Tugging at my undead Heartstrings II: The Belle Tolls for Thee

by Fimbulvinter

Rating: mature
Tags: Sweetie Belle, Twilight Sparkle, Lyra, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Alternate Universe, Bon-Bon, Rarity, Adventure
Length: 29848

Continuing advenures of Lyra and Bon-Bon, vamponies.

Many years have passed since Lyra was first turned into a vampony and recruited into the Princess's secret paranormal defence force - The Monks of the Silver Sun.

Now with Werewolf attacks on the rise, she and her coven will be called into action to once again save Equestria from an ancient evil that threatens to cover the land in darkness.

Direct sequel to Tugging at my undead Heartstrings and its prequel The Melody of Revenge. This story relies on knowledge of those stories in order to make sense

Rated mature for scenes involving blood and some gore - this is a vampire story afterall.

Additional Character tags:
Octavia
Vinyl Scratch
Princess Celestia
OC ponies - multiple

Published 2013-07-13 14:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2014-05-20 21:39:46 UTC

Chapter 0 - Prologue

Tugging at my Undead Heartstrings II - The Belle, it tolls for thee

Chapter 0 – Prologue

Thump…thump…thump.

The lupine creature ran hard, making for the closest tree line it could find. A large cut along its flank stung as blood dripped down its leg. Behind it, it could hear the flapping of a pair of wings. The cursed pegasi commander was close and getting closer with every flap. Normally, taking down one pegasus, even one as skilled as this commander was would be more sport than a challenge. The pony had gotten lucky however, and a quick swipe with a silver tipped blade had lanced into his body, searing him from the inside and crippling his leg.

With no other choice, the wolf had turned and fled. His masters had to know about the information that he had discovered, no matter what happened to him. Reaching the tree line, he vanished into the edge of the Everfree. The dense foliage would mean that the pegasus would have to land and track him on hoof. Even hurt and bleeding, the wolf would have a massive advantage in a ground engagement. He turned to look back and saw the pegasus pause at the edge of the forest, not entering. It was curious, but the wolf didn’t stop to wonder about it. Every moment that he wasn’t being chased, was a moment he could use to put more space between him and his pursuers.

CLINK.

The sound of metal striking stone drew the wolf’s attention back to his front. Before him, a small gleaming metal ball bounced once off of a rock and began to roll down along the ground towards where he was standing. Small bumps covered every inch of its surface. The wolf paused to look at it, examining it and taking a few healthy sniffs. All at once, he caught the scent of silver. With a yelp, he backed up from the sphere, but it was too late. With a quiet hiss, the grenade went off.

Unlike most other explosive weapons, this one had been specifically designed for use on the myriad of supernatural creatures that roamed around the dark spaces of Equestria’s underbelly. Rather than launch some kind of fragmentation charge or concussive wave, this grenade contained a liquid core. Small nozzles dotted its surface. When it was activated, it would spray its liquid payload in every direction and cover anything within a 10 meter radius with whatever was stored within. In this case, the grenade contained colloidal silver. The mixture had been specifically designed to be devastating to supers while leaving normal ponies unharmed. It had quickly become one of the favoured, if expensive weapons used by the Monks of the Silver Sun, the organisation that had been hunting the wolf for several hours now.

The silver mixture splashed over the wolf, and he fell to the ground, howling in pain as the silver burned his fur. The smell of searing flesh filled his nostrils and he could feel his body contort in pain. The agony lasted for nearly a minute, but it eventually passed, leaving the wolf with a dull aching sensation. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to walk any more; one of his forelegs had twisted and split open. He could make out what looked like one of his own bones under his blacked fur.

Without warning, a grey hoof slammed down on his injured leg, pinning the limb to the ground. Roaring through the pain, the wolf looked up and saw a grey earth pony standing above him. A short silver blade was fastened to her other hoof and she levelled it towards his head. He snapped his jaws at her, trying to dislodge her, or even just to get a bite in. She expected that and slammed her hoof into his mouth, stunning him for a second. It was all she needed. Leaning down she touched the silver blade to just below the wolf’s throat where it began to sizzle lightly. She grinned with sadistic satisfaction at his discomfort. “Try that again, monster and I may just have to forget my orders to try and keep you alive.” She had a cultured accent; educated and refined. She was clearly a mare of high standing. Her accent didn’t match with her blood thirsty expression of pure hate.

The wolf’s eyes narrowed. Clearly this mare knew that he was carrying important information and she had orders to extract it. He instead began to chuckle; a deep rasping noise from deep down in his throat. “Do your worst, servant of the sun. I will not talk,” he said in a voice that sounded like cracking ice. ”I have been trained to resist all tortures and my loyalty to my master is absolute. You may as well just kill me now. I guarantee that if you don’t, then I will kill you all. Your bones shall make my dinner.”

The mare just shrugged once. “As you wish,” she said before swinging her hoof down. The last thing the wolf saw was the blade rushing towards his head. A moment of blinding pain and then nothing. His last thought was ‘Forgive me master, I have failed you.’

