Disclaimer: Carmilla the web series was created by Jordan Hall and Ellen Simpson, and is based on the novella Carmilla by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu. Hellboy was created by Mike Mignola. This odd little blending of the two, however, was created by me. Here's hoping it works...
Author's Note: Okay, I think it's time for things to start happening again, in this story.
Oh, and remember how I said I'd make it up to you for the late chapter(s)? Well, aside from kicking things up a notch in this story (which had already been planned), I'm also pleased to announce the very first Twitter account for one of my characters: Princess Laura, from Summer Storm. You can find her at FaePrincess1. Now, on with the show!
Fortunately, Laura hadn't needed to wait long to be able to speak with Danny. She'd made it clear to the Summer she run into near the entrance to the gym that the Summers were practicing in - Jill, or something; she hadn't introduced herself, and Laura had only seen her around once or twice - that she needed to talk to Danny about something important, but not time critical. She didn't want to be one of those girlfriends, after all. Besides, she wasn't sure if the rest of the Summer Society liked her (though they hopefully appreciated the effort she was putting into finding their missing sister), but as far as she knew, none of them disliked her. She wanted to keep it that way.
Danny seemed more flustered than anything by the idea of her staying over, despite her having already spent the night. It was, Laura had stressed, only temporary. She really, really liked Danny, but the idea of moving in with her... Well, she wasn't quite ready for that step, just yet. Given her relief, Danny apparently wasn't, either. That was fine, really. Laura would rather have them be on the same page with that sort of thing than not. It wasn't quite as hard as she'd feared to talk Danny into it. She'd even told her the truth... sort of.
"What kind of bugs are bad enough to require evacuation to deal with, but only infest one dorm room?" Danny asked, frowning.
"Silas bugs?" Laura offered with a shrug. She hadn't made up her mind about Carmilla, and didn't really want to lie to Danny about anything, but Carmilla and Bree and their Mother... It was all so confusing and convoluted, it seemed best to just keep Danny out of the whole thing for the time being. It would also let her stave off any overprotective instincts, and keep Danny from starting any (more) fights.
"Point."
"Honestly, I don't know that I do have to be somewhere else, but if it makes it easier for Bree to take care of things, I don't mind." She slipped her arms around Danny's waist. "And it's not like I was gonna say no to an excuse to spend more time with you."
"You know I'm all sweaty and gross, right now," Danny pointed out, though she was hardly pushing Laura away.
"As soon as I get you alone, you're gonna be a whole lot sweatier," Laura promised.
That wouldn't be for a while, of course, as the Summers had only been taking a break from their practice when Danny had come out to talk to Laura. It would be some time, yet, before they were done. That was fine, really. Laura had a few things to take care of, in the meantime. One of which, obviously, would be to pack an overnight bag to bring to Danny's. She was going to do that, of course - she really had to - but not just yet. There was one other thing she'd decided to do first.
She'd stopped in her room just long enough to grab her 'cub reporter gear' (or so LaF had called it the first time they'd seen it) - a bag that had a pair of notebooks, several pens and pencils, a digital recorder, and a can of pepper spray (because the bags of bear spray her Dad got her were only for repelling bears, and wouldn't be as effective on people) - and headed back out the door, once again heading off campus, this time to go to an address she'd looked up the other day: the home of one Cornelius Hans Albrecht, Lügenbaron von Vordenberg.
She probably should have told someone where she was going, but she knew they would have just tried to talk her out of it, and she was done. Done being passive, done sitting back and letting an agency of a foreign government - an agency she potentially might not even be able to trust, as it turned out - do all her investigating for her, and most especially done pretending she didn't want to know what was going on. She hadn't been the one to start this, but in a way, she had been the one to escalate matters, so she shared the responsibility for everything that had happened since, and whatever was to come. She had to help make it all right. Carmilla's claim that the Dean couldn't simply be killed was one of the few things she'd said that Laura had no trouble believing, and she still had no idea where the girls were being taken or what they were being sacrificed to. As such, she needed more information, and a member of the Board of Governors seemed like her best bet at finding some. She'd only been able to locate two of the Board: Baron Vordenberg and the Board Chair-slash-Mayor, Matska Belmonde. Since Mattie was also a vampire, and one the Dean trusted to allow to hold that much power, Laura kind of doubted she'd be terribly willing to help. Which wasn't to say a search of her home or office wouldn't potentially turn up something interesting, but Laura wasn't stupid. Even aside from the regular kind of security that someone with the wealth and power the Mayor held would have, there could also be who knew what manner of supernatural protections in place. A lot more research - or a lot more desperation - would be called for before she gave trying that any serious thought.
