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Carmilla knew this place would have to burn. She was not sure whether the God she had once believed in was the true one, whether there even were real gods in this world. She had listened to Morana’s stories. The things her sister had almost forgotten but not quite. Once Morana had been prayed to as a goddess. So who knew if this was not the truth behind all deities? Vampires, mages, monsters, mistaken by gullable humans to be divine?
After all, humans were dumb.
Her memories of her own humanity were starting to fade, but she knew that she had been dumb once. She had been dumb, because otherwise she would have never fallen for Hilderic, and then… She would probably be dead by now. It was rare for a human to live to age ninety-two after all.
Then there was Laura next to her. She pushed her hand into that of Carmilla, pressing it. She smiled. Because Laura had an easier time with this. Of course she had. Because she…
The door to the convent was opened as an old woman looked out: “Who goes there?” she asked.
Carmilla wondered if she had known this woman once? Who would recognize a person they had not seen in more than fifty years?
Some part of her wanted to forget her human life. Because the human woman she had once been had been weak. She had been fooled. She had been abused. She had been cast out. So now she had power and she would take her revenge on this uncaring world.
“We are just travelers,” Laura shouted.
“Travelers?” The old nun got out a candle, that was flickering in the breeze. She squinted her eyes but it was clear she could not see very well.
“Yes. We have been to Tirol and are trying to make our way to Vienna. We are merchants. But it seems we got a bit lost.”
The old nun frowned. “It is rare to see people in these parts,” she muttered. “Come in now. You do not want to be out here at night. There are wolves. And things worse than that.”
Carmilla tensed. So far she had not found out which part of the Christian tradition would harm vampires. And she was not eager to find out. She had heard stories of holy water burning like acid, and she had heard rumors about crosses having all sorts of harmful effects.
Laura, however, was clearly less concerned. Maybe because she had never partaken in the faith and hence thought herself immune. Carmilla was not sure. But she allowed her dear beloved to drag her through the wide but not very high double entrance door of the coven. She had walked through this door hundreds of times when she had lived here.
She remembered that girl.
No. She did not. She remembered a story. A rumor. A ghost. There was no concrete memory, just a story. When she had been here. When she had believed in God.
But God never had come to her aid. No. God had allowed a monster like Hilderic to persist. If there was a god like the one she had once prayed to, then he was either not powerful or he was a bastard like most men.
“Where are your things?” the old woman asked. “If you are with a merchant then…”
“We lost the rest of our people,” Carmilla said, her voice cold. “A bridge collapse. We can only hope to find them again when we come to a city.”
“Ah. The next city is Leoben. It is about a three days journey from here.” The woman gave them a mostly toothless smile. “What should I call you two?”
“My name is Laura,” Laura replied. “And this… my cousin, Carmilla.” She curtsied and after a moment of hesitation Carmilla did the same.
The old woman nodded. “My name is Sister Justicia. Come in. Come in. You do not want to meet what is out here at night.”
Ah yes, the familiar scent of this place. Like so many places the scent of wood smoke had soaked into the walls, but unique to religious places was the smell of incense mixing with it. This convent was poor though, as such the scent of incense was so light, a human would probably not perceive it. Just the sharpened senses of a vampire were able to smell it.
“Come with. We have a kitchen. There might still be food found for you there.” The old woman smiled again, so clearly unaware of what she had allowed to come in.
“See?” Laura whispered, her lips barely moving.
“See what?”
“I kinda knew they would be kind people.”
Laura. For a vampire she was too good. She was too nice. Too nice for this world. She was warm, even in undeath. But then again she was one of the few people who had chosen this state of being.
Vague memories haunted Carmilla as she walked the corridor and came to the mess hall. She barely remembered details – because she had tried to forget – but she did remember some of these places. She remembered the statue of St. Mary Magdalen and how she had once prayed to her feet. She always had felt a kinship with the saint who had been an outcast. A prostitute.
While the scripture had never talked about it, Carmilla was certain that she had experienced abuse too. And the Lord had given her a place to belong…
It was just stories of course. It was just stories. But once upon a time they had given her a certain comfort.
“Sit, sit,” Sister Justicia said. “I will see if there is still some supper leftover.”
Once upon a time Carmilla had been a refugee here. She had come here, because the world had held no other place for her. Because it was a world of men, and she had been a woman. There were only so many fates that a woman could obtain.
She had fallen in love here, of course. But Rebekka had died, and so Carmilla had been willing to go with Hilderic. Not because she had loved him. No. Because just once in her life she had wanted to be a princess.
She had been naïve.
So naïve.
“Ah, you are two lost travelers.” This was a younger voice now. A woman probably just twenty summers old came in carrying mugs from clay and a jug. “Sister Justicia said something about you losing other travelers.”
“Our family,” Laura quickly said. “There was a bridge collapse. Nobody got injured, but we got separated.
“And you have been out here all on your own?” the nun asked. “That sounds quite scary!”
