Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Alright, cupcake. Start at the beginning.”

The tiny woman in front of her desk snarled visibly at the nickname, but began speaking as Carmilla fell into her chair and hid a smirk.

“My name is Laura. Laura Hollis. And my roommate is missing.”

Carmilla frowned.

“How do you know she didn't just step out on ya?”

“Because it's been over a week and she won't answer my calls and we said we would bake cookies yesterday and she still hasn't shown up – ”

“Whoa, whoa, okay, needy.” Carmilla held a hand up to Laura as if to say 'take a chill pill', then continued: “she didn't say anything about a trip, maybe a boyfriend?”

“No, and I'm not needy; my roommate is missing and I need to find her. I have... rent to pay! And it's the principal of the thing anyway.”

The two stared each other down for a moment, before Carmilla sighed. Something in the other woman's eyes; a steadfast, stubborn determination coupled with blazing light, took hold of Carmilla's chest. She nodded.

“Alright. My rate is seventy-five an hour, plus expenses, and a retaining fee. I'll draw up a standard contract. I'll need any correspondence you've had with this... what was her name, again?”

“Betty. And oh, I have text messages! You'll really help me?”

Laura's eyes lit up even more (if that were possible) as she handed over her phone, and Carmilla scoffed.

“It's just a job, cupcake. I'll copy your messages over, that should only take about twenty minutes. In the meantime... make yourself at home.”

She gestured around the sparse room, which was the opposite of homely: messy piles of clothes on nearly every surface, rotting dishes in the sink, and a general layer of grime she was sure Laura was appalled by. Still, the bed stood out with its dark satin sheets and matching headboard – the cleanest thing in the apartment.

Carmilla sat opposite Laura, across a rather elegant writing desk, where her laptop and a mess of files were strewn haphazardly all around.

Laura obliged, but before finally sitting down for the first time (Carmilla kept the nice chairs for guests right where Laura was standing), she looked down at the chairs and... reached into her bag to pull out a wipe, wiping the seat down before dropping herself into it with a content, annoying smirk at the edges of her mouth.

Carmilla fully rolled her eyes at that, and plugged Laura's phone into her laptop, starting up the message cloner program. She took a swig from her mug and sighed as its contents washed over her throat.

“So, uhh... what do you do for kicks, Carm?”

Carmilla's withering glare would have stopped the heart of any mere mortal, but Laura simply returned it with an amused smile.

“We don't need to talk, cupcake.”

Carmilla began typing, pulling up a contract and hitting 'print'.

“Well sure it's just I'm sure it must get lonely, being a PI and all. And you live alone!”

Carmilla glared at her, again.

“It... suits my needs.”

“ It suits my needs, ” Laura echoed in a mocking tone, fully laughing as Carmilla's glare deepened.

“Man, are you seriously nailing this whole...” Laura gestured vaguely, “brooding detective vibe. All you need is a cigar and a glass of whiskey.”

Carmilla stretched her neck indignantly.

“... smoking makes my hair smell. I actually prefer snuff-taking, if you must know.”

“Snuff-taking; wow, that's ancient. ”

And that was enough. Carmilla stood, strode around the desk, and hassled Laura out of her chair.

“Tell you what. I'll come find you when I've got all the texts off your phone. Apartment 4-B, right? Super.” This, she said all over Laura's protestations, and slammed the door in the tiny, annoying woman's face.

Carmilla pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a long-suffering sigh. Ancient didn't begin to cover it.

Most detective work involved stalking around like a predator, skulking in dark alleys and forgotten side-streets, waiting for something to happen with a camera. Which she was, Carmilla reflected with amusement. A predator, that is.

She had no other cases currently, which meant she could dedicate herself totally to the Hollis girl's case. Which found her late at night stalking outside a nightclub Betty frequented, according to Hollis. The club itself was relatively dead; it was late morning, and not many patrons had yet blessed its sticky dancehalls nor indulged in expensive drinks.

Her first thought was brute force.

“Hey, excuse me. Have you seen this girl?”

She held her phone out.

“Who's askin'?”

Carmilla's glare would have killed the man standing in front of her, a manager of some kind, had he bothered to look up from counting his checks.

“Since I'm the one standing here talking I'm going to take a wild guess and say that would be me, Beefaroni.”

The man finally rolled his eyes and returned Carmilla's glare.

“Haven't seen her.”

“How about you actually look this time?” She thrust her phone out.

When the man continued ignoring her, Carmilla knew it was time for violence.

She slammed his head into the table and shoved the phone in his face.

“Well? Have you seen her or not?”

“Ow, God! Okay she came by two nights ago, totally wasted already!”

“Did she leave with anybody?”

“It was a Saturday night I can't keep track of every hottie that comes in here – ow!”

Carmilla slammed him again.

“Okay, okay! Since I need to advance the plot, I saw her with this guy. Black hair, kinda short, rockin' bod...”

“This guy. He have a name?”

So far, the man had been uncooperative, and even though the club was virtually empty, Carmilla's displays of violence were getting noticed. By security, specifically; two big men started approaching them.

Fuck.

“Good talk,” she snarked before snaking her way to the exit.

As she darted out of the club, she pulled out her phone called one of only three numbers saved therein.

“This is Lola Perry.”

“Hey, it's me. Is the computer wiz available?”

“Well, hello to you too Carmilla. Why yes, I am doing wonderful, thank you for asking!”

“Perry!” Carmilla cut her off; “I'm working a case. Please.” This she added after a long, drawn-out silence from the other end of the line.

“Alright, fine I'll go look for them. Please hold.”

Carmilla cursed and kicked a nearby wall as she strutted away from the club. Her eyes raked over a group of girls approvingly, getting brunch and laughing together, and she felt a familiar hunger flare within her. She stretched her neck and shook her head. She needed to focus. She had plenty of blood at home. Still, the beast would need to feed soon, and not just for sustenance, either.

She smirked as the group rounded a corner and disappeared from view.

“Umm, Carmilla?”

“Yeah.”

“Now is not a great time. Laf says to email them the details and they'll get to work as soon as they can.”

Damn it.

“Okay, fine.”

She heard Perry grumble a “you're welcome” as she hung up.

Carmilla needed a drink. She stretched her neck to look over at the corner the girls had disappeared around. Her throat worked against her; it was so, so dry, and fresh blood was so much better than leftover...

Growling, Carmilla shook her head. It was broad daylight. Something about daylight, that protection it afforded her prey, made them all the more enticing. A challenge. The game of it...

She shook her head again. That was her mother talking. Still, she needed sustenance of some kind. She wheeled around and headed back to her apartment, down the dirty, waking streets of the morning and disappearing around her own corner soon enough.

It wasn't too long before Laf got back to her. The security system of the bar's cameras had been surprisingly easy, they said; something about an IP hack. Carmilla didn't have time to spare on the details of computer witchery; Laf sent them a link to the videostream. She navigated to Saturday night, and watched as a blurry image of Betty was accosted by the man the bartender had described.

“Now, we can track this guy through the club; he made some withdrawals from that ATM,” Laf was saying. “If I had physical access to that machine -”

“You could see what accounts it connected to when the withdrawal was made, if you had a skimmer.”

“Uhh, yeah. How did you know...?”

Carmilla shrugged.

“I have my methods. And an extra skimmer I could stand to lose.”

“Ooookay I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear you admitting to a felony.”

“Good thinking. Thanks, Laf. I owe you.”

Carmilla hung up. It wasn't much, but it was something. She and Laf would go over the footage, and the next night – Friday night – Carmilla could slip her skimmer onto the machine. Then it would be a waiting game. This was the part Carmilla hated the most. It felt too much like her mother's game, skulking around and plotting when all Carmilla wanted to do was barge in and rip something apart with her bare hands.

She closed her eyes. Thinking about her mother had been a mistake. Made her feel like the walls were closing in around her, suffocating her – though she had not drawn breath in centuries – and she had to leave. Standing, she made for the door, only to find a startled Laura Hollis on the other side, clearly about to knock.

“Umm, hey. Is now a bad time?”

“Sort of. What do you need?”

“I just came to bring you these.” And Laura held out a plate of cookies. “To thank you, for taking on the case.”

“The money will do just fine, cupcake,” Carmilla scoffed. But Laura's face looked genuinely crestfallen, so Carmilla reached for the plate anyway. “What the hell. I could use the sugar, anyway.”

Laura grinned. Carmilla rolled her eyes.

“You heading out?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you have a breakthrough in the case?!”

“...something like that. I'm working on it, alright?”

“Great! Hope you like the cookies!”

With that, Laura was away again, leaving Carmilla to sigh, roll her eyes, and lock up before trudging down the hallway, cookie plate in tow.

The cookies were actually pretty good.

Carmilla didn't need to eat; she chose to. And she was glad she had eaten the cookies – they were surprisingly good. Not that she would ever tell Laura that. It was night, finally, and she was perched on the roof of the building across the street from the nightclub. She contemplated her next move, and then dramatically leapt and fell from the roof, landing perfectly like a cat on the street.

The nightclub transformed itself in the night, so full with people and their sweat and stench, pretty girls in tight dresses and guys who weren't even trying in unwashed jeans and crusty shirts. The main floor was dark; blacklights flashing all around which even Carmilla had trouble navigating through as music pumped through her chest and bodies flashed around her.

Eventually, she made her way to the ATM and slipped the scanner out of her bag, glancing around to ensure everyone was distracted. She slid the device over the PIN pad, and then let out a sigh and stretched her neck.

“Hey!” Someone yelled behind her. Spinning, she was confronted by a very drunk, very attractive, girl in a short skirt.

“You are like, so gorgeous! You should come dance with us!”

Carmilla smirked.

“Lead the way, baby,” she whispered in the girl's ear, and was pleased when a shiver went through the girl's body.

Hours later, Carmilla and the girl – Jane, or Jess, or something – stumbled into Carmilla's apartment, and Carmilla pressed her lips into the girl's neck. She could feel the girl's pulse quicken, and her hot blood rushing beneath skin, so smooth, so warm...

She kissed down the girl's neck, nibbling at her collarbone, and pulled both their shirts off. It would be so easy to just... take what she wanted from the girl, wouldn't it? Carmilla had had a few drinks, but she was still thirsty. She shook her head to clear it. Tonight was a bad night for a kill, and besides... in over three hundred years, sex with women had not lost its allure; something she surely could not have experienced in life. And it felt almost as good as feeding.

Almost.

Soon enough, the girl was in Carmilla's mouth, hips bucking and legs twitching as she moaned and Carmilla suckled on her clit.

The next morning, Carmilla extricated herself from her companion. She smirked at the girl sprawled out under the covers. Another successful night out. Just then, her phone rang and she sighed.

It was Laf.

“Laf. What's up?”

“Carmilla! I've analyzed the image of the guy who took Betty and I think we can use it to look him up. Sending to you now!”

Carmilla stretched out her neck, languid and loose.

“Alright, I'll take a look. Thanks, Laf.”

She yawned, and glanced back at the bed with her sleeping companion. She growled slightly. Might as well get to work, she thought, and opened her laptop. A few clicks and she was in her email. A click more and the image from Laf started to load.

Carmilla was just reminiscing about the last night when the image loaded.

And a shot of cold went through her spine.

There, pulling Betty through the packed nightclub's back exit, was a man she knew as 'brother'; one of her mother's lackeys, William.

“Ohhh... fuck,” Carmilla stood up and backed away from the laptop.

Shit shit shit.

She cleared her throat once, twice. Then swung her leather jacket on and shouldered out her apartment, making for number 4-B.

She hammered at the door with her fist thrice. Then thrice more.

“God damn it Hollis, open up!”

A beleaguered Laura Hollis soon appeared before her, but Carmilla shut down any attempt at greeting by putting her hand to Laura's throat and pushing her against the wall, growling:

“Who sent you? How do you really know Betty? Did my mother put you up to this?!”

“Ow, fuck, Carmilla, what is your problem? What do you mean your mother?!”

“Did a woman with silver eyes and tall, black hair approach you? Say anything to you? Answer me!”

“God, no! Ow, what the hell is your damage?!”

Carmilla searched Laura's eyes, saw nothing but innocence; indignation; hurt.

