Lights, Camera, Blood: Ch. 07 Epilogue

Authors' Note: This is the final part of a chain story by a sextet of Literotica authors: @Tio_Narratore, @StillStunned, @pink_silk_glove, @Erozetta, @AlinaX and yours truly. You will be able to find all the chapters in this list: Vampire Chain Story.

***

Mina gasped. Her back arched, head burrowing into the lush feather pillows, sweat pebbling on her skin despite the chill of the night. Glow from the diminishing fire warmed her right side, beddings under her were warmed by her feverish body, but the touch on her skin was surprisingly cool. Her hips rolled, trying to goad the slim, cool hand onto her needy center.

She moaned, "Please..."

Mircalla's laugh was low and quiet. Mina's skin rippled into goosebumps, when the beautiful Hungarian finally, finally slid her hand lower. Tiny squelching noises joined Mina's ragged gasps and the crackling of the fire, Mina's body continuing its dance that got more urgent by the minute.

She was so close. She was so close. If she could just have this one orgasm, right now, she would... she would...

Something was wrong. The goosebumps on her skin didn't settle, instead her whole body shivered, and her mind's focus was being forcibly drawn from her dripping pussy outwards, outside the comforting warmth of the bed, outside the cool beauty beside her. There was someone in the room. There was someone there, in the darkness, watching her, monitoring her. There was something, lurking in the darkness, that wanted her no good. There was...

"Anna!" Mina gasped, jerking to sit upright, blinking wildly. She backed up against the headboard, not the heavy ornate wooden one from her dream but the squeaky cloth-covered one in her home. The blankets she squeezed against her chest were her own, not the coarse linens and furry fake pelts of medieval make-belief. Her eyes, still blurry from sleep, darted from one corner to the other, but her bedroom was quiet and empty. The little light next to the door illuminated every corner. There was no sound from elsewhere in the apartment.

Mr. Buttons, the fat tabby, looked at her disapprovingly from his place at the foot of the bed. He meowed, standing up and stretching his spine in one long sinuous movement, before jumping down from the bed and padding away towards the kitchen. There he meowed again, with more accusation in his tone. Might as well feed me now that you woke me up, he seemed to say.

Mina, still trembling, wrapped the heavy dressing gown around her and followed the cat. The clock on the kitchen wall told her it was almost five o'clock, and with a resigned sigh she put the kettle on.

Call me when you get up, she typed on her phone, sending it to Lucy. Five o'clock was seven in Finland, and Lucy would probably be getting ready for her big day soon enough. She would berate Mina for sleeping poorly, but it was almost a consolation in itself. Lucy didn't always understand, but she did care. All this was more difficult for Mina now that Lucy wasn't home. She slept so much better with Lucy beside her, though it didn't deter the nightmares completely.

Mr. Buttons pushed his head against Mina's ankles, purring.

"Okay, okay," Mina mumbled and opened the cupboard where cat food was held. "Okay."

Fortified with a mug of hot tea, Mina made the rounds in her and Lucy's apartment, opening the heavy blackout curtains. Sun was already rising, the summer was encouraging that way. Wistfully she wished, once again, that she had accompanied Lucy to the Sodankylä Film Festival -- this time of year, sun didn't set at all on those latitudes. However, since she'd gotten fired over performing in a porn film (and no matter how Mina had tried to point out the artistic value in the movie, her boss hadn't been able to overcome seeing her privates on big screen... and to be honest, Mina didn't blame her) she didn't have financial means for trips like that, and the magazine only paid for Lucy, and Mina did have her therapy appointments.

She had gone through all of this countless times since Lucy had left two days ago. It hadn't helped then, and it didn't help now.

At least today was therapy day.

***

"Okay, baby girl, I really have to go," Lucy said. "Take care of yourself now, will you?"

Mina promised, although she didn't sound convinced. Lucy made a few kiss-kiss-sounds and ended the call, slipping the phone into her purse. She met her eyes in the mirror, turning this way and that to double check her hair and makeup, then slipped on her sunglasses and left for the hotel breakfast buffet.

Lucy had hoped Mircalla Bartók would be staying in this same hotel, after all there were not very many choices in this little shithole the film festival was hosted in, but either that wasn't the case or she had the worst luck of ever being there at the same time as the Hungarian actress. After their joint acting endeavour, Mircalla had checked into a reclusive rehabilitation center somewhere in Poland, and Lucy hadn't been able to contact her. She had been somewhat understanding, because maybe the rehab center had rules against outside communication? Wasn't isolation usually part of the process in places like that? But now it had been months since Mircalla had re-emerged on the movie scene, having signed up for an artistic character piece by the upcoming Polish director Ostrowski, and even though Mircalla had given interviews she had not returned Lucy's requests for one.

That hurt.

