Three Hundred Years of Friendship
October 3, 2065
Burgundy ink bled on the crisp page. “Looks like I’m your first.” the gate warden’s tongue slithered as he shamelessly leered with his glinting glasses at the young ceramic body.
The fresh passport creased under his heavy deft hands and the dirty fingernails scratched the wax in anticipation for a reply.
In her part, the woman remained stoic, her marble face and strong jaw stayed apathetic. Her coal eyes stared out the window as it lazily scanned the aircraft outside. Eventually, she languidly turned her head upon the noise which disturbed her musing, pale hand hanged achingly as her fingers rigidly curled open, waiting for the documents to be returned.
Staring directly at the perverted eyes, the creature debated on burning the man’s organ of sight in its socket or to simply melt the lens of the spectacle. She settled for the latter, and when infernal flame literally burned before his eyes; scrambling hands blindly snatched the glasses off his face. The melting lens burning his callous fingertips as he haphazardly shoved the ticket pass into the document and was quick to thrust the passport to return to the woman.
Trembling, his dry mouth rattled out banality. “H-Have a na-nice flight, Miss-“
Inquisitive eyes were trained on her as the apparent eighteen year old isolated herself from the rest in her business class cubicle. Probably wondering how she could afford such luxury. This was nothing new.
She sat dully, gazing out the window as the mandatory health and safety protocol blared on; while the flight stewardess mimicked the actions on the entertainment screens of the passengers’ seats.
Not long after, the indifferent creature felt the wheels of the aircraft trace the runway. She felt the growing subtle shake of the interior of the plane and the pull of the engine against the grounding force of the speed as they pushed against her body as the plane hauled for power and momentum to take off the ground.
Squaring her jaw whilst grasping the arm rest with careful tension not to crush the weak pedestal, she focused on the soaring view instead of the turbulence and the trembling coffin encasing her underneath the shaking earth every time she blinked.
She looked intently at the buildings and as they shrunk into tiny specs of light, her hold on the rest loosened as they started to resemble to stars. She further amused herself at the thought of one other individual she knew that would have similarly loathed flying. Only then did she manage to divert her hearing midway to the announcement on the speaker.
“…Our flight time this evening will be 2 hours and 45 minutes…”
I don’t know about you but I don’t really look forward to returning to the primordial abyss without a form-
“…and our estimated time of arrival in Schwechat International Airport, Vienna, Austria is 23:30 CEST….”
I don’t really like it being more than a four-hour flight away from Paris.
And for the first time in a while, Carmilla thought about Mattie and genuinely smiled.
Carmilla was the following successor to her mother’s heirloom after Mattie, and so when her sister... Passed. The wealth inevitably fell to her ownership. Effectively, she would have also had to stand as a substitute chair member of the Board of Governors as called by the protocol. However, Carmilla’s sudden disappearance was a clear indication that she was not interested.
She knew they would not chase her, at the time; Silas was in catastrophe. She knew that the Board would not have the time to play hide and seek.
Carmilla did not care for any of the chateaus owned by Maman across Europe. She stayed in them momentarily during her travels, but essentially left them all to accumulate dust in gratitude for their accommodation. It was only the apartment in Styria she cared for.
The dusk was breaking when she walked up the steps to the doorway of the apartment. She was pleased to see the place well conserved by the caretaker she had asked to upkeep the place. It was immaculate, the roses were open and red, but autumn frayed the leaves. The tinge of sunset on the trees told the end of summer. It was tidy but simply from looking outside, it gave the quality that it was a home to no one.
Pale hands felt for the key left by the caretaker for her in the flower basket looming at the side of the decorative carved wood door. She inserted the bronze metal teeth into the lock and twisted her wrist which made the lock clank deftly. Marble wrist rotated to open the knob and as she pushed in, Carmilla was greeted by the corridor and the stairs.
Her eyes scanned the hallway eventually falling upon a particular door. She chuckled darkly at the irony as it was in this so called ‘living room’, the undead fell dead. Carmilla swallowed the lump in her throat and drew her eyes away from the unopened door. Instead she walked up the stairs to her room.
She had plenty of time to see the rest of the place.
The last countess of Karnstein sat in her old quarters.
She sat in the room she used to share with-
No, she sat in her room.
