The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Laura

Angelica had been promoted from nuisance to obstacle. Laura knew she had been campaigning against her from the start. She spread rumors and vitriol, trying to get Camille to fire her and banish her completely. That was nothing new.

It started with Claire. As usual, Angelica gave the welcome wagon of cold shoulders, sarcastic comments, and backhanded compliments to Claire when she started working there. Claire reported that to Laura with indifference. She had thick skin but, even then, she would ignore it if Laura commanded her to. Now Angelica was trying to get Claire fired. Abby reported that Angelica repeatedly told Camille and Miss Lancaster that Claire was too nosy and too eager. She was both too lazy and too helpful all at the same time. No matter what Claire did, Angelica had deemed it suspicious.

Now it was Abby. Ever since Abby came under Laura’s service, Angelica instantly picked up on the change in the young editor. She was like a bloodhound sniffing out the slightest whiff of sedition. Any treacherous thoughts to her employer had to be crushed, and Abby was the latest target of her gossip. Claire reported that Angelica thought Abby was too reclusive—too private. She suspected that Abby was hiding something that Camille needed to worry about.

She was, of course, correct in all her suspicions, but that only made her more troublesome to Laura. Her own position in the manor was becoming increasingly tenuous. Apparently, some passages from Camille’s manuscript were going straight to Abby and skipping Laura altogether. They had sectioned off this wing of the house, keeping Laura not quite trapped in her room, but isolated from the rest of the house. Claire and Abby fed her information, but she couldn’t wander the grounds. Angelica was one step away from standing guard outside of Laura’s room each night, which made it frustrating to sneak Emma in when Laura was feeling lonely.

The delicate vampire was curled in her lap now. Laura stroked Emma’s silver hair and mused. She had more than enough time to think these days, but she was always more focused after feeding Emma. The adrenaline of it all sharpened her mind and reminded her of why she was doing this.

“Is Angelica devoted or neurotic?” she asked Emma.

“Are you a song or lesson?” whispered Emma. She was half asleep after feeding.

“A lesson,” said Laura. “If she’s neurotic, perhaps I can lure her to our side eventually. If she’s devoted, I’ll need to remove her.”

“She’s afraid of the monster under the bed.”

“Marcilla? Marcilla is a shadow, not a monster.”

“Even so, you know failures are remedied with blood.”

Laura thought of Nikki. She had discovered Emma and was now trapped as nourishment until she likely died. Was Angelica afraid of the same fate? Did she realize that if she failed Camille she’d end up in the dungeon next to Nikki, chained to the wall and fed to a vampire until she was dried up like a raisin?

“She’s afraid,” said Laura. “Afraid to fail.”

“We all fear, but hers is a horse dragging her through the woods.”

“But she doesn’t just work hard. She’s protecting Camille’s secret.”

“Not Camille’s. Everyone here guards Laura K’s ghost.”

“What does that mean?” Laura had gotten used to Emma’s strange way of speaking, but sometimes they still had long conversations about a single sentence. Emma insisted, or seemed to insist, that there was no other way for her to phrase things.

“I can’t say,” whispered Emma. “But I can tell you about the butterflies.” Emma turned her head and began to kiss Laura’s thighs.

“No, you won’t get away that easily,” said Laura. “What does Laura Karnstein have to do with this?”

“This house is a song written in her honor,” said Emma, still trying to kiss Laura. “Not a very pretty song, though.”

Laura grabbed Emma’s head and held back her kisses. She couldn’t overpower Emma, but the small vampire rarely decided to use her full strength. Emma feared her strength more than Laura did.

“But Camille told me all about Laura K, why would Angelica worry about that? We read Marcilla’s poems about Laura K each night. Everyone at the Muse Session has heard of her. It’s no secret.”

“This conversation is filled with wet mushrooms. Let’s talk about your ribbons.” Emma rose to kiss Laura’s lips, but Laura moved out of the way. Emma whimpered and tried to fight it, but Laura held her back. Finally, Emma pouted and sat back down, across from Laura on the bed.

“Fine,” she sighed. “Laura K’s legacy isn’t in the poems, though it is with Camille.”

“What is Laura K’s legacy?”

Emma didn’t say anything. She looked down at the bed, trying to hide from Laura while sitting two feet from her. Finally, she slumped her shoulders, raised her arms and let them flop to her side. As though that explained anything.

“What does that mean?”

Emma raised her arms, turned her hands, and pointed them towards herself.

“You?” asked Laura. “You’re her legacy?”

Emma nodded.

“Explain.”

Emma sighed. “You can be born and not have a mother.”