“Alright.” Carmilla let Laura slide down the wall she had her pinned against; “alright, fine. Then you need to leave. Get out of town. Right now.”

She turned to go, but Laura grabbed her hand and spun her back 'round.

“Umm, hey? Mind explaining what in the frilly hell is going on?”

“I do mind. The people who took Betty, they're... they're more than I can handle. Sorry, cutie. She never had much of a chance anyway.”

“Then we should call the police!”

Carmilla would have smirked if the situation weren't so dire.

“If I can't handle Betty's kidnappers, the police definitely can't.

“What do you mean by – ”

But they were interrupted by the sound of the floorboard creaking. Carmilla whirled back around to see the girl from her one-night-stand in the hallway, and it took only a second to register the kitchen knife in her hand.

The girl smiled oddly at Carmilla, and said:

“Hello, Mircalla. It's been a while, hasn't it?”

And then she drew the knife lengthwise across her arm, instantly spilling blood in a wide arc as she collapsed, eyes rolling into the back of her head. Carmilla caught her before she hit the ground, groaning.

“No no no no no... god damn it, call nine-one-one!”

This she shouted at a pale Laura, who nodded, and rushed back into her apartment to do so.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit...”

The cut was deep, and right down main street to boot – Carmilla knew of only one remedy. Grimacing, she drew her tongue along the girl's wound, letting her saliva seal up the skin and watching the girl's arm knit itself back together.

Only to, a second later, open up again and blood continued to pump out of the girl's already-cold body.

“FUCK!”

“The paramedics are on their way. Carmilla?”

Laura's voice was quiet; Carmilla's was even quieter as she stated,

“It's too late. Her heart's stopped already. She's dead.”

She felt, rather than heard, Laura ask how she could know that, but she ignored her and stood from the body instead, slogging back into her apartment. She already had a go-bag ready, and shoved her laptop, phone, charging cables, and a wallet with several fake ID's into a backpack, before making her way back down the hallway.

Laura was there, frantically trying to get the girl's heart pumping again. Blood covered the floor around her, and Carmilla pushed past the two, head down, determined to make the exit.

“HEY!”

Carmilla spun on her heels.

“What?”

“Are you seriously going to leave right now?”

“That's the plan, cupcake.”

“But why? Don't you care?”

Carmilla rolled her eyes and spat, exasperated:

“The people who took Betty did this too. I'm not sticking around to see how many more end up dead.”

“But if you know all of that then you can stop it, right? It's the right thing to do!”

Be good for me, Carmilla.

Carmilla fully flinched away from Laura, looking down at her shoes.

“No. I'm – I'm sorry.”

With that, she swept away down the stairs, taking two at a time, her chest lurching painfully around her own still heart. As she stepped out onto the morning street, she was surprised to feel tears rolling down her cheeks.

She wiped them away fretfully, and made for the bus station, five blocks away. While she marched, she called Laf; it went to voicemail.

“Hey, it's me. Listen. You need to get out of that club's system and delete any evidence of that video. It's my mother. She's back.”

Carmilla hung up, glancing all around as though she could be attacked at any minute. In the distance, she could hear sirens approaching, and determined for herself to be far away by the time they got there. She picked up her pace, running as fast as she could to the station.

“Hey,” she asked, depositing herself in front of the lone counter worker selling tickets, “what's the soonest departure as far away from here as possible?”

“That'd be the nine-forty-one for Thunder Bay, madam.”

“I'll take a one-way. Right now.”

The man grumbled, but printed her ticket and she handed over the cash.

“Alright, here's your ticket.”

Carmilla extended a hand to take it, and just then her mother's voice came to her, unbidden, through stone walls and a thick layer of blood.

That's right, Mircalla. Run away like you always do. You don't have the guts to face me anyway. I wonder how many more you'll let die for you? You could never face me anyway, could never save anyone, not Elle, not Betty, not anyone. Best just to give up. Elle knew you were such a failure, that's why she hated you in the end, did you know that?

Carmilla closed her eyes. Her mother's taunts during her interment still cut deeply, and she swallowed a non-existent breath down.

“Miss? Miss? Your ticket?”

Carmilla didn't even glance back at the ticket man.

Screw this. And screw you, Mother.

And she whirled back around and stomped out of the bus station, utterly ignoring the man's cries behind her.

Chapter Text

I was supposed to save you all. You were supposed to listen. But you didn't! Funny how that works. And now we will never ever get it back. The world was ours, don't you get that? The love we had mattered! No, it didn't change anything and no, we didn't save anyone. But it was there; it was beautiful! It mattered! I'm so sorry we can never get it back! We can't go back!! I'm - I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

The lights above Carmillla were buzzing, the chair was biting, rotten plastic which scraped and squeaked every time she shifted. She tried to ignore the rising, warm stench of piss from the interrogation room she found herself locked in. And she was sure they had turned up the heat; nonetheless, she refused to remove her leather jacket, instead sitting arms crossed, legs planted wide and jaw firmly set in defiance.

"Miss Karnstein, can you tell me how you found Miss Amber this morning?"

Carmilla glared at the cop sitting across her, a giant beanstalk of a woman with red hair pulled back into a tight bun.

"I told you, I left my apartment to work a case. I heard her behind me, turned about and she slit herself open."

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, tightened her arms across her chest. The buzz of the light was driving her crazy. The ginger continued.

"You seem on edge. First dead body you've seen in a while?"

Carmilla opened her mouth, then closed it.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, detective."

The redhead frowned mockingly.

"Oh, no? You say you're a P.I. Doesn't your kind ever find dead girls?"

Carmilla sighed, stretched her neck to one side. It had been four hours of this nonsense, but if the ginger thought four hours was enough to break her, she had another thing coming.

"Not really, no."

"Let me ask you another way. You're a vampire, yes?"

She twitched at that, and the redhead smirked.

"That is correct. Last I checked, this country had laws against racial discrimination."

"Well, true. But..." the detective stood now, and sidled up to Carmilla's side. "'Vampire' isn't really a race, now is it? When was the last time you fed?"

She said the last very quickly, cutting off Carmilla's indignant snort, and retreating to the other side of the room. She turned back to Carmilla slowly.

"Answer the question."

"I buy all my blood legally from hospital drives." Carmilla's voice dropped sarcastically. "I'll show you the receipts, detective...?"

"Lawrence."

Carmilla tittered, disbelieving.

"That why you became a lawman, Lawrence?"

The detective nearly lunged at her then, face a rage, when the door behind her slammed open and another cop barged in.

"Danny! Her legal representation is here."

Danny twisted her face, closed her eyes, and backed away slowly.

"This isn't over, fangface."

"Bite me, asshole."

"Miss Karnstein, I must advise you not verbally assault an officer of the law."

"Mel?" Carmilla and Danny both spoke at the same time, incredulous, then glared at each other again.

A short woman with black, curly hair pulled back stood between them now. She pointed at Carmilla's handcuffs.

"My client is free to go. Take those off her, now please."

It was a command, but Carmilla merely shrugged as the other officer opposite Danny stepped forward.

"No need," she said, and snapped the chain off easily. She stood and stared daggers at the man, glared once more at Danny, then shouldered past them both, trailing behind Mel as they exited the precinct. As they left, Carmilla glanced back to catch Danny pointing at her eyes then at Carmilla in naked threat. Carmilla flipped her off, before wheeling back to Mel and asking awkwardly:

"Uhh, not that I don't appreciate it, but I can't exactly afford a lawyer right now..."

Mel fully rolled her eyes at Carmilla.

"I know that. I'm not asking for money. I'm calling in my favor."

"Aw, jeeze."

"Be smart, Carmilla. A woman like you needs someone like me to work within the system so that you can work... outside it."

Carmilla let out a sigh.

"Alright. Whose kneecaps do you want me to invert?"

Mel, for a split second, looked genuinely bewildered.

"What? That's not... look," she gestured, and led Carmilla onto the street, crossing it and walking her further from the police. "I need you to investigate Detective Lawrence back there."

Now it was Carmilla's turn to look bewildered.

"Detective Carrot-Top back there, seriously? Mel, she's already up my ass about the death of this Amber chick."

"You didn't kill her."

This was a question; Mel stood and faced Carmilla squarely, her face even more stern than usual. Carmilla blanched.

"No. I haven't killed anyone in... a long time."

The rush of warm blood filling her mouth, the last gasp of breath like ecstasy.

"Good. All they have is circumstantial anyway. And that witness, your neighbor Laura Hollis? She's solid."

Carmilla stuck her hands in her pockets, pouted.

"She's alright, I guess."

Mel chuckled; sharp, and brief.

"Look, what exactly do you want me to find on this Lawrence chick anyway?"

"Anything you can."

"Can I ask why?"

"She is... an old friend. Between you and me, the cops have been snooping around some of my firm's... extralegal affairs."

"Aww, fuck... hey isn't Detective Ginge Minge a homicide cop? Did you kill somebody?"

The stare Mel gave Carmilla was almost enough to send a chill down her spine.

"See to it. I'll check back in a week for updates."

"Alright, fine."

Mel nodded once, then turned right and march-stepped away, doubtless off to some important lawyer meeting.

Carmilla shook her head.

"Fucking lawyers."

When the elevator doors opened, Laura was pacing nervously up and down their hallway.

"Carm! I mean, Carmilla! Are you okay did they hurt you I told them you had nothing to do with it because you really didn't - "

"I'm fine, cupcake," Carmilla mumbled and shouldered past her.

"So, not to be awkward or anything, but, what does this mean about my case..? I mean I know you left but you came back and well you're here so..."

Carmilla sighed. She wheeled back around to face the wench. But something about Laura's eyes caught the light just right, and something in Carmilla noticed. Not wench. A dame.

She figeted awkwardly in front of Laura, her back to her own apartment door.

"I have a pretty good idea about who took Betty. But I wasn't joking before, you could be in serious danger if you stick around."

"I have to find her."

Steel flashed in Laura's eyes, her stance set and all traces of awkwardness gone entirely.

"I understand. You should know... it's something supernatural. And evil, like way more evil than me, even."

"More than you?" Laura frowned. "But how you evil?"

Carmilla blinked, stared at Laura for a dumb minute.

"Because... I'm a vampire?" She gestured vaguely, and Laura's entire face flushed immediately.

"Oh, oh my God! I mean, sorry, I didn't want to assume, but when you said you felt that girl die I - "

Carmilla rolled her eyes.

"Hey... is that why you call me cupcake, all the time?"

"What?" Genuine confusion, hurt, colored Carmilla's face for the briefest of moments, before she composed herself behind her mask.

"N-no. I haven't fed off a person in..." her mind wandered back; she shook her head. "It doesn't matter. The point is, I know what killed that girl, and I'm pretty sure it also took Betty.

"Well..." Laura took a step forward, then another, cautious, but her heart remained steady as she approached and Carmilla was surprised to feel no fear off of her. "If this thing is as bad as you say, sounds like you could use all the help you could get?"

She smiled, a small, hopeful thing, and that space in Carmilla's chest that should have been a heart lurched again.

After a small pause, she turned and thrust open the door, gesturing at Laura to come in.

What the hell, right?

Chapter Text

The dark wood was cool against Carmilla's skin as she pressed her forehead against it, and not for the first time wished she could just fold herself into its cool warmth, become completely smooth, become nothing at all.

"Carmilla?"

It would be so easy to just disappear. Let the wood, and that sick smoothness of the dark take her entirely.

"Hey, Carmilla?"

Damn it. She stifled a groan, put on her best sarcastic smirk. Opened her eyes, and turned to Laura.

"Shall we get started, sweetheart?"

Pushing past Laura, who couldn't stop a small chuckle from escaping even as she said reproachfully:

"Could you stop with the whole 'sweetheart' thing? I'm an adult, you know?"

"Most adults don't feel the need to announce that to the world, now do they? That scrunched-up face you make when you're annoyed is hilarious by the way, buttercup."

She swayed her way around the desk and winked sarcastically. She knew her flirting annoyed the woman, and it felt like a game to her beast heart. See how annoyed you can make them before they run off. That sort of thing.

Laura rolled her eyes, and stepped forward, her hands gesturing importantly, impatiently.

"Let's just focus on the case, alright? You said you knew who took Betty, and that they probably killed Amber. How do you know that?"