Carmilla sat in silence on the chaise in the corner, staring at the fine fibres of the Turkish knot of the crimson Persian carpet in front of her, it was one of the last youngling of the Safavid dynasty.
Their mother insisted that Carmilla should personally keep the carpet. “A token of good faith from your Maman.” The ancient purred.
Since then, the carpet slept where her body laid. She recalls the day the rug was brought into her one of many ‘homes’. If she was right, it was the château in Seine. The home to the young decade of her immortality.
Her mother had laid the material meticulously on the polished floorboard of mahogany. The tall slender woman with her chiselled face allowed her lips to subtly curve into a satisfied smile.
“This.” interrupting the chess board between two sisters as she demanded attention from a young Carmilla and her older sister, she spoke.
“This, is a gift from my friend Qadir.” She nodded to the embroidery.
“He promise that ‘such splendour had been woven only by the most beautiful hands of Elahieh.’. He had travelled great distance to have it in my possession.” By the manner of which she spoke of the philanthropist, it almost sounded as if their Mother held him close to her once beating heart.
Matska swallowed drily in an attempt to soothe her throat despite the towering presence threatening to abolish her and her sister, she stood her ground.
“It is most certainly exquisite Mutter.”
“Is it not just?” The older woman replied rhetorically.
Promptly, whatever tinge of adoration Carmilla hallucinated in her mother’s voice was gone.
The room was silent as the rigid vampire continued to admire the rug whist Carmilla and Matska remained rooted mere steps behind the woman, feigning interest and admiration tothe piece when they were simply too tense to move. A minute should be equivalent to a bat of her eyes, and it is. Yet, when Carmilla is within the presence of her mother; she loses her sense of time as seconds seems to stretch for hours of moments in the company of the older woman. It felt as though the day had left morning and was now a midst the afternoon until her mother spoke again.
“Thus, you can both imagine how terribly unfortunate it would be; if anything was to happen to this wonderful present.”
“Yes, Mutter.” The two young women murmured.
“What was that?” Maman demanded once again.
The brown skinned girl knew that empty compliance will not satisfy the stern creature, Mutter loves conviction; Mutter demands a bargain of vows.
“We promise that we are to conduct ourselves with care in our-“ Matska stopped and corrected herself and continued as she soothed the non-existing crease on her dress.
“Conduct ourselves in your humble abode where this craftsmanship rests.” Matska offered her mother.
Despite the fabricated air of confidence Matska protected herself with; the slightest tremble of her voice was detected by their matriarch which tickled a wicked smile upon the pale granite lips.
“Oh, I do hope so Matska. I will hold you to that.” She accepted.
“Should the unfortunate circumstance occur that you or Carnilla break your promise, I believe it is only fair for you to answer for the repercussions of yours and your sister's actions. Yes?”
Matska gave a tight smile in surrender.
Of course, it only took two years until Carmilla out of fatigue had clumsily stained the rug with her muddy shoes. Which, when you have an eternity ahead of you; was equivalent to merely two weeks.
Believe it or not, Carmilla was not born with the elegance she now carries herself with.
She was not born as the physical manifestation of nonchalance. Despite being raised in her father’s schloss and with her days in the study filled with hours of her eagerly drinking knowledge from her tutors to quench her curiosity.
Carmilla always skipped her etiquette schoolings in the late afternoon to get lost within the deep woods, to walk the vast fields and to drown in her conversations with the common in the town. As she thought about it, it should not come as a surprise, to her that she is what she is today. After all, with recklessness and childish whims she possessed; it now seemed inevitable to her to be cursed with eternal youth.
It was Mattie who was without a doubt, the daughter of the bourgeoisie. Whilst Carmilla was the prodigal daughter of the Austrian nobility.
The wistful vampire chuckled to herself as she remembered a very heated Mattie who scolded her and refused to be her accomplice in either: finding a replica of the damned thing or, in burning the house down along with the blemished rug. She was young at the time, yet to master pyrokinesis.
"What have you done?!" The older girl grabbed Carmilla’s narrow elbows as she hissed at her.
"I- I could not see..."
"Vampires have heightened senses.”
"It was dark and-"
"You are a creature of the night. You are a vampire."
"Stop that!" Carmilla snapped at Mattie which earned her a raised eyebrow from her sister.
"I just- I was preoccupied and I forgot about the rug and-"
"Why were you preoccupied? Where were you from? Why were your shoes filthy?"