“Mother?” Laura reached across and raised Emma’s face, making the vampire look her in the eye. Emma tried to turn her gaze away, to look anywhere but Laura’s face, but Laura was persistent. She squeezed Emma’s chin. This was important, this was big, and she couldn’t allow Emma to keep things from her any longer.

Finally, Emma yielded and looked into Laura’s eyes. “Tell me,” commanded Laura. She held Emma’s gaze. She was coming to understand her budding powers more and more each day, but it didn’t always work on Emma. “Tell me everything.”

Emma sighed, her chest sinking as she broke her head away from Laura’s grip and looked back to her lap. The command either worked, or Emma was giving in, knowing Laura wouldn’t let this go. It didn’t matter which was the case to Laura. She wanted the truth. This was important, too important to ignore.

“Laura Karnstein is my mother,” said Emma. Her voice was deeper, clearer, and stronger. “And I’ve been Camille’s prisoner or hostage for almost a century.”

Laura’s breath caught. Emma was Laura K’s daughter. She was a well of information, and she was lucid. “Tell me everything,” commanded Laura. “Now.”

Emma did. It was a long story, and it obviously pained Emma to obey, but she explained that Laura Karnstein had a lover, a prospective husband, that Marcilla was eternally jealous of. Laura K flirted with Marcilla and rejected her until Marcilla couldn’t take it anymore. One night she sired Laura K, turning her into a vampire, after Laura K was pregnant with Emma. After becoming a vampire, Laura K killed her future husband, Emma’s father, in her bloodlust and wild hunger. Laura K than ran away, afraid, desperate, and furious with Marcilla.

Vampires can’t have children, and in this rare case of being sired while pregnant, vampires certainly can’t give birth. Emma was cut from the womb. She was born prematurely and weak. The process almost killed Laura K, but she went into a feeding frenzy not long after her daughter was born to save herself. Emma grew up weak and frail while her mother was detached and half out of her mind with grief and rage. Emma was, as far as anyone could tell, entirely human. Either the traumatic and early birth or the vampirism had infected her mind. She had a lonely childhood, both infirmed and isolated for most of it.

As a teenager, Emma discovered a chest of love letters and poems her mother had kept hidden in the house. These were from Marcilla, and when Emma asked her mother about them, Laura K went into a rage and destroyed them. That only made Emma more curious. She began to write letters to Marcilla, trying to figure out who she was. Marcilla wrote back, and Emma became obsessed. She couldn’t think of anything else, and when she turned nineteen, she ran away from home to find her penpal. Marcilla kept up a ruse for a short period of time, pretending to be old friends with Laura K, but she stalked Emma, watched Emma sleep, kept Emma close to her, and asked Emma endless questions about Laura K.

One night, Marcilla came to Emma and revealed her true self to her. She offered Emma the chance to be eternally beautiful, endlessly young, and powerful beyond belief. Emma accepted, more entranced and under Marcilla’s spell than anything. She barely understood what Marcilla was truly offering, but she wanted to make her happy. That mattered more than anything else.

“The night she finally turned me was the worst night of my life,” said Emma. “I woke up disoriented and hungry. My jaws, gums, and teeth hurt. I was shivering, colder than I had ever been, and I thought I was dead. I thought I was in the process and would shortly die. Then Marcilla brought me a young man from the nearby village. She said he was unconscious, but when I went to drink, his eyes shot open and he begged for his life. He begged, and I killed him. Marcilla tried to convince me that he deserved it or that he was nothing more than meat, but I watched the life drain out of his eyes while I drank it.”

Laura nodded. That explained why Emma hated drinking. She knew Emma was trying to warn her in her own way. Emma thought Laura was a fool to be so tempted by either death or vampirism. She thought it best if everyone ran away, but Emma was young and had been a fool. Laura wouldn’t walk in blindly to this moment. She had a plan, and she would be ready.

Emma continued with her story. After being turned, she went back home to her mother, but Laura K banished her when she found out what Emma had become and who had transformed her. Alone, confused, Emma went back to Marcilla. She decided that Marcilla had more to teach her than her own mother.

At first, Marcilla treated Emma like her own daughter, but Emma quickly discovered that was a ruse. Marcilla didn’t want Emma; she wanted Laura K. She would ask endless questions about Laura K—about where she was and how to contact her and if she was happy or what she was doing. Emma quickly learned that she was merely bait for Laura K. She was a desperate plan to lure Laura K back to Marcilla. She tried to run away several times, but each time Marcilla would track her down. Each time she had to recollect Emma, she would slaughter everyone that saw her or helped her. She soon learned that it wasn’t worth the cost. She would stay with Marcilla as long as was necessary.

