Morris and Gunhilda didn’t have time to communicate a plan as Violet dove like a purple dolphin wearing a corset through the mirror. The teachers caught her in the nick of time.

“You're not going anywhere, girl,” boomed Gunhilda, pushing her down onto the floor.

“Careful,” said Morris. “I've got her legs!”

“Weak,” said Violet. “Weak!”

Violet shoved Gunhilda off, launching her into the ceiling. Gunhilda crashed back down to Earth on top of Morris, heavier than anything he'd ever lifted.

“You'll stay down if you know what's good for you.” As Violet spoke, her fingernails curved around into talons that gleamed under the low light of the bathroom. Gunhilda roared and drove the girl into the wall, slamming her head into it repeatedly. But Violet didn't even flinch, and with a flick of her wrist, slashed a deep cut across Gunhilda's torso.

“No,” cried Morris. “How could you?”

Gunhilda stumbled back, blood colouring her blouse. “This isn't our student, Morris. Teenagers have squishy and vulnerable skulls, but this thing--”

“I won't give you time to monologue!” shouted Violet, snatching up the whip. She lashed Gunhilda across the face, the whip biting into her skin and tearing off chunks.

“Oh holy fuck,” said Morris, pulling her out of range. “Are you okay?”

“I have reason to believe that she's a vampire.” Gunhilda gave him a meter stick that she'd sharpened down into a spear. “Even if she isn't, this should put her down. Back me up, Morris.”

Violet's eyes glazed over when she advanced with the whip. “Just stay here and behave yourself while I sort this out, darling. I don't want to hurt my future husband any more than I have to.”

“I will never allow a demon like you to set foot in my college,” barked Gunhilda. She ran at Violet again, shrugged off the whip as it ripped off part of her forearm, then toppled her over, holding her arms down so that she couldn't attack. But Violet's toenails punched through her shoes, curving up in razor sharp points at Gunhilda's back.

“Now, Morris,” said Gunhilda.

“Aaaah!” Morris screamed as he shunted the wooden stake into Violet's chest. The stake tore through her corset, but he was having trouble getting it to crush her ribs. He put all of his strength behind it, but it was like trying to break a window with a matchstick.

“Get off,” wailed Violet. Her toenails pounded against Gunhilda's back, who was parrying with her shoulder blades to stop them going all the way through her.

“I can't get it through her,” said Morris. “She's too tough!”

“Should've gone to the gym while you had the chance,” Gunhilda grunted. She took her hands off Violet's arms for a moment to shove the stake straight through her heart. Violet screamed and slashed at her, flailing around as blood pooled out of her chest like a fountain. Then her body went limp.

“Is she dead?” asked Morris. “Hilda, are you--are you going to be alright?”

“Just a few scratches.” Gunhilda stood up, looking as if she'd run through a mile of nothing but brambles. “As long as the danger has passed, I doubt my life will be at any serious risk.”

A gurgle bubbled away in Violet's throat. Her eyes flickered. Her bones snapped inside her as her body contorted to push the stake out inch by inch.

“Ah. She wasn't a vampire,” said Gunhilda. “And I thought it was so obvious seeing as she didn't have a reflection.”

“You'll... pay...” whispered Violet, her ribs cracking back into place.

“Quick. I need your freakish muscles,” said Morris, prying half of the panel mirror off the wall. With both of them, it was easy to pull it free. They strapped it to his back. “Can you run?”

Gunhilda nodded and studied the mirror from different angles. No matter where Morris stood, it seemed to maintain a fixed perspective, and it let her hand pass through just as easily as before.

They legged it into the corridor.

“There's no way we can let this demon into our world,” said Gunhilda. “I hope you don't intend to run away from it forever. You need to find a way to defeat it, Morris.”

“We need to find the real Violet,” he said as he took them out of the main doors to the college. The entire building shook as they left--something had exploded. “It shouldn't be that hard to find her house... hah... ah...”

“Are you getting out of breath already?” She jogged alongside him, not even breaking a sweat. “We've got a long way to run. Violet takes the train in from the next town over.”

Morris had to walk not even five minutes after they'd started. The mirror was heavy, and the last time he'd done any exercise had been the 2nd of January. He stopped outside a house's driveway, collapsing over a red Mini Cooper. It was one of those bungalows that looked like it had sunk into the ground after being built, buried under a jungle of ivy and bindweed. Past the house lay nothing but white void.

“You've brought us to a dead end, you incompetent man. Why are you smiling?” Gunhilda handed him a bottle of water, which he gulped down.

“Do you know what the one advantage of having a stalker is?” He wheezed.

She waved her hand, as if to say while I appreciate that your job is to ask rhetorical questions, I'd prefer you didn't ask them in my presence.

“She's seen my house.” Morris held up his car keys. “Goodbye, exercise, hello, convenience of the modern age!”

“Wow,” said Gunhilda. “You seem remarkably calm about this revelation.”