Carmilla cleared her throat, swallowed. Then pushed herself off the wall and made for the kitchen.

"First I need a drink. You want anything? I've got whiskey... wine... vodka... juice, if you're into that..." she busied herself with the fridge, rummaging through it to the back, where she kept her own private whiskey bottle full of people juice.

From the other room, she heard a small, but dignified, "juice is fine, thank you. I thought vampires only need to drink blood, though?"

Carmilla shrugged, and made her way back to Laura with the juice, bottle, and two cups in hand.

"I'm a popular girl, I receive a lot of... invitations." This, she said as she raked over Laura's body, smirking suggestively.

Laura, again, rolled her eyes. Then, she asked:

"Like Amber?"

Carmilla's smirk dropped. She frowned at the carpet.

"Yes. Like Amber." Then, she trotted back behind the desk, and poured Laura's juice into one cup, her own into another. "Drink with me." She pushed Laura's cup toward her. "You sure you don't want alcohol?"

"It's three PM on a Wednesday."

Carmilla shrugged.

"Well, buckle up. We're in for a long night. Or a Wednesday afternoon." She swiveled in her chair, and stared out the window, its long grey shadow framing the room in the light of the city. Downed her cup, then proceeded to pour another slowly.

"I was born in Styria, a duchy of Austria, in sixteen eighty - "

"Wait, what does this have to do with you?"

"All will be revealed if you stop interrupting, cupcake," Carmilla stated shortly, blinking shortly at Laura.

"Sorry, sorry! Go on."

Carmilla faked taking a breath.

"Like I said, I was born in Styria, during the great war against the Ottoman Empire. But such things meant little to a wealthy girl. At eighteen I refused the hand of a suitor, who had me murdered and in short order I was raised from death again by Mother."

"Your mother? Your own mother turned you into a vampire?"

"No, no," Carmilla half-smiled, remembering the soft, simpering thing her birth mother had been briefly. "The mother I knew after death..."

The day wore on, and Carmilla wove her tale of the strange new unlife she knew after Mother raised her, of wild parties and breathless hunts, of strange games she never knew the object of, especially the game of her as a lure, until her meeting with Elle. She skipped over the exact nature of she and Elle's relationship from Laura, only stating briefly that Elle had been of great importance, important enough to try defiance. The years of wasting under the earth. And then the bombs and horror which greeted her in her second new life after death, the twentieth century.

Starting at the university where she'd met Perry and Laf. How the two convinced her to put her powers to some use, and how she ended up a private eye in Canada.

"I have successfully avoided Mother all these years. Changed my name several times, but I suppose she's caught up to me."

"...and since girls are going missing again," Laura started slowly.

"She's still playing her games with them, it would seem." Carmilla rested her chin on her hand, rolling her shoulders uncomfortably.

"And you don't have any idea what she does with them?"

Carmilla shook her head sadly.

"No. I sometimes wondered, but..." She closed her eyes, rubbed her temples. "Asking after her motives is a good way to get your head on a spike."

Laura nodded. Then, she stood suddenly and planted her feet.

"Okay. Okay, so we know that your mother has been abducting girls for who knows how long, and for no known -- though doubtless nefarious -- purposes. Including my roommate, Betty. We also think that she somehow possessed your hookup from the other night, again, for no known purpose, and forced her to... to kill herself." She stumbled over the words, and Carmilla hid a wince, but Laura continued, swallowing. "Is that like, a known vampire thing? Possession, that is?"

Carmilla shook her head.

"No vampire I know has ever shown any kind of power like that. My mother is far more ancient than any of us, and so much more powerful."

Laura nodded.

"Okay, so Betty and Amber. Do we think they're rela--"

But before Laura could finish her thought, a frantic knock at the door interrupted her. She frowned, looking over her shoulder, and then back at Carmilla, puzzled.

Carmilla shook her head at the obvious question.

"I feel heartbeats," she said, before a muffled shout from the hallway announced:

"Carmilla! It's us. Perry and Laf!"

It was Laf's voice, sure enough, and Carmilla pushed past Laura, making for and then opening the door.

This admitted the two, who bustled past Carmilla's protestations, Laf insisting:

"We're here to help."

And Perry stating:

"I brought brownies. I assume this is the girl with the missing roommate?"

"Laura, and I'm not a girl, I'm a woman!"

"Of course you are, dear," Perry simpered motheringly, and made her way for Carmilla's kitchen.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Laf. Perry can be a bit much."

"I heard that, Susan!"

"Hey, wait!"

Carmilla growled, and the three humans stopped in their tracks, turning to her in what she was glad to see was actual fear.

"I agreed to let Laura help on her own case, but I didn't ask the two of you to come here. Actually, I was pretty clear I wanted you away from this case entirely! Have I been at all unclear about how dangerous my mother is? Gods," she cursed, pacing back across the room. "I can't keep you all safe from her! You need to go. Now!"

"Woah, okay, Carmilla, now we didn't ask you to 'keep us safe' or anything, we wanna help -- "

Carmilla glared at Laf, who shriveled back up into silence. She grit her teeth, worrying her bottom lip with her fangs.

"Not yet you haven't. I'm going to shower, I smell like pig piss. When I get back I expect you all to be gone. Gone!"

The next sound was the bathroom door slamming, nearly in half, as Carmilla locked herself within. Her still heart burning with unexpected rage.

Damn it, she swore to herself. She sucked at the air, tempting breath from her lungs, but still none came. She was broken from her anger by a sudden buzzing noise. Eyes narrowing, she saw an unknown phone vibrating on her sink. She frowned. Approached it slowly and, cautiously, turned it over to read the caller ID.

"MOMMIE <3" Flashed across the screen. Carmilla swallowed, then slid to answer it, and carefully held it to her ear with one hand.

After a moment of silence, a woman's voice sounded on the other end.

"Amber? Amber is that you?"

Fuck.

Chapter Text

“Hello? Amber?”

Carmilla stared at the phone in her hand, then hit 'end call', and after a moment, began typing out a text.

Your daughter is dead. I'm sorry. She is at Western hospital morgue: 399 Bathurst St., Toronto.

She hit 'send', waited for the read receipt, and then snapped the phone in half and threw it violently against the floor. Sharp pieces flew everywhere as she leaned against the door and let out a massive sigh. Hot tears ran down her face, and she shook her head, wiped them off. She ran water over her hands, rubbing her face and the back of her neck. The cold felt good to her skin, however briefly, and then she heard a door slam in the other room and remembered her unwelcome guests.

Sighing again, she composed herself as much as she could and flung open the bathroom door, storming and dark.

Laura was the sole occupant of the room, standing at the entrance, and she greeted Carmilla with a grumpy sigh.

“What are you so huffy about, cupcake?”

“You didn't have to snap like that.”

Carmilla scowled at the wall. Moved to grab her jacket from its roost on the back of her chair.

“They were just trying to help,” Laura continued, crossing the room to stand in front of Carmilla's desk.

“I specifically asked them... not to.” She fixed Laura in a glare. Seeing Laura's determination mirrored back at her only fouled her mood further. “I don't... play well with others.”

Laura blinked, then planted her feet and crossed her arms.

“Well, I do. And this is my case and I've asked them for help. So... deal!”

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

They glared at each other, and then Carmilla pulled her jacket on, and stomped around Laura and the desk, making for the door.

“Where are you going?” Laura was fast on her heels.

“To work the case.” Carmilla flung open the door and then turned expectantly to Laura, who let out a huff and stormed out of the apartment.

“You know, pushing everyone away isn't gonna work out. You'll just end up miserable and alone.”

This, she said as Carmilla locked her door, and then turned and stalked down the hallway, shooting a

“Counting on it!” over her shoulder back at Laura.

She punched the elevator call button. Heard Laura slowly move down the hall, then slink into her own apartment, quietly closing the door. The lock clicked.

It'll keep you all safe, Carmilla thought to herself. She glanced sadly back at the empty hallway. Its sole light flickering above, long and gaunt and unwelcoming, Amber's blood still staining the hardwood. You'll see.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Carmilla stomped around, throwing daggers from her eyes at any who dared look her way. Walking felt good, clearing her head and forcing her to focus on the facts. Betty Boop was missing, a girl was dead. Why? Her mother must know she was onto her. When had Amber been possessed? She had never known, never guessed, at the kidnapping game's origin nor object.

She paused in her stomping. Looked around the desolate street, sighing in frustration. She needed a drink. She took a resolute turn left, and headed for an old haunt of hers.

The Living Room was a bar which catered to Toronto's less-than-human clientele, and Carmilla found herself at ease as she slid in the door and was greeted by a mostly empty establishment.

“Well, well, well, look what the kitty cat dragged in. Carmilla!” A man with a French-Canadian accent greeted her, throwing his arms wide and a disbelieving smile painting his face.

“Hey, Mitchell,” Carmilla greeted him.

“The usual? I've got some fresh girls in back,” Mitchell eagerly gestured, but Carmilla shook her head.

“Processed only for me, thanks.”

“Gone soft, huh?”

“Still hard enough to kick your ass, I promise you.”

They both chuckled, and Mitchell turned to grab a bag from the fridge.

“So, any hot goss?” Carmilla drawled, taking a sip. Blood never quite tasted right coming out of a bag, but the chill helped a little.

Nothing like hot, though.

Mitchell turned his back to Carmilla, to focus on cleaning the register.

“Ahh, well, you know, I hear things, people come, people go.”

“Not asking about people. Have you heard of any vampires coming or going?”

“Ah. No.” Mitchell answered just a little too quickly. Carmilla sighed. When Mitchell finally turned back to her, she was holding a twenty in an impatient hand. He took it, then elaborated:

“Some man came in, looking to hire... how do you say... minions? For a project. Looking for muscle, not much brains, a demon gang.”

“Which gang?”

Mitchell coughed and looked out the window. Carmilla rolled her eyes and pulled more cash out.

“Call themselves the Zetas. Mostly hang out near this abandoned church on highway seven. Near around Woodbridge.”

“That's a bit out of town,” Carmilla mused. Mitchell chuckled.

“They don't want pigs sniffing around, no?”

“Something we share, I see. Thanks, Mitchell. And thanks for the blood.”

“Oh, any time.”

Carmilla left, and didn't catch Mitchell sighing in relief behind her as the door swung shut, shaking his head and catching his breath.

Chapter Text

The bike rumbled and whined under her as she sped through the city streets. It had rained recently, and the soft reflection of the sky scattered beneath the blade of the bike's wheels as she raced through puddles and dashed their liquid all about like great wings behind her. The light changed and she briefly considered gunning it through the intersection, but pulled to a shifty stop just in front of the crosswalk, in time to let a family of mother, father, and child in a stroller pass her by.

Carmilla rolled her neck impatiently, drummed over the top of her handlebars with her fingers. She stretched her hands out before her, and the light turned green again, and just like that she was off, roaring down the street and outstripping everyone at the intersection in less than a second. She loved the old Indian, a Scout Bobber she'd restored herself. A blood orange color with black trim, it gave the impression of a bolt of flame as she zoomed up and down the streets, making her way to the highway and weaving through traffic like a badass.

Finally, the highway, and she was pleased when the road opened before her and she gunned it, throwing the throttle wide and shooting over the road. Before long, she was in Woodbury, and found her way to the church Mitchell had indicated. It's actually a myth that vampires cannot stand on church grounds; Carmilla personally found little stock in bad Moses fanfiction as it were, so generally avoided them.

She di dnot have to wait long for people to start filing into the church building. She affixed a long-range lens and snapped a few shots of their vehicles; noted license plates and number of occupants.

And then there he was. Even safely through her viewfinder, she flinched when his face peaked over the automobile he exited, a black sedan. A chill ran through Carmilla as she stared Will down and she swallowed nervously. Still, she was certain he had not spotted her; he laughed at something one of the Zetas said to him and trotted into the church. She snapped a pic of the man he spoke with, mentally marking him out as a source of information.

As she marked him, a plan hatched in her mind.

She stretched her neck, rolling her shoulders. The man Will spoke with took up a spot at the door, and after about fifteen minutes, she knew he was left to watch it. She considered waiting, but wasn't sure when she would get another chance.