When the command faded from Emma, she shriveled up into a ball and cried. Laura moved closer and picked up Emma, holding her frail friend. “I’m sorry,” whispered Laura. “I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t take my story,” said Emma. “Don’t wear a tragedy like a laurel.” Her voice was whispered and cracked again. There was only the ghost of the woman now, broken and scared.

“I don’t want your story,” said Laura. “I want to fix this. I want to save you.”

“My saviors are martyrs, and martyrs make for poor friends.”

“Like Nikki?”

Emma nodded her head on Laura’s shoulder. Hot tears dripped down Laura’s back from Emma’s cheeks. Laura was flush with pity for Laura and rage for Camille. She was weak, and yet, she managed to do so much damage. Not damage as a predator, but damage as someone unable to move on, unable to forget the rejection of over a hundred years ago. Emma’s pain and Laura’s rage brought her mind back to the purpose at hand. She had to remove Angelica first, and this information was useful to her.

“Angelica is supposed to keep you a secret,” said Laura.

Emma nodded on her shoulder.

“That’s what she’s afraid of. Nikki found out and they had to get rid of her, but what if more found out. Angelica may be the one in trouble.” Laura pulled Emma away from her. Emma’s face was a mess of pain, snot, and tears. “Does Miss Lancaster know about you?”

Emma nodded.

“Jacques? The others?”

Emma shook her head.

“Just Lancaster and Angelica?”

Emma nodded.

“Okay, good.” Laura’s mind got to work. “Good. We can use that.”

“Can you hold my sorrows?” asked Emma.

“Yeah, sure,” said Laura, spreading her arms to hold Emma again. Emma curled into her and put her head back onto Laura’s shoulder, crying again. “Whatever you want,” said Laura’s lips, but her mind was everywhere else.

Abby

Abby let go of her held breath as she stepped out of Camille’s office. She had played her part. She mentioned asking Angelica about a silver haired woman she saw on the fourth floor late last night. Angelica told her it was Camille’s daughter and not to ask anymore questions about it. As an act of loyalty, Abby went to Camille because she didn’t think it was Angelica’s business to talk about Camille’s personal life.

Camille tried to play it off as nothing. She said she had no daughter, and she didn’t know why Angelica would lie like that, but she would have a conversation with her servant later that day. She acted calm, but Abby saw her jaw clench, she saw her nails dig into her palms, and for a moment, when Camille spoke, Abby thought she saw fangs.

Claire was up next. In the meantime, Laura was going to help the rest of the staff “remember” Angelica gossiping about the strange girl living on the top floor of the house. With any luck, Angelica would be out of the way by the end of the week.

In the meantime, Laura’s orders were clear. Abby needed to be in Laura’s room. They were afraid of some immediate backlash, of whatever happened to Nikki happening to the rest of them. That meant Abby needed to be safe, and the safest place they could think of was with Laura for the next few hours.

Abby didn’t mind in the slightest.

She found herself fantasizing about Laura endlessly. She didn’t get much time alone with Laura since their time in the orchard. Normally, Claire was there, or Abby got her orders from Laura through Claire. But these past few days were a kind of heaven. Laura would spread her legs wordlessly, and Abby would fall to her knees. Then, they would talk. Well, Laura did most of the talking, but she would stop Abby and ask for her opinion. They talked mostly about literature, about poetry, and about fantasy. For Abby, it didn’t matter what Laura wanted to talk about. All she wanted was to be near her dark poet, to hear the soft cadence of Laura’s voice, to sink into the confidence and timbre of Laura’s commands for hours at a time. Just the thought of Laura’s voice was enough to make Abby’s skin tingle and knees go weak.

She snuck through the servant’s quarters, the ones Claire had shown her, to get through the locked doors cutting Laura off from the rest of the house. This was how Angelica brought writing assignments or food to Laura. No one else was allowed to see her, and she wasn’t permitted to wander the halls anymore.

Abby knocked seven slow times on the door, giving Laura the signal it was her. She waited, and then the door opened. Laura turned without saying anything and sat back down at her desk, stacks of paper sprawled out across its surface. It was strange to see Laura clothed, to see her without the cloak or the moonlight glistening over her pale skin. Still, she dressed well for someone banished to a single room: knee length skirt, maroon tank top, black cardigan, knee-high socks. But this wasn’t the appearance of some dark and dreadful goddess. The goddess wasn’t in the clothing anymore; it was in her voice.

