with the problem.
It’s you, because mother entrusts you with those issues. Unlike your brother William, you have a thing with delicacy and discretion.
The reinforcement troops have arrived and they are trying to yield the situation up. Civilians are starting to take photos and you can only scoff.
You are reminded of the mess that goes by the name Laura Hollis, still very much pressed into your side, when she sobs. You tear her away from the scene and start walking with her in another direction.
“Where are we going? We can’t just leave now!”, she protests, but you have other ideas. You take her bag and tug on her hand, signalising her to follow you.
She complies, but still is in wonder as to what it is you are doing, “Where are we going? We have to help!”
“We can’t help. I’m getting you somewhere safe. We are going to my place.”, you tell her and she stops, letting go of your hand. You look back to her and she is studying you from top to toe, before blinking away some remaining tears.
“What is going on?”, it’s as if you have known her forever, because you anticipated the question. Then again, you have known her since she was that little toddler. You somehow want those days back. Those days, in which she was so, so happy and not an orphan.
Those days, in which she didn’t question your doings. She had always been obedient as a child. You think it was because of the whole vampiric aura, but now it is of no use to you anymore. She is grown up and can resist the feeling, you think. Or maybe it’s you, who has gotten weaker, because you don’t use your powers on her.
“Please Laura, not here. I need to get you somewhere safe first.”, you have this pleading voice and you look her deeply in the eyes and you are almost tempted to use your vampiric persuasion skills on her, but decide not to, because she is innocent and you want her to trust you without a misuse of your capabilities.
She starts walking again, and this time it is her, who initiates the hand-holding. For now you feel like a large weight has come off your chest.
You motion her to take a seat on your two-seater in the living room and look around the place. Relief washes over you, as you realise that there aren’t any discarded blood bags around the apartment. You have left your flat in a good shape, before you had gone out to meet an old friend in Zurich.
You place her bag on the desk that is mostly there as decoration and begin to seek for anything that you could offer to her in your kitchen.
You do have some supplies stored away for situations like these. (Meaning having humans around in your apartment.) There are a few girls that you like to use as human blood bags here and there. Of course you repay them with something that is so much better than any human could give them.
You return to your living room with a glass of water and some cookies for starters. She has already traded her position on the couch for the one in front of your large book collection. Most of the pieces you hoard in the shelf are unique and probably not in a language she speaks, but she is interested nonetheless.
“You sure do read a lot.”, she remarks, when you hand her the glass, and then she thanks you. The cookies find their place on a little table by the book shelf, she isn’t really paying attention to them, which is a miracle in itself. Or a bad sign.
You wipe your hands behind your back and await for something, anything else. She takes in your form, because now there is no oversized leather jacket obscuring her view. Actually now you are only clad in a very see-through black t-shirt, and you don’t know why you can’t help yourself, but smirk, when she does let her eyes rake over your torso.
“So how did you like Paris so far?”, you ask and she scoffs.
“What? Did I not serve you as a good tour guide?”, you tease and just now you feel the shift of air between you two. She is looking at her feet and frowns.
“Can we talk about what we just witnessed by the river?”
You swallow down the lump in your throat. Always the nosey one. Always wanting to know everything. She is a young human and doesn’t understand yet that there are things in the world that you just are better off not knowing.
“What did you want to talk about specifically?”
“For starters the fact that we saw a man that had his jugular vein ripped out?!”, she spits out and you flinch a little.
“I overheard that policeman talking about an animal bite.”
“In the middle of a city?”, she is looking directly at you, very sceptically, actually.
You shrug, “I am just telling you what I overheard.”
“And what do you think?”, she just can’t let it go. Always so curious.
“I think we should leave it to the authorities to deal with the... Animal problems. They will have salvaged it in no time.”, you don’t believe it yourself. Even if they did know about the supernatural origin of that attack, they wouldn’t be able to find the perpetrator. You have tried to scent the imbecilic idiot of a vampire, but even you weren’t successful.