Carmilla, the shadow, stalked toward her prey. Her heart was totally still as she approached the man from the side of the church. Clueless, he was idly on his phone when she rushed up and slammed a palm into the back of his head, knocking him out. She caught him before he fell, as well as the phone, which she texted the first groupchat she came across named “ZETA BROS 4 LYFE!”

Hey bros, uhh, I quit. Sorry.

And then she turned and threw it with all her strength into the next town northward, before scooping him over her shoulder and scurrying back to her bike.

The bro was hardly a challenge to get off the bike and up the hallway to her apartment. As she trundled down the hallway, Laura's door opened and she looked like she was about to ask Carmilla something, before she took in the behemoth on Carmilla's back and quirked her eyebrow at it.

“Drinking buddy,” she gave by way of explanation.

“It's three PM,” Laura replied, nonplussed.

“Yeah. We're getting him help.”

“Didn't you say you were working on the case?”

Carmilla scowled, sighed.

“I have my methods. And you have yours. By the way,” she set the bro down and stretched her neck again. “I hope you aren't planning on splitting my fee three ways now, what with the Scoobies helping you too. I never asked them to help.”

“But... you did. Laf said they help you with computer hackery stuff, and Perry does... well I'm not sure what Perry does,”

“Best to keep it that way,” Carmilla interjected;

“Look. I know your mother is dangerous. I know that you want to keep us safe. You think distancing yourself is the way to do that.”

Carmilla did not show that Laura had totally read her, other than to blink slowly and worry the inside of her cheek with her teeth.

“But it won't work, Carmilla. Please. Let us help.”

Carmilla made the mistake of looking at her eyes just then – those damn eyes. All twenty-something years of innocent puppydog, and something in Carmilla softened.

Briefly.

“Fine. But only because I have nothing resembling a better plan.”

The bro behind them stirred, and Carmilla turned; still unconscious, good. Maybe seeing you really are a monster will push her away, save her, she thought to herself. Her palms were sweating, her pupils dilated and she let out a still, haughty breath.

“But first, we have a bro to crack.”

“You can not be serious!” Perry started.

“Did you really kidnap a guy?!” Laf added, half-awed, half-terrified.

“Oookay, this is... a lot,” Laura muttered under her breath.

Carmilla finished tying the bro's wrists onto the chair, then whirled on the rest of the humans.

“Have I not made myself clear? My mother is an ancient evil more powerful than anything we can imagine. I am a vampire. I need answers, now. You have a missing roommate, and I...” her mind flashed to Amber; “I have a professional reputation to uphold. So.”

She turned back to the still-unconscious form of the Zeta in her chair.

“Since you're all so determined to help, you get to watch my... methods. And keep in mind: I learned all my tricks... from her .”

She bitch-slapped the bro, bringing a reproachful shout from Laura, a dainty gasp from Perry, and a whispered 'cooool' from Laf.

The guy shook himself awake, then tried to jerk back when he took them all in.

“Dude, ow?? What the hell was – hey, hey where am I?”

“Far away from your bros, beefcake. No one is coming to save you. No one knows where you are. And even if they did they could not help you. Now,”

Carmilla purred as she sauntered around him in the chair.

“I know modernity insists torture does not work for procuring information, but that's because most people are using it wrong. You see, the purpose of torture is to cause pain. To enforce a standard of behavior in the lower classes. To inspire obedience,” Carmilla stretched her fingers out one by one; “to display dominance.”

“Carmilla,” Laura started cautiously, her eyes wide and breath shallow as she apparently caught on to what was happening in front of her, “okay, we get it, you're a badass vampire and all, but – ”

“But I am on a tight schedule. You see, the man who hired you goons recently is... something of an old friend,” Carmilla shrugged, circling around their captive and ignoring Laura casually; “and the wretch of a woman he works for is far beyond your pay-grade to protect. So here's what I need to know.”

She leaned over his shoulder, dead eyes staring at the group as she intoned breathlessly,

“What is he using the Zetas for?”

“Dude, no way am I telling you nerds jack squat. Zetas swear a blood oath; that means we're bros for life.”

“Yep, saw the group chat. But the thing about blood oaths is, they only last as long as you... have... blood...”

This, she whispered in his ear and then latched onto his neck and sunk her fangs just below the skin, and the tickle of blood rushed through her like a surge; it took all of her considerable self-control to prevent herself from draining him dry in seconds, all while she projected the cold dark within her through her fangs and into him; the Zeta screamed and blubbered, and then Laura was grabbing at her, pulling her away. She hesitated for a moment, then let herself be yanked from her hostage, blood dribbling down her face and she gave a maniacal laugh as she wiped it with the back of her hand. Licking her hand, she smirked darkly at Laura, who was glaring at her fully.

She opened her mouth to condemn her, but before she could the man was blabbering:

“ Okay, okay, I'll tell you anything you want to know just please God don't kill me! Okay, umm, so there's this bro named Will, right, and he's like, kinda weird, but he's cool, likes old stuff, anyway, he needed muscle to guard this like, dig-site thingy where I think they're like, looking for treasure or something, I don't know anything else I'm just a bro, okay?? Please!”

Carmilla's smirk turned to genuine warmth as she maintained eye contact with Laura.

“See? I have my methods.”

Then, she backhanded the man and knocked him out again, and sauntered past the stunned humans and into her kitchen, where she fetched a bag of blood and greedily drank it down with a generous shot of whiskey.

Some hours passed. Perry had quietly ushered Laf back to Laura's place, where they were staying apparently, and Laura simply stared at the Zeta disbelievingly.

“How,” she finally croaked out, forcing Carmilla to look up from her book.

“What?”

“How did you... do that? He didn't look like he was going to talk.”

Carmilla sighed, noted the page she was on, and then placed the book down gently.

“Something Mother taught us. When I bite a human...” she swallowed painfully; “I can sort of... project emotions into them. Like fear, or pain. Or love,” she added as an afterthought, quiet enough she did not think Laura heard, and she stood and stretched; walked over to her window overlooking the street outside. It was finally night, and she looked out at the half-moon glaring down on the city of Toronto.

“Is that what you did... to lure people in? For your mother?”

Carmilla turned slowly to Laura, whose face, she was surprised to see, was unafraid; still; calm.

She shook her head.

“No,” Carmilla said; “no I... never had to resort to that. It was...”

She sighed and stared out the window again.

“It was more... meaningful, the fewer powers I used. Vampires aren't actually more or less charismatic than anyone else; we just have centuries of experience on you. And preternaturally perfect skin.”

She felt Laura's heart and breathing increase just slightly at that, and she hid a smirk from her. Silence enveloped the room then, and Carmilla thought that would be the end of it. Then,

“... you were trying to scare us away.”

She whipped her head back to Laura, whose gaze now was full of steel, grit; something akin to spite but warmer, kinder.
“Weren't you?”

Carmilla would have answered, but just then her phone buzzed in her pocket and she glanced at it briefly.

Mel Lawyer >:( flashed across the top of the screen.

“Hello?”

“Dead girl. How goes the investigation into detective Lawrence?”

Frowning, Carmilla glanced at her calendar on the wall, a spicy pinup of some lady from the 40s.

“It's Thursday, I have until tomorrow to contact you.”

“I just thought I'd check in. What progress have you made?”

Carmilla groaned and rolled her eyes.

“I'm working on it, okay? I have a lot of cases right now.”

She shook her head at Laura's frown.

“ Well maybe you should learn to prioritize your workload more efficiently – ”

“Yeah, yeah, I'll sign up for a workplace efficiency seminar. Look, what exactly do you want me to find on Detective Carrot-Top anyway? That could help things go a lot smoother for us both.”

“Just. Dig into her. I know she's up to something. ”

Or onto something, Carmilla thought;

“Fine. I'll call you tomorrow.” Cursing, she hung up.

“Is... everything okay?”

Carmilla ran a hand through her hair, tossing it back mindlessly.

“No, yeah. Just... fucking lawyers, you know? Real bloodsuckers, I tell ya.”

Laura surprised them both with a small laugh, then said:

“I, uhh, I know you've got a business to run and all... and I appreciate all the time you're spending on helping us find Betty and your mother, but – ”

“Oh, it's... no big deal. Really, cupcake. Mel,” she held up the phone to emphasize, her tone relenting and marginally less guarded than usual; “did me a solid a while back. With Amber's murder, she's saying I owe her one.”

“Yeah,” Laura chuckled, “if only fighting evil were simple, huh?”

Carmilla scoffed.

“What on Earth gave you the idea I was fighting evil?”

“Well, you're a detective. You find people, you save people.”

“Oh now cupcake, give me a break,” Carmilla rasped sarcastically. “Most gigs I take on are not nearly as glamorous as your case. Usually it's catching cheating spouses and telling parents their kid's run off with some guy with tats and a bike. Most of my days are spent skulking in bushes just waiting for the bullshit to happen.”

She paused, then sighed and look down at her feet moodily.

“Besides, if tonight proves anything it's that I'm still pretty evil.”

“Hey,” Laura whispered, then shocked Carmilla by putting a soft, warm hand on her shoulder. “You were just... being you. And I know it's all an act,” she added, a tiny smile curling her lips; “I mean yes, you're a vampire. But you're doing something good here, today. And I know you were just trying to protect us, scaring us away...”

Carmilla eyed Laura's hand, then trailed her gaze up Laura's arm and to her eyes, and just as some tight, untenable thing in Carmilla loosened, her mind flashed to a girl in a white nightdress covered in blood.

Be better for me, Carmilla.

She flinched away from Laura, who gasped at the sudden disconnect.

“I uhh. I gotta go. I should check out Mel's case... umm, make sure he doesn't escape, okay?”

Laura blinked, then nodded, as Carmilla whipped her jacket back around herself and departed.

Chapter Text

When the door closed behind her, it occurred to Carmilla she had absolutely zero plan of attack for the Lawrence case. Frowning, she checked the time – 11:31 PM. Without her laptop, work would be slower, but...

She pulled up the police department's Instagram account as the elevator doors closed around her. Thinking quickly, she tapped 'Followers' and was immediately disappointed by the over seventy thousand the page had. Maybe Laf could do some hackery to make the search easier, but she set herself to for a long night, and for that, she would need a drink. Or three.

The liquor store on the corner kept her sane, for a bit, and as she sipped from her new handle of whiskey, she considered her next move. The store had been empty save another woman looking lost and alone as she was, and Carmilla ignored her as she went about her purchase. Vampires could in fact get drunk, or high, which she used to prefer, but dope just was not the same since the eighties, and so she had largely abandoned that particular vice.

In a stroke of genius, whiskey coursing through her dead veins, she decided to first cull through accounts the department page followed instead; a much more manageable three-hundred something. Browsing therein, she found the name of a bar popular with detectives; the Twilight Shade.

Soon, she found herself across from the cop bar, and she stood for a second pondering its entrance across the road, before looking around and finding a fire escape on the building behind her. Scanning around, she saw no one was on the street at the time, and so she jumped and landed, catlike and silent, on the third floor's landing. There, she sat and waited, legs straddling the bars of the staircase.

She figured it was a long shot, the detective showing up on the night she was staking out the place, but it was a start. And she could snap some shots of whoever else came and went from the bar, for a while anyway.

She took a pull from the bottle, and sighed in the cold air. It was funny, the way weather affected her now. She seemed to only feel the cold, but never ever the warmth. Figures.

Carmilla took another swig of whiskey, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. She stared out at the cold, dead street below her, then pulled out her phone and started tapping.

She swiped through a few “Danny Lawrence”s before a smiling, ginger idiot in uniform graced her fingers. Private account, of course. She took another sip, shaking her head. Then, she had another idea.

Carmilla logged out of her account, switched to her fake one. Most modern detective work was ninety percent internet snooping, so she had several accounts on all social medias; even a few tumblrs, still. She looked up Lawrence's account again, and opened a new message request. Frowning, she thought briefly about what to say. And how a cop might respond.

Hey, you don't know me, but I have some information about the vampire Carmilla Karnstein. I know she was involved in Amber's murder and I want to help.

She stared at the message, before deleting it and starting again.

Hello. I know you don't know me and sorry if this is weird, but, I might know something about Melanippe Callis's firm. Follow me back if you want to chat here sometime.

She hit 'send', then rolled her eyes.