Baron Vordenberg, on the other hand, was only a Honorary Board Member. (Though, since he seemed to have as much power as any of the others, and could vote and propose motions and such just like any other Board Member, she honestly wasn't sure what the distinction was.) While that might well mean he'd know less information that she needed, it also meant that he might just be more willing to talk to her, and that it might go unnoticed.
Talking to the Baron would also require a great deal of research, but in that case, it would be afterward, double-checking everything he'd told her. German wasn't her first language, but she did know enough to know that 'Lügenbaron' translated to 'Baron of Lies'. She tried to think positively, though: that would make it even more likely that if the Dean found out about the interview, she'd just dismiss it as not worth worrying over, since odds would be good that he'd just try feeding her a pack of lies, and even if he didn't, it wouldn't be hard to convince anyone else that he had.
Well, if Danny had another practice session with the Summers tomorrow (she couldn't remember, just then), at least fact-checking his answers would give Laura something to keep herself busy with all day.
She had called ahead, if only to make sure the Baron was actually home, and that she'd be able to get in to see him. He'd seemed oddly happy at the prospect of a visitor, suggesting he didn't get a lot of company, though his enthusiasm had cooled somewhat when she'd explained why she wanted to talk to him. (Vaguely, anyway; she wasn't about to explain something like that out where anyone could hear her, and she had no idea how secure her cell phone was. Maybe because it was so old and out of date, no one would even think to try and hack into whatever frequency the signal was?) He wasn't actually a baron, of course, as hereditary titles had long since been banned in Austria, and being the 'Baron of Lies' had never been a real title in the first place. The Vordenbergs had been nobility, once, according to the information she'd looked up that one day in the Library (there wasn't much about them online, at least, not anywhere she'd been able to find), but that had been long ago. She still planned to call him Baron when addressing him, of course, as she was no fool. Impulsive and somewhat reckless, sure, but that was different.
She took a taxi out to his home, as he lived a bit outside of town, and even she hadn't felt safe enough to walk that kind of distance alone. (Her Dad would probably be glad about that, even if he'd really rather she just not go at all.) She was in good enough shape that she could have made the trip, but it would have taken too long. If she wasn't back and finished packing by sundown, she just knew Danny would start freaking out. As for the Vordenberg Estate itself...
The grounds were lovely. The vibrant green lawns were meticulously trimmed, colorful flowers peeked out through lush green foliage, and the two-story structure's exterior stonework was unblemished. It was only when one took a closer look that things began seeming not quite right: there were cracks in the base of the statue that was in the center of the island surrounded by the circular driveway, which itself needed a bit of work. The flowers were actually being choked out by weeds, and vines were creeping all over the house. She supposed that could be taken as a metaphor for the person who lived there, regal and respectable until you looked below the surface.
Still, she had to admit, she kind of wanted that house. Even more so once she got inside.
The woodwork inside was gorgeous, and somehow blended seamlessly with the house's masonry. The carpet runners tended to be red, with nice patterns on them. The chandeliers were intricate brass (the one in the entryway, at least, could use a polish). There were portraits hanging on the walls here and there; she recognized some of the places, but none of the people, whom she presumed were ancestors of the present Baron Vordenberg, or friends of theirs. The place could probably be turned into a museum without too much trouble, she decided. Or maybe a bed and breakfast. (And she really needed to stop thinking of what she might do with the place if she owned it, and focus on the here and now.)
The Baron himself was more or less pretty much exactly what she'd expected. An old man, albeit a fairly charming-looking one, with a slightly stooped walk and a cane. "Ah, Fräulein Hollis. Welcome!" Maybe kissing a lady's hand was something that fell under old-fashioned rules of etiquette, but that didn't mean she appreciated it. "I knew a young lady very like you once," he informed her. "A great love affair. Ended before my voyage to the Hesperides for the golden apples of immortality. Turned out to be oranges, you know. So no immortality, but lovely juice."
