Castle Hollis was less a palace, more a stone fortress that sat half-embedded into the mountain it was formed from. The lichen-covered stones loomed over the fields and forests of the peasantry and villages that made up the ancestral district of House Hollis, until now, thanks to her mother.

Carmilla Karnstein stepped over the still-bleeding corpse of one of the castle's last defenders, its eyes already clouded over with the first signs of decay, not even good enough for a late snack.

"What a waste," she grumbled as she left the brilliant moonlight behind and entered the once-forbidding portcullis to her new castle. She was trailed by an unnecessary contingent of five human bodyguards, each armed with lance and saber, and covered in boiled leather armor.

She didn't bother with either. A hundred years of preternatural strength and healing left her less than interested in the trappings of war, her steel-tipped black boots the only homage she paid to her role in this battle. Her black leather leggings and vest were covered in dust and blood, easily washable. Alas, the white linen blouse she wore under the vest would never be clean again.

One of her brother's undead lackeys slipped out from the shadows as she emerged into the front courtyard. Her bodyguard shifted into a protective phylanx with her in the center. The vampire, dressed in the dark green livery of her brother's contingent, smirked at her human guards as he gave her a weak salute. "The castle is secure."

"Clear your soldiers out," she said, waving him off and continuing toward the massive stone edifice in front of her.

"My lord commander has not..." he began.

He did not complete the thought as her hand shot out and lifted him from the ground. "Your lord commander has declared this castle secure. Your lord commander needs to be gone from here, and take all of you with him." She dropped him like so much refuse and pushed forward across the threshold into the castle proper in front of her guards.

The first thing to assault her inhuman senses was the stench of coagulating blood. Her brother may have had his troops clear the rooms of bodies, but the smell and stains of death remained. "A waste."

It took no effort to find the main audience chamber. Humans were predictable in their layout and need for grandeur, and this room was no exception. The last rays of moonlight filtered through high windows to cast dusty stripes across the stained central carpet that lead up to the dais. A massive, black stone chair dominated the dais, finally, something in this place that she approved of. She approached, placing her booted foot on the first step.

The low whistle would not have been audible to any human, but to Carmilla, it was a song she had heard many times before. Her left hand shot up an instant before the arrow head would have embedded itself in her chest. The smooth shaft and yellow feathers were a work of art, but the silver tip is what caught her attention. She lifted it and sniffed as her guards scrambled behind the stone chair to find the source of the attack. They dragged out a short, pretty young woman and forced her to her knees. Carmilla circled her captive, sniffing the unpleasant odor of garlic oil that the arrowhead had been dipped in.

"Did your research well, sweetheart," she purred, then snapped the arrow shaft between two fingers. "Well, most of it."

The wood door behind the throne creaked open and her brother, the lord commander of the invasion force, slipped in, his short cropped black hair plastered to his head. "Ah, so you found her for us. Thank you my dear sister."

Carmilla glanced back to the woman on the stone floor. What she took initially for a remnant of the Hollis guard taking one last, well-aimed shot would seem to be something more. She squatted down to eye level and stared back into a pair of angry, defiant hazel eyes, but addressed her next statement to her brother. "This is how you secure a castle?"

He stepped around the throne. "One minor glitch." He bent down to pick up the arrow head in a gloved hand and wrinkled his nose. "One with a stinger I see." He tossed it away. "But no match for you, my dear."

As if he wouldn't have been just as happy if the deadly arrow was embedded in her stiffening corpse. She stood up. "And who is she?"

He stroked the top of the woman's head, but she pulled away and his hand dropped to his side. "Just one last corpse in the making."

A corpse, not a plaything for him or one of his lackeys, someone important then. She turned back to the young woman and took in those angry hazel eyes and light brown hair again. "Which Hollis are you, then?" she asked.

The young woman looked away. "Laura."

The daughter of the dead district governor, heir to the castle Carmilla now owned. She took the one last step up to the black stone chair and turned back, knowing she'd see those eyes burning in hatred at her. Just one more thing Carmilla could thank her mother for, one more enemy gathered because she wouldn't, dare not, say no to her mother's machinations. Carmilla locked eyes with Laura Hollis, rightful governor, and sank slowly down into the cold stone throne chair as those eyes tried to burn a hole through her. She wrapped herself in that hatred like a familiar warm blanket, the punishment she accepted for the guilt she felt for her part in this mess.

Her brother grabbed the woman and lifted her in the air. "Time for you to die."

Carmilla shot out of the chair and grabbed his free hand before he could snap the girl's neck. "No."

"No?" He handed the girl to her as if she were a present. "You want the honors?"

Carmilla held Laura at arm's length and lowered her to the floor, not wanting to see the fear she knew would have replaced the anger in those eyes. She waved her guards over and handed Laura to them. "This place must have a dungeon."

"Leaving her alive? Bold choice," said William.

She turned away. "Don't you have someplace else to be?"

He sighed. "Mother's work is never done. Good luck with all this," he said with a wave of his hand. "And word of advice, sister? Don't linger with your new plaything. Nothing emboldens the peasantry like hope, and that little toy you just saved is a tight bundle of hope and trouble if you don't end her life soon."

"Go, William."

He disappeared back into the shadows and back through the door. Carmilla sank back into the stone chair and her own shadows.

Hope and trouble, she thought as she watched Laura Hollis disappear in a contingent of guards.