Another long shot; what the hell, right.

Carmilla took a big pull of the whiskey. Its burn the only warmth she seemed to feel most days, now. She scowled down at the bar's entrance, and was so taken by her own brooding melancholy that she was actually shocked when a concerned voice called up to her from below.

“Hey, are you alright?”

Jumping, she zeroed in on the interruption, and if her heart still worked, it would have stopped just then.

It was Lawrence.

The ginger's expression switched immediately from one of genuine concern to surprise, and then contempt.

“Well, well, well. If it isn't Elvira, Mistress of the Snark.”

Carmilla grimaced down at her.

“Red Sonya. Run out of minorities to harass?”

“Technically it's my night off. But a good cop is always on-duty.”

Carmilla rolled her eyes, but did not respond, instead letting an awkward, tense silence fill the space between them, Carmilla's legs dangling and casting a long pair of shadows down Lawrence's form on the greenish sidewalk.

“Looking for... troublemakers,” Lawrence continued, leading. “Did I just find one?”

Carmilla scoffed, then stretched her arms above her head.

“I'm a P.I.; I'm working a case, if you must know.”

“Oh, does it involve staking out a law enforcement officers' bar? That is what you're doing, right?”

Carmilla said nothing; Lawrence smirked.

“Look, I'm not – ”

Carmilla stopped; a second heartbeat approached them from behind, and she twisted 'round to see who it was. A woman, who Carmilla recognized from the liquor store, approached them, eyes fixed on Carmilla and frowning.

“You're Carmilla, right?” She asked.

“...yeah,” Carmilla said at the same time Lawrence said,

“Ma'am, this is police business, would you please move along?”

The woman ignored Lawrence, instead addressing Carmilla again.

“Your mother says, 'I want my rook back.'”

“ What??” Carmilla gasped, mind racing, and Lawrence frowned and turned to face the woman fully.

“Ma'am, have you been drinking? Take anything?”

But just then, the woman opened her right hand, showing a sharp piece of glass; Lawrence stepped back, one hand extended, the other at her sidearm, when the woman pressed the shank into her stomach and drew it sharply across.

She got maybe a quarter of the way through her abdomen before she collapsed, eyes rolling into the back of her head. Carmilla leapt down, ignoring Lawrence shouting something at her, instead drawing her tongue across the self-inflicted wound, this time not hesitating to really taste the stranger's blood and pressing her tongue as deeply as she dared, willing it silently to close, to close.

Shock gave way to some relief when the wound did not re-open, and though the woman remained unconscious, Carmilla could feel her breathe; feel her heart beating.

Glancing upward, she saw Lawrence had one hand on the gun at her side, and the other extended outward in silent command, her eyes wide in shock.

“Call paramedics. She's still alive. Now!”

Lawrence fished out her phone, one hand still on her sidearm, and made the call. Carmilla stared down at the woman, whose face twitched awkwardly, limbs trembling uncomfortably. She tried to keep her head still. She didn't know much about mother's possession abilities, had only heard of it until recently, so she wasn't sure how long they lasted.

“EMTs are on the way, ten minutes.”

Carmilla nodded, and then a very awkward silence enveloped them both.

“Karnstein?”

“What?”

Carmilla was observing the street, scanning for observers, her spine still cold from being called 'Rook' by the woman.

“...you drank her blood.”

Her eyes shot to Lawrence, who was staring at her in shock and disgust.

“It was... only a little bit. I had to stop the bleeding, Ginge Minge.”

Sirens started in the distance behind them.

“That's an indictable offense.”

Carmilla sighed. Stood up. Stretched her neck out. It did not help that Lawrence was significantly taller than she, but as a vampire, Carmilla knew she had an edge. She glared up at her.

“Then indict me. I saved her life. But go ahead. Do your worst.”

They glared at each other. The ambulance's sirens got louder and louder, until finally Carmilla broke eye contact and made out the vehicle's form up the street, careening toward them. In a dead sprint.

“Over here!”

Lawrence shouted and waved her arms over her head. And then the EMTs were a swarm around them, helping the downed woman onto a stretcher.

“You family?” A friendly man in glasses asked them both.

“No,” they answered in unison, and Carmilla glared at Lawrence. Lawrence returned the glare, and did not break eye contact with Carmilla as she said:

“She hurt herself in front of us. I'm a detective. She's a – ”

“P.I.” Carmilla interrupted. “Working a case. I need to go with her to the hospital.”

“I was gonna say that,” Lawrence stated, and before Carmilla could argue the paramedic stated calmly,

“Well you can both come.”

And that was how Carmilla found herself in the unenviable position of being crammed in with Lawrence and three paramedics standing around the stretcher the woman was on, while one of the three inserted a lead in the woman's arm.

“You said she tried to hurt herself. How?”

“Shard of glass,” Carmilla interjected over Lawrence's answer. “She dropped it.”

“No visible wound, but there is some blood...”

Carmilla's throat worked against itself. She was suddenly very aware of the fact she was surrounded by humans, and her need to interrogate the woman had caused her to jump without thinking – you never knew how people would react to you being a vampire.

She exhaled sharply.

“I, uhh, I closed the wound.”

There was a confused shift throughout the ambulance, and then one of the paramedics gasped “oh” behind Carmilla, and the man who had spoken to them first swallowed nervously.

Carmilla sighed, closed her eyes.

“Look, she did save this girl, so,”

Carmilla's eyes opened wide. Lawrence was... defending her?

As she was deciding whether to be flattered or offended, Lawrence continued.

“She's part of an investigation. We...” Carmilla could see the detective visibly shudder “... need to question this woman. Together.”

She very nearly choked on the word, and Carmilla chuckled under her breath at her obvious distress, but otherwise said nothing.

They arrived at the ER, one of the nurses insisting they could visit when the woman regained consciousness, and then the pair were left alone, once again in awkward silence.

“So,” Carmilla started just as Lawrence said,

“Look,”

They both regarded the other as one would a piece of roadkill.

“Clearly this is something... supernatural,” Lawrence said.

“... it is.”

“And you know something about her?”

“Not her, personally.”

“Something about a 'rook'?”

“... yep.”

“Okay then. Look, fangface, I don't like you – ”

“Nor I, you.”

“I don't like your kind – ”

“Back atcha, ginger.”

“But a girl tried to kill herself in front of us, and I need to know why.”

Carmilla sighed. She stared down at the hospital floor, an ugly off-white which did nothing to settle the knot rising in her stomach.

Then, after a long minute, she groaned.

“... alright, fine.”

Chapter Text

The tap tap tap tapping of the detective's foot was going to drive Carmilla insane. She glared at Lawrence and hissed:

“You know you can stop at any time, right?”

“Oh, is it annoying you?”

The tapping continued with increased intensity, as Lawrence glared right back at Carmilla, who sighed and stretched her neck. It had been a tense, weird hour and a half, where Carmilla had filled in Lawrence on pertinent details. Leaving out the parts where she acted as a lure of course, and only referring to her mother as 'an ancient vampire'.

“God I hate hospitals,” she muttered under her breath. Her hands twisted into fists in her lap, and Lawrence asked, entirely too loudly,

“Why's that? Shouldn't you love all the death and blood?”

Carmilla rolled her eyes, and almost didn't answer her antagonism. But then,

“It's too... sterile. You humans meddle in affairs you know nothing about. Mortality shouldn't be... played with like you do.”

The two stared each other down, before Carmilla broke eye contact.

“Everything comes at a cost. You mortals just aren't willing to face it.”

“What the frilly hell does that mean?”

Carmilla was spared answering Lawrence's antagonism by a nurse walking up to them.

“She's waking up now, detective. If you want you could try talking to her, but be... careful. She's still shaken up a bit...”

The three shuffled to the woman's bedside, where Carmilla drew the curtains closed around them after thanking the nurse quietly. Then, she turned and faced her mtoher's latest victim.

Carmilla finaly got a good look at the woman, her hair a dark raven black cut short, eyes beady and narrow set above a short chin. And she was staring Carmilla down like she were disease itself, face pale and hands shaking slightly; either cold or fear: which, Carmilla did not know.

“Umm, hi,” Carmilla stated awkwardly.

“You're her rook.”

It was not a question, and Carmilla swallowed nervously.

“Whose?”

“The woman in black. She has pictures of you, you know. Recent pictures.”

“Where is she? Was there anyone else with her?”

The woman ignored Carmilla, instead fixing a placid gaze on Lawrence.

“And what are you? Her latest plaything?”

“What? God, no,” the detective spat enough disgust to almost hurt Carmilla's feelings, if she had any; “look, I'm a detective. I can keep you safe – ”

The woman laughed a bitter, merciless sound.

“You expect me to believe that?”

There was silence, then Lawrence asked:

“Do you remember why you're here? You... tried to hurt yourself.”

The woman blinked, then looked down at the lead in her hand.

“I remember,” the muttered quietly, her expression becoming sorrowful. “The woman in black... she can make you do things. Terrible things...”

“What did she make you do? Before tonight?” Lawrence pushed gently, a hand on the woman's shoulder comforting.

Tears started pooling in the woman's eyes, and she shook her head.

Carmilla swallowed, cleared her throat.

“We're trying to... help people, like you. She's kidnapped a number of people and I need to know where she's holding them.”

The woman stared, teary-eyed, at Carmilla, before grimacing and looking away again.

Carmilla sighed, her patience wearing thin. Her tone became short, and she snapped:

“Look. I am working a case and I do not have time for games. The woman who did this to you – she's a real asshole, and you can either tell me where she is or you can let her keep killing people. Then you'll get to deal with me being out a paycheck.”

“Karnstein...”

Lawrence started in reproach, but the woman actually sighed, rubbed her eyes with her hands and nodded finally.

“... alright, fine. We moved around a lot, and I never saw any other hostages, but, she liked to bring me to this park, off Bathurst...”

“Great,” Carmilla spat, and whirled out of the room.

“Hey, Karnstein!”

Oh, good.

She turned back to face Lawrence, who was panting slightly to catch her up.

“What?”

“You can't just leave like that! Why does this vampire lady have pictures of you? You two know each other?”

Carmilla scoffed.

“What, like we all know each other?”

Lawrence crossed her arms, shot a challenge at Carmilla through her eyes.

“Well. Do you?”

Carmilla sighed deeply. Rolled her eyes.

“... yeah. Look, we can talk about it tomorrow; come by my office. Just. Make sure she gets home, okay?”

Lawrence looked taken aback.

“I... didn't think you cared.”

“No one deserves what that saggy-titted wench of a woman does to them,” Carmilla said, with only slightly more venom than she implied. Lawrence blinked and her expression softened marginally. She nodded, then returned to the woman's bedside.

As Carmilla strode from the hospital, she heard the detective asking if the woman had any family to come pick her up.

Blood and adrenaline coursed through Carmilla, who stalked through the night, eyes wide as a vicious paranoia took her entirely; every shadow deep and wide as the chasm expanding within her.

Rook. Rook. The nickname Mother had given her. A mockery of her love of the piece Mother always made sure to take in their long games together, as well as Carmilla's stubborn unwillingness to castle at the appropriate moments. She panted, breath bleeding out of her but never returning back the other way, and her powerwalk became a jog, became a run, became a sprint; a river of memories and emotions overtaking her, threatening to overwhelm her, ice warring against blood and water deep within her, and her chest felt like it was tearing itself apart under her jacket and she screamed, screamed until she couldn't anymore; wouldn't.

She panted, hands shaking and legs burning. She hardly noticed she had stopped running, her mind and cold heart reeling from the stranger's proclamation.

“The rook? No, no, no. Never expose your rook so early, dear. That's your problem. Not patient enough. Well, it's to be expected... you are young, after all.”

“I'm over a hundred years old now, Mother,” Carmilla had reasoned.

Mother smiled wide, one of placation, Carmilla knew.

“Still too young to see if you wait by the river, your enemies' bodies will float on by. So it is with rooks, too.” She laughed at Carmilla's frown. “You'll see, Rook. You'll see.”
Pressing her hands into her eyes, Carmilla tried to compose herself. Chess had never been her game, not really. She preferred Go, the game of life and death. Its dramatic name hid its softer nature, her games with her sister Matska more meaningful conversation with one another than brutal competition. Though somehow, she reflected ruefully, Mattie also seemed to beat her more often than not.