“Report?” she asked. It almost didn’t sound like a question. It was a single word, but Laura said it without looking, without hesitation, without imploring, knowing that her will would become manifest. She went right to work on the stack of papers in front of her, red pen in hand, while expecting Abby to report.

Tingles flooded over Abby’s body and the top of her scalp, like there wasn’t enough skin for all the sensation. She smiled despite herself, blushing already.

“It went … um … well.” Abby shifted her feet from foot to foot. “I think.”

“It went um well or it went well?” said Laura, striking something out with her red pen.

“It went well.”

“Any tangible expressions of frustration?”

“Clenched jaw and … um … I think … well … I think that I saw … her … you know …”

“Out with it,” snapped Laura.

“Fangs,” whispered Abby. “I think I saw her fangs.”

If it wasn’t for the power Laura clearly had over her, Abby would think the whole story about vampires and long lost lovers and the captive children of lovers to be a joke. She would have sworn Laura was trying to trick her, to make her seem crazy so Laura could take her job back. But one look deep into Laura’s eyes, and Abby could believe. She had not had the chance to meet Emma yet, but Claire and Laura spoke of the vampire as though she were real, and Abby couldn’t ignore the scars over Laura’s skin: two tight holes perfectly spaced to hold fangs.

“Nothing else?” asked Laura. “No flipped tables or outrage?”

“Disbelief,” said Abby, trying to calm her nerves. “Her words said she was confused, but her body said she was upset.”

“Fair. We need a tidal wave of evidence. I think the worst-case scenario, besides you and Claire being destroyed, is that Angelica finds someway to clear her name. I’d be willing to trade you two for Angelica, but losing you for nothing would set me back weeks.” Laura stopped reading and looked up, pen tapping her chin. “Though I suppose then I would be back in a state of grace. I could work with that, but it would be a step back, for sure.”

Abby shivered as Laura spoke casually about her demise. She was terrified of Laura, but she couldn’t resist her. She didn’t want to resist her. Abby felt alive for the first time in months. So much of her time was spent in books, writing, editing, or online with her friends. Now, for the first time, she was doing something that mattered. She was doing something with consequences. The world didn’t change when another romance book or smutty fanfic was added to the overwhelming tonnage of romances and fanfics. But the world did change when life and death were involved. The world changed when Laura spoke, when she schemed, and now Abby was a part of that cosmic movement.

“Claire should be speaking to her soon, right?” asked Abby.

“She could be speaking with her right now,” said Laura. “I imagine Camille would be calm in front of you, but the way Lancaster and Angelica are terrified of her? There is a temper there that they fear and, if your words work, she may be starting her investigation as we speak.”

“Oh …” said Abby. Goosebumps spread across her forearms. It was happening. Finally. “So we just wait?”

“You may wait,” said Laura, never pulling her eyes from the stacks of papers on her desk. “But I have work.”

“What work?” said Abby, stepping behind Laura to look over her shoulder. Camille had stopped sending things to Laura altogether. She was tired of Laura’s cruelty and aggressive comments.

“Your work,” said Laura. Abby leaned down and saw all the pages she had been assigned, pages with her edits on them, pages that should be in her bedroom right now.

“How did you get these?”

“Claire got them for me when she was cleaning your room.”

“But … but … why?”

“Camille is soft and insecure. She uses writing as a method of validation. All the validations she can’t get from Laura K, she gets from her fans. She used to get it from me, and when she stopped getting that, she blocked me out. Now she’s getting it from you. Well,” Laura turned and looked at Abby, smiling, “not anymore.”

“May I?” asked Abby, her hand shaking as she reached for one of the stacks.

“Yes,” permitted Laura. “Ideally, I don’t want to go over your work like this. If you can edit like this, I’d be quite pleased.”

Laura sighed, her hand massaging the bridge of her nose. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m still getting used to this.” Laura stood, turned, and looked into Abby’s eyes. “Edit like this,” she commanded.

Abby smiled as the warm breath of Laura’s command washed over her. She relaxed into the moment, free of all worry or doubt. Whatever Laura wanted was best. She felt the leather band and sapphire around her upper thigh pulse against her skin. She was safe here. Whatever Laura wanted was best.

Laura smiled, the sternness and worry leaving her face. She leaned forward, holding Abby’s face in her hands, and kissed the slender girl. Abby whimpered as the command and her goddess melted into her; pleasure and submission mingled with peace and acceptance. She would do whatever Laura wanted. Laura knew best. It was that easy. She shut her mind off, making herself an extension of her lover. That was best for Abby. It was best for everyone.

