Part 1
Everything happened much slower this time round. Noise came first. There was the wind outside, whistling through the branches and rustling leaves against each-other. Jackdaws barked out as they were disturbed from resting places, causing the frogs to shout warnings back. Muffled conversation snaked through the rest of it. Carmilla opened her eyes. It was dark now, but everything was more clear. It was the same room she'd previously woken up in; the floor to ceiling length windows and skylights explained thinking she was outside. The floating affect had been caused by the bed. It hovered in the centre of the room held up by four long sliver chains with white flowers weaved into them. Any movement caused it to sway a little and if Carmilla had time, she would of tested how far it could go, but she was wanted downstairs. Approaching the door she now saw the former shining star as a mock diamond door knob. unable to reflect the darkness of the night into a colour prism. The door was the only thing that hadn't been a lie. It was still tall, steady and white. The small painting she thought had been in corridor was actually a antique looking jester hat, flattened against the glass of the frame which held it. Turning to the stairs, Carmilla began her descent.
The bottom floor was similar to the way she'd seen it before. except the now the Man was sat in the kitchen with his counterpart. An empty stool placed between them. Carmilla sat down. The woman smiled at her; she looked into the mans grey eyes.
"What is your name?" he asked.
"Carmilla" she replied, he raised an eyebrow and looked at the woman. a smile pulled at the corner of his lips. Carmilla asked the same question.
"I am Claude and this is Sabine", Sabine greeted her as well now.
"French?"
"Oui" answered Sabine. Carmilla felt a small win from being correct, guessing their accents beforehand. It was the way they pulled at their vowels.
"Do you remember last night?". Claude was straight to the point.
Carmilla took a breath and looked down to her lap.
"Yes"
"And how do you feel about it"
She took pause for thought, then answered
"I think the better question is how I felt"
"Well?" Claude didn't enjoy riddles.
"I felt upset at the time, scared, lonely, confused...actually I still am confused, what happened exactly?" she looked up at them, trying to find the right words.
"I know you saved me, I know that this place is safe". She gestured around her.
"I feel...Safe".
Carmilla looked away searching for fragments to help decipher her own mind.
Claude could tell she was struggling, it was partly shock and partly the compulsion he'd put on her. Carmilla couldn't understand why she wasn't more afraid and Claude felt there were more pressing matters to explain. so he answered in the vague.
"We're like you, that is why you feel safe. Carmilla" this drew her attention back.
"Do you know why you were being chased last night ?"
"No" it was a foretelling reply.
"Do you know how you ended up at that place"
She nodded "It's a summer community, my family has been going there since I can remember, My mother's from there...I didn't want to go this Summer..."
she started to become distant again, Claude knew he could only anchor her by telling the truth. But he was at a loss of where to begin.
Sabine was the one who spoke.
"Well you see Carmilla, my husband and I" she looked at Claude, "Are historians, with a particular interest in rural folklore and fables, we were looking into the beast of Gévaudan and While visiting the area, we met an American who had remained in Francais after the second world war. While discussing our research one night over wine her claimed that the beast of Gévaudan was not dead. It had instead moved to Michigan and was still devouring women to this day".
As Sabine spun her yarn, Carmilla's curiosity was captured. But she remained stoic in expression.
"And this peaked your interest ?"
"Well yes this is what we do so we came to the states to gather more..."
Sabine was interrupted by Claude who was eager to get to the point.
"We came here because we are writing a book on how European folklore has been transferred in the states. With this particular story we found more and more solidifying evidence that it had to do with a private community and that people within it were sacrificing young women to wolves and it might still be in practice. This is not the important part".
Claude summed it up nicely by adding the final sentence.
"We think you were the Sacrifice this time"
Sabine glared across the table,
Silence.
Carmilla broke it by kissing her teeth,
"So are you saying My family is part of a cult?"
Claude kneaded his furrowing brow and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. Carmilla weighed the urge to mock the stereotypical behaviour against the urge to ask to bum one from him.
"This is where it gets tricky, in a sense yes but the truly unbelievable fact of the matter is that".
He smacked the pack against palm, the loose cig slid into his hand.
"The beasts we saved you from last night"
He paused to light the cig, with a dramatic inhaled he pulled it from his lips and once again finished impeccably.
"Were werewolves".
"Werewolves?" Carmilla regarded Claude with a with a mocking gaze, but the shock in her voice betrayed the haughty exterior.
"Ouí the community you were part of was a pack of werewolves" the words wavered in the air like the smoke he'd exhaled.
"So the giant wolves from last night"
"Were members of the community you were recently apart of"
Carmilla eyes were flickering back and forth, she was piecing the parts together.
"And they were going to eat me"
She stated rather than questioned it.
Claude took another drag.
"It's unusual for werewolves to eat humans now but not unheard of... yes we think they were going to eat you"
Another pause before Carmilla finally blurted out all the facts she could not piece.
"But why didn't they? I was easy prey, I could hardly move my leg was injured I was vomiting blood, bleeding from my eyes and ears, I could barely see or hear..."
As Carmilla spoke she began to answer her own small questions. Her insides were bleeding severely, she recalled something about a punctured lung. She'd been thrown down a stairs, out windows and nearly crushed; she had now realised that even without the internal bleeding at the start or with the couple grabbing her at the last minute.
"I should be dead".
She stopped flickering through it and stared at Claude.
"Yes Carmilla. You are dead".