then there are two options here.

One,

my immoral, jerkface, possible kidnapper roommate has a crush on me and is giving me presents.

Or two,

my immoral, jerkface, possible kidnapper roommate is pretending to have a crush on me and is giving me gifts

because I’m next.

Heugh!

[takes charm off, shoves it under mattress. Reconsiders, then shoves it under Carmilla’s mattress]

There.

[LaFontaine in doorway]

Hey.

We lost her at the Shunde house again.

I swear I knocked on every stall of the ladies’. I’m developing a reputation.

Geez, frosh. What contaminated your control samples?

Oh, you know. I miss my dad.

I have papers due.

I’m about to be my roommate’s next victim.

You really think you’re in the crosshairs?

I don't know.

Even if I am, what am I supposed to do about it?

I showed Perry footage of Carmilla lifting, like, a 400 pound duffel bag

and Perry suggested Carm must really be giving it her all at bootcamp.

Yeah. Perr likes normal.

She’s been that way since we were kids.

She used to play monsters, and she’d pretend to be the monster mommy.

And wouldn’t it be nice if we brushed our monster teeth and did our monster homework?

[chuckles]

We could go over Perry’s head.

To whom?

Well, there’s at least one other person we know who has a vested interest in reigning Carmilla in.

Are you suggesting—

That you shower, change into your best cub reporter duds,

we crash the Faculty Club, and present your evidence to the dean?

The dean?

Aren’t we supposed to be avoiding her at all costs?

Desperate times, desperate measures.

Come on. Let’s get you changed into something with a little less whiff.

Are you saying that I smell?

I’m saying that I don’t want the way you smell to affect my credibility with the dean.

I’ve got a couple of theories to run by her about the swim team…

You should’ve never gone out that late!

I know.

And without telling anyone!

I know!

We’re sorry, we’re sorry!

For everyone just catching up at home, it’s been an…

exciting evening.

LaFontaine and I crashed the Faculty Club.

Brilliantly disguised as a young visiting professor and research assistant.

Sadly, our cover was blown before we could get to the dean

because somebody decided to get into an argument with the head of gnostic mathematics

about the longterm strategic plan for the Illuminati.

It was a chance to raise awareness.

But as we were being bodily dragged from the Club, I snatched victory from the jaws of total failure

by snatching this [holds up photo] off the wall.

This is the dean’s special council meeting in 1954. So,

is that Carmilla’s grandmother, great aunt…? There’s no names on the back of the photo.

But there was one way to find out…

Oh, sure.

You know, tell it like this insane plan that the pair of you hatched was the next logical step.

You know what this girl did? At 6:48 PM? These two geniuses decided to hit up the library.

Which I admit, in retrospect, was not the most brilliant idea.

[Perry hands her hot chocolate]

Thanks.

Everything in your fridge is made of glucose and palm oil. I’m surprised you don’t have scurvy.

I know, but delicious cookies?

Everything was fine! At first…

As soon as we got there, everyone was leaving the building… And yes, as the sun went down, we started to hear something…

Skittering?

Yeah, skittering in the stacks, you know? Just beyond your periphery.

But we made it into the first subbasement just fine.

The online system was really helpful.

It gave us a cross reference before I even started typing.

So we found most of the textbooks before, uh, between 19—

Before you realized the staircase wasn’t in the same place anymore?

Before we realized we might have gotten a little turned around.

[Laura looks back at Danny, who’s glaring at her]

And that most of the computer monitors we could see were warning us to “Run. Run now”.

And the skittering was getting closer.

Which is when it became apparent that some of the books were, well, airborne.

Aaaand that the card catalogue was attacking us.

A copy of Absalom, Absalom! tried to slice open my left wrist. Ruined Faulkner for me.

So, we did what any normal person would do if they were caught in a flying vortex of modern literature

and index cards from the 1970s.

We created a flamethrower using a lighter and some mace Laura’s dad gave her.

Which left us trapped in a flaming vortex.

I get a text that says "Come quick. Stuck in library. Bring fire extinguisher."

Okay, yes, but it turned out fine. The sprinklers came on and we snuck out a basement window.

Oh, yeah, with god knows what on your heels…

Okay, yes! It was stupid, and we’re lucky that you didn’t have to save our souls.

Now, can we please skip to the part where once every twenty years, like clockwork, this girl shows up at Silas.

[Photos of Carmilla throughout time]

Mircalla Karnstein.

Arcillma Karnstein.

Mircalla— Ugh,

seriously, she just keeps on switching around the letters in her name like nobody’s ever heard of an anagram.

And every time she does, a bunch of girls go missing.

Poof. Vanish. Never seen again.

I mean, I know it sounds crazy, but she’s nocturnal. She’s so strong.

She’s at least 80 years old and she drinks blood.

Well, yeah. We know she’s a vampire. I mean, we’ve known that since the blood in the milk container, right?

Vampire, vampire, vampire, yeah?