Laura broke the kiss and stepped behind Abby. Abby raised up the stack of paper and Laura leaned over her shoulders, whispering in her ears as Abby read the edits Laura had added in the margins:

“This isn’t clear.”

“Confusing.”

“This isn’t landing well. We should revisit.”

“Too wordy. Cut down on some of these adverbs.”

“I took your advice,” whispered Laura. “I don’t need to be a bully in the margins. I just need to get under her skin, make her doubt herself. It will be quantity, not quality, that will destroy her. Death by a thousand polite cuts, a thousand helpful suggestions from the innocent and nervous new editor. That’s how we’ll get her.”

Abby flipped through the stack. Each page was covered with red ink. The suggestions weren’t wrong, but they were ruthless. Asking Camille to re-order each sentence or questioning tiny word choice. Each adverb was cut out. Each pronoun was interrogated for its antecedent and clarity. Laura was brutal, letting nothing slide, demanding perfection from Camille and, most importantly, revealing how far Camille was from perfection.

“Edit like this,” hissed Laura in Abby’s ear. She licked Abby’s ear and nibbled on it gently. Abby moaned as the command moved from her ear to her mind, over her skin to her pussy and back to her soft and pliable mind.

“It will take more time,” said Laura, “but I want her to question her ability to write a single sentence by the time you’re done with her. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Laura,” whimpered Abby.

“Good girl.”

Abby felt her knees buckle.

“Show me,” said Laura. She stepped back and pulled back her chair at her desk. Abby sat in Laura’s chair. Laura handed her the red pen and a fresh stack of paper. It felt like a dream, like watching someone else’s life from their point of view, but the hand holding the pen was Abby’s. The mind obeying commands was Abby’s. The body tingling with arousal was Abby’s. The heart desperate for approval was Abby’s.

Abby began to read—rather, Abby’s eyes began to read. Abby was somewhere else, detached, watching this happier and simpler body do the work with delight. Abby was happy for Abby’s body, happy to see her so relaxed, so blissfully ignorant of consequences, anxiety, or fear. The work came easily to her. The sentences were always bad, and the words were always hollow. Now, Abby’s body had no filter. She could release the floodgates of her true thoughts. It didn’t matter if Camille liked her feedback. Camille’s happiness wasn’t part of the equation at all. There was only Laura’s happiness and Abby’s happiness. Abby’s happiness was Laura’s happiness.

Laura was the only meaningful thing in this room. Abby watched Laura touch Abby’s body, her hands reaching around and playing with Abby’s breasts while Abby read. Abby’s body moaned, and Abby moaned with her, both as happy to be in Laura’s will as they were to be touched by Laura.

Abby’s body made a quick edit, and then another. She wrote a comment, and then a question. They were passive aggressive, but gentle and unassuming. They asked if Camille understood this rule or if Abby needed to explain her edits. They were pleasantly condescending.

As Abby’s body worked, Laura leaned in and whispered, “Good girl.” Abby whimpered with pleasure, all forms of Abby, all parts of her, thrummed in accordance with one purpose, one will: Laura’s.

Laura walked in front of the desk and sank to the floor. Abby’s body felt Laura’s hands pull down her skirt and panties. It felt Laura’s hands spread Abby’s legs wide and pull her hips forward.

“Such a good girl,” said Laura.

Abby whimpered. She hesitated before making another edit, anticipating the feel of Laura’s tongue on her pussy, not wanting to be mid-sentence when she inevitably clenched, shuddered, and moaned. Instead, there came the gentle pleasure of fingertips dancing over her thighs. It was like rain tapping over her bare skin, senses tingling and neurons firing as each touch translated into pleasure. The fingers moved up and down Abby’s thighs but then concentrated themselves around the leather strap and sapphire around her upper right thigh. She felt Laura adjust it and touch the gem on it, and then nothing.

“Obey,” commanded Laura, and Abby went straight to work, editing as she had been instructed. With each edit, she felt warm pleasure spread from the gem strapped to her leg. There were no fingertips. There was no subtlety. It was as though with each edit, someone poured a cup of hot pleasure all over her bare thighs.

“Oh,” whispered Abby, clenching the paper and pen as each muscle in her body clenched.

Laura spread her legs wider. “Obey.”

Abby did. She moved through pages faster than she ever had in her life, and with each edit, more pleasure blanketed her skin. It was like being licked by a dozen tongues all at once, each moving together up her thighs and towards her pussy. It was like Laura had poured hot chocolate on her, but each drop soaked into her skin, each one a mini-orgasm roiling up and over her body.