She shook her head to clear it. Mattie was, as always, out of the country; tending to her own affairs.

And she had to focus.

Two women – at least – were possessed by Mother, both with some kind of connection to Carmilla. Amber, in the bar, during a night Carmilla wanted to lose herself in reverie; celebration was a wonderful distraction from life, she knew. It was why she drank so much, even in life, though that was to be expected of a wealthy girl after all...

She straightened upward, taking in her surroundings for the first time. Somehow, she'd ended up back at her apartment complex, and she glared up at the window she knew was hers. She stretched her neck out, then, looking to make sure no one was watching, she leapt the four stories upward; landing, catlike, on the sill and balancing herself against the pane of glass. She pressed inward and the window swung open silently.

She felt two heartbeats, where she only expected one. Instantly, the hair on the back of her neck stood at alert, before a figure shuffled on the couch and her eyes fell on Laura.

“...hey, Laura,” she whispered, smiling to herself. Somehow the sight of the sleeping girl calmed the adrenaline coursing through her, with her golden brown hair falling neatly across her face as she snored.

After a gentle prodding failed to wake her, Carmilla tenderly scooped her into her arms and, ignoring how warmth flooded her chest from Laura's body, she carried and then deposited her into her own bed, pulling a blanket over her for warmth.

Laura sighed in her sleep, and Carmilla chuckled silently as she made to collapse on the couch instead.

Chapter Text

Carmilla woke, but stretched without opening her eyes. The couch had forced a deep soreness into her back, and she rubbed it and sighed, finally opening her eyes to reveal the ceiling above her. She heard Laura stirring in her bed and, turning, saw Laura stretch and yawn.

“Morning, cupcake,” she smiled.

“Morning,” Laura said, then stared at her blearily, half-confused. “How did I get into your bed?”

“Well for a girl like you, it didn't take much. I saw you conked out and figured the bed would be more comfortable.”

Laura's mouth had opened at Carmilla's obvious flirting, but she closed it and shrugged self-consciously.

“I didn't mean to... I mean, I said I'd look after the Zeta and I – ”

“It's okay.” Carmilla's warmth surprised even her and she could tell the way Laura blinked that she also felt it; she went on, overcompensating, cavalier: “vampiric constitution trumps lower back pain. Didn't want you whining and bitching at me because of sore muscles.”

“Ooh, right,” Laura laughed, lifting herself off the bed, “because I'm the one with the temper; gotcha.”

Carmilla smirked, and they were interrupted by the Zeta moaning through the gag.

“Soo... what's the plan for him?” Laura asked reasonably.

Carmilla shrugged.

“Kill him? Leave him on the side of the road somewhere?”

Laura chuckled, but the reproach in her eyes was real when she responded:

“Oookay, I know you're a vampire and all but, could you maybe not? I know the Zetas suck, but, he probably just got all caught up in this. Hey, cmon,” she brushed a hand down Carmilla's shoulder, and Carmilla's eyes shot to it, regarding it suspiciously as Laura continued: “is killing a random dudebro really worth it?”

Carmilla stared at Laura's hand, then lifted her gaze upward, to Laura's eyes; her soft, soft eyes, softer than anything Carmilla had ever seen, and if her heart worked it would have stopped at the warmth reflected back at her.

“... alright, fine. Cmon, beefcake. If you're gonna live, I'm gonna find a good use for you...”

She shifted, then pulled up the Zeta by the scruff of his neck after striking him on the head to knock him out again.

(He had started nodding emphatically when Carmilla agreed not to kill him, but still groaned through the gag when she hit him.)

Sometime later, she wandered back into the building, and when the elevator doors opened to admit her to the third floor, she saw Laf pacing back and forth in front of her door..

“Oh, hey, uhh, wasn't sure if you were home or not – ”

“Yeah I was uhh, dealing with our Zeta problem. It's done now.”

“Oh, good. Or, good?”

And awkward silence filled the hall between them, then they both spoke at once:

“I didn't kill him.”

“We should talk.”

Another awkward silence. Then, Carmilla nodded.

“Okay, yeah.”

“...how've you been?”

Moodily, Carmilla folded her arms and leaned against the side wall.

“Yeah. I dunno. You?”

“We haven't exactly talked a bunch since Silas.”

“No,” Carmilla agreed.

“Well, we tried reaching out...”

“Yeah.”

“I mean, we're your friends, me and Per. And it took your mother coming back to get us into the same city again – ”

“Look, Laf – ” Carmilla tried to interrupt, but Laf cut her off.

“All I'm saying is, it's messed up. And I get that you're like, a broody vampire and all, but, we care about you. It isn't fair for you to try to push us away.”

Carmilla threw her hands up and let them fall to her side, helpless.

“I only wanted you to be safe from my mother!”

“I get that but, come on, Carmilla. We were with you at Silas. We know the risks, and we decided to help you anyway. You know we work better together, as a team, all three of us!”

“Okay.”

“And yo udon't get to just decide all on your own that you're the only one trying to help those girls!”

“Okay, Laf.”

“And, and!! You know Perry is a very good witch when she tries to be – ”

“Laf. Okay.” Carmilla actually grabbed the lab-rat by the shoulders and held them there, and that seemed to pull Laf out of their lecture.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” Carmilla chuckled. “You're right, I've been. Evasive. I get so. All twisted up when it comes to my mother.”

“Yeah. Maybe we could talk, I mean once this case is over, about all... that?”

Carmilla straightened up, swallowed.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Laf smiled.

“I know it's hard. But... we'll be here when you're ready, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

They walked to Carmilla's door then, and as she inserted her key into the lock, Laf remarked,

“By the way should we get that Hollis girl for this, shouldn't we?”

“Laura's already here,” Carmilla remarked, which made them grin mischievously.

“Oh, Laura, is it? You like her, huh?”

Carmilla spluttered.

“I; what, no, I – shut up!”

Laughing, they admitted themselves into the apartment and were greeted by Laura.

“You seem chipper!” She remarked, perkily, and Carmilla scowled in response.

“Ha-ha, cupcake.”

“Oh, Perry's coming too she was just a little late.”

“One more's joining us, too,” Carmilla said as she closed the door behind her. “That, uhh, detective, Lawrence? I invited her to join the case.”

The two stared at her, dumbstruck.

“You invited a cop to join your investigation?” Laf finally spoke.

“I know it is grating,” Carmilla sighed; “as a private eye, to admit this, but the cops have resources we could use. Besides, something happened last night I need to tell you two about.”
And she detailed the incident with the new possessed woman, their trip to the hospital, and the conversation therein, leaving out the part where she was stalking Lawrence for another case of hers. This set the two humans to talking animatedly, while Carmilla fetched her morning blood from the fridge.

Returning, she was just about to enter the conversation when her phone buzzed in her pocket. An unknown number flashed across the screen. Frowning, she turned her back to answer it back in the kitchen, away from Laura and Laf's plotting.

“Hello, darling.”

Carmilla's dead veins, somehow, ran cold. She held the phone away from her in both hands, tried to gather breath into still lungs, and then responded with a shaky voice:

“Mother.”

The woman on the other end laughed mirthlessly.

“Oh, it is good to hear your voice again, my Rook. It really has been too long, has it not?”

Carmilla glanced back at the others, oblivious to her distress. She turned her back to them again and whispered into the reciever.

“What do you want, Mother?”

“What do any of us girls want, darling. Power. Our enemies heads on pikes. Our daughter's love and admiration.”

Carmilla sighed, wiped some sweat from her brow and tried – unsuccessfully – to swallow the lump in her throat.

“I never admired you.”

“Oh yes you did. How could you not, after I pulled you back from the far beyond? Goodness, I still remember the first people you killed. That Vordenburg family? The carnage you brought them – I was so very proud of you, you know that, right?”

Laura looked over at her, concern knit itself into her brow; Carmilla waved in what she hoped was a comforting gesture, then turned back around and stuttered:

“That was a... an act of... vengeance, and, and... anger; I was – ”

Mother laughed again: derisive, disbelieving.

“Oh, Mircalla. Who are you kidding? You were death on dark wings; you excelled at it, you know.”

Carmilla's breath came uncertain, shaking, shallow. She glanced over at the two humans again; Laf was animatedly explaining some new gadget they were working on for the stakeout. She looked away again.

“If I was so good at it why did you lock me away in a coffin of blood for decades, then?”

There was a pause on the other end.

“... you can't still be mad about that?”

Carmilla actually laughed out loud, bitter and caustic. Her mother continued,

“I was teaching you a lesson. One we all must learn. Stone can never love flesh. That ridiculous girl was never a match for you, dear.”

An angry tear pumped down Carmilla's cheek and she poured its rage into her reply:

“Don't. Talk. About. Elle.”

“Or what? You'll storm Bathurst park with your little band of bloodbags and get yourselves killed?”

“Think I won't?”

“Be my guest.”

Carmilla slammed the 'end call' button and threw her phone against the wall, silencing the room instantly. She stormed through the crowd and made for the door, and was about to kick it down when Laura slipped between her and it.

“Uhh, hey? What's going on buddy?”

“Out of my way, cupcake,” Carmilla snarled.

“Who was on the phone?” Laf asked; Carmilla turned to glare at them.

“It was her. And now I know where she is.”

“Your mother just... told you where she's hiding?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Laf started reasonably, concern plain on their face as they went on; “we know enough about your mother to know that storming over there right now is exactly what she wants, right?”

Involving the lab rat was a mistake, Carmilla saw that now. She glowered at them silently, every muscle in her body tense with fear and rage.

Until a soft hand on her shoulder made her turn to Laura.

“Hey, it's okay, Carmilla. You aren't alone, you don't have to do this. Laf is right. We need a better plan. One that doesn't get us all immediately murdered,” she said with a small, encouraging laugh.

Too soft.

Carmilla dropped her gaze from Laura's eyes and fell to her hand instead. She sucked in a breath; exhaled once. Twice. Then she nodded at the ground.

“Alright, deal.”

She let Laura lead her back to the Laf. For a minute, she did not say anything, merely snatched glimpses at Laura when she thought she could get away with it, and she shook her head at herself as the pair of humans discussed this new development.

But then, a thought occurred to her. Too soft.

She shook her head once, twice, and then picked up one of the chairs and hefted it, pulling it to the door, which she exited, shut behind her, and then jammed the chair between its handle and the floor, trapping Laf and Laura inside as their voices exploded in panic.

I'm sorry.

Chapter Text

The wind whipped Carmilla's hair back and forth across her face, and she scowled at it as she tore through the park. It was a crowded day, and she glared at a group of passers-by viciously as she scoured the crowds for a sign – any sign – of her mother.

“Well, hi, kitty-cat,” came an unfriendly voice behind her.

Whirling, she was confronted by none other than her younger brother, Will.

“William. You've aged poorly.”

“Look who's talking sour puss.”

“Where is she? Where is Mother?”

Will shrugged, crossed his arms.

“Wouldn't you like to know? I know!” He snapped his fingers and started circling Carmilla. “Why don't we play a game?”
Carmilla scoffed.

“What game?”

“How about we see exactly how many of these fine innocent people I can drain dry before you stop me?”

Carmilla swore and started for him; Will bolted for a woman pushing a stroller and – too late – Carmilla reached him just as she tore her spine from her back, eliciting screams from everyone nearby as the various park-goers panicked and started running over themselves to get clear.

She struck him across the face with an elbow; he responded by sending a blood-soaked fist into her chest and she fell back with the blow. Will took this opportunity to run after another victim as the woman he had killed fell forward and gargled wordlessly, blood pooling under her and her screaming baby. Will sunk his teeth into the next one's neck, and this one shuddered and gurgled uselessly against him; as Carmilla reached them, Will pulled back as Carmilla tackled him, and the two rolled on the ground, blood flying around them before Will forced his way on top, holding Carmilla down and pressing his lips against hers.

Everything in her body screamed in horror as blood flowed from Will's mouth into hers, and she yanked herself free, kicking him off of her.

“Aww cmon kitty, how long has it been huh? Don't you miss it?!”

“Shut up!”