Octavia Philharmonica wiped her blade on a patch of grass. Under her hooves, a hulking shaggy creature lay on the ground. A large gaping wound marred its neck, along with many smaller scorch marks and cuts. She kicked it twice to make sure that it was dead; satisfied that it was finished when it didn’t make any kind of movement. Behind her, her commander and nominal leader of the Monk’s field operations, the pegasus that had been chasing the wolf earlier walked up along side her. Slinglock was a no nonsense pony and he took his job almost as seriously as Octavia herself did. He also double checked the dead body before him before turning to look at Octavia. Some supernatural creatures had a nasty habit of refusing to stay dead.

“Our orders were to take him alive, you know,” he said reproachfully.

Octavia snorted. “Our orders were to secure the information he carried. That information died with him. Mission accomplished. Plus we had to field test Blast’s new and improved compound.”

Slinglock sighed once. Octavia was right, preventing the information from reaching hostile hands had been their top priority. He just would have liked to bring the wolf back to Canterlot so that they could see exactly what it had planned for the information it had stolen.

Movement below them drew their attention. Both ponies turned to look at the dead wolf. Slowly, the wolf began to twist and turn. Fur began to retract from its body, paws started to revert into hooves. The entire process took about thirty seconds, but eventually all that remained of the wolf that they had been chasing was a dead pony, its body scarred and twisted with wounds. Aside from the injuries, he now looked exactly like any other earth pony that they would pass on the street. Even his cutie mark was a generic pair of horseshoes. Nothing to suggest that he had been a shaggy werewolf less than a minute ago. The only thing that even hinted of his unnatural nature was a slight glow around his eyes, but that was hardly unusual enough to be conclusive.

“This is why I hate hunting down Weres. They really make you see it afterwards.”

Octavia gave her leader a hard look. “They are monsters and do not deserve our pity. Given the chance, it would have willingly eaten you for dinner, or even tried to turn you if the opportunity presented itself. Save your pity for those who deserve it.”

Slinglock shrugged, his posture one of resignation. He knew that he would never convince Octavia that sometimes they deserved mercy or remorse. To her, vamponies and werewolves were nothing but monsters to be exterminated in both the most efficient, and preferably painful way possible. “Alright, just dispose of the body, then get back to Canterlot. I’m going to go and make sure that he wasn’t working with a partner.”

Octavia nodded once and began to collect small twigs for use as kindling. Fire was almost always the best solution as it would leave nothing but ash. Slinglock paused to look at her for a moment. He knew that she could see it too; Werewolf sightings and attacks were becoming more common, and far more public. Something big was going to happen and he just hoped that he and the rest of the monks would be ready for it...

Author's Note

And here we go for a full on sequel. It's taken me a while, but I said I was going to do it.

Thanks to SandstormAeon for letting me cannibalise the opening chapter of his defunct semi sequel to the original story.

Chapter updates will occur probably every fortnight, as writing time and other pressures allow.

Chapter 1 - New Beginnings

Tugging at my Undead Heartstrings II - The Belle, it tolls for thee

Chapter 1 – New Beginnings

“…And we do so swear to serve the crown in whatever way shall be required above all else,” came the reply from the fresh batch of recruits. Twilight Sparkle looked on in interest as she observed the fresh batch of ponies currently pledging their lives to the Monks of the Silver Sun, the Princesses secret paranormal police force. The Monks had expanded rapidly in the last few years, taking on more recruits than it had ever had before, following several significant losses. As its grandmaster, Twilight had wide powers over recruitment and she had successfully lobbied Celestia to increase the number of agents. Due to the nature of the work, turnover could be rather high, and it paid off to have replacements already on hoof.

Gently, she ran her tongue over the pair of fangs that she had concealed in her mouth, remembering her own time when she joined these ranks and all the changes that it had brought about in her. It hadn’t been all that long ago, only about 15 years or so, but when you are an immortal vampony, then your perspective on concepts like time tend to become a bit skewed.

As each new recruit knelt before Celestia to receive their marks of initiation, Twilight looked over at her coven sisters. The eldest among them was Lyra. She had been the first to be changed, and from what she had told the rest of them, the process had not been pleasant for her. Standing next to her was her partner and lover, Bon-Bon. She had been turned by Lyra’s maker when Lyra lost control and nearly killed her. Standing next to Twilight was Rarity. Rarity was the odd one out in their coven, as she didn’t share a bloodline with them, having been turned by a rogue vampony and taken in by their little group, as the alternative was to simply have her killed.

Last was Rarity’s sister, Sweetie Belle. She was a full grown mare now, and almost the splitting image of her sister. The two of them looked like twins; something that they had decided would be their new identity when the five of them moved out to their new home. Twilight was worried about Sweetie Belle. She didn’t really know what she had asked for when she had requested that she be turned like her sister. Twilight could easily see that she was straining herself, having to focus hard on not pouncing forward and draining one of the kneeling ponies before her. At barely a week old, Sweetie Belle was simply not ready to