Abby continued to obey, the sapphire on her leg getting hotter and hotter, almost burning her as the pleasure became intense, almost too intense. She began to bounce in her seat as she edited, yelping with each comment she made on Camille’s work. The harsher she could be while hidden behind polite suggestions, the sharper the pleasure that wracked her body.

Then came the cool sensation of Laura’s tongue. Abby continued to work, editing as fast as she could, and each time she flipped the page, Laura would lick her pussy. Abby thought she would do it again, but it wasn’t until she flipped the page that Laura licked her again. Abby worked as fast as possible. The words became a blur on the page. It didn’t matter what Camille said, Abby didn’t like it. It wasn’t good enough. The comment became generic so they could apply to anything on the page, so Abby could flip the pages faster, so her dark poet could lick her more. Things like:

“Less of this.”

“Is this realistic?”

“Isn’t this a bit confusing?”

“How are you holding the reader’s attention?”

But she couldn’t work fast enough. Laura never picked up her pace, never moved quick enough or applied enough pressure to let Abby cum. There was still the pleasure with every edit, the pleasure of the strap and sapphire on her thigh, but soon the pleasure from her mistress was gone. Then, Laura moved out from under the desk and back behind Abby.

“Remember,” she said in Abby’s ear, “that from now on, you make me cum, not the other way around.”

“Yes, Laura,” said Abby, biting her tongue as she finished another edit and pleasure terrorized her. It was too much to keep going and too much to stop.

Laura moved over to her bed, sitting on the edge. She spread her legs, pulling up her skirt and revealing her lack of panties. It took every bit of Abby’s self-control to turn away from her editing to look at Laura, to trade the pleasure of obeying for the pleasure of examining her goddess’ body.

“When you finish,” said Laura, placing her fingers gently on her pussy and drawing small circles with two fingers, “you can make me cum as a reward. If you take too long, I’ll get myself off and you can leave me, horny and frustrated.”

“Yes, Laura,” said Abby. Her mouth was dry. Her vision was blurry. She wanted to watch Laura touch herself, but she knew that was folly. She had to finish her work. Obedience was her pleasure now.

Laura

A week later, Abby, Emma, and Laura all waited to hear from Claire in Laura’s bedroom. It was the first time Laura risked all four of them being together, but when Claire messaged them that she had big news, Laura knew she wanted them together. Emma sat on Laura’s bed, and Abby sat at Laura’s desk. Abby kept glancing nervously over at Emma, but Emma was oblivious to it. The thin, silver-haired vampire sat knitting while Laura paced.

While Laura planned.

It had to be Angelica. Claire had more information about the staff in the building than anyone else on Laura’s team. Besides, she knew that Angelica was their objective. Everything else was a distraction. There were two options that Laura could see: Angelica was going to join Nikki in the dungeons or Angelica was fine, and somehow everyone else was about to join Nikki in the dungeons. Well, maybe not Laura. Sure, things could be traced back to her, but Camille would have to know what she was looking for. She would have to peel back Laura’s influence on the staff to see who was feeding them rumors like truth. Could one vampire remove another vampire’s influence (even a sort-of vampire like Laura)?

Laura made a mental note to ask Emma everything there was to know about vampire control and what one vampire could do to another.

“Did she sound upset?” asked Abby while Laura paced.

“It was a text. I don’t know what she sounded like.”

“Can I read the text?”

“No.”

“But you can pick up something from the tone —”

“No,” snapped Laura.

“Laura can’t decide if she’s a wolf or a rabbit,” mused Emma while she worked.

“I’m a wolf,” said Laura. “I just can’t decide if I’m a wolf that fucked up or not.”

A knock came at the door. One knock. Not the code. All three women looked at each other. Laura pointed towards the bathroom, and Abby and Emma rushed in there.

“Yes?” asked Laura.

The door open and Angelica stood, looking half deranged. “What did you do?” she hissed.

“What are you talking about?” Laura pretended to be innocent, but she was never an actress.

Angelica strode up and slapped Laura as hard as she could across the face.

“What did you do?”

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about.” Laura held the stinging side of her face, but her adrenaline was pumping. Her free hand tensed, ready for another attack.

“Like hell you don’t. How do you know about Emma?”

“Who?”

“Shit!” shrieked Angelica. She raised both her hands, and Laura flinched, but Angelica slammed them down against her side in frustration and stepped away from Laura, pacing.

