Styria, 1880
"Wake up, Johanna. Wake up."
Johanna von Hartog opened her eyes. Her misty, moist gaze became clearer and she saw Carmilla by her bed.
Although the bedroom was in complete darkness, Carmilla´s skin seemed to have eerie glow of it´s own. She looked a bit older than Johanna, maybe twenty years old, and she was lovelier than any girl or woman Johanna had ever seen. Her thick hair was rich, lustrous brown with some gold in it, and brilliantly lush roses of her complexion deepened into fresh blood in her lips. She was wearing a flowing scarlet gown of finest and almost diaphanous satin, color contrasting admirably the dark opals of her eyes.
Carmilla pulled Johanna´s bedclothes away. "Come. We must go to the windmill. It is not far away, and my mother waits us there. Then we can go to the castle."
xXx
Karnsteins - history of evil by Baron Hartog dropped to the floor, waking up Dr J Van Helsing. He rubbed his neck, picked the book up and walked to the window.
Something white tottered in the night, like a ghost, walking away from the mansion.
Van Helsing hurried out of the room.
"Hartog! Hartog!" his voice rang in the dark corridor. "Carmilla has taken Johanna!"
xXx
The morning was approaching, when Carmilla and Johanna entered the watermill. The sky was changed from black to glorious purple, promising that the sun would soon rise. Both were bare footed, and the night dew had wetted their hems; Johanna was wearing her night gown of finest white cotton, but it was not white of purity and innocence. She was pale and weak for blood loss and exercise, and she was supported by the arm of her seemingly tireless friend, who practically carried her in.
"Mother!" Carmilla shouted with giddy, almost drunk excitement, and Johanna understood that they were not alone. Someone stood on the top of the rickety stairs.
It was a woman, and despite the darkness of her surroundings, Johanna could see the unnatural light of the woman´s skin and gaze. This lady had auburn hair and ruby lips, her rosy complexion showing some lines of age, and her eyes had distinct amethyst tint. She was wearing the long gown of red velvet and the purple, iridescent satin-ribbons, which hang to her ankles. She was pristine and magnificent figure, made of brilliantly lush color and scented by roses. Carmilla looked at her like she had been purest, most beautiful thing ever, and despite her condition, Johanna understood that this woman was Carmilla´s true love, not her, Johanna.
"Mother," Carmilla whispered, and the storm wind started to blow outside, tearing the ivy and the leaves of the oak trees.
xXx
Van Helsing threw the door open and hurried in. He saw the tableaux in one glance - Carmilla and Johanna, latter too numb to understand the real horror of her fate, and the vampire matriarch hovering over them. He raised the silver crucifix.
Carmilla sprang in action. With one contemptuous push she threw Johanna away, causing the young girl to fall to the dusty floor. With lovely face distorted by disgust and hate toward the cross, the vampire attacked Van Helsing, and before he could burn her, the vampire´fingers closed around the hunter´s wrists like forked stick, twisting and trying to break his arm.
For a moment they were locked in this clumsy struggle, then one desperate adrenaline shower gave Van Helsing strength to push the cross into the vampire´s heart. Carmilla and her mother screamed in the same moment - one from pain, another for horror and sorrow. Carmilla wobbled back, gasping; her heart pumped blood to her dress, dying it even redder. The reek of burning flesh mixed into her heliotrope scent. She wailed in pain; her lips tried to move a word - a name perhaps - but she couldn´t. She fell to the floor near Johanna.
Van Helsing looked up and saw that the older vampire woman was disappeared.
XXX
It was lovely, misty summer morning, with the white clusters of lilacs shivering in slight breeze. Van Helsing stepped out of the windmill, carrying dead Johanna, and when he crossed the mossy stone bridge, he heard how the birds started to sing.