Laura went home that night hoping to sleep well, but instead found herself watching Carmilla's races over and over again. The filly was an absolute powerhouse, smoking the competition by fifteen, seventeen, twenty, twenty-five lengths. Once she got going, there was no stopping her and there was no catching up to her. It made her a dangerous competitor, and Laura could see why, over time, the number of horses racing with Carmilla had dwindled. No one wanted to run their horse in a race they knew for sure they couldn't win.

Only trainer Edward Callahan was ballsy enough to run his undefeated filly, Swan Song, against Carmilla in her eighth race, the Westenra Handicap, in northern Styria. The dark bay filly had put up a real fight, refusing to back down and trailing Carmilla for nearly the entire length of the race, but Carmilla pushed ahead and won the race by two lengths, her narrowest margin ever. That race had ended Swan Song's undefeated streak and added to Carmilla's.

She clicked on the video for Carmilla's tenth race, and sat back against her pillow just as the starting gate opened and the horses shot out onto the track. For only a moment Carmilla was ahead of the field, then around the first turn it became clear to Laura that something was wrong with the black filly. She wasn't giving it her all; the usual fire and vigor she had previously run with was no longer there.

"Come on, Carmilla," she found herself whispering. "Come on. Come on."

But Carmilla slipped further and further back in the pack. She wasn't listening to her jockey when he got down and scrubbed on her, even when he showed her the crop. It was as though she had gone blind and deaf to everything around her, like her heart was somewhere other than the racetrack.

That was more than evident at the end of the race when Laura watched with a twisting stomach as Carmilla trailed across the wire dead last, nine lengths behind the rest of the field.

She ran her fingers through her hair, feeling as upset and disappointed as though she'd been right there at the track. What could have caused Carmilla to go from an unmatchable winning streak to a disappointing string of losses?

It had nothing to do with the crop, Laura was sure. Carmilla's jockey had never needed to use the crop on her, even when she was falling behind. She was a horse that needed little encouragement, and one that Laura guessed would react badly to use of the crop.

No stick! Danny's words rang in Laura's ears. The trainer wasn't a fan of the crop, and as a result never let her jockeys use it. She would take it from the jockeys if she could, but it was a rule that jockeys had to have a crop with them when they rode.

Laura had been on a few horses in her day that had either almost thrown her or stopped entirely in the middle of the track. Some knew it as a cue to let loose, but there weren't very many of those. It was all about knowing when and where on the track to use the crop, and how the horse would react. Carmilla, up until her abusive trainer, was a horse that had never had the crop used on her. How she had reacted when her that trainer used it on her, Laura didn't know. There was no video evidence of that.

If not the crop, then what?

Laura searched the internet for any horse racing articles related to Carmilla. The veterinarian reports she found offered no further insight; according to the vets, Carmilla was a healthy two-year-old filly. There was nothing holding her back from blazing along the track. In short: they had nothing.

To her surprise there was even a short video from an equine psychologist that suggested Carmilla was tired of racing, that she had run all she was willing to run and it was time to retire her to the fields as a broodmare. But that was all the video said, because Carmilla had decided she'd had enough and bit the woman.

~O~

Carmilla was out in the field again when Laura pulled into the barn complex the next morning. She'd gotten there later than usual, since Danny had been working with another horse and jockey earlier that morning. She stopped to check on Carmilla, reminding herself to keep her distance after yesterday's incident, and found the filly slowly chewing a mouthful of grass. But today Carmilla seemed calmer, and when she raised her head at Laura's presence, she simply stared at the blonde, huffed, and went back to her grass. Laura guessed it was the closest thing to an apology she was ever going to get from Carmilla, or any other horse, for that matter.

The barn was relatively quiet considering how close to the beginning of the racing season it was. Although, alternatively, the barn was quiet because it was getting close to the beginning of the racing season, and all the trainers and horses were down at the track preparing for it. Everyone needed to be at their best when the season kicked off in April. The races were smaller and lesser known, but they led up to the first leg of the colt Triple Crown in June, the Town Hall Derby, and from there the Dudley Handicap and the Adonis Handicap.

