Chapter 3

The days very gradually drew colder again as those early winter months passed by and we entered into the time of March. I still had not succeeded in pressing Carmilla further about the nature of her apparent feelings for me, but instead had simply allowed the bizarrely comfortable situation to become a routine. Easter had rapidly approached and a feeling of nervous worry entered my thoughts.

Last year I had gone home for Easter and had expected to do the same thing again, not foreseeing what changes could have lay ahead of me. This time had been different and things had changed. I wondered what she might do, having no other friends or family, so much as I was aware of. As well as this, I didn't much want to leave and spend an entire six weeks away from her – the person who had become as much a part of me as any other.

Was I thinking graciously of her when I thought that I didn't want to leave her? That it would be somehow cruel to abandon her and leave her alone for so many weeks. Or was I in fact thinking more of myself? Could it really have been that it was my longing for her daily company that caused such thoughts to manifest themselves? Worse still, might it have even been my lust for her occasional touch? I well remember feeling guilty and ashamed of those possibilities, but now think little of them. In truth it was probably some combination of all of these and I should have felt no such guilt over the honest human feelings I held.

A week passed and my worries continued to erode away at my mind, I'd still made no changes to my plans and had not even told Carmilla of them. Still, I knew I had to and knew it had to be soon. In another weeks time from then the lectures were to wind down and the needlessly long holiday would begin – though it actually began a few days earlier than I had thought at the time.

She was sitting casually at one end of the sofa, with her legs curled up lazily beside her and her head barely held upright by the slender column of her right arm, propped as it was against the arm rest. I was about to open conversation by calling her name when I noticed she was reading through some work of mine that I had printed off earlier that day and left sprawled across the coffee table. I watched her as she read through it, the bridge of her nose occasionally wrinkling in a way which suggested something about it bothered her.

"This is quite fascinating," she suddenly said, "although the style of writing is somewhat odd. I just can't follow it."

I hadn't even realised that she'd known I was there, but I smiled and tried to explain.

"Those are my prompts for a presentation I have to give in my tutorial tomorrow. I'm not very good at public speaking, so I like being well prepared. They're not really meant to be read like that."

"Oh, I see. I feel silly now."

I laughed. It was odd seeing her when she was like that. She seemed almost naïve and vulnerable, in a way which more usually applied to me than to her. I wanted to pat her on the head and tell her that she wasn't silly, but the feeling passed before I could overcome my nerves.

"Do you have any plans for the Easter break?" I asked her.

I had to tackle the issue before any more time slipped by me and it seemed as good a moment as any. For all I knew she could have already had plans of her own, but she hadn't mentioned anything to me and nothing she'd said had indicated as much. Somehow I suspected that she had nothing immediately lined up, for it simply seemed in her nature to drift casually through life as if she alone were immune to every potential pitfall which lay ahead. I sometimes envied that aura she carried.

"No, I have nothing planned. Did you have something in mind?" she asked in kind, gazing at me intently with deeply probing eyes.

"Well, usually I travel down to Norfolk and stay with my father during the terms breaks. It's where I lived before coming here. I was just wondering if you had anywhere to go, I didn't really want to leave you here on your own."

Selfish or selfless, it was certainly true that I didn't want to part with her now. I wondered what her reaction to this would be, as she seemed far more able to read the thoughts behind peoples words than I had ever been able to do.

"I wouldn't want to keep you from returning home," she said flatly with a coy smile, almost as if she were trying to provoke further comment.

Her provocation worked, for I blurted out the first thing I could think of to prevent our separation. It might have been that odd feeling of comfort and safety which she inspired in me, but difficult and irrational decisions were rendered far too easy when faced with her beautifully strange, dark eyes.

"Would you like to come back with me? We have a spare room and my dad works nights, so it's not like you'd get in the way."

"Well, if it's really no bother," she said with little hint of surprise, "I think it might be nice. You had better call your father and check with him though, I shouldn't like to intrude on his property without warning."

"Oh, of course. I'll call him in the evening."

It was a spur of the moment decision but I didn't think anything wrong with it. It was true that my father worked nights so it wasn't as if having someone else around would get in the way or cause any trouble. In fact my father had previously suggested that if I were to meet someone, I should invite them home during a holiday, although I suspect he had a male friend in mind when he made the suggestion.

