"I'm so sorry about your mom, Laura. If you ever need someone to talk to, I host therapy sessions every Friday. Feel free to come," Perry emphatically stated, hugging Laura.

Laura sighed into Perry's shoulder. Weekly therapy sessions aren't what I need. Perry just clutched her more tightly. Her warmth melted Laura's icy front just a tad. I guess she's trying to help.

"Thanks Perry. Maybe I'll come next Friday."

Perry released her and patted her head, making Laura feel ridiculously young.

"How about I wrap some brownies for you to take home?" she asked, producing a plastic bag from her pocket.

"That sounds great," Laura replied, giving her a small smile.

Perry bustled towards the kitchen, gently pushing a drunk couple out of her way. Laura watched her go, unsure of what to feel.

"You can crash in my room if you want," LaFontaine offered. It was kind of scary, how accurately they could read Laura.

Laura mused for a moment. Do I really want to sleep in the same room as my mom's potential murderer? What if Carmilla decides she wants a snack in the middle of the night? Her father's face wormed its way into her mind, his eyes dark with worry. She could imagine what he'd say right now. Stay back, Laura. Let me take care of this. She hated that feeling. That people thought she was incapable of fighting her own battles. That she wasn't good enough to win. She shook her head fiercely. I can handle it.

"It's okay. I'm going to do some digging. Carmilla doesn't know anything, so maybe I can pick something up if I act all normal."

LaFontaine scrutinized her face closely, their blue-gray eyes boring into hers. Whatever they found must have pleased them because they held up their hand for a high five.

"I like that."

Laura slapped their hand, happy. I love LaF. An even bigger grin appeared on her face when Perry emerged with a bag bulging with brownies.

"Thanks so much Perry! I'll try not to eat them all tonight," Laura giggled. She wasn't entirely exaggerating.

"It's okay if you do. Perr loves any excuse to bake." LaFontaine elbowed Perry playfully, giving her an adoring look. She blushed and smacked their head lightly, her lips curving into a shy smile.

Laura took that as her cue to leave. She walked out of the Society House, the crisp fall air making her shiver slightly. She neglected to bring a jacket, so she rolled down the sleeves of her button down and crossed her arms over her chest. I wonder if those two even noticed me leave. She forgave them if they didn't. They're so cute together. I wonder if Danny and I will ever be that cute. She frowned slightly. Danny left for the second time that night without any explanations and hardly a backwards glance at Laura. She tried not to let it get to her. Maybe she's feeling sick. She didn't look that great when I told them about Carmilla. I guess it was kind of a lot to take in, although LaF and Perr seemed okay. Laura chuckled when she remembered Perry adamantly denying that vampires existed, only for LaFontaine to pull up research article after article on vampiric biology. It's hard to argue with science.

Lost in her thoughts, she slowly wandered back down the path to her dorm. The campus, suffused with pale moonlight, looked very different at night. For one, nocturnal flora sprang up in random places. A large patch of polka dotted toadstools sat innocently beside the Lustig Theater. When she walked past, the nearest mushroom suddenly lunged at her, extending its long mycelium. Laura nimbly hopped over the ghostly white tendrils and continued on her way, opening the bag of brownies. She stuffed one in her mouth, dodging the carnivorous dandelions that dotted the courtyard.

Making it to her building unscathed, she swiped her ID card and climbed up the three flights of stairs to her room. Pausing in front of her door, she fumbled in her pockets for her keys. Her nose wrinkled. That smell. It's like Danny's perfume. But that's impossible. She shook the thought out of her head and pulled out her key. Inserting it into the lock, Laura didn't hear a satisfying click. It's already unlocked? Carmilla must be in there. Laura hesitated for a second, blind panic nearly overtaking her senses. Be cool. You're a journalist. She doesn't know anything. Squaring her shoulders, she turned the knob and swiftly stepped into the dimly lit room.

Unsurprisingly, Carmilla sat on her bed, a large worn sketchpad balanced on her thighs. She was wearing a black shirt with the sleeves roughly cut off. Her legs, encased in dark tights, stretched out in front of her.

"I thought I told you I'm busy."

"Huh?" Laura asked, confused. She never said that.

She walked up to her bed, the lamp illuminating her from behind. Carmilla turned her head slightly when Laura approached, silky waves of black framing her face.

"Never mind." She looked back down at her sketch, her fingers flexing nervously.

Laura glanced over her pale shoulder, intrigued. With one fluid motion, Carmilla flipped the paper over, hiding her drawing from view.

"Why can't I see it?" Laura demanded, slightly hurt.

Carmilla leaned back into Laura's yellow pillow, her face completely in shadow. She seemed to be thinking hard. Laura drummed her fingers against her hip, waiting for an answer.

Abruptly, in a motion so fast it almost didn't exist, Carmilla stood, mere millimeters away from Laura.

Laura took a frantic step back, shock reverberating throughout her body.

Carmilla spoke.

"Well, I have to keep some of my secrets."

She languidly glided into the lamplight, its soft brilliance illuminating her face. Laura inhaled, her sharp intake of breath thunderous in the quiet room.

Carmilla spoke again.

"Otherwise, I'd lose my air of mystery, won't I?"

She looked directly at Laura.

Blood pounded in Laura's ears, as heat saturated her face. Carmilla looked even more breathtaking awake than asleep. Laura waited for the seizure, the fainting. They never came. All she could think of was how gentle Carmilla's eyes were as they gazed at her. How beautifully her skin glowed in the golden light. How absolutely human she seemed in this moment. She looked so different from the memories of the vicious, furtive vampire Laura harbored in her mind. Like comparing apples to oranges.

"I don't think you'll ever lose that air of mystery." Laura clasped her hands over her mouth. Crap, why did I say that?

"Oh really?" Carmilla seductively whispered, slightly tilting her head, a hungry gleam in her ebony eyes. "Aren't you a journalist? Shouldn't you be trying to figure me out?"

"Uh—," Laura forgot how to speak English. Damn. She didn't know what she'd do if Carmilla could read her as accurately as LaFontaine could.

Carmilla gave a throaty laugh, biting her bottom lip as she peered into Laura's soul.

"Yes, cupcake?"

Why's Carmilla doing this? What is she even doing? Oh God, is she flirting with me? Laura said the first thing that came to mind.

"You. Me. Bed."

Carmilla raised an elegantly curved eyebrow.

"Shouldn't you buy me dinner first, cupcake?"

Laura tore her eyes away and rolled them with difficulty.

"We're playing Twenty Questions. You know, like a roommate bonding thing. Cause we got off on the wrong foot. And you're being surprisingly nice and talkative all of a sudden. So, we should start again." Laura promptly kicked off her shoes and plunked herself down on her bed. That seemed like as good of a way as any to get to know Carmilla a little better without arousing too much suspicion.

Laura half expected Carmilla to say no. To her surprise, she also sat down, so gracefully it looked choreographed.

"Fine, but I am allowed to ask you questions too," she purred.

That brought Laura up short. She didn't think Carmilla cared enough to ask questions about her life.

"Fine. You go first then." Laura stared at her bedspread, trying and failing to keep her eyes off Carmilla.

"Where is your mother?"