Everyone was hoping for another Triple Crown this year, just as they did every year. It had been six years since the last Triple Crown winner, who just so happened to be Carmilla's sire, Count Vlad. The massive blood bay stallion swept all three legs of the Crown with ease. Once he had won the first two legs by fifteen-length and seventeen-length leads, there was no question that unless something wild happened, Vlad was going to be the next Triple Crown winner.

It had been the same with Carmilla's dam, The Dean, who had swept the Filly Triple Crown with the same amount of ease the Vlad had in his Triple Crown.

Laura heard whispering as she went through the barn to the tack room about Carmilla's chances in the Filly Triple Crown. After all, the filly was the offspring of two of the best horses Austria had ever seen, and both of those horses had swept their respective Crowns with little to no effort. And Carmilla was a powerhouse in her own right. Why couldn't she win it?

Because she's not ready. This was only Carmilla's second day at Silas. She needed the time off before she got back into the rigorous work schedule seen by other horses. And there was still a glaze in her eyes that Laura wasn't sure would ever wear off. She'd seen it in the post-race interview with Carmilla's jockey and trainer after the first race Carmilla lost.

"She's just not herself today," the trainer had commented. "But we'll get her checked out and work with her, and she'll be one hundred percent by the next race."

But Carmilla wasn't, and the glaze remained. If that trainer hadn't been able to bring her out of it, Laura wondered if Danny had any chance.

Laura paused to pat a pretty bay colt on the nose. He stretched his neck out to sniff her shirt as she played with his forelock and scratched his neck. His lips closed around the collar of her shirt, and finally she gently pushed him away with a laugh. "No, no, Boston, you can't have that. I need it." She rubbed his face affectionately, patted him on the nose once more, and headed off down the aisle. She had nothing better to do until Danny got back from the track.

So she wandered off to the other side of the barn and said hello to all the horses that were there until she found herself across the way in another barn and faced with a rambunctious palomino filly who was giving her handlers a hard time. Laura didn't recognize the filly or the handlers, a black-haired older man in his sixties and a younger brown-haired man. The filly was wriggling around in the aisle, refusing to stand still as the brown-haired man tried to pick her hoof and the older man tried to hold her by her halter.

"Do you guys need a little help there?" Laura asked, cautiously approaching. Danny would have a fight to pick with an unlucky someone if Laura got kicked by another trainer's horse.

The older man looked over his shoulder as the filly threw her head up. "Oh, hello—Whoa, girl, easy, easy. Sorry, yes, could you try to saddle her? I want to take her out and let her run on the trail for a change."

"But she's being a brat," the younger man said in a French accent, dropping the filly's hoof and elbowing her flank to get her away from the wall. He bent down and picked up her hind hoof to clean it. The filly pinned her ears and tried to pull her hoof from his hands.

"Sure." Laura eyed the filly warily as she picked up the saddle and pad from the rack. The filly eyed her with the same suspicion, her nostrils flaring as she took in Laura's scent. Laura slid the saddle and pad onto one arm and ran her hand down the filly's neck to calm her. She carefully plopped the saddle onto her back, half expecting her to squirm, but she stood still, and she thought it was more her curiosity in who this new visitor was than being calmed that was her reason for being so still now.

With the groom's help, she was able to get the saddle on the filly with no other issues. She declined to put the bridle on her, leaving that up to the handlers. Instead, she wandered back over to her barn, wondering who the filly was. She made a mental note to ask Danny when she got back from the track.

She didn't have to wait long; as it turned out, Danny was just leading her gray Quarter Horse and Thoroughbred escort Marty into his stall.

"Hey, Danny."

Danny spun around from slipping the halter over her horse's head. "Oh, hey, Laura. Are you ready to work Sherlock?"

"Yep!"

"Okay, great. Just give me a minute with Marty and I'll be right over to help you out."

Laura slowly made her way over to Sherlock's stall; Danny met her about halfway and they walked the rest of the way there together. She peered out the door on the side of the barn as she went by to see if the two men she'd helped earlier had finally gotten their filly under control. It turned out they had; she saw them leading the anxious filly across the open space in between the barns. She turned to Danny.