“Do you know how long I’ve worked here?” she asked but didn’t seem to expect an answer. “Ten years. Ten long fucking years. That’s longer than anyone has ever lasted with Miss Kontalban. Ten years of loyalty, of hard work, of struggling to make her vision a reality, of helping her create more of her beautiful work for the world to experience. Ten years of tender love and dedication.” Angelica stopped pacing and turned to Laura. “Ten years thrown away.”

“What happened?” asked Laura.

“Oh, right. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll tell you all about it, make it worse, and end up in a ditch somewhere with two thick holes in my neck. No thanks.”

“Make what worse?”

Angelica strode back up to Laura. She was furious, and for a moment, Laura thought she was going to strike her again, but Angelica wasn’t upset with her. No, the petite blonde was upset at someone else, with someone else.

“Did she ask for your help?”

“Who?”

“That bitch, the new maid, what’s her name?”

“Claire?”

“Yes, that one. She’s been spreading rumors about me, trying to get me fired, and it worked finally. I think she got to the new Muse girl. Did she mention anything about me to you?”

“No?” Laura stepped backwards, letting herself regain her posture. Things were fine. Angelica had no idea it was Laura. She was in the dark on the whole thing. This is was a venting session, not an accusation. “What do you mean it worked?” she asked. “What worked?”

Angelica’s fists shook. She wanted to fight, not talk. She wasn’t about to confide in Laura. This was an accusation, not a chance to become friends. Laura took a deep breath. “Tell me,” she commanded. She watched Angelica shiver as the command took over her body, forcing her to speak against her will.

Angelica looked away, her rage replaced with something else. Her eyes swam with tears and turned red, and she covered her forearms with her hands. “I’m to vacate the premises immediately,” she whispered. “I’m no longer employed by Miss Kontalban.”

“What?” Laura sat down on the edge of her bed, pretending to be astonished. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“No.” Angelica’s voice cracked and thickened. She’d be bawling soon.

“Over what?”

“I can’t tell you,” she said as tears rolled down her cheeks. “That’s what this is all about. There’s a secret, and … and … I don’t know how Claire knows about it, but it wasn’t me.” A wildness overtook her eyes as she stepped forward, sank to her knees, and grabbed Laura’s hand. “You have to believe me. It wasn’t me. I would never … never do anything against Miss Kontalban’s wishes. If you hear anything, anything at all about me and this secret, you have to know it’s a lie. It’s a terrible lie.”

“Yes, of course,” said Laura. She stroked Angelica’s hand, trying to calm her. “Miss Kontalban didn’t believe you?”

“The whole staff was against me. Well, everyone except Miss Lancaster. I don’t know how Claire did it, but she convinced all of them to lie about me.” Angelica’s eyes welled up again and she looked away. “To ruin me.”

Laura kept stroking Angelica’s hand. She contemplated bringing her in for a hug, but thought that would be too over the top. They never liked each other, why start now? Instead, an idea began to form in her mind, one flaw in the plan she hadn’t considered before. “What are you going to do?” she asked. “You can’t just let them beat you like this.”

Angelica smiled cruelly. “I won’t. I’m going to look into Claire, to figure out what she knows and how she knows it. I’m going to figure out why she wants me gone, and I’m going to tell Miss Kontalban everything. That’s all I need to do. Claire wants to play dirty? Fine. I can play dirty.”

“Revenge,” whispered Laura to herself more than to Angelica.

“Exactly.”

“How? You won’t have access to the house.”

“There are ways in and out. Besides, I think Miss Lancaster will help me. She won’t rest easily knowing Claire has enough sway over Miss Kontalban to have me fired.”

“Is this what Miss Kontalban would want?”

“If she’s listening to Claire, she doesn’t know what she wants.”

Angelica had stopped crying. The moment of vulnerability was gone, and now there was the cruel bitch Laura had learned to hate over these past few months. Angelica was her jailer, her mocker, and her tormentor. She had sworn revenge against Laura’s best friend and confidant in the house. She was a problem, and even if she was fired, it wasn’t enough. Laura was sure of it now. She hadn’t done nearly enough to solve this problem.

“If you need anything, let me know. I want to help you.”

Confusion flickered over Angelica’s face. “Help me deal with Claire? She’s your friend, I thought.”

“The Claire I know wouldn’t spread rumors just to get someone fired. If that’s what she did, she deserves to be punished.”

Angelica looked dubiously at Laura and stood up. “Okay,” she said, but her heart wasn’t in it. “I’ll let you know if I need any help.”

“Thank you,” said Laura. “I’m really sorry this happened. I feel awful about it. To me, you’re a part of this house. Without you, it would be like not having Miss Kontalban in control anymore.”

Angelica nodded. “I need to go,” she said. “Sorry for barging in like this, and … well … thank you for listening.”