Lucy had hoped -- no, she had been certain -- that what they'd shared had been more than acting. That surely, it had been as influential to Mircalla as it had been for Lucy. That was the primary motivation for her to come to this remote location, under the midnight sun, so far away from home and her struggling girlfriend. Her editor, Charles Ashley, had a long list of interviews he hoped she could score while up here, and why not; she could just as well make this trip worthwhile, but her eyes were on the prize, and that prize was backing Mircalla into a corner and interrogating her. Today, Mircalla would be in a press conference beside Ostrowski, and Lucy was determined to be in the first row.

***

"I know you think I'm crazy," Mina said, blushing in shame even though she was lying down with her head pointing towards the chair her therapist sat in, so that he couldn't possibly see her face. "I know we've been through this before."

Only reaction from Mr. Hall was the pen scratching on his notepad as he took notes.

Mina sighed. "It didn't use to be like this. I was always the brave one, the more outgoing one, and now Lucy is traveling the world alone while I'm scared to leave my home. And even our home... we can't really afford to rent at Canary Wharf, but I insisted, because it's surrounded by water, and... and that's crazy, right? That's completely bonkers."

"What have we discussed about labeling things as crazy?" Mr. Hall asked, his low voice neutral and calm.

"That it's not helpful," Mina said. "But it's... I didn't use to be like this! I was, I was happy, and... carefree, and I used to love scary movies for the thrill, and... even the movie we made, if I'd just seen it in a theater, I would've loved it. But it wasn't... it isn't what it seems, it's... it was cursed. I was cursed as soon as we snooped our way into that castle. I was... dunno, bewitched! Enchanted! I wasn't... I remember it, you know, I remember all of it, but it was like I wasn't in control of myself. I was like a cat in heat. I was going to just tag along with Lucy on that trip, to encourage her, because she can be such a pussyfoot, you know, and maybe try to coax her to see the finer points of loving women, but... we got swept up so easily."

Mina sank into her thoughts. It was difficult to put into words how alien it now felt to her, how easily she had agreed to flaunting her body on the screen, how eagerly she had participated in all the sex scenes. How even outside of scheduled shooting she had sneaked from hotel room to hotel room, shagging Mircalla, and that one Slovak actress who barely spoke English, and Anna--

At the thought of Anna, she shivered and wrapped her arms around herself.

"Then, when we got back to England, it was like we had swapped parts. Now Lucy is the outgoing one filled with energy, and I'm this frightened mess. I don't know what will happen to us."

She sighed. "I want to get better. I want to get out of this... paranoia, I want to be able to work again. Though I think my days in social services are over. I can't believe that I didn't spare a single thought on what performing in that movie would cost me. I was so... consumed by being on the set, and... it was like being in an alternate reality of some sort. It feels very distant now. Like a dream. Or, psychosis or something."

The scratching of the pen. Mina wondered what it was that Mr. Hall was writing. Maybe he was just doodling to keep busy; Mina had told him these same things so many times before.

She wanted to say she was afraid the vampires would find her and Lucy and kill them, or worse. She thought about that every time she was heading to the therapist's office, but once here, it felt so insane that she couldn't bring herself to say the actual words. She wondered, not for the first time, if her therapist was under obligation to sign her into a mental asylum if she confessed to something so outright crazy.

"At least Lucy is safe now," she said, despite herself. "I just... I'm afraid something will happen to her. The state I'm in, I don't know what I'd do without her. My family is not the kind you go to when in trouble. Oh god, I just want to get back to normal again. Back to myself."

"How are you doing on your daily routines?" Mr. Hall asked, the pen pausing. "What did you commit to this month?"

"Meditation, and walks, and journaling," Mina recited dutifully. "I've been pretty good. I haven't written every single day, but I have done the rest."

"And have you considered applying for the part time job you talked about?"

Mina crossed her fingers surreptitiously and said, "Yes, sure. I haven't made up my mind yet."

The reason she didn't want to apply for part time at the local grocery store was that she knew that it would be a shift job, and would sometimes require her to be outside during dark, and she couldn't handle that. Not even with the canals and rivers surrounding the Wharf. It felt idiotic even to herself, but she couldn't push through it.

The session ended with all the usual platitudes and plans for improving Mina's capabilities for normal functioning in society. As she stepped out onto the uncharacteristically hot and sunny street, she wondered bitterly if she was more afraid of her therapy ending or that it wouldn't end. What good was a therapist, if she couldn't reveal her true fears to him? And yet, she had to be crazy, her fears couldn't possibly be true, so why couldn't she work through them without revealing the actual details?

Thoughts can't hurt me, my thoughts are not true, she told herself while heading towards the train station. She couldn't bring herself to believe it fully. Maybe it was because the thought of running water protecting her from them was also only a thought.

***

The press conference was held in a tent, like all the rest of the festival. This far north wasn't exactly sweltering, but the air inside the tent was hot and stood still. Lucy tore a page from her notebook, folded it into a makeshift fan and relieved herself the best she could. A bead of sweat rolled from the hairline beside her ear, down her neck, and she wiped it off impatiently.