Carmilla spat the blood out, even as her throat and stomach roared for it; she lunged after him again, and he blocked a punch with his arm. She clawed at his face, drawing more blood as she spat at him. He kicked her in the stomach, and she flew backward over a group of humans, landing with a thud that knocked all the air out of her. One of the people approached her, concern on her face.

“Are you alright?!”

Carmilla shook her head, trying to clear it.

“Run!” She shouted at the girl, but too late – her chest exploded from behind her, and through the haze of red, Carmilla saw Will's fist wrapped around her still-beating heart.

One of her companions screamed and finally ran, the girl choked on some words and died as Will lifted her above his head and opened his mouth, letting the blood drip onto his face.

Screaming, Carmilla launched herself at him again, tackling him and once more the pair were a flailing, bloody pair of legs, arms, fists, and nails clawing at each other. Eventually, they collided with a steel signpost, and Carmilla's mind cleared.

As Will went for another tackle, she rotated, bringing her elbow up and then down in one smooth motion, shattering the other's clavicle and drawing an actual roar of pain from him. She used her momentum to put him on the ground, and then bent the signpost with sheer rage, pinning Will to the ground.

“Where is she, William! Where is Mother?!”

Will, face bloody and bruised, cackled through his pain.

“Why kitty, I think you just missed her. Back from whence you came.”

Carmilla paused. Then –

“The apartment.”

“Don't you catch on fast. No wonder you were Mother's right hand.”

She glared down at Will, then, grabbing his head in her hands, sunk her thumbs into his eye sockets, drawing another genuine roar of agony from her brother as she gouged out his eyes. It would not kill him, and the eyes would regenerate over time, but it would hurt the whole time, and at the least would slow him down, which was what she was counting on as she left him there beneath the bent and twisted metal in a visceral, screaming mess behind her.

The apartment was a shattered mess by the time Carmilla got there. Her door had divorced its hinges, and the glass was scattered beneath and around it, and her desk was utterly shredded, documents strewn all about, laptop in many thousand pieces all over the apartment. Laf was laying unconscious in a corner, but still alive thanks to a still-beating heart and steady, if shallow, breath.

“Karnstein?” Came a voice from her kitchen, and she turned to see Lawrence greet her with gun drawn.

“What the hell happened? Are you okay?”

Carmilla shook her head.

“I'm fine. Where's Laura?”

“The Hollis girl? She isn't with you?”

“She was here when I left – Laura!”

“Hey, hey calm down she isn't here!”

But Lawrence's voice did anything but calm Carmilla, who punched a wall in frustration, adding to the destruction by one fist-sized hole exactly.

“God damn it! Of all the stupid... idiotic, suicidal...”

Lawrence blabbered about EMTs while Carmilla's phone buzzed.

As well as eight frantic phone calls from Lawrence, she saw she had a text message from her mother's number now:

Meridian Hall. Come alone, or your friends die.

Her eyes widened, and then she made for the window. Opening it was unnecessary; her mother had shattered it, too.

“Woah, hey – where are you going?”

Lawrence confronted her with a frown; Carmilla whipped around to face her.

“She has Laura. I'm going to get her.”

“Who? Hey – Karnstein!!”

Ignoring Lawrence entirely, she jumped, and made for her bike.

The roar of the old Indian beneath her was nearly a balm, weaving in and out of traffic as she tore through Toronto. The street and cars all around her were mere background; she ran reds and nearly killed herself several times in the process, riding harder than she had in years, and though her valiant steed protested via whine, she pressed on, full throttle, zero regard for any other travelers; stubborn obstacles they were only.

To the point, at once in her journey, a pair of men were walking a thick pane of glass across a crosswalk, and Carmilla didn't even pause to consider an alternative: her bike ripped through it, shattering it spectacularly in an explosion of glass shards and panicked shouts from the men, and both ducked for cover as she sped onward, ever onward, in an insane dash for her mother.

Finally, she came to the Meridian Hall building, the rage building and building in her heart as she recognized a Zeta out front, obviously guarding its entrance.

“Sorry ma'am, no admission; private party.”

“I'm on the list,” she growled. The man tittered.

“Oh yeah? What's your name?”

She answered by punching him in the face, knocking him unconscious.

“Carmilla fucking Karnstein, bitch.”

Inside, she encountered no more guards, but made her way to the main stage. This was pitch black, difficult even for her to see through, and as her hackles raised, her vision was suddenly flooded by light as a massive stage-light blinded her utterly.

“Well well, darling daughter. It has been so long, has it not?”

There, centerstage, was her mother, in all her black-gowned glory. Pale eyes and black lips curled upward in contemptuous amusement met Carmilla's haunted, bloodied look. She also saw, behind Mother, lit by their own lights, three women on raised platforms, each with nooses around their necks: Laura, Betty, and Perry.

“Ahh yes. This will be fun. I want to know which you will save, dear one. Your professional reputation, the holly girl, or the old witch, probably the only one powerful enough to stop me if she weren't obsessed with that nasty business at Silas.”

Carmilla's voice trembled as she spoke.

“L-let them go. Your quarrel is with me.”

“Come now darling. You know that's not how this works. Step forward!” This, she addressed to the three behind her who, so commanded, did, and instantly began the struggle against their rope.

Without thinking, Carmilla rushed the stage, took it in a running leap, and – made for Laura's platform first, digging her nails into it by way of scaling, and when at last the top was reached, she pulled the woman upward into her arms, pulling the noose off of her and allowing her to choke and sputter for air.

Just when Laura was about to speak however, she suddenly vanished in a puff of smoke in Carmilla's arms.

“ No – NO! ”

Glancing around, she saw the other two vanish similarly, and from below she heard and evil, gloating chuckle.

“Did you really think I would just let you have them back? Now I know which one to kill last. Ta-ta, darling.”

And Carmilla jumped down but too late, for her mother, too, vanished in a breath of smoke. Distraught, she cast around for something, anything, to focus rage upon, and then let out a horrid, wretched scream from the depths of her being.

The scream ripped through her, through the theater and the whole building, shattering glass and destroying electric lines both, sparking flames which soared and roared with her in the night.

LAURA.

Chapter Text

An axe is used to cut down trees. Their melodic thunk, thunk, is the sound of pine boughs breaking, breaking. An axe is used to cut wood to make fire, a fire that crackles and hisses and bursts and when that fire escapes its masters, the axe can open doors allowing escape. A hammer is used to drive railway spikes into ground, laying road for the flow of commerce and people. Its thumping can be heard when hearts unite to build homes, houses for people who will use it to fix photographs of people to strong walls with nails. A spear is used to hunt, to fish, to cull life from creatures lesser than Man. In concert, spears can bring down the greatest of game and feed entire clans.

A sword is used to kill human beings.

A sword, then, is the first true weapon of mankind. It has no other purpose. If you bring a sword somewhere, you are carrying the weight of a human life with you. It is crucial that those who both make and carry swords know, and understand, this burden. It is crucial that they have the strength to carry what must be done with them.

Carmilla's eyes blinked open. The hum of the plane around her was disquieting, and she regretted not drinking herself into oblivion before takeoff. Still, though, she needed sharp focus. She stifled a yawn behind her hand and glanced out the window. Soft, vain clouds filled the world below her and for a second she wondered what it would be like to leap into them, to embrace their softness, sweet charity that was release. She ran a hand through her hair, then, and as the plane's engines shifted, recalled the last moments she had had on the ground.

“You always do this, Carmilla!”

Laf's tear-stained, angry face opposed her, broken glass and splintered furniture all around Carmilla's apartment beneath them both. Carmilla threw her hands up in desperation.

“What do you want me to say, Laf? I screwed up? Yeah, that's me I'm a fucking failure, alright!”

“Oh, for fuck's sake, Carmilla! Don't act the fucking martyr! Your self-destructive bullshit got Laura kidnapped and probably killed. How could you?! HOW COULD YOU?!”

Silence rang out between them. Tears fell into dust and shattered glass beneath Laf's feet, dripping, dropping and splashing themselves into an oblivion before them. Carmilla's throat worked against itself. She stared down at the ruined desk, broken chairs and glass, glass all around like shards of reproach dripping from the hand of God.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered.

“What?” Laf demanded.

“I'm sorry, Laf.”

Carmilla's tears shocked them both, and Carmilla's fist shook at her side.

“I... I don't know where my mother is. Or Laura. Or Perry. I don't know what to do...”

Laf hesitated, then surprised them both by embracing Carmilla, who let herself sag into their arms and sob.

“You said... you said she took Perry?” Laf asked quietly. Carmilla pulled back, looking at Laf with cautious eyes. She nodded.

“Okay. Let's go find her. I think I can do something with the city's survellience, but it might take a while. How are we going to fight your mom, though?”

Carmilla swallowed, took several shaky breaths.

“I have an idea.”

Nothing was what Carmilla felt as the plane landed in Berlin. She slid sunglasses on and stepped off, greeting the throng of humanity which pushed in on her from every side like a dark torrent. Finally though, she found herself in front of the travel bureau desk. A perky redhead greeted her promptly.

“Wilkommen nach Deutschland, was kann ich für Sie tun'?”

“Hallo, ich muss ein Auto mieten.”

Clack clack clack clack clack went the woman's keyboard.

“Haben Sie ihre Krafts-Haftpflichtversicherung?”

“Ja,” Carmilla pulled a copy of the document from her bag, and presented this. Clack clack clack, went the woman's mechanical keyboard, before she nodded at Carmilla.

“Na gut, Sie können rechts bitte machen, der Mietenplatz ist schon dort.”

She pointed to an overhang, and Carmilla winked.

“Schönes, danke schön. Tschüss.”

“Bitte schön! Nächste! Die Nächste, bitte!”

“ Carmilla, no.” Laf shook their head in disbelief. “You just said no more suicidal heroics. That blade will destroy your soul.”

“I'm not even sure I have one of those, Laf.” Carmilla shook her head, pacing back and forth in front of them; restless, tired. “I'm already dead.”

Laf stared at her, dismayed. Then shook their head, staring down at their fists clenched at their side.

“... it's Laura, isn't it?”

They slowly looked back up at Carmilla. “She's... she's why, isn't she?”
Carmilla paused. She knew she shouldn't. She knew it was the vampire in her that replied, with all her heart:

“Yes. She could be... she's important to me.”

Laf slowly nodded.

“And Perry?”

Carmilla's voice softened.

“Of course.”

With that, she turned and walked. Even Carmilla had the sense not to say 'I love her'. That's the other side of being a vampire: feeling everything... or absolutely nothing.

The drive across the border was a grueling affair. Bitter determination stole over Carmilla's face as she pushed herself over the Autobahn, then four hours through winding, country roads more bastard dirt than true asphalt, up the mountains to the village of Styria. The village presented itself before her like a vision of dark steel, the clouds low and wet on the mountain, the village's thatched roofs rising through fog like red teeth of some long-dead beast. Long-dead was how she felt as she pulled off and turned up a last switchback of dark mountain and came at last to her final destination.

The crater once known as Silas University.

She exhaled, her breath coming like fog over her hands, and she sighed dramatically. She shook her head once. Twice. Then proceeded to march forward, prowling and death-like, toward the center of that massive, half-flooded crater that was once a prestigious university. It became necessary to circle slowly, the path irregular and roughly cut, such that her feet tread a cold, long labyrinth over the ghosts which came to her, unbidden and mechanical; the ghosts of the girls she had taken for her mother. She tried to ignore the guilt gripping at her, pulling her down, as she shook from cold her shoulders and then she was at the spot.

Her old dorm room, its walls long blown down and scattered in the disastrous explosion wrenched from the earth by forces unknown. Still, she remembered exactly where her regret was buried then, and, rolling her shoulders, she knelt and started to dig, furious and determined, into hard earth. The rocks bit and cut into her cold flesh, but she was resolute and, after several hours of hard digging, finally held in her hand the bastard sword she had sworn off.

The Blade of Hastur.

As her hand wrapped around its bone-white hilt, she was assaulted immediately by a sense of impending doom, a whisper at the edge of hearing, a cold call to blood and death. Grimacing, she strapped the blade to her back and stood up, and retraced her long steps back out of the crater, onto the road, into the car, and finally rode away from that curse.