“Any time,” said Laura. She stood up spread her arms, offering a hug. “Any time.”

Angelica went in for the hug suspiciously, but Laura had no tricks up her sleeve. She was being as authentic as possible, hugging Angelica for the first and last time.

Wordlessly, Angelica broke the hug and left the room without looking back. Laura waited a solid minute, standing in front of the bed, imagining Angelica turning back around with a knife or gun in hand to kill her, but there was nothing.

“You can come out,” she said, and Abby and Emma bumbled out of the bathroom awkwardly.

“That was dramatic,” said Abby. “I thought she was going to attack you for a moment there.”

Laura rubbed her cheek where Angelica slapped her. “For a moment there, she did.”

“Well, it’s over now. It worked.”

“It did work. Unfortunately, it’s not over.” She looked to Emma. “Is it?”

Emma shook her head.

“What do you mean?” asked Abby.

“Angelica’s been antagonized but not removed. She’ll be back, pestering us and Camille until she gets the truth. She’s more of a threat now because she suspects something.”

“Oh.” Abby sat in the chair at Laura’s desk looking crestfallen. “What are you going to do?”

Laura kept her eyes locked on Emma. She knew what needed to happen. Both of them did. Emma knew what Laura would ask, and she didn’t want to give it. She kept her eyes glued to the floor, avoiding eye contact for as long as possible.

“Camille is weak,” said Laura, finally, turning to look at Abby. “She thought it fair to bind my friend in chains, yet for the same crime—or arguably worse—she simply fires Angelica. Why not fire Nikki? Why not put Angelica in the dungeon? Why not do worse? Why not kill Angelica outright?”

Abby said nothing. Her soft features tightened as she processed Laura’s grim words.

“Camille, the mask, has replaced Marcilla, the huntress, permanently. There may not be any hope of stirring the vampire out again. All our work might be for nothing.” Laura said the last words with the best frustration she could manage. She was never a good actress.

“If we can’t get Marcilla back, what do we do?”

“We go to Plan B.” Emma looked up at Laura and held her eyes for a long moment. There was a desperation and a hope in her eyes, the futile desire that things could be different. It felt naive to hope that things wouldn’t end this way. They were caught up in a bloody beginning, both of them. That would mean a bloody ending. There was no other way.

“You know what you need to do,” whispered Laura to Emma.

“Don’t make me end a song, even one screeching and empty.”

“Claire will help you get out of the manor. She will drive you wherever you need to go. She will help you find Angelica, but she can’t be more involved than that. It has to be you.”

“It could be no one,” said Emma. “It could be her own past or her haggish bitterness. She could choke on it.”

“You can’t be traced. No prints in any system.” Laura moved closer to Emma, trying to comfort her and confront her all at once. “Camille won’t suspect you involved. It’s the only way. She’ll move out, and in a few days, you and Claire can make a visit.”

“A life is a masterpiece tasted once.”

“She has no family,” said Laura. “This was her life. She has nothing now except trying to stop us. She will make it her life’s purpose.”

“Please.” Tears welled up in Emma’s eyes. “Don’t make me.” Her voice strengthened as she cried, as some part of her mind woke up to fear and panic.

Laura put her hands on Emma’s shoulders. Emma turned her head away, not risking a glance into Laura’s eyes. “Please,” she whispered.

Laura grabbed the sides of Emma’s cheeks and turned her head, forcing her to look into her eyes. Emma resisted, putting all of her superior strength against Laura’s, locking her head in place.

“For me,” said Laura. “For all of us. Camille’s wrath could fall down on you just as easily as Claire or me or Abby or Jacques or anyone else we involved. This whole house could die if you don’t handle this one loose thread.”

Emma yielded, looking into Laura’s eyes. Her face was a combination of fear and anger, remorse and regret. In that moment, she neither loved nor wanted Laura, but would obey her. That would be enough.

“Drink her,” commanded Laura. She didn’t know how her power worked most of the time. Sometimes it was a matter of will power, others a matter of force, sometimes a matter of desire, and others still a matter of circumstance. Whatever it was, she stood there, holding Emma’s face, repeating the command over and over while Abby watched. As she spoke, Emma relaxed, but she kept giving the command. Eventually, Emma smiled, but Laura kept repeating herself. She didn’t stop until Emma’s mouth parted and she licked her fangs. The little girl was gone. The fear was gone. There was only the hunger, the aching and primal thing that Laura loved and wanted more than anything.

Emma was going to hunt again, and Laura only regretted that she wouldn’t be there to see it.