Ostrowski stepped in through the tent's back lapels first. He had messy hair that looked like it was painstakingly combed to be that messy, and small round sunglasses on his crooked nose, and he looked painfully pretentious. Lucy wondered if young Adimir had had that air of pompousness upon him; if so, it was probably for the best that he had made it his signature move to avoid all publicity.

Mircalla stepped in behind him, and Lucy's attention was instantly completely focused on her. She had the same beautiful face, the same slim but curvaceous body, the same piercing eyes, pale gray and striking. Lucy knew that, up close, they had tiny golden specks in them, and a sudden and fierce twitch of longing took her breath away.

Mircalla arranged the flowy summer dress and sat graciously on the flimsy foldable chair behind the table. Her mere presence seemed to elevate this rudimentary setting to another level. She looked like the film stars of old times, dark hair falling in lazy curls over her shoulders, big sunglasses perched on top of her head. She crossed her legs, one knee primly on top of the other, and lay her slim hands on her lap. Her lips were painted the same deep blood red that Lucy remembered, making her complexion seem even paler than it naturally was. She wasn't smiling.

The actress eyed the gathered journalists with a detached, disinterested look, but when her eyes found Lucy she paused.

Mircalla showed no signs of recognition. She didn't smile, she didn't nod, nothing on her carefully painted face changed; the only indication that she had recognized Lucy was how she stopped to look at her. Lucy shriveled at the gaze of those cool, bright eyes, clear and translucent like a cold winter day.

An official from the film festival launched into the introduction of Ostrowski in their broken English, Mircalla looked towards him, and the tension broke. She didn't look at Lucy again. Lucy did her best to listen to what others asked and what Ostrowski answered, hastily taking notes on her pad, but her focus was almost entirely on Mircalla. Others asked questions of Mircalla, too, and hearing her voice sent a ripple down Lucy's back.

Get a grip, she admonished herself. You're here to do a job, now do it.

Ostrowski's film was not horror, and as such was not really of interest to Lucy's magazine Tentacles and Torture, and Lucy's notes were so crappy that it was probably for the best. If asked, she couldn't even have said what the man's next film was called. She had heard that Mircalla had been booked for the entire trilogy, so she was certain she would watch them sooner or later. She was awoken from her Mircalla-centered trance by another familiar name.

"Miss Bartók, how would you compare working with Ostrowski to working with Adamir? I understand their methods are very different?"

Lucy's head whipped from the old reporter with the bushy beard making the question back to Mircalla, who glanced at offended-looking Ostrowski and creased her delicate brow minutely. "I am not here to talk about Adamir. That film is done, I am looking forward now."

Had her accent always been so thick? Her v's so sharp, her r's so hard? Lucy tilted her head in confusion.

"Have you kept contact with Adamir? Do you have any info of his whereabouts?" butted in another reporter, a woman with a tight ponytail and red-rimmed glasses.

"I said, no--"

Mircalla's refusal was drowned by more questions fired at her from two more reporters. Adamir had been missing in action after his last film--their film--had been released, and where he had hitherto published a film per year, there was now not even rumours of his next project. More voices chimed in, shouting on top of each other. Ostrowski looked like he'd chewed on a lemon. Mircalla threw out her hands, muttered something under her breath and got on her feet. With a whirl of her dress she turned, pushed aside the man who had stood behind them guarding the lapels of the tent, and disappeared.

Lucy exited the tent as quickly as she could swerve between the now-standing crowd of colleagues. She ran around the tent just in time to see Mircalla disappearing behind another tent, and sprinted after her. She wasn't fast, but Mircalla was wearing heels, and Lucy covered most of the distance before Mircalla reached a row of motorhomes parked on a level spot behind the tents. The area was guarded, but the guy with the neon colored attention vest was on the side where vehicles entered, and before he had time to react Lucy gave it all she had and caught Mircalla just outside her camper.

"Mircalla," she panted. "Mircalla, wait!"

Mircalla turned sharply, the wide hem of her dress again swirling around her in slow motion, twisting around and then back in a sensuous sweep. The actress herself stood ramrod-straight, her mouth a straight line under the big sunglasses that reflected Lucy's own, perplexed reflection back at her. "Are you here to ask about him too?"

"No," Lucy said, even though she was, partly so anyway. "I wanted to... you haven't answered my calls, and..."

The guard had finally noticed something was happening, and was walking towards them over the grassy field, shouting something in Finnish. Mircalla looked at his direction, her brow furrowing, and hissed, "Basszus!" She waved at the guard with a tense smile, grabbed Lucy by the arm and yanked her toward the motorhome. Lucy did not resist as Mircalla pulled her inside and locked the door behind them.

Inside of the camper was cramped and, compared to the blinding, white sunlight outside, almost dark. Lucy looked around, blinking, and was startled by the loud sound that came from Mircalla's sunglasses hitting the opposite wall. The actress herself, her gray eyes hard as steel, pushed Lucy against the door, stepping so close that Lucy felt crowded even though Mircalla wasn't any taller than her.