“Yeah? Is that why you urged me to come here with you? Why you found it necessary to get me to safety? What is going on, Carmilla?”
The use of your name throws you off. You close your eyes to steady yourself. You haven’t fed in an unhealthy amount of time and this conversation is getting to your head.
“I just wasn’t comfortable with you wandering around with god-knows-what lurking in the streets. Especially not in a city you have never been to.”
You just have this urge to protect her from the things that could hurt her. You have this strong need to save her. You need to remind yourself constantly that all of this is a very bad idea, but you can’t help yourself. Until she leaves Paris again, you will make it your priority to keep her from running into danger like that.
“Why is that so important to you?”
God, what are you doing?
“Because I don’t like going to sleep, knowing there is a beautiful girl out there that could be in danger.”, flattery usually works, but she is on a mission.
She has her head hung low now and seems to think about your offered answer.
“Do you believe it was an animal bite?”, she asks after a long moment of silence.
You sigh, before you answer her, “I don’t know, what you want me to say.”
“I want you to tell me the truth. I want you to tell me, what you know.”
“I know so much, but I’m not sure if you could handle it.”, what you say is nothing, but the truth.
Her eyes widen for a second, before she shakes her head and makes her way to your couch. She sits herself there, with her arms braced on her thighs, head leaned onto them, breathing out in frustration. She is tired. You hear her heart beating a steady rhythm. It soothes you. It’s so much slower than in her early years. Like clockwork. Sixty-five beats per minute. That’s her regular heart rate.
You take a seat opposite to her on the armchair and wait for her to ask you about your last statement, but she surprises you.
“My father. He was attacked by…”, her hazel eyes boring into your soul, “Something two years ago. I found him in his study, when coming back from school one afternoon. There was so much blood. I just stood there, in a puddle of my own dad’s blood and I couldn’t help him.”, her expression is so blank. And all you want to do is wrap her up in your arms, but you can’t. You don’t allow yourself, because you feel like you cannot take that from her.
Your stomach twists and there is a shiver running through your body. You now understand, why she was crying so uncontrollably earlier. She has experienced this before. Except back then it was her own parent. The only one she was left with. There is untameable rage in you. How could anyone ever hurt such a beautiful creature, to begin with?
It dawns on you what she probably is intending to say. You look up to be met with her calculating gaze on you. She is contemplating on asking you something, and you have an idea of what she is thinking.
She knows about you. Not you per se, but your kind. She has to, because her interrogation from some minutes ago now makes perfect sense.
“As a child, my mother used to read me bedtime stories about dragons and monsters and all this other stuff. Those stories are called fiction, because how could any of that be real, right? They are ancient myths. Myths and legends that are passed onto from one generation to the next. But as I grew older, I looked into that kind of stuff more closely...", she is playing with her necklace again, and you stare at her hands.
“And?”, your voice is hoarse and you are waiting with trepidation for her to say it.
“Werevolves, witches, valkyries, vampires and ghosts… I was fascinated with those things.”, she chuckles, “I still like reading about them. Everything I ever came across is stored away in my laptop.”, she gestures towards her bag and you wonder for the first time how many sets of clothes she has in that tiny thing, because she told you, she had been on the road for quite a long time. It is an issue for another conversation, you find. She isn’t continuing, so you nudge her with your words.
“Did your research fulfil your hunger for knowledge about those mythical creatures?”
She tilts her head and her gaze falls to the floor, “See, here is the hitch. Mythical creatures never see the light of day. Mythical creatures don’t exist outside of their respective fairy tale stories.”, she pauses to lock eyes with you, “Mythical creatures don’t kill your father. Usually.”
You swallow again, she follows the motion of your thyroid (or what once anatomically would have been called that) against your skin on your throat during that process. She seems like she is looking right through you. Right through all the things you are hiding from her. And it aches. It aches so much. You want to be able to tell her.
I’m a monster, go run and hide. I won’t be good for you. You are a fool.
“Do you believe that it was something supernatural?”, you find yourself asking. You thank all the deities that your voice seems steady, because you are everything but.