"Who's that? Where'd she come from?"

Danny followed Laura's line of sight to the filly. "She's visiting," she clarified. "Her owner brought her down from England to try her in some of the Styrian races for a change. They call her PG. Did you know she's Carmilla's half-sister?"

Laura looked up at the trainer. She should have expected it, but it hadn't occurred to her for whatever reason that Carmilla had other half-siblings other than Will. "Carmilla's…half-sister?" she repeated slowly.

"On her sire's side," Danny added. "That filly belongs to Count Vlad, too. Though now she belongs to some rich family in England who was looking to get back into the horseracing industry. Hallston, I think the name is." She paused a moment to wave at the trainer, the older man.

"You know him?" Laura asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Sparing one last glance at the filly, Danny turned away and head down to Detective Sherlock's stall. "Yeah, I met him a few years back, before you and I were working together, when I trained horses in England for two years. Walter Dormer," she went on, taking the halter and lead rope from its hook. "He's an old time trainer for the Hallston family for almost thirty years before they dropped out of horseracing. When I met him he was sort of in retirement. He wasn't training horses, but he hadn't officially left the industry himself. He was my advisor for a while."

Laura nodded, grabbing two brushes from a nearby rack. "And the other guy?"

Danny shrugged. "Dunno. I've never met him before." She slid opened the door to Detective Sherlock's stall and stepped in. The big bay colt raised his head at Danny's presence, a mouthful of hay hanging from his mouth. He snorted and dropped his head. He always had been a little on the lazy side, but once he got going, he couldn't seem to stop. In Laura's opinion, he was a strange horse.

"Ah, no." Danny reached down and forced Sherlock's head up. "Not today, big boy." She slipped the halter over his head, clipped the lead rope to it, and all but dragged the colt away from his food and out into the aisle. She tied him on the crossties, and she and Laura went about brushing the saw dust from his otherwise clean coat.

It was only until they tacked him up that Laura realized they weren't loading him into the trailer as she would have expected. She stepped back as Danny slipped the bridle over his head. "Danny, what are we doing with him? I thought we were going to take him down to the track?"

Danny shrugged with a smile. "Not today. I though today we might take him on the trail for a change. Maybe Sherlock and PG can get acquainted." She patted the colt on the neck and took the reins from around his neck. "Come on, big boy."

They went out into the yard behind the barn and headed toward the trail that started on the other side of the barn complex, in between a well-trimmed pasture and an overgrown forest. But the trail, Danny assured Laura, was clear and well cared for, and Walter and PG, the palomino filly Laura had helped tack up, would be waiting for them when they arrived.

They were, with Walter holding PG by one rein and the groom in the saddle. He was a bit tall to be riding a fifteen-and-and-three-inches hands two-year-old filly, but he was apparently the only option. Laura hadn't seen anyone else around who might have been PG's jockey, aside from herself, but she was Sherlock's jockey, and in the future, Carmilla's.

Speaking of which, "Carmilla seems better today."

"Yeah," Danny agreed, "she's had some time to calm down. She's still grumpy with me, but I'm not expecting that to change any time soon." She pulled Sherlock to a halt and smiled at Walter. "Nice to see you again, Walter," she said, holding out her hand.

Walter, with a smile of his own, reached out and shook Danny's hand. "And you, Miss Lawrence. How has the training been going?"

"Not bad. I see you're back in the industry."

The palomino filly whickered.

"For now," Walter said, patting the filly on the nose. "Miss Hallston thought she'd try her hand at racing just this once."

"And how did she come across a filly with the likes of this one? It's expensive to get a foal from Count Vlad."

"Luck, I suppose," Walter replied as Danny gave Laura a leg up into the saddle. "Although I can't give you the details specifically. Miss Hallston's rule, of course."

Danny checked Sherlock's girth; Laura evened out her reins and tested the length of the stirrups. They were just right, and Danny held Sherlock by one rein while she finished up her conversation with Walter. "Of course. So," she said, addressing the riders, "are you two ready?"

Both nodded. "How far do you want me to take him?" Laura asked.