"Why you come?" Mircalla hissed. "Why you not let it be, hm? What do you want from me?"

There was a scent upon her breath, sweet and somehow unnerving. Lucy drew backwards against the door, her eyes darting back and forth between Mircalla's, the back of her head pressing into the small hard plex window in the door, her hands trembling against the wagon's inner paneling. "I... I came to look for you."

For a short, tense moment, Mircalla didn't react. All Lucy could hear was her own, frantic heartbeat thrumming in her ears.

Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum.

Slowly, Mircalla's lips curved up. The smile was mirthless, and a shiver ran down Lucy's back. She squeaked when Mircalla pressed up against her, her hands suddenly everywhere. Mircalla kept eye contact as her hands crept up Lucy's body, squeezing here and groping there, until she had the blonde's boobs cupped in her small, cool hands. Lucy's breath hitched, and her nipples tightened into painful peaks, even though they were both between Mircalla's fingers, devoid of direct contact.

"The little English blonde came for me, eh?" Mircalla's breath swept over Lucy's trembling lips, cheek, ear. She kissed Lucy's neck, first lightly and then more intensely, and her hands roamed on Lucy's body again. Lucy spread her legs, helplessly, cursing that she'd put on pants. Oh, what she would have given to have on a skirt now! Hormones coursed through her, and when Mircalla's nimble fingers unzipped her, she squirmed eagerly to help lower her pants. Mircalla pushed them down to mid-thigh, forcefully, along with her knickers.

Mircalla paused. She lifted her head, slowly, to look at Lucy again. Lucy drew a quivering breath, and the brunette kissed her lightly, just as lightly as her fingertips swept on Lucy's lower abdomen. Mircalla's lips were smooth and lush, and Lucy chased after them when she pulled away minutely. Mircalla chuckled, kissing her more deeply, as her hand cupped Lucy's sopping pussy.

"And you did come for me," Mircalla whispered against Lucy's lips, her hand working its magic between her legs again. "You came for me so hard, didn't you, little Lu-cee?"

Lucy wanted to answer, but all that came out were whimpers. Her heart was doing that frantic race again, badum-badum-badum-badum, this time not so much out of terror but lust. Her hips rocked against Mircalla's hand, faster, faster, and her eyelid fluttered when the Hungarian beauty kissed her again, full of hunger now. Her other hand sought out Lucy's breast again, and when she pinched Lucy's desperate nipple, Lucy came so hard that her knees buckled. She whimpered, hanging on to Mircalla to stay upright...

Mircalla withdrew her hand, wiping it on Lucy's shirt. "It seems you still come for me, eh?"

Mircalla gave that same chuckle again. She stepped back, leaving Lucy leaning on the door, thighs still trembling, juice oozing down her naked skin towards the pants so hastily pushed out of the way. Mircalla turned, flicking her hair over her shoulder, and headed towards the fridge. She took out a bottle and drank from it deeply, her long, white neck moving with the gulps. She did not offer any to Lucy.

Blood slowly returned to Lucy's head, and confused and embarrassed, she sorted out her clothes. "I don't understand."

Mircalla turned towards her again, giving her a long look. "You are no actress," she said dismissively. It was not meant as an insult; it was merely a statement of fact.

"So it was only acting? It meant nothing to you?"

Lucy didn't like the desperation in her voice. Mircalla waved her hand in a gesture that could mean anything.

"I no longer do sexy films. I want to do real films. I will be a real actress. That film is done, I no longer want to do that."

"Okay," Lucy said. To herself, she sounded like a petulant child, and now she was thoroughly embarrassed by that wanton lust the other woman had invoked in her so easily, so overpoweringly. "Okay. So, I think I better go then."

She smoothed her shirt, her hands shaking, and checked that her pants were zipped all the way up. Mircalla watched, and when Lucy reached for the lock on the door, she said, "So you have no news on Adamir either?"

Lucy paused and looked at her. Now there was something on Mircalla's expression, something other than the disinterested disdain she had portrayed in the tent.

"No, I haven't heard anything, not since we came back to the set with Mina and everyone was gone."

Mircalla waved her hand again. "I had to leave as soon as my takes were done, I had other commitments. But I had thought... Adamir said... but then he didn't call, and Anna's number wasn't working anymore."

Mircalla bit her lip. "Oh, never mind. But, here, take this."

She scribbled something down on a piece of paper and handed it over to Lucy. It looked like a website address. Lucy looked at the brunette, eyebrows raised, but Mircalla didn't offer explanations.

"Um, thank you, I guess," Lucy said. "I'm just going to go now then. So... see you?"

Mircalla smirked and turned back towards the fridge. Lucy stumbled out, disgracefully, and closed the door behind her. She walked away quickly, before that guard person could come interrogating her, and kept her eyes on the ground. Thoughts tumbled against each other inside her head, and she didn't for a moment consider going back to the press tent for other interviews. She needed solitude, and she needed time to think.