Carmilla made dinner that night, as had become routine. Her cooking was always flawless and I could never understand how she had ever managed to master so many amazing foreign dishes, but it was an experience I gladly enjoyed. I wasn't bad in the kitchen myself, albeit somewhat prone to laziness, but it was partly because of this that I was able to truly appreciate the extent of her skills. I thought her naturally gifted, as she seemed to be at many things, for I doubt people with years more experience could have made such varied cuisine with the enviable lack of effort she displayed.

"Do you live in Norwich?" she asked me, "You said your home was in Norfolk."

"Ah, yes, that's right. It's the main city in the county."

She looked thoughtful for a moment as if recounting memories of long gone days.

"I don't think I've ever been to Norwich before, what is it like?"

My home city was a pleasant enough place, at least as pleasant as any small modern English city could be. However, I wasn't sure how best to describe it for it could never be considered an especially beautiful or interesting place. All the same, it was the place where I grew up and I would forever associate strong memories, both good and bad, with its various locations.

"It's very similar to Leicester actually, in terms of the general size and the kinds of buildings. The city centre is nicer though, at least in my opinion, and I think the centralised layout makes it easier to navigate." I tried my best to explain, "I'm afraid it's not really very interesting though. Oh, but there is the castle and the huge cathedral, that is if you're interested in those things."

Carmilla looked a bit thoughtful and a very slight frown briefly formed on her delicate lips.

"I can appreciate a cathedral for it's structural beauty but little else," she said dismissively, "Is the castle a ruin or is it intact?"

"The city walls are ruins but the castle itself is completely intact, it's a museum now. Actually I just remembered the castle museum has an art gallery, they might have an exhibition on over Easter."

"I think I should love to see that, would you show me around?" she asked with a sweet smile, meeting my eyes across the table.

My cheeks tinted rose with nervous embarrassment, despite how comfortable things had become between us I could never be quite sure exactly what our relationship was. Still, a date with Carmilla in an art gallery was a prospect I had most certainly looked forward to.

"Ah, yes. I'd be happy to," I answered quietly.

She observed me for a long moment which only succeeded in adding more pinkish-red hue to my features. I very much wanted to look away, ashamed of my childish reaction, but her eyes had captured mine and it was impossible.

"You have the most wonderfully endearing expressions, my dear Laura," she complemented with a sly smile, eyes gleaming with cat-like cunning.

For a moment I though her mood had changed and I felt inexplicably vulnerable under her playful gaze, but she quickly settled back into her previous lazily elegant posture.

"Norwich is over one hundred miles east-south-east of here, is it not?"

"Er, yes, that sounds about right. It usually takes about three hours to travel between there and here."

"How were you planning on travelling? I didn't think you had a car."

"I don't. I thought we could take the train. We'd need to change at Peterborough or Ely, but it's not a bad journey. That's not a problem is it?"

"Well, it is not the most pleasant way to travel, but it shall have to do."

I almost laughed at her comment because it somehow struck me as so very representative of her image. Indeed, I could not easily imagine her languidly graceful figure fitting in easily amongst the hustle and bustle of crowded public transport. Somehow she had an almost otherworldly quality about her where she seemed to exist ninety degrees out of phase with the rest of reality and such qualities would be well highlighted by the noisy and busy surroundings.

I reached across the table and shyly squeezed her hand, prompting a questioning look in return.

"Using the train isn't so bad, just read a book or listen to some music and it'll be over in no time. That's what I usually do, anyway."

"Hmm, yes, one can pass a lot of time reading and listening to fine music," she said dreamily.

"What sort of music do you like?" I asked her, suddenly curious.

"Oh, different things, musical trends come and go. If I was to say but one thing, it would be that classical music always remains a constant, forever appreciated outside the passage of time."

She still held the same dreamy, almost nostalgic, tone, but I attributed it to her apparent state of growing fatigue and the general eccentricity of her character.

"I think I know what you mean. I have to admit my exposure to classical music isn't terribly great, but I do like a bit of Beethoven and Bach."