The trainers exchanged glances, then Danny looked up at Laura. "Till he stops. We're going to do the same for Carmilla, once get her back in shape."

Walter gave Danny a look that spelled out the black filly's name, and in turn received a look of his own promising to enlighten him on the situation once their jockeys were on their way. There were very few people in the horseracing industry who hadn't heard Carmilla's name at least once.

The trainers check over the horses and the equipment one more time before sending the jockeys off the on the trail. But as they were about to give the final okay, Laura turned around in the saddle. "What does 'PG' stand for?"

Danny and Walter smiled. "Police Girl," they answered.

Laura took the answer with confusion, but no other questions. On the trainers' final okay, the horses sprang forward, the jockeys sat low in their seats, and the four of them took of blazing down the trail.

~O~

Danny watched the four run off into the woods. She was really quite impressed with how Sherlock was coming along. He was getting stronger and faster, and he was shaping up to be better on the track this coming season than he had been last season. The colt had great potential, she could feel it, but he hadn't shown that in his first few races. She thought he just needed more time to get comfortable with the track before he could really let loose. She just hoped she wouldn't have to divide her attention too much between him and Carmilla. The filly was going to be a piece of work she wasn't sure she could fix.

"Tell me about Carmilla." Walter's attention had turned from the trail to her. She ran her fingers through her hair, wondering where to begin.

"The Karnsteins sent her down to me two days ago," she decided to start.

"Ah." Walter nodded. "I see this is going to be a long one. Why don't we take a walk?"

Danny waved her hand to the open space. Walter went on ahead of her and she caught up as they made their way along the fence line of the nearby pasture. "I don't know all the details yet," she admitted. "The Karnsteins said they'd bought Carmilla from the Morgan family eight months ago. From what I understand, the Morgans didn't want her anymore because she wasn't bringing in money because she wasn't racing well. So they sold her."

The older trainer nodded thoughtfully. "Why wasn't Carmilla racing well? Based on what I've heard of her, she was unmatched."

"I don't know." Danny shrugged. "I guess the Morgans didn't tell the Karnsteins anything about Carmilla's, eh, condition. The Karnsteins had no idea why their filly was lethargic and unresponsive. They still don't. They hired a trainer they thought would be good for Carmilla, but they think he made her worse."

"What happened?"

With an uneasy sigh, Danny told Walter about the brutal trainer that had worked with Carmilla before she was shipped to Silas and the methods he'd used to try to get a response out of the filly. "But one day she'd decided she'd had enough, tossed the jockey, knocked the trainer to the ground, and took off. Mr. Karnstein said it took him and his son almost two hours to corral Carmilla."

Walter shook his head in disapproval. "What was the trainer's name?"

"Timothy Coffin."

"Ah, yes. I worked with him fifteen years ago in London. He was as brutal then as he is now." He slid his hands into his pockets. "You know I never approved of the crop. And especially not for horses who need a more…gentle touch."

"I do," Danny said, laughing. "I picked that up from you. I never let my riders use the crop. Showing it to the horse is one thing, but using it is another, even for encouragement."

"I always did hold that philosophy myself," Walter agreed. "What do you know about Carmilla before she was sold?"

"She was a regular powerhouse!" Danny smiled. "She had a fire inside her like I've never seen. I think it's still there, but I don't know where…"

She'd seen Carmilla's races, too. Never in person, but online, the minute she had gotten the phone call from the Karnsteins asking for Danny to help Carmilla. She'd needed to know exactly what it was she was going to be dealing with, though it hadn't occurred to her just how faded Carmilla was until she'd shown up at the barn. The glaze in her eyes was one Danny recognized to be a sign of a burnt-out racehorse, one whose heart no longer laid on the track but elsewhere. Although in Carmilla's case, "elsewhere" was unclear. It wasn't the field, that much was sure.

And she said as much to Walter, who crossed his arms and frowned thoughtfully, tapping his fingers against his elbow. It was the look of someone who was working with little information, but trying to make as much of it as he can. Danny thought he was going to say something once or twice and continued to think. Then he looked up at her: "I'd like to see Carmilla, if you wouldn't mind."