“There were two symmetrical bite marks on his neck. Puncture wounds that cannot be from a wolf or whatever else was suspected. See, I researched my way into this and the marks don’t match any animal that could possibly inhabit the nearby forests.”
She still is being relatively vague about her assumptions and you don’t want to push her into saying something she isn’t ready to say out loud. Or you don’t want to hear something that you cannot fathom she knows.
“Carmilla, do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Believe in mythical creatures?”
Laura, this beautiful young girl is telling you -very subtly- that she knows of all the foul species that house this world. She is telling you that she has been spoilt. She is telling you that her human good-natured belief has been shattered, and you can only listen to her heartbeat increasing, because this is an important moment for her.
She needs someone to understand her, she needs someone to tell her that she is not crazy, even though she has enough conviction of her own, so you give her that. And with giving her that, you take away any last remaining innocent ignorance and doubt from her.
“Yes.”
Laura is staring at you from her place on the couch and you want to go back. You want her innocence back.
Even though you know that it is something you cannot take back, and you are also aware of the fact that it wasn’t your fault to begin with.
She had her father taken away by one of your own.
This is the moment you know for sure that you cannot ever tell her about you.
This is the exact moment you decide that you have to make sure she never meets one of you again.
“Are you hungry?”, you ask her, because you two haven’t had anything to eat since lunch and if you were talking about yourself, then you would say you haven’t ‘eaten’ properly since the morning, before you got into that train. Night, not morning. You find that 4 am shouldn’t be called four in the morning.
She shakes her head, but you stand up anyway, leaving her in the living room by herself. You feel like you should give her some space to think about things. Maybe you need some space too. After that heavy conversation you two were having mere minutes ago.
You get a glass out of your cabinet, before deciding that it would be too obvious. You settle on a ‘I love NYC’ mug and quickly open your fridge. There is a fairly fresh batch of A+ awaiting you in a silver container. Of course it is not made of silver, because it could kill you, if it gets into your system. Stainless steel is your go to medium.
After you have poured yourself some dinner, you chug it down in one go. You cannot risk letting Laura see you drinking blood, especially not since she knows about your existence.
Laura is still glued to the position you left her in, when you come back. This time though her pale face has recovered and you yourself are much more relaxed and in the mood to answer her questions that she might have.
“What do you know about those creatures?”, ah yes, she is starting the game right away.
“I know enough, but you have to be more specific.”
“How long have you known? Or… I mean like… Do you have proof of their existence?”
You shake your head, but not to negate her question, “You didn’t have any proof either, but you were so convinced that they existed. There are some things in this world that we all have to accept. It’s like believing in a divinity.”
“But the concept of god is something created by humanity to spread piety or something.”
You raise an eyebrow at her, because in your 335 years you have learned one thing: You can never be too sure of anything.
“So what makes you think that supernatural creatures aren’t something fabricated by mankind as well?”
She huffs out in frustration. You don’t mean to frustrate her, but you don’t like double standards. Plus, there has to be a reason, why holy water can burn holes into your flesh. The myth with not being able to look at crucifixes on the other hand… Is a total idiocy. Your favorite movie -yes, once in a while you do watch them in the theatre- is The Exorcist.
“So you just believe in that stuff without any evidence?”
If only she knew.
Her eyes are big in wonder again and you know that look too well by now. Your head is already coming up with a perfectly woven lie and you hate telling every bit of it.
“Let’s just say, I do have my sources.” You find that this is as close as she can get to the truth.
“Did you meet any of them? And if you have, can I meet them too?”, she immediately asks and you look at her wide-eyed and in alarm.
“Laura, I can assure you that you don’t want to get in the middle of all of that. I hope you don’t tell every stranger you meet about this. It’s good to be oblivious at times. Those creatures don’t like humans knowing about them- Actually, I do really hope that you don’t chat up strangers at all! You never know what could be lingering inside of your neighbour.” You are making a joke out of it now, because yes, you are very much referring to yourself. Your ‘younger’ self, when she was the little girl next door.