The woman in the mirror was not the confident blonde from the same morning. She looked demented, her eyes wide and wild, Mircalla's lipstick smudged on her neck and on the collar of her shirt. She wiped at it, vaguely disgusted by the shade of red. She considered going to the hotel sauna, but didn't remember what time it opened and didn't want to wait. Besides, the Finns, who were otherwise very sullen and withdrawn, all seemed to want to chat a lot once they were naked in the sweaty room with strangers, as peculiar as that was. Luckily, her hotel room had a bathtub.

Phone buzzed while she was tearing off her clothes. It was Mina, but she didn't answer.

***

An hour later, wrinkly-fingered and a lot calmer, Lucy arose from the now lukewarm water. She had gone through her interaction with Mircalla again and again, and the butthurt of rejected crush had slowly paled. She had already known Mircalla wasn't pining after her. If she had, she would have answered Lucy's attempts to contact her, wouldn't she? Maybe on some level Lucy had hoped that Mircalla would be happy to see her, but in all honesty, she wasn't surprised that wasn't the case.

What was more difficult to stomach was her own visceral reaction to the actress. Her plan hadn't included having sex with Mircalla, and she still felt the hot rush of blood into her face if she thought about it too closely. She didn't understand what had come upon her. She wasn't as sexually repressed as she had been before this whole thing started, but she sure as hell wasn't one for traipsing around, fucking whoever she happened to cross, cheating on her girlfriend.

The cheating part was so disturbing that she didn't quite want to face it yet. Nothing else in her life quite compared to the orgasms Mircalla had given her, and it was difficult to reconcile that fact with her own impressions of herself as a trustworthy and loyal partner, so she kept pushing it out again every time the thought entered her mind.

What was coming into sharper and sharper focus, though, was that Mircalla had hoped Lucy would have some information about Adamir. Mircalla was pining after him the same way Lucy was pining after Mircalla. Originally, Lucy hadn't spared a lot of thought for the piece of paper Mircalla had scribbled for her, but now she was so curious she was afraid she'd managed to lose it on the way.

The scrap wasn't in her purse, and she was about to lose her shit before she thought to check her pockets. She had been right; it was a web address. With trembling hands, she smoothed out the paper, sitting naked on the bed and flipping her laptop open.

Mircalla's handwriting was abysmal, and it took a few tries for Lucy to decipher it. The site, when it came up, was in Hungarian and looked like something someone's drunk uncle might have set up back in the nineties, but on the front page was a picture from what Lucy recognized as one of Adamir's movie posters. This encouraged her, and she pulled up Google Translate and got to work.

***

Mina didn't remember seeing Lucy this amped up ever before. Her blonde friend had always been more on the shy and reserved side, and even when she had been excited about something, she had been more the quietly internally bubbling than outwardly effusive. Even when she had graduated, and later when she'd gotten the job at Tentacles and Torture, her outward displays of victory had been very muted.

Not that this sounded like a victory as such. Lucy hadn't stopped talking since she'd entered the door, coming back from the film festival. She seemed feverish, obsessed, and Mina was struggling to keep up with the flood of information Lucy was throwing at her. She had prepared soup for them, knowing how hungry traveling made a person and how expensive and bad stuff at airports was, and the only times Lucy had even slowed down talking was when she'd hoovered down her bowl.

Lucy sat on the sofa, opening her laptop, patting at the seat beside her. "Just come here, I'll show you."

Mina sat and Mr. Button climbed onto her lap. When they'd adopted him, he hadn't been much of a lap cat, but in the months past he had started to trust them more and as Mina's depression and anxiety had peaked, she had welcomed his quiet comfort. She petted him, and he purred, a deep rumbling purr that reverberated through his whole body.

"This is the website," Lucy said. "Look, this is their page on Adamir."

The site was in Hungarian, and Lucy scrolled down, pointing at different sections and explaining them. "I haven't translated all of them yet, but there's one for each film, and the disappearances around them, and all the other unexplained stuff. Interviews and such. And this, here, look."

There was a series of pictures of Čachtice Castle, all pretty low quality, looking like they were taken from far away and at night. Mina squinted and looked closer, but Lucy scrolled ahead.

"So, okay, it is kind of a conspiracy site," Lucy said, sounding a bit defensive. "But look at this! Here, look, this is a video of that couple that was included in the shoot, the bride and groom, remember?"

"Vlad and Valeska?"

"Something like that? They both started with V. Okay, look."

The video was low quality and in Slovakian. The journalist talked and looked at the camera, his name and what Mina supposed was the name of the TV station displayed on the lower left corner. Then the camera panned out a little, revealing a man and woman standing beside him. The journalist asked something, and the man started talking.

"Ouch!"

Mina yelped, jerking, and Lucy startled so that the laptop slid from her lap and almost fell on the floor. Mr. Buttons hissed, darting from the room, his tail bushy as a bottle brush, all the while making furious cat sounds.