"How fascinating," she managed, and might even have meant if she'd actually believed a word of that. Oh, given what was currently going on at Silas, she probably shouldn't just rule out the possibility of those apples existing, and even then, sailing off to seek out something from a legend and only finding oranges was actually entirely plausible. But still, something about what he'd said - maybe how unprompted it had been - just didn't ring true. "Anyway, like I said over the phone, I was hoping to ask you some questions for a story I'm working on for my Journalism class."
"Certainly. I'm always happy to help future storytellers when I can." He lead her down the hall - she discreetly wiped the back of her hand off on her pants when he wasn't looking - to what looked to be a private study. There was a fireplace in one wall, with a pair of lances (she thought? Medieval weapons weren't exactly her thing) crossed above the mantelpiece. She didn't recognize anyone in any of the portraits in that room, and didn't bother trying. There were bookshelves crammed full of old tomes spread around the room. Opposite the fireplace was the Baron's desk, carved from sturdy oak, with very comfortable-looking plush leather chairs, two in front, one behind. He waited until she'd sat down - fairly well sinking into the chair, which was exactly as comfortable as it had looked - before making his way around the desk to take his own seat. (Given the cane, she imagined he was relieved to be off his feet... assuming he actually even needed the cane, she supposed.) "I'm surprised you don't work for the Voice of Silas."
"I'm only a Freshman," she replied honestly. Whether there were any actual school rules against joining the staff of the school paper your first year or not, it had been subtly impressed on her that one really needed to have had at least a year with Professor Cochrane before the Voice would even consider accepting you. "I'd like to join next year, though, if I can." Should she live so long. She pulled her bag up into her lap and took her digital recorder out of it, shooting an inquisitive look at Baron Vordenberg. At his nod, she turned it on and set it on the surface of the desk in front of her, then took out one of her notebooks and a pen. She hadn't really jotted down all that much in the way of questions planned out in advance, though she did have a number of things she wanted to ask him about. Might as well start with the big one, she supposed. There might not be any real point in going on if he couldn't even help her at all with that. "For the past few weeks, I've been investigating the disappearance of my roommate, along with several other girls at Silas." She wasn't terribly surprised that his genial expression swiftly vanished, replaced by a vaguely troubled frown. "I don't know if you're aware of the current events at Silas, but the Bureau of Paranormal Research and Defense has even gotten involved in matters." Or, in other words, the Dean's attention would be focused elsewhere, and a member of the Board cooperating with the investigation could only reflect well on Silas. "It seems that every twenty years, like clockwork, five girls go missing. Given how long you've been a member of the Board of Governors, I was hoping you might know something about where they're going, or what they're being sacrificed to, exactly."
"Oh, well. My, my." She couldn't really blame him for feeling trepidation at the idea of the Dean thinking he was in any way working against her. "Not the sort of thing for a tres charmante lady like yourself to meddle in. No, no. Wouldn't do a thing for me to tell you. Nothing can be done."
"I'm not really meddling, though." She paused. "Well, I suppose I am, but I didn't decide to get involved in this. I'm evidently going to be girl number five. So, really, I have no reason not to continue investigating."
"I see." He still wasn't exactly leaping at the chance to join her in that particular frying pan, which was fair, really. "If you're convinced that such a thing has been going on at Silas for so long, Fräulein, why come to me? By your logic, I might well be involved."
"You're not a vampire." She met his gaze evenly. "I know who the Dean is," she added. "Or what, anyway, since even her own children don't seem to know who she is. Or was."
"If you know as much as you say, Fräulein, I would suggest you head to the airport and get on the first plane out of the country, and don't stop moving."
"I'm not going to just turn my back on Betty and the others to save my own life," she protested. After a slight pause, she added, "Besides, I don't have a passport." She sighed, then continued, "I also don't know who it is that's supposed to be reeling me in. Just that it isn't Bree."