She raises her eyebrows at you and you sense, what she is going to say to you next, “Funny of you to say that. You are the one to take strangers home with you. I mean, what if I turned out to be a monster, hmn?”
There she said it. Monster.
“I knew you weren’t one.” This is dangerous territory and you know it. You feel like coming up with an excuse, “Like I said, I do know some things about monsters. You are too cute to be one.” You want to punch yourself for the last slip-up.
“Wait… So… How many different kinds are there out there? How do you differentiate between them?”
You shrug, because you really don’t know, “I am only really familiar with lycanthropes and vampires.”
“What is a lycanthing?”
“I guess you know them under the term werewolf.”, you shudder. It’s not in your vampiric nature to hate them (like it’s often painted out to be in modern literature). This is something personal. It has to do with you specifically. You are a feline after all, and it is not natural for you to like dogs.
“So what about those leucotropes?” She is cute, when she tries it.
“Lycanthropes.”, you correct her and then just decide to stick to the usual term, “Werewolves are human-like creatures that can turn into wolves, if you didn’t know already.”
“Well yeah of course I know the key factors!”, she rolls her eyes and you fall for all of her traits so easily. But you are not allowed. Mother would like her as a newbie, you think to yourself. She is very alluring. However you would never in a million years want Laura to cross paths with your mother.
“What did you want to know about then?”
“Like… Since when do they exist? Are there any ways to know, if someone is a werewolf? How about their social construct? Do they travel in packs like real wolves?”
“Well, I don’t know how far back they go, but I guess they have developed as a subspecies to the homo sapiens. Maybe there was magic involved. I don’t know, to be honest. I don’t know about any specific history. You wouldn’t be able to tell the difference of a human to a werewolf in their human shape. However you would be able to differentiate between a werewolf in its animalistic shape and a wolf by just looking at them, but I suggest you to run, if you ever find yourself in that situation. As for your third question: They do come in packs. Their social organisation is similar to wolves that are held captive by humans. There is usually an alpha couple -the leading ones and then there are all the other wolves -mostly their children- below them, the betas. Every wolf below the alphas has to be obedient to their leaders. When a beta finds a partner, the pair leaves the pack and establishes their own family, leading as the new alphas. Omega usually is another term for the youngest children of an alpha couple. Contrary to popular belief they are highly valued by the alphas. They are the youngest members of the pack after all, and need extra protection.”
Laura is taking in all the information you provide her with. Her forehead creases and she is so beautiful, sitting there and listening to you talking about mythological creatures, as if it is the most usual thing in the world.
“So like… Magic is a thing? Are witches a thing?”
You suppress your need to smirk at her for all her questions, “Yes. I am sure you’ve met some of them in your daily life at some point without noticing.”
“And what about vampires? You said they existed too… How do they fare with each other?”
Ah. Your specialty. And your species.
“See, vampires… That is a whole other world. Vampires have many abilities, which makes them almost the most dangerous of them all. They can do magic, many can shift into animals and as for their organisation: They do have more defined hierarchic structures. They are not the usual, plain bloodsuckers, as they are depicted as, you know?”
She interjects you right there, “Wait, so can they change into any animal?”, a nosey little one.
“Yes, as far as I know.”
“So what is a vampire turning into a wolf? Does that happen? Does that make them a werevampire?”, she giggles at her own joke (which actually is a bad one, because it would be a vampwolf -if anything-, but you let her have that one), “But seriously though, does that make them werewolves?”
“No. Werewolves have to turn on every full moon. That’s their curse. A vampire that can turn into a wolf doesn’t necessarily have to turn.”
Vampires are graced with a different curse, you think to yourself.
“So what about vampires? How are they organised?”
“There are different families and depending on how old the respective family is, there is a gain of certain powers and it all comes with special territorial rights. There doesn’t have to be an alpha couple -I mean, it is not common to use those terms with vampires at all. It works differently. Each clan has its own rules, of which I know almost nothing of. The big difference is that the vampiric gene cannot be passed onto the next generation. Vampires are infertile. Immortality has its price.”