"He scratched me!" Mina said, wiping on her thigh, her hand coming off red where nails had pierced her leggings. "He's never done that!"

Lucy recovered the laptop, pausing the video and setting the thing on the sofa table. Mina pushed her pants down, revealing two rows of scratches, some of which were bleeding minutely.

"He must've spooked," Lucy said. "Did you sit on his tail or something? Wait, I'll get the disinfectant."

"I don't think I did," Mina said, furrowing her brow. "How could I even have done that? I was just sitting here, completely normally."

Lucy reappeared with cotton wipes and disinfectant and tended to her wounds. They both stared at Mina's thighs apprehensively, but the bleeding had already stopped.

"Oh well, anyway," Lucy said, picking up the laptop again. "Look at this."

Vladan a Valeska Szabó was on the bottom of the picture now, and Mina pointed at it. "It's Vladan, not Vlad! I thought it sounded wrong."

"Yeah but look at them!" Lucy urged, bright red spots on her cheekbones. "Look at them!"

Mina peered closer. The picture quality was awful, and she didn't understand a word the man was saying. However, there was something that wasn't quite right.

"They're not them!" Lucy said, so agitated she was almost jumping on her seat. "It's not the same people! Look, look now that Valeska says something."

The journalist asked something, extending the mic towards the woman, who leaned closer to answer. Her voice was low pitched, a lot lower than Mina remembered, and she thought that maybe the woman didn't look right either. Hadn't her hair been lighter? Her mind brought up a picture of Valeska eating dumplings, and yes, it didn't match the woman on the screen.

"Maybe," Mina said and glanced at Lucy doubtfully. "But how well do you really remember what they looked like? I know I never paid much attention to Vladan. When we met, Valeska had that wedding makeup, and then we were only shooting at night."

Lucy frowned too. They had spent a lot of time speculating where Vladan had disappeared, but that had been amongst themselves in their hotel room. Valeska had spoken English, but not very well, and after Vladan's betrayal she hadn't been very friendly towards anyone at the set, and had mostly kept to herself.

"I haven't been able to secure a transcript, so I don't really know what they're saying," Lucy said. "I've thought of asking the folks that host the website if they have one. There is no contact info besides that one email address."

"Uh huh," Mina said, eyes still on the news clip. Picture zoomed out showing some of the crowd behind the couple, and even from a distance one of them looked a lot like Anna. A shiver ran down her spine.

"Look, Mina," Lucy said, suddenly animated. "I'm sorry, I'm not explaining this well. And I know I've been doubting how you said they were vampires. There's a lot on this site about Anna, I'll show you, there's pictures dating back at least thirty years and it doesn't look like she's aged at all! I mean, look at this..."

Lucy scrolled down, clicking to a few subpages and backing out again, muttering under her breath.

"Though maybe not a vampire," Lucy said, showing Mina a picture where Anna, looking like herself, was eating a lavish meal with a very young-looking Adamir. "I don't know, I just haven't seen a lot that would seem like it. But there's something fishy about her, and all the disappearances. And you know how people say they're so effective because the torture is real? There's so many things here to prove that. I haven't been through all of it because it's all in Hungarian, but I will."

"Uh huh," Mina said again, leaning back. It was good to see Lucy so energetic, so full of purpose, but the pit of her stomach gnawed with unease.

***

"I have to say, Mina, I am impressed by the steps you've taken lately," Mr. Hall said. Now that Mina was sitting in an armchair, as opposed to lying on the couch, she could see the tapping of the pen on the notepad, the sound of which was so familiar to her. "Your bounce back has been remarkably quick."

"I know," Mina said emphatically.

Her therapy was nearing its end, not because she thought she was ready to be on her own, but because she was running out of money. She'd been allotted a year in therapy, and when that ran out, she would've paid out of pocket, and she didn't have that sort of pockets. Even with her new job.

"You got the job at that store, you've been out of the apartment more, you said you've even been out at night--"

"I know," Mina repeated. "What can I say, it was like a switch was flipped."

In a way, she had surprised even herself. She had fretted about the end of her therapy, afraid she would be doomed to be a nervous wreck for the rest of her life, bound to cower inside her flat forever, afraid of life. Or that Lucy would eventually dump her and she'd end up... she hadn't even known. She had been so afraid to be outside at night, that being homeless would've been unthinkable, but what choices did she really have?

The thought still made her shiver, but all that was behind her now. She had secured the job at the Tesco Express at the station, and the income, meager as it was, was a welcome addition to her and Lucy's fun funds. They had been out more, eating in restaurants and on a few occasions even going to have a few drinks, which was like a breath of fresh air and reminded both of them of the old times.

"I'm happy to see your progress," Mr. Hall said. "Whatever you did seems to be working. I'll be sure to reflect this in your closing report. How do you feel about continuing on your own?"