Chapter Text

The buzz of her phone woke her, and rather rudely too; she had just gotten to sleep after an eighteen-hour workday. Grumpy, she moved to answer it, choking out a groggy “hello?” into the receiver.

“Hollis, where the hell are you? Work started an hour ago!”

“Oh, crap!”

“Don't 'oh crap' me, just – ”

But her boss's rant went unheard as Laura staggered out of bed and ran into the bathroom, nearly splatting her brains on the wall as she smacked her head against the doorframe in her hurry.

“Ow, fuck!!” She roared, then jammed a toothbrush in her mouth and squirted some paste down her gullet, brushing quickly as she searched for some less dirty clothes she was certain were somewhere in the piles of molding outfits. Glancing over at Betty's room, she saw that the girl had not come home from last night, but she didn't think much of it, instead forcing a pair of pants on in a rush, hopping up and down madly as she shoved first one leg, then the other, through.

She barely remembered the trip to the office, sprinting as she did through several intersections and nearly bowling over a very nice old lady, whom she shouted an apology at before carrying irrepressibly onward.

“Hey, Carla,” she greeted the receptionist, a lanky blonde who rolled her eyes in response and otherwise ignored her. Then Laura made for the elevator and frantically slammed the 'up' button until the car came.

“Hollis, I fired you.”

“Chief, wait!”

Her boss stopped, waited. Then he sighed.

“There's nothing you can say, Hollis. You haven't had any story in two weeks. You're done.”
Her stomach dropped.

Lumbering and long was her gait as she trundled through the crowds of Torontoans, and she almost shuffled past her favorite bakery before deciding, with a deep sigh, that some pastry or other couldn't hurt. Stomach filled, she felt marginally better, and resolved herself to a day of moping in bed watching bad sci-fi and ordering pizza.

And then suddenly three days had passed, and she was still without a job... and without Betty.

This was pathetic. She shook her blanket off her back, standing off her bed. The apartment was filthy; she was determined to clean. She was vacuuming under Betty's bed when she stopped, sighed, and threw herself onto it. Betty still had not come home, nor texted or called Laura at all. She was starting to get worried.

As she was staring up at the ceiling, noticing a white star sticker the landlord had painted over hastily in an era past, its sad outline drawing her in slowly, she felt something crumple underneath her head.

“What the...” she muttered, pulling out a card from Betty's pillow. Red ink lined the neat page and she frowned, reading the words therein.

Several days later, she was knocking on the door at the end of the hall labeled Countess Investigations. She had seen the mysterious, dark woman whose office it was several times, often late at night, often with a girl or two in tow, never the same one twice. She had rolled her eyes wordlessly and written that off. But after several days of fruitless internet searching and still no call from Betty, she was out of options.

After a long, agonized minute, the door opened to admit the brooding detective, one eyebrow raised high as she contemplated her newest arrival.

“Yes?”

“Hi. You must be Carmilla.”

“Must I be?”

Her tone was sarcastic, but surprisingly warm. Laura swallowed.

“Um, I think I have a... a case.”

Carmilla blinked slowly at her. Almost seductively. Then nodded, pulled the door open wider and stepped aside.

“Alright cupcake. Start at the beginning.”

Hours passed. Carmilla didn't need to be so rude. Stressed and annoyed at the only solution to her problem, Laura decided it was time to bake. The warm smell of the oven soon wafted through the apartment as she stirred and mixed, swaying to some soft gay music she put on. The light of the sun flitted down the alleyway outside, bouncing off car windows and dashing itself in autumnal splendor against her four white walls.

Why was Carmilla like that, anyway? Laura huffed. The whir of her electric whisk interrupting her slow, bouncing dance. Shouldn't a detective want to... help people? She glanced at the clock above the microwave. Twelve forty-one. She thought about her job – her old job. She scowled at the dull reflection of herself in the fridge door. Slowly shook her head. Glanced down at the card from Betty's room. Absentmindedly began chewing a corner.

The oven dinged – it was done preheating. Back to whisking.

And then she blinked, and was in front of Carmilla's door, plate of fresh cookies in hand. She reached her other hand to knock, when suddenly the door swung open.

“Umm,” she started, intimidated by Carmilla's glare but trying not to show it, “hey. Is now a bad time?”

“Sort of.” Carmilla's gait shifted sideways. “What do you need?”

“I just came to bring you these. To thank you, for taking on my case.” She beamed irrepressibly. Carmilla scowled.

“The money will do just fine, cupcake.”

There was a pause. Laura felt her face droop. Then, Carmilla relented.

“What the hell. I could use the sugar, anyway.”

Laura grinned.

“You heading out?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you have a breakthrough in the case?!”

“...something like that. I'm working on it, alright?”

“Great!” Laura's grin widened. “Hope you like the cookies!”

As she left, and turned to lock her own apartment door behind her, she glanced through the peep-hole to watch as Carmilla trudged down the hallway after her, cookies in tow.

I trust you, Carmilla, she thought, unbidden, and something dark and warm bubbled up in her chest before she returned to the kitchen.

The next day, she was awoken by a furious banging on her door. She barely had time to answer it before being chokeslammed against the wall, and she sputtered.

“Ow, fuck, Carmilla! What is your problem?”

“Did a woman with silver eyes and tall, black hair approach you? Say anything to you? Answer me!”

“God, no! Ow, what the hell is your damage?!”

After a moment, Carmilla let her go with a shaky sigh.

“Alright. Alright, fine. Then you need to leave. Get out of town. Right now.”

Carmilla turned to leave, but Laura wasn't done. She grabbed her hand and spun her around, demanding an explanation.

“Umm, hey? Mind explaining what in the frilly hell is going on?”

“I do mind. The people who took Betty, they're... they're more than I can handle. Sorry, cutie. She never had much of a chance anyway.”

“Then we should call the police!”

“If I can't handle Betty's kidnappers, the police definitely can't.”

“What do you mean by – ”

The floorboards creaked. Laura turned slowly, and her heart stopped when she saw the woman from Carmilla's apartment holding a knife in her hand. Her eyes darted to the blade, and her breath caught in her throat. No... no no no...

“Hello, Mircalla. It's been a while, hasn't it?”

This was directed at Carmilla, but before Laura or she could respond, the third woman took the knife and slashed deep into her arm, drawing a sick spout of blood as she collapsed on the floor.

“Damn it, call nine-one-one!”

Laura rushed into her apartment, grabbing her phone and dialing.

By the time the EMTs arrived however, the unknown woman was dead, and Carmilla was long gone. The next few hours passed in a blur as emergency workers came and went, cleaning the blood and taking the body away, but not before the police got involved.

“If I could just get your statement, miss...?”

“Hollis,” Laura said hazily, clearing her throat and looking up at the redhead. “Laura Hollis. And I'm sorry it's just... I've never seen someone die before this is all just so overwhelming and I didn't know what to do and I need to call my dad and I lost my job and oh my God she killed herself and I just don't believe it how could someone do that to themselves – ”

“Woah, okay, okay, Laura? Laura take a deep breath; easy, easy...”

Before she knew it, she was sitting against the wall, and the ginger cop was coaxing her gently onto the floor. She glanced over where the pool of sick dark blood still stood, and had to turn her head away, gagging. The detective's hand went to her neck, soothing her.

“I know this is hard. I am so sorry. But we have to know what happened, okay?”

Laura sniffled, wiping her nose, and nodded. Then, she asked pitifully:

“Do you want a cookie? I made like, a million of them. Officer...?”

“Detective Lawrence. But you can call me Danny.” Danny smiled a blazing smile down at Laura. “And I would love a cookie.”

The elevator door dinged, and Laura stopped her frantic pacing back and forth across the now blood-stained floor the cleaners hadn't completely removed. She whirled around and there was Carmilla, looking more harried than usual.

“Carm! I mean, Carmilla! Are you okay did they hurt you I told them you had nothing to do with it because you really didn't - ”

Carmilla interrupted her, scowling.

“I'm fine, cupcake.” She shouldered past Laura, who awkwardly followed her a few steps behind.

“So,” Laura started awkwardly, following behind Carmilla a few paces behind, “not to be awkward or anything, but what does this mean about my case? I mean I know you left but you came back and well you're here so...” she trailed off lamely. Carmilla turned back around to face her.

She fidgeted awkwardly with the door handle.

“I have a pretty good idea about who took Betty. But I wasn't joking before, you could be in serious danger if you stick around.”

Something in Laura stiffened, and her voice was steel when she replied.

“I have to find her.”

The two stared each other down for a long minute, and then Carmilla relented.

“I understand.”

The next days went by in a blur as well, as Laura slowly tried to get to know the mysterious vampire who had taken on her case. She met Perry, and Laf, and compared cookie recipes with Perry. And even though Carmilla was not happy about it, it was nice to see that she in fact did have friends, a fact Laura tried to remind her of several times.

“What is her deal, anyway?” She had asked Laf one afternoon, exasperated, and Laf just shook their head.

“I mean, why do you two hang around her if she's so...”

“Caustic?” Laf frowned. “I dunno. We met her in college, and we sorta went through a lot together at Silas. It's not really my story to tell though. I'm sorry,” they added when Laura gave a frustrated huff; “all I can say is that Carmilla has a good side. It just takes a while to get to it.”

Something in Laura's chest tightened, but she ignored it.

“Besides,” Perry cut in, chewing idly on a cookie, “she did save us that one time in Austria. Well. Mostly, anyway.”

But before Laura could ask what she meant, Carmilla was returning and she had to refocus.

The next day, it happened. Carmilla proved them all right that she was the most selfish asshole in the world. Laura vaguely remembered banging on the door, and then, suddenly, it flew off its hinges, knocking her down with it. And then the dark, cruel figure that picked her up off the floor, laughing evilly as it carried her off, striking Laf down when they tried to defend her. It was all a blur, and Laura's head pounded trying to recall it. Some detail, or clue, or any identifying information about the cold darkness she found herself in now.

Damn it Carmilla. How could you do this to me? I was trusting you – I trusted you! The strength of her emotions surprised even her, but she couldn't think about that now. She shuffled against hard chains around her wrists and ankles, swearing under her breath which came shakily. She didn't remember the journey much beyond leaving the apartment. She didn't know how long it had been. Only that it had been far too long. And she was alone, as far as she could tell, until something shifted to her right.

“Perry?”

“Mhnmph. Laura... where are we?”

Laura shook her head, then realized Perry probably couldn't see her, and vocalized:

“I don't know. God, my head hurts.”

“Don't suppose we just had too many cookies, do you?”

Laura tried to blink some of the darkness out of her eyes, waving her hands in front of her face. Nothing.

Damn it. Carmilla!

The floor creaked underneath her as she waltzed up the hallway, a tight frown on her lips. She knew it was probably wrong, and would definitely get a lecture about it later, but snooping through Laura's place seemed like the only way to move the plot forward for now. The apartment was, naturally, pristine, save for the kitchen, which was decorated with all manner of baking supplies – bowls and pans and mixing implements strewn all about – and as Carmilla walked through Laura's life, she opened the door she presumed was the one to Betty's room, and threw herself on the bed in frustration. It always ended this way. Her mother was always twelve steps ahead of her. Who the hell was she kidding with the sword, anyway? Not like she'd ever get the chance to use it. And even if she could...

She rolled over on the bed, letting a massive sigh escape her. What kind of woman was this Betty, anyway? She was smart, and driven, and had no business of getting herself involved with vampires. Nor did Laura, for that matter. Laura, who just had to come along. Laura, whom she had betrayed for her own vendetta.

She closed her eyes. Then pushed herself up and off of the bed, and strolled back into the kitchen. She gazed longingly at the remnants of cookie dough all over the various bowls. Maybe Laura had left some in the fridge? It wasn't like the girl was likely to ever get to enjoy baking ever again.

She opened the fridge, and scanned. It was all but empty, but a bowl covered in plastic wrap yielded her treasure: more dough. Grinning, she picked it up, and started slightly as a small piece of paper which had lain atop it fluttered downward, landing on the floor. She bent to scoop it up, bowl carefully balanced on her hip. Straightening, she strained her eyes to read it. It had several strange tears in it, as though it were culled from a much larger note.

And then the bowl fell in slow-motion to her side, shattering all over the floor and her feet.

It was her mother's handwriting.