"Ah, Fräulein Vale." A look of sadness stole across his face. "Hers is truly a tragic story, a life of such pious devotion shattered, her soul damned through no fault of her own. Those such as her are the reason my ancestors did everything they could to cleanse the land of the unholy blight of the vampiren."
All things considered, she didn't think she could argue against that particular viewpoint just then, whether she'd wanted to or not. "She's the other reason I can't just run. I have to try and help her, if I can." Okay, time to try and get the conversation back on track. That little diversion might have helped him understand her position, and might have nudged him more towards wanting to help, but she only had so much time left before it started getting dark, and she still had some packing to do. "Which is why anything you can tell me about what's going on would be helpful. What exactly is that Hungry Light?"
He was quiet for long enough that she began seriously worrying that he wasn't going to help, and would just tell her to leave. "My presence on the Board is mostly a formality," he finally replied. "A nod to the time when the family had more wealth and power. The bösewicht that runs your school does not invite me to her rituals, and is even more careful not to reveal anything to me that I do not need to know than she is with her unholy children." He smiled grimly. "Still, one does learn a few things merely by being patient, and keeping his eyes and ears open. As you do not have that luxury... The creature that the junge mädchen are sacrificed to may be called the Hungry Light by some, but that light seems to only be a small part of it. Lilith, as I know her, is very patient, but I have seen some signs of frustration. Whatever it is she wants from the creature, I cannot be certain she's getting it, at least not entirely."
Something clicked. "But she may be partially," Laura realized. "A lot of people have tried to kill her, over the years, haven't they? But nothing's worked. Because she's... what? Tied to that thing, somehow?"
"If so, Fräulein, your situation might be even more hopeless than you had believed."
"Maybe," she admitted. "But who knows what the BPRD might be able to come up with?"
"Were I you, I would not rely on those who are lead by a teufel," Vordenberg warned. "The company they keep does not inspire confidence."
"What, you mean Hellboy?" she blinked. She'd been scribbling down his answers as they spoke, as well as any seemingly relevant thought she had, no matter how random, but now she paused, pen still poised above the paper. "I don't think it's right to judge someone based on where they were born," she said, frowning. "It's not like that's something you can control."
"Very true, Fräulein," he agreed. "I myself faced such pernicious attitudes during the second World War. What troubles me more is why he was sent here. Why send an infant, unless he was meant to be taken in and sheltered? My family learned long ago not to trust such claims, when it came to the forces of darkness."
"What do you mean?"
He sighed heavily, then levered himself to his feet. "Come, Fräulein. I will tell you my family's story. It is not a tale I enjoy telling, but if it helps you understand that you need to be more careful about who - and what - you extend your trust to..." That sounded a little too similar to what Bree had told her to argue, though she refrained from mentioning that. (Bree hadn't been supposed to tell her that, after all.) She wasn't going to automatically trust him, either, even if they were estensibly members of the same species. That really proved nothing, after all.
She grabbed her recorder and stood, letting him lead her - slowly - out of the study and across the hall to another room. It was full of, well, junk. She didn't want to be rude, but there was simply no other word for it. There were a number of chest-high marble pillars (well, chest-high on her, anyway) scattered around the room that held all manner of items: a worn-out leather saddle, a broken and rusted sword, some kind of fist-sized metal... thing that had sharp spikes all over it... The list went on, and none of them seemed terribly relevant to why they were there. "My family's history," he told her, gesturing around the room. "The history not suitable to share with a society that did not believe in monsters. Each one has a story... But that is not why we are here," he said, unknowingly echoing her thoughts. (She was kind of relieved he wasn't about to off on a tangent, too.) "That story concerns her," he said, indicating the far wall, where there hung a single, life-sized painting.
Of Carmilla.
"Mircalla, the Countess of Karnstein." There was a definite note of anger in his voice when he spoke about her, no matter how he tried to bury it. "The countess was promised to my great-great grandfather. And he loved her... so that when she became a monster, he hid her, and protected her." He glared bitterly at the painting. "And she repaid him by killing all of his family. And all those that he loved. Leaving him to die alone, and dishonored. In so doing, she forever blighted my family's hopes of rising to the Hochadel. Were it not for that, I could be of much more assistance to you, Fräulein. The former countess was infamous, both as a ravager of virtue and as a betrayer."