Mina tilted her head. "Well, I'm a little nervous, but hopeful. I think I can keep on this upward trajectory. And if not, well, I hope I'll get enough money at some point to continue in therapy."

Mr. Hall nodded, scribbling something in the notebook.

Outside, the sun was shining. Through the window, Mina could see the tops of trees lining the street, leaves huge and dark green in the late summer light. Soon they'd change color and fall down, but the approaching dark season didn't frighten Mina like it used to. She was still apprehensive, but her reasons had shifted.

She wasn't about to tell Mr. Hall that. How could she explain that she wasn't afraid of vampires anymore, because it seemed they were up against something else instead? That Anna was some kind of a demon seemed to be a theory Lucy's newfound conspiracy website had. Mina wasn't sure what powers that sort of entity supposedly had, and funnily enough, while she was still afraid, she was more dubious about demons than she had been of vampires. Logically she knew that neither of those were true, in the conventional sense of truth, and it made no sense to believe in one and not the other, but she had decided not to inspect her beliefs any closer. She was allowed to believe in whatever humbug she wanted to, and soon she wouldn't even have to explain herself to a therapist.

"How do you feel about your and Lucy's relationship now? You mentioned that you're worried about her getting so obsessed with researching a story?"

This was true. Lucy had done the deep dive, constructed a wallboard of data she had collected on Adamir in their living room, and still spent a significant portion of her free time watching and re-watching Adamir's movies. Her newfound intensity carried over to the bedroom, where Lucy was now insatiable, their nights spent in heated lovemaking. The mere thought made Mina smirk, and she uncrossed her legs and re-crossed them the other way to buy time.

"Well, she's still kind of invested in it, but I'm not so worried about it anymore," Mina said. "I feel like it's progressing. I've helped her research some aspects and I think it's coming to a close."

"That's good to hear."

Mr. Hall glanced at the clock on the wall and smiled at Mina. "This is it then, Mina. I wish you all the best going forward. I hope you have a good toolbox now for dealing with your issues, should they resurface, and I have no doubt that you can continue to flourish now that you're off to such a good start."

"Thank you!"

Mina jumped up from her chair. They shook hands, and Mina all but skipped out of the place and toward the underground station. She felt free and careless, which made no sense because she had never been answering to Mr. Hall but only to herself, and she hadn't even revealed the true source of her anxiety to him, but the feeling of relief was there all the same and she relished it.

***

Mina squirmed. The feeling was building, gathering momentum deep inside of her, and she was filled with eager anticipation. This was going to be huge. She lifted her hips, pleading, asking to be fulfilled. It was too dark to see, the chilly night air filled only with her gasps and rustling of the sheets. Fingers caressed her vulva, pressing, massaging, sliding along her slick lips. She was extremely turned on, outer labia swollen plump with blood, aching to be touched.

Something warm pressed against her opening, smooth but unyielding, slowly spreading her open. She whimpered, arms searching, but couldn't reach the person between her legs. Hot, veiny shaft filled her, dancing back and forth in her narrow canal, pressing ever deeper, slickened by the copious amounts of fluids flowing from within. Mina wasn't usually one to want to be penetrated, but now she was beside herself with lust.

As her arousal mounted, so did self-awareness. She knew this dream, and as soon as she did, she knew it was a dream. The cock inside her belonged to her, and if she could just have this orgasm, this magnificent orgasm she was on the precipice of, it would all make sense, it would all be all right.

If she could just have this, she would... she would... she would give anything--

don't think that don't ever think that

Mina jerked awake, gasping, heart thundering in her ears. She grasped the blankets, pulling them tight against her chest as a reflex. Her nipples were tight and firing off with every sweep of fabric, her skin sweaty, and she didn't need to touch herself to know she was so wet she'd probably dribbled a puddle on the sheets.

The bedroom was empty. Not even Mr. Buttons was with her. She touched Lucy's side of the bed, but the sheets were cool. She could've guessed Lucy wasn't in the bed; she rarely had these dreams when they slept together. They had started off as nightmares, ending with her waking up in true terror, and even though they now left her more horny than paralyzed with fear she was too riled up to just go back to sleep.

She got up, wrapping a dressing gown around herself. Lucy's newfound obsession had spiced up their love life, which had led to them usually sleeping in the nude, too tired to slip into nighties after lovemaking, but the apartment was a bit too chilly to go around naked.

Lucy was sitting on the couch, headphones on, re-watching The Terroroids for what must have been the twentieth time. On the sofa table was her laptop, browser open on the Hungarian conspiracy site. Mina sighed.

Lucy paused the movie and pulled the headphones down as Mina sat beside her.

"Did I wake you? I tried to be quiet."

"No, no," Mina said and yawned. "I just... how come you aren't sleeping?"

Lucy blushed lightly. "I had that review to do, and I couldn't sleep, so I started that, and then... but now that you're here, look at this!"

