An Education in Malice

by S.T. Gibson

“No,” I said, my voice small. “You shouldn’t have.” “Are you all right? Watch your step, dearest. Come here, please.”

“You must understand,” she said, “I cannot lose you, Carmilla. The idea of an existence without you at my side… it’s abhorrent to me. I’ve corrupted you, and whatever god there may be knows I’ll have to answer for that one day, but I cannot be without you. I’m not strong enough.”

De Lafontaine just held me tighter, as if she didn’t believe me.

“I want to try harder,” she said, nodding as though to convince herself. “I’ll be kinder to you. To Laura, too. It’s shameful of me to sulk around like a woman jilted when young love is something to be celebrated. It’s what all the great poets wrote about, isn’t it?” “I suppose so,” I said with a sniff.

“Let me show you how kind I can be. You deserve that, at least. And let’s not talk anymore about Isis tonight. She doesn’t matter right now. Only you and I matter. Do you understand?” “Yes, Ms. D.”

But of course, that was only a half truth. The nicest thing, by far, would have been to spend the rest of my night with Laura.

Edith’s death didn’t help matters.

“Thank you,” I said quietly, wringing my hands together in front of me. “For seeing I’m no threat to you. We both want what’s best for Carmilla.”

“I know,” she said, a strange sadness in her voice. We resumed our walk, strolling beneath the bare trees that lined the quad. “And I hope, in time, you’ll realize I want what’s best for you, too.”

Laura’s presence lit up my world like the solstice sun on a crystal-clear day.

I received a first-edition book of Sylvia Plath with a silk ribbon, and a golden necklace with a tiny ruby for a pendant so very much like a droplet of blood that it took my breath away.

On Christmas Eve, De Lafontaine disappeared without a word and came back an hour later with her arms full of brown-paper bags filled with eggnog, honey ham, whipped potatoes from the grocery deli, and a hot dish of green beans in mushroom sauce for Laura. For me, she produced a box of Earl Grey and a bottle of Scottish gin.

Maybe, I hoped privately, it could always be like this. Maybe Laura and I would nurture our fledgling relationship, and maybe De Lafontaine would forget her jealousy. Maybe we could craft some shaky semblance of stability, and maybe the spirit of Christmas would last long through the year.

Maybe we could be a family.

We wrapped ourselves up in our dressing gowns and eagerly tore into our presents from De Lafontaine while she watched us with those sharp green eyes.

“Little tokens of affection for my two favorite pupils,” De Lafontaine said magnanimously. She was trying so hard, I realized, to make up for how cold and demanding she had been in the past. I fervently hoped we were truly turning a corner together, all of us.

“That’s strange,” De Lafontaine said. “There’s no mail service on Christmas. Let me see that.”

Laura and I exchanged looks that bordered on panic, then crept over to where De Lafontaine had tossed the note down. We each grasped an edge of it and read in silence.

It won’t stop happening until you come home to me. -I

My heart sank into my shoes. The rosy bubble we had been living in over the holiday had been unceremoniously popped, and De Lafontaine’s dark mood had returned. It meant that she would be cracking down on us all over again, and that my dreams of roaming the campus freely had been dashed. Moreover, it meant that none of us were safe.

They found the third body on New Year’s Day, once the snow had finally started to thaw. She had been dumped in the little riverbed that ran behind the Curie building, half covered up with sticks and leaves.

What is a vampire but a vulture and her companion but an accomplice, after all?

“I know it was,” De Lafontaine said gravely. “What are we going to do about it?” I asked, quieter still.

Carmilla and I exchanged skeptical glances, so subtle and private even De Lafontaine’s keen eyes passed them over. De Lafontaine hadn’t done anything about Isis yet, and we weren’t inclined to believe she was going to suddenly take drastic measures, even as the violence escalated. She was in love, and that was dangerous.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” On the other side of the screen, Father Frise cleared his throat, then spoke in his lulling baritone.

“I’m sorry, Ms. De Lafontaine. We were just—” “Curious, I know.

“We’re running out of time.

It was brazen, and it was dangerous, but that might be what we needed.

De Lafontaine squeezed my shoulder, holding me in place. She stood behind me, looming like a specter. “Almost time now, darling. Deep breaths.”

I saw Laura first, and relief flooded my veins. Her cheeks were bitten pink by the January cold and there was animal roundness to her eyes. She was just as frightened as I was, then. Isis stepped through the trees behind her, turning her face up towards the moonlight.

“Not so quick, little one. I think I’ll keep you, for the time being.” Laura let out a little squeak as Isis looped an arm around her waist and pulled her in tight. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and I wished ferociously that I was an older and stronger vampire, that I might be able to wrestle Laura out of her grasp.

“Is this what you want?” De Lafontaine demanded, her voice deathly quiet. “An orgy of blood to satisfy your appetites?

“I want to summer in the Alps with you,” Isis said, suddenly wistful. Her eyes softened like chocolate. “I want to wake up beside you in Paris. I want to hunt with you in Argentina and watch the moonrise with you over the Pyramids. You’ve spent so long searching for me, my love, and you’ve sacrificed so much. You don’t have to live this pantomime of professorship anymore. You can be who you were always meant to be, with me.”

“Forty-three years,” De Lafontaine said, her voice hoarse. “Forty-three years I searched for you while you slept. Forty-three years alone.” “Let me mend what I broke. We can be as we once were.

“Let me do it,” De Lafontaine said. “Let me show you how much I love you. Let there never be any doubt again.” I screamed then, a blood-curdling cry of terror and betrayal. After giving every inch of myself to De Lafontaine, after surrendering my youth and my faith and my very lifeblood, I was nothing more to her than a sacrificial lamb.

“You’ll forget she ever existed,” Isis said, pressing her bare foot against my chest and pushing me down onto the ground. “Open her for me, beloved. Show me the sweetness under her skin.”

“Christ,” I gasped. “She was going to… She tried—” “It’s over,” De Lafontaine said, as much for her own benefit as mine. Her voice was raw, like she was the one who had been screaming, and there were tear tracks on her face. “It’s over now.”

It was backbreaking work, burying her. Six feet didn’t seem like much until I was putting all my weight onto a shovel, doing my best to dig down far enough to prevent the body from being unearthed by animals or curious passers-by.

“To have to kill the thing you love most.”

I didn’t argue with her, and I didn’t press the point. I just shut the living-room blinds against the rising sun, shrouding us in forgiving darkness, and surrendered to sleep.

It seemed to me that De Lafontaine was trying to recalibrate the nature of her relationship with Carmilla, to implement healthy boundaries of some kind. But they had already transgressed the boundaries of professor and student together; they had plunged headfirst into the darkness and the darkness had nearly swallowed them up. I wasn’t sure if there was any coming back from that.

“I was never awarded tenure,” De Lafontaine said breezily, as though her decision had anything to do with academia. “I decided my skills were better put to use elsewhere. There’s an opening at a finishing school in Nice; they said I could start immediately.”

“Save your rage, darling. You’ll need it, in this life.”

“If I don’t leave you now, Carmilla, I will never let you go. It will destroy us both, this obsession. Do you understand?

“I’ll never forget you,” she swore. “I’ll live my life to the fullest. And then, when you’re ready, I’ll come find you.” “I very much look forward to it,”

“Excelsior, girls,” she called behind her. “Onwards and upwards.”

No more Laura the saint, I thought. No more Laura the scared little girl. I was Laura the night creature now, regardless of what path I chose to take. I looked down at the blood one more time, running my tongue over my lips. Outside, a new day dawned crimson and clear.