"I'm not much fond of Bach's more blatantly christian choral pieces, but the sound is inarguably magnificent. Beethoven though, yes, what fantastic symphonies."

"Maybe you could help introduce me to some other good composers sometime," I suggested.

"They're all dead," she replied obliviously, still seemingly more deeply involved in her own thoughts than the present conversation.

"I didn't mean literally, just the music."

She blinked and looked at me before letting out a low chuckle.

"Of course, it was a poor jest. I do apologise."

"You're looking a little tired tonight, you should go on and get to sleep if you want. I can handle the washing up on my own today."

She stretched out a slender arm, splaying her fingers like the claws of a cat as she rotated her wrist to its full extent, first one way and then the other. I frequently compared her actions in my mind to those of a cat, for she always reminded me greatly in her mannerisms to those of a cat I had owned as a child.

"I think I might do as you suggest," she paused before adding, "Laura dear, make sure you wash up with hot water."

"That only happened once!" I retorted with an uncharacteristic pout.

She gave a tender smile and floated gracefully from the room. I couldn't help but watch her, it was a fascinating hobby which I'd developed ever since she first moved in. Even her most casual and thoughtless motions were always so full of gentle purpose and intricate precision, never wasting any effort or making any unnecessary noise. She was a beautiful person but more than that, there was an intrinsic beauty in the inhumanly practised grace of anything and everything she did.

I did the washing up as quickly as I could, the heat of the steaming hot water brought a light sweat to my brow and reminded me that I still wasn't perfectly well. Since I'd started eating better and sleeping earlier I'd felt much better in general, but even though my lifestyle changes had allowed me to continue closer to normality, I was still suffering from some strange affliction.

I took a paracetamol from the cupboard above the sink and swallowed it with a glass of cool water. Somehow a slight headache and a dizzy spell had crept up on me without me realising it and I made it from the kitchen to the stairs with considerably more difficulty than I would have liked. My knuckles were white-raw as I gripped the handrail tightly to steady myself.

I cursed under my breath as I stepped into my bedroom from the landing. The window had been left open since the morning and the room was freezing cold; even fully clothed I shivered as I leant against the doorway. I rubbed my aching forehead with my free hand and considered climbing into the cold bed.

Feeling more than a little delirious, I backed from the room and instead stepped across the landing, carefully sliding open another door.

"Are you awake?" I whispered cautiously.

"Not yet," Carmilla replied with a surprising coherence, "Are you all right?"

Her voice was oddly haunting in the darkness and even though I couldn't see her, I felt as though her dark eyes were carefully watching me.

"Ah, I'm just feeling a bit light headed again."

"You didn't feint, did you?"

"No, it's not that bad this time," I answered, pausing uneasily.

"Did you want anything?"

"Er, my room is freezing because the window was open all day, I was wondering if maybe I could sleep with you tonight?"

There wasn't an answer for a moment, but a brief and muffled rustling of the covers indicated that she'd pulled back the sheets and slipped over to one side.

"Of course you can."

I was shocked by my own boldness and I became extremely self-conscious over the volume of my breathing and the pounding of my heart in my chest. It wasn't the first time that we would sleep in the same bed together, but it was the first time that it would happen under my own initiative and the first time when Carmilla's mood was what I once would have called 'normal'.

I slowly stripped down and made my way to the side of the bed, where I carefully climbed into the warm covers and pulled the sheets back up. Tentatively I rolled onto my side and slid forwards until my front was pressed up against the cool skin of her naked back. I expected her to tense up or say something in response, but she remained both silent and relaxed. In a fleeting moment of daring, I reached across and wrapped an arm around her waist - my efforts rewarded when her own hand swept across mine to hold my arm in place.

"Good night," I whispered across her ear.

"Sleep well, my Laura."

The possessiveness of her voice was almost frightening in its vehemence and served to remind me that whatever control I had over the strange relationship was either transient or illusionary. Even at the limit of my bravery, my ill mind still felt more like a pet or a toy than her equal. I couldn't quite understand it or rationalise it, it was confusing and maddening.

I wanted to cry inexplicably, but instead tightened my grip on her body and buried my face in her luscious, silky dark hair. I could tolerate the feeling of being used if it meant I could just be with her.