“But on the other hand you get to be immortal. I think that’s a pretty cool thing, if you ask me.”
You catch her eyes that are glistening. You pay attention to her heart pumping blood through her whole system.
You can hear her lungs, filling with air, the bloodstream working its way through her alveoli.
You want all of that too, and you don’t want to be able to hear all of that.
No. Not a pretty cool thing.
“I suppose.”
“So how do vampires procreate?”
“They don’t.”, you stare into her eyes for some seconds, “Humans that have shown themselves worthy enough get to decide for themselves, if they want to be gifted with immortality.”
At least that’s what you heard from a vampire associate that is member of a different clan to yours. You weren’t that lucky. Although you don’t know, what your eighteen-year-old self would have chosen back then, if you were given the right to veto. You somehow want Laura to get a different insight into your species. A more human-conform one.
“How do you know all of this?”, she suddenly asks you and you want to cry. You want to cry, because she is asking you without knowing anything and you have to lie to her every second from now on, because she just cannot know the truth. Ever.
“I might have spent some dull years in high school. I read my way into this with ancient transcripts in my free time.”
She looks at your book shelf, “Did you read all of those too?”
You nod at her, an uneasiness forming in your gut. “Have you ever heard of The Epic of Gilgamesh?” You throw that in, because you want to brighten the mood. Although talking about Ištar doesn’t really sound that much of a good idea anymore.
“No.”, she answers curtly and you understand. You can’t really expect this young girl to know something that dates back to the eighteenth century before Christ.
“How did you come into contact with all of this?”, she asks you for what you think is the umpteenth time.
“As I already said, I have odd hobbies.”, you are being vague again and she seems to buy it. You want to throw up, because she is believing you. She is so gullible, which makes it more important for you to try and shelter her from all the bad that is out there. You don’t want anyone ever taking advantage of that ever.
“Odd hobbies aside… It’s kinda getting late and I should maybe…?”, she trails off and points to your door. She wants to leave. Is she being serious now?
“Absolutely not. You aren’t leaving this place. Not in the dark.”, you sound like that sparkly twerp in that movie -that you absolutely didn’t watch of course- and you hate yourself for it, but you have to hold her up from lurking around in the shadows.
You still don’t know who is out there on a killing spree and you certainly don’t want Laura to endanger herself. She has been precious to you. Now in a different way than then, but of course you beg all of yourself not to indulge into this, because it is sort of distasteful.
You ought to know better.
Her eyes widen for a moment, “Are you commanding me to stay?”
“I am asking. I don’t want to worry about you. And now that you know what could happen, if you were out there-”
“Paris has like two million inhabitants.”, is her argument and you have to admit that she is right.
There is only a tiny chance that she might end up as a victim of the unknown killer, but you don’t want to risk it. You can’t. On that night five years ago you silently promised your dying friend that you would protect her daughter and that’s what you are doing. Even though you should have walked away the very first moment you knew of her identity.
“I know, you don’t grasp the full danger behind what we saw today yet, but trust me, if there is a vampire out there, you don’t want to be out, roaming around the city.”
“Okay.”, her voice is only above a whisper and you can’t really believe that she really just said yes, but you take it. You sigh out of relief and she yawns. It is not even 11 pm, but you realise that she has had a long day and you tell her exactly that. She is a little more acquiescent this time and even says yes to you offering your bedroom.
Long after Laura has gone to bed you finally decide to deal with your little vampire problem. You decide to write a letter to maman, telling her of the dead body you came across earlier in the day. Of course you make sure to leave out the details of why exactly you were at the Seine to begin with.
Mother wasn’t exactly supportive of your last relationship with a human and you did learn your lesson from it. She made you learn it the hard way. However now you keep any interactions you have with humans off her radar.
You are into your last sentence, when you sense the presence of another person in the room.
Everything in you tenses, and you abruptly stop, before signing off the letter...