He gripped her shoulder, staring at her with determined eyes. “Adrenalin is one hell of a drug.”

She nodded. “You're going to need it. Do you think you can get us in the car before that demon completes a four hundred meter sprint?”

“Give me back that mirror,” shouted Violet, rocketing towards them from the junction at the end of the cul-de-sac.

“Fuck you!” shouted Morris. He slammed the keys into the car door. “Let’s go, get in!”

Gunhilda jumped in the back with the mirror. Violet hit the car face first, glaring at the occupants as she peeled herself off the metal. She battered the doors with her claws.

“Thank god for auto-lock,” said Morris. “My only question is how she knew about it.”

“Never mind about that, get rolling! We’re in but that doesn’t mean she’ll stay out,” said Gunhilda.

“Right,” said Morris and revved hard. His car roared then shuddered into stillness.

Violet’s toe had managed to break a gap through to where Gunhilda was sitting, who quickly scooted over to the other side.

“Come on, Morris,” said Gunhilda. “It’s your own car, can’t you drive it?”

“That’s not fair,” said Morris as he tried the ignition again. “I’m trying to get us out of this situation as quickly as we can and you insult my driving skills?”

“A seventeen year old could do better!”

“Oh fuck, Gunhilda,” said Morris.

“What?”

“That’s why! Tell me quick, how would someone like Violet think a car starts?”

“That’s a bit of a stupid question,” said Gunhilda, now battling the toe with an umbrella. The printed quotes were being ripped to shreds. “I don’t think Violet has ever had lessons. The youth these days probably think every car is automatic.”

“Great, let’s go,” said Morris. He put the key in and pressed down on the acceleration pedal. The car reversed without any prompting from the clutch.

As he tried to three point turn in the metal box with only accelerate and brake, he shook Violet off enough that Gunhilda managed to stab her with the umbrella and unlatch the beast from the car door. Violet fell into the road, howling.

“Accelerate more you fool!” shouted Gunhilda.

“I would!” shouted back Morris. “But this thing won’t go any faster than the speed limit!”

“What sort of insane idea of driving does this girl have?” said Gunhilda. “We’re organising a driving awareness week once we get back, Morris.”

“Why are you telling me?”

“This is your causal mess!”

“That has nothing to do with driving!”

“Just go! Hurry up!” screamed Gunhilda as she watched Violet give up faking injury and gun down the road.

The car sped - well, went at a reasonable pace - down the road. There were no turning options for Morris to take so he was forced to follow the road. A sign announced the nearest station in 2 miles.

“What do we do when we get there?” asked Morris. “That freak will still try to get at us.”

“We’ll just have to hop onto the train once it comes. Run from the car into the carriage.”

“Think we’ll need tickets?”

“Of course not, fool,” said Gunhilda. “She’s got a year pass. And it’s not like there’ll be anyone to stop us jumping the barriers.”

“Yeah, I did think of that too,” Morris lied. “Just wanted to see what you thought.”

The station loomed into view.

Gunhilda pretended to believe him. “Why don’t we check the train times,” she suggested.

“And go outside?”

Morris parked as close to the entrance as possible. He killed the engine and it was suddenly very quiet.

“Where else?” said Gunhilda. “You think they post them on brochures and hand them out?”

“Well no.”

“Then get going.”

“Wait, you’re not?”

“No.”

“But it’s my car. If we have to drive to safety…”

“Do you think I don’t know how to drive a car? That’s awfully sexist of you, Morris.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“Just go, please.”

Morris got out, leaving his key in the ignition. In the stations, he saw one help desk and no ticket machines. Two barriers waited for customers. There weren’t any posters around, so he surmised that Violet knew the train times some other way. Since there was nobody at the help desk he jumped the barriers to explore the platforms.

There were only two, connected by a foot bridge in the white void of the station. The first platform was just a platform. For some reason the yellow ‘don’t-cross-unless-you-have-a-death-wish’ line wasn’t where it was supposed to be, in that it didn’t exist on this platform. There were also no train tracks beyond this platform. Morris moved on to the next one hoping for more clues there.

He was lucky. The tracks glinted against the afternoon sun, and an announcer was calling for passengers to get ready to board the next train. Morris looked up to find an electronic board displaying the next arrivals. They were all for the same end station but only called at a relatively unheard of village. Morris guessed that it was where Violet lived.

He looked for the time. The next train was in half an hour. Apparently he’d just missed the previous train and would have to wait the longest possible time for the next.

“She has some bad luck with trains, huh,” he mumbled to himself. Morris went to find Gunhilda and tell her the bad news.

“We have to wait half an hour?” she said once he’d gotten back. “There’s only two miles between us and the school, with this girl tornadoing down somewhere in between. We can’t wait that long.” Gunhilda crossed her arms.

“You think that thing can run fast enough to catch up with a car? On a route that would take at least half an hour to walk?”

“Precisely,” she said. “The key word here is walk. Did you see what the girl was doing on our way out? Would you call that walking?”