"Nowhere! I was-"
"Outside again. Talking to the town people despite Mutter's orders." Mattie stated as a matter of fact.
"I... I did not stay longer than half an hour..."
"You still disobeyed Mutter."
"Halt your exaggeration! It is not an issue. I will confess my wrongdoing to Maman. All of it! The rug, departing without her knowledge… I do not understand her vendetta against us making acquaintances-“
“God! Carmilla! Are you so remarkably foolish that you still do not understand or are you having far too much a bliss in ignorance to join the reality of your monstrosity?!” Matska snapped at Carmilla, earning her the platform to speak.
“Your skin no longer radiates in the day. Instead it itches, irritated by the kiss of morning light. Much like concrete, you become inexplicably hot from a direct exposure from the sun. Ergo, you avoid it like the plague. You have sight that can stretch its scope and eyes that is able to see even the smallest dust litter the air. You have a sense of smell hungrier than a hell hound…” Mattie spoke with great accuracy, withering all protest and dispute resting in Carmilla’s lips.
Matska knew that she had made her point, she knew that her words had effectively berated Carmilla. However, she couldn’t take any further risk of the young vampire making any more mistakes. So she pressed on, hitting a little too close to home. “Do you remember that child?”
The pale girl’s head snapped upwards to look at Mattie, the terror and the echo of the memory evident in her humiliated eyes.
“Remember how you could smell the scent of blood trickling from that toddler's knee? Your bloodlust was exceptionally high that night that I; and even Mutter struggled restraining you…” The darker girl chuckled emptily.
Carmilla swallowed hard as the repressed memory was drawn out to her consciousness. “Do you remember how it enticed you in the most delicious way and how your aching canines finally retracted as your body shook from your maddening thirst? Do you remember how you could not even recall when you have decided to abandon your morality and when you succumbed to your instincts to govern your actions? Mutter was so impressed and repulsed by your self-control, living off rabbits to restrain yourself from drinking a man’s blood for six years after being turned… That is, until that night.”
“Mattie, please stop.” Carmilla whispered as she stared at her hands, the image of her blood coated hands flashing before her eyes.
Matska gave Carmilla’s left shoulder a consoling squeeze. “We are no longer like them, and the sooner you learn this the better.”
The following morning Mattie owned up for Carmilla’s mistake before the young vampire could confess.
Quivering, Mattie apologised to their mother who simply laughed at Mattie’s rattling frame. It was all jests until the next day’s dawn, Carmilla was jolted awake by Mattie’s inhumane pleas for mercy. The screams scratching through the wood from the basement; lashing hotly in Carmilla’s ears.
It lasted for a week.
On the first dawn, Carmilla laid in bed petrified. The following day she was kissed on the cheek by her Mutter. Her sister’s absence left unaddressed as she ate with Will and their Mutter.
When the second dawn arrived, Carmilla waited for Mattie,and when her sister’s screaming and whimpering began;Carmilla sneaked into the kitchen where she discovered the trapdoor to the basement. It was easy to break the door, it was difficult to upset Maman.
The third dawn, Carmilla had explored the house looking for another way to get in discreetly. She failed. Thus, resulting to her to rely on her other plan. She hid in the pantry with the intention of breaking the trapdoor discreetly. She would then run away with Matska across the ocean to the New World, just as they always planned. Carmilla waited for the torturer to leave, as expected; Maman walked up the stairs.
However, to Carmilla’s surprise, she found that the ancient was closely followed by another set of footprints. Will soon resurfaced with blood in his hands which he licked eagerly with his feral tongue and wild eyes. However, her brothers doing was brought to a halt as the woman held the boy’s face and kissed his forehead in approval and proceeded to make her way out of the kitchen. This seemed to have knocked Will out of his demonic frenzy as he brought his bloody hands away from his mouth with his shaking fist. He wiped his tainted lips and unshed tears on his arm with what little of humanity he had left and then sought to lock the door but was interrupted by Maman’s command.
“Leave it.”
“But Mutter, Mircalla will-“
“She will not. She will not open that door. She will not disobey me.”