And even today, centuries later, she was still lying. No wonder Bree didn't trust her - and by extension, the rest of the BPRD. "Yeah," she said quietly. "Though... Well, speaking as someone who, shall we say, prefers the company of other girls, I'm pretty sure people would have had some harsh, burning things to say about me, too." Literally. "Not giving her a pass on anything else, mind you. Just... Still a bit sensitive about that sort of thing." She hadn't had to face much in the way of narrow-minded bigotry herself - perhaps because, whether consciously or not, even those type of people in her town knew they had much more dangerous things to worry about - but she'd seen plenty online.
She'd startled him out of his dark memories with that, if nothing else. "Perhaps so. Nevertheless, I hope you will understand why I would remain skeptical of this 'Hellboy'."
"Yeah, I guess I can." Not that she necessarily agreed, but... Well, the forces of evil would hardly be above concocting such a ruse, would they? She stole a look at her watch, and had to bite back a curse. "I need to get going. My girlfriend's gonna freak if I'm not back before dark." Though given her just wandering off alone without telling anyone where she'd be, Danny might just do that, anyway.
"Considering your circumstances, I can hardly blame her for worrying about your safety, Fräulein. I will have my driver take you back to Silas."
"You don't need to do that," she demurred. "I can just call another cab."
"Not at all," he insisted. "This would be much faster. I know I've not been as much help to you as you might have wanted, but I can do this for you." He offered another grim smile. "Besides, if I just send you right back to Silas, the Dean will likely believe I told you nothing."
That was a fair point, she admitted. They weren't yet at a point where it would be safe to post everything she knew, and who'd told it to her. Vordenberg certainly wouldn't be able to defend himself if she came for him. All of which meant no posting any of this until she could figure out another way to explain how she knew it. "Okay," she agreed. The sooner she was back at Silas, the sooner she'd be with Danny. "And thank you. I know you don't feel like you contributed much, but at this point, every little bit helps."
"It's not often I get such a charming visitor," he replied. He did, at least, refrain from kissing her hand again. "If there is anything else I can do, I shall."
The trip back to Silas didn't take all that much longer than the trip out had, which was good. It was dusk when she got back on campus, and she managed to get to her room before anyone else. She dropped her reporter bag off on her bed and immediately grabbed some clothes and shoved them into her regular backpack, along with toiletries. LaF could hang onto J.P.'s flashdrive for the weekend - she was pretty sure they had it now, having said something earlier in the day about researching... something or other; Laura really hadn't understood what either of them had been talking about - and she could film another video from Danny's place. There was only one thing she wasn't sure what to do with:
The Sumerian book.
It was laying on her bed, like it had been all day. Bree would certainly have had ample time to dispose of it earlier if she'd wanted to, so Laura wasn't necessarily worried about that. Still, that didn't mean she wanted to let it out of her sight for an entire day or more. She sat down next to it, opening it and flipping through the pages, stopping at the first blank one. "I don't suppose any of you know how to read this?" she asked aloud, a distinct edge to her tone. Odds were good she was just talking to herself, but if Bree was right and there was still a bug or three present and operating...? "Well. Not like you'd tell me if you did, would you?" She was distracted by the growing sounds of some kind of commotion outside. Given how cool out it was at that time of year, the window was shut, so it had to be loud for her to be hearing it. Or close. Or maybe both.
Curious now, she got up and moved toward the window. Was that screaming? She thought so, but couldn't tell what kind. Parties at Silas could get pretty loud, especially if alcohol and/or the Zetas were involved (though, now that she thought about it, they couldn't be the only fraternity present on the entire college; she had to wonder why she never heard anything about any of the others), so it could be just a bunch of kids having fun. Or-
Before she could even finish the thought - or even make it past Bree's bed - the window exploded inward in a shower of glass that mostly missed hitting her. Before she'd even managed to fully process any of that, the creature that had invaded her room - it was vaguely human shaped, but looked more frog-like than anything else - bounced off the wall, landed on Bree's bed, and lashed out with its deadly-sharp claws, seemingly intent on disemboweling her.