“It was,” Laura said, as if the two of them were not the most dangerous predators around. “We were so glad when we saw a building.”
“I only imagine,” the nun said. “My name is Sister Johanna. I brought you some water. You are probably also thirsty.”
Carmilla could not help but wonder, if she would have turned out different if Hilderic had turned her directly after taking her from here. But he had not of course. He had pampered her first. For months he had pampered her, had made her feel like a real princess. With jewelry and dressed, and things she had never even dared to dream off.
She had not realized that she had just been a doll for him to dress up and play with. And when that game had turned boring to him, well… He had tried to see in how many ways he could break his doll. Like a spoiled toddler would.
Sister Johanna gave them both a mug with water. “Where were you travelling from?”
“Tirol,” Laura repeated the lie from before. “We were heading to Vienna.”
“And you were heading through here?” The young woman looked at them from wide blue eyes. “Not the road to the east.”
“My father thought it would be shorter this way,” Carmilla said.
“But…” The young nun went silent. “You must have heard the stories, right?”
“What stories?” Laura asked.
“Of the… well, the things haunting this place.” Johanna shook her head. “And either way, this part of the world has not yet really received the Gospel. The people living here are heathens praying to mountain gods.”
“I have heard rumors.” Carmilla sipped from the water.
As if there was a difference between heathens praying to mountain gods and heathens believing some almighty father in the sky had somehow sacrificed his mortal son to with this erase a sin a woman had committed. Ha! As if one was a believe more sensible than the other.
“Good news.” This was Sister Justicia coming back to them. “There is still some stew and some stale bread. It might not be the best, but it can be warmed up, and it is food. You two look hungry.”
“We have not eaten the whole day,” Laura said – and it was not even a lie.
Of course, having been a vampire for more than half a century, Carmilla no longer felt the lust for blood as strongly as she once had. She only needed to feed once or twice a month, even though she enjoyed drinking some blood from time to time. Not for the satiation she got from it, but for the delight to feel another being die under her teeth.
She could enjoy the human food, of course. It gave her no nourishment, but a well-cooked dish of meat, or a well-spiced stew still could be enjoyable to her.
There was an inkling of a memory in her mind though. Of what it had meant as a human to go without food.
No, her family had never starved. Of course they had not. They had been wealthy. And while both her father and her brother had despised her, they had rarely ever made her starve. It had been in this place that he had been hungry at times. Voluntarily. Because of the fast. She had done it before Easter. But she had done it, too, to be closer to God. A God that had always been a lie.
What was she even doing here?
She had come to burn this place down. While Styria right now had indeed not taken to the Gospel, those preaching bastards were good at making people fall for it eventually. And while she was not entirely sure what of the things said to harm vampires could actually harm them, she was not intent of finding out about it.
Hilderic had been fine with keeping his influence barely felt. He had not been a politician. Not really. He liked power. But he had been fine just having power over a couple of people. He did not need a whole realm. As such, he had allowed the humans to do their human things. And if it had not been Carmilla who killed him… Oh, she was sure sooner or later a pious monster hunter would have tried. The Belmonts were not the only breed of those after all.
She would not be like Hilderic. She wanted real power. She would control the region. Turn it into a refuge for vampires. And for that to happen…
“It is not much,” Sister Justicia said, as she came back into the room. “But it is good. I promise.” She put bowls with stew in front of the two of them. “I will fetch the bread. Just wait a moment.”
It was past two in the morning, that the two of them slipped out of that convent. They had to be careful, as Carmilla knew quite well that in places like this, there would always be people up praying. But they slipped out, standing in the dark night outside of it.
“So?” Laura asked carefully, once more pushing her hand into that of Carmilla, interweaving their fingers.
“So what?” Carmilla asked.
“We came here to put this place on fire, didn’t we?”
Carmilla sighed. “It was my plan, yes.”
“Was?” her partner asked.
“Was. I… I think it should be more than enough if we go and impale every last bastard who calls himself a priest. Eventually these people will not get new converts. And the place will simply wither away.”
Laura was silent for a moment. While Carmilla did not dare to look at her directly, she could feel Laura’s gaze on her.
“How much do you remember from this place?” she asked.
“Glimpses,” Carmilla muttered. “I remember praying. I remember fasting. I remember the names of all the saints. I remember….” Rebekka. Her face in a smile. Hidden kisses in the dark of night. Little adventures happening in the shadows.
It had felt safe. This place. It had felt safe back in the day.
For a long while it had been the only place where she had ever felt safe. Because she had been surrounded by women, maybe. Not men. Men, who had only ever brought hardship onto this world. Men, who only knew blood and violence.
No more.
Laura pressed his hand. “Carmilla?”
Carmilla looked at her. Laura, who in comparison to herself was so innocent. Good. Pure. And in some way Carmilla wanted to protect that purity.
She pressed a kiss onto the other vampire’s forehead. “Let’s go. We should be home before the sun rises.”