Goosebumbs crawled up Carmilla’s neck as she heard her Mutter spoke purposely low. To the ordinary, it would have been impossible to hear Maman’s voice as it was said just above a whisper in her own quarters. Two floors away from the pantry, and it is for that exact reason that Carmilla knew that her Mutter was aware of her hiding. The chilling voice felt so close as though it was breathed coldly against her ear. Will looked around the area as he was made aware of Carmilla’s hiding.
“Sleep my dear boy” Maman spoke again.
“Yes Mutter, good night.”
But Will did not leave the kitchen. Instead he spoke to the empty room.
“Mircalla… ‘…Helter skelter, hang sorrow, care will kill a cat, up-tails all, and a pox on the hangman.’.”
Curiosity killed the cat.
Then he left.
On the fourth moon, Carmilla did the same. Frightened but her resolved to escape with Mattie was unshaken. She hid in the pantry and waited for her brother and Mutter to leave. She wished she could take Will with her but she knows that Mutter’s influence had been too deeply ingrained in his being. Carmilla shook the sentimentality out of her head, this was no time to be emotional.
As soon as Mutter and Will were out of sight, Carmilla rushed and pressed her ear against the wood; she could practically feel Mattie’s uneven breath blow against her cheek and smell her blood.
“Mattie…” Her sister continued to cry.
“Mattie...” she tried again. This time the sobs had subsided and Carmilla could hear Mattie listening to her.
“Mircalla?” Mattie cleared her throat and steadied her voice, acting as if she had not been crying.
In a hushed and hurried whisper Carmilla flustered out “Mattie! Wait for me, I- I will get you out-“ But was silenced by her sister.
“Leave now Mircalla.” The younger girls face forehead contorted in confusion as Mattie spoke to her with great imperative.
“But, Mattie I-“ And just before she could finish her sentence, her porcelain body was held up in the air by a single hand grasping the black locks of her hair. Carmilla’s feet dangled above the floor like a doll.
“Maman…” Carmilla fell paler than death.
“You are the weakest of them all.”
“I-I- Maman- Mattie did nothing wrong, it is I who had ruined your rug- “she reasoned.
“Did I ask you to speak?” the matriarch threw Carmilla on the floor, her ankle twisting as her foot hit the surface awkwardly.
“The problem with you my darling, is your lack of obedience-“ she spat.
“I- Maman, That is not my intention-“ “Were you not going to relieve your darling sister who you love so much from her punishment?” Carmilla fell quiet.
“Love is selfish, Love in unkind, Love is weakness.” The tall figure enunciated as she circled around Carmilla who was slumped on the floor.
“See, had you waited until the morning dear pet, you would have seen your sweet sister at breakfast. Obedience and duty comes first. If you want to survive, there is no room for love.” Carmilla shook in fear as she felt the force in her Mother’s voice vibrate in the air, hammering against her chest.
The taller woman halted her prowling when a whimper escaped the young girl’s lips. Maman tilted her head in curiosity and smiled oddly at Carmilla, she crouched down and place her long cool fingers underneath the soft chin and tilted it upwards to look at Carmilla’s face. “Oh now… there, there precious… seize your crying.” Unsympathetic hands cradled the delicate face to brush off the falling tears.
“I only wish the best for you and the best requires you to be disciplined, but you will learn for Maman will you not?”
Carmilla nodded weakly in compliance and fear, she was not stupid. Carmilla was aware that all it takes is a flick of the risk and her Mutter can easily decapitate her. “Good.” The ancient smiled wickedly and spoke with finality.
“Her three dawns are on you.” Carmilla’s heart plummeted.
On the morning of the seventh dawn, Carmilla found Mattie laying on the Turkish rug. Matska was lifted from the retribution.
Her blood seeped on the carpet, and when Carmilla rolled her sister to her side; the open flesh had stuck to the thread and Mattie’s back peeled away from the fabric.
Blood, skin and all.
Throughout, Carmilla focused on her sister’s anguished cries to divert her attention from the bile threatening to rise up her stomach and from the stinging of salt from her eyes.
Mattie!
That was unexpected…
“Mattie! What happened? Tell me! What do I do?”
What do I do? Tell me what I do-
“Maman is wrong...”
“What?” Carmilla eyebrows furrowed with her questioning eyes.
“You are not weak. Learn that greater Love will have greater sacrifices and Love will always be worth its sacrifices” Mattie murmured before she fainted from exhaustion, leaving years of ambiguity in Carmilla’s mind.
I think you’ve already done it, darling.