It was a scene where one crew member succumbed to insanity, having visions of hands reaching from walls to grasp him. Lucy skipped forward a few frames at the time, until it was paused where the man had his back against the wall, eyes wide, numerous hands grasping him from all around. Lucy pointed towards his neck.

"There, see? I think those are Anna's hands."

The hands were pale, with long, delicate fingers. Mina shivered, her mind flashing back to the dream she'd had, where the very same hands had been touching her so deftly.

"But the tattoos aren't the same?"

These hands had tattoos creeping up under the cuffs of her sleeves too, but they weren't bats, they were some sort of hieroglyphs, or alien code. Even in a still picture they didn't make any sense to Mina.

"Yes, but just look at them! And see, here is this picture of Anna at the scene, here..."

Lucy enlarged a picture on the laptop. Anna stood beside a tent, facing the camera, her distinctive red hair braided into one long braid that curled around her neck and down the front of her khaki shirt. Adamir stood next to her, sideways in relation to the camera. His hair was still completely black. He was apparently explaining something, his arms in a movement that showed only as a blur. Anna's arms were crossed, and when Lucy enlarged further, the tattoos were almost visible. Mina's mind wanted to say they were bats, because tattoos didn't change like that, but glancing at the stopped movie she had to admit they could as easily be the graphs shown in the still frame.

She supposed it could be the same tattoos. Tattoos could be covered up for filming, surely they could be painted over with different tattoos just as easily.

"Okay, so what if it is Anna's hands? What are you implying?"

"That's the man that disappeared after the shoot! Jacek Sitko!"

Mina looked at the pictures. "So what if it is?"

"See how Anna is holding him by the throat?"

Mina sighed. Somehow, ending therapy had put her in a mindset of resolving things, and now things were falling towards a solution like a row of dominos. This wasn't how she wanted to spend the rest of her life, or even the upcoming weeks or months.

"Lucy," she said, turning towards her girlfriend. "So what? I don't know what you're implying, but whatever it is, I just... so what?"

"What do you mean so what? If I'm right, and Anna is some sort of evil spirit following Adamir, picking victims from--"

"Exactly! So let's say you're right! Then what? You're gonna publish a reveal story? Nobody will believe you. You're going to the police? They'll believe you even less. Are you gonna hunt Adamir down and confront him? How do you see that going if Anna really is the devil? You're not Buffy the Vampire Slayer! I'm not some kind of... dunno, crusader! What are you going to do?"

Lucy stared at her, eyes wide. Her mouth started to form a word, stopped, then another, and stopped. She slumped against the back of the couch, frowning at the TV screen.

"We got away," Mina said quietly. "I want us to keep doing that. I don't want to go digging. I don't want to lose you."

Lucy's face was a picture of fixed determination, a scowl of stubborn anger. "I don't want to lose you," Mina repeated, digging her nails into Lucy's arm.

At this, Lucy softened. She turned towards Mina, pulling her closer, and kissed her softly. Mina leaned on her until they keeled over on the sofa. Lucy wrapped her hands tightly around Mina and said, "I don't want to lose you either."

***

The sun was setting. Adamir stood leaning on the rail of the balcony, a heavy crystal glass of wine nestled in his hand, and watched as the fiery ball sank into the Tyrrhenian, slowly at first and then all at once. The glow lingered on the horizon, changing shades from orange to red to purple.

At the buzzing echoing from the hall he detached, standing up slowly. Sipping the drink he cast one last look on the darkening view, then crossed the room to where the door cam console was. The display was small and grainy, but he recognized the slim shape and the long hair, even though she was not facing the camera. His brain filled in the color of the red strands on its own, though the picture was in black an white. He bowed his head, closed his eyes for a moment, and then pressed the bell icon.

"Anna. Come in."

He pressed the lock button for a few seconds, bracing himself. A hint of movement from the corner of his eye startled him, and turning, he saw Anna standing behind the bar on the side of the sizable lounge.

"Shit! I wish you wouldn't do that."

"Did I scare you?" Anna pursed her lips and tilted her head. Then she lifted the bottle of wine, gesturing towards Adamir. "Blood of Bathory, eh? Still care enough to import this? You're getting soft, old friend."

Adamir shrugged. Reluctantly, he walked across the floor. A soft, warm breeze wafted the curtains framing the balcony doors.

"I would ask what brings you here, but we both know."

Anna nodded, leaning on the bar. Light was quickly waning, and the tattoos peeking from under the rolled-down sleeves of her light linen shirt were indiscernible. When she flexed her fingers, it almost looked like they were moving. "Time to move on. You've had enough time."

"I've done thirteen films in thirteen years."

Anna laughed. "What's in a number? You'll do another, and then one after that. What else is there to do?"

They eyed each other. Slowly, the corners of Anna's mouth crept upward. "I take it you have something on your mind?"

Anna tilted the bottle, pouring him another glass, the deep red liquid pooling lazily at the bottom of his glass.

"Don't I always," answered Adamir bitterly, and drank.