If he could give her any advice on what to do with her soul-sick filly, then by all means, she would let him see Carmilla. "Of course. Right this way."

Danny led him around the barn complex to the pasture near the dirt side road leading to a secondary entrance-exit to the farm. She rested her elbows on the fence, gesturing to the black filly rolling listlessly in the middle of the field. Carmilla rolled onto her side, back to Danny and Walter, rolled onto her back and wriggled in the dirt, and flopped onto her side to face them. Danny could have sworn Carmilla rolled her eyes as she sighed. "This is her. You wouldn't think she was a champion racehorse from the way she lounges around in the field."

Walter joined her at the fence with a soft laugh. "Looks can be deceiving," he murmured.

Danny eyed Walter curiously. Was there something he could see in the filly all the way from the fence that she couldn't see up close? She was about to ask what he meant by that, but was cut off by his next question: "Would it be a problem if I went in to get a closer look at her?"

It occurred to Danny at the same time that she thought of Carmilla's fit the previous morning that the filly could go from calm to furious in a matter of seconds. Walter may have been an experienced horse handler, but even the most experienced of handlers could be overpowered. But there was something in Walter's eyes that gave Danny the impression that there was definitely something he could see that she couldn't.

"I suppose so," she said, moving to unlock the gate. "Just be careful. She's…kind of unpredictable."

Walter nodded understandingly as he walked into the pasture. Carmilla raised her head at the stranger who dared to enter her pasture. Who was he? And what was it that he wanted?

It was unclear at first what his intentions were. He had come with Danny, but he held no halter or lead rope in his hands. He wasn't looking to corral her. Well, that certainly changed things.

With a heavy sigh, Carmilla rolled onto her stomach and stood up. This man was not one she had ever met before in her short racing career. She got the impression from one sniff that the man was a trainer, and an experienced one at that. He knew how to stand and walk toward her without appearing to be hostile, something Carmilla could appreciate. Even when they didn't mean to, some trainers were just too forceful for her liking.

"I understand you've been through some difficult times," the trainer said.

Carmilla bobbed her head gently. I suppose you could say that.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Walter circled her; Carmilla watched him do it. He kept a distance far enough from her that she didn't feel the need to kick at him. He was simply inspecting her for any physical injuries. She only hoped he wouldn't notice the little gray scars on her coat.

If he did, he said nothing. With enough warning, he bent down to check each of her legs, and Carmilla let him. There was something about him that calmed her more than any other trainer she had been around. He understood her in a way no other trainer, though he was as perplexed by her condition as the rest. She didn't mind when he laid his ear against her stomach to check for gut sounds, though vets had long ago ruled out colic.

Walter apparently agreed with them, sighing when he finally circled back around to face her. He looked over her one more time, double checking his initial assumption, and shook his head.

"I have worked with and seen many horses in my time, Miss Karnstein, but none quiet such as yourself."

Carmilla supposed that to be a compliment, and raised her head slightly. Something in her wanted him to know just how much she was hurting. If he had seen as many horses as he implied, then surely he could understand that some experienced a heartbreak that was difficult, if not impossible, to mend.

Walter met her eyes. It didn't take long for understanding to show on his face. He stepped closer and made a move that suggest he was going to touch her face. The minute Carmilla pinned her ears, he dropped his arms.

"I'm sorry," was all he said. It was the first time Carmilla had ever heard someone acknowledge her loss.

A/N: So many references, so little time. I have a general direction I want this to go in, but other than that I am making this up as I go along. I've also been kind of waiting to see how Season 2 of Carmilla plays out to see if maybe I could add any of the new characters into this. So far *spoiler, kind of* Mattie is the only one that's going to be making an appearance.

I had to change the time frame for horse racing in Austria from early- or mmid-November to April, because when it snows in Austria, it snows. I also couldn't find a real time frame for Austria's horse racing season, so I modeled it off of...Germany, I believe, or another country close to Austria. I can't remember right now.

Sorry this took so long! I hit a road block and couldn't get past one part for a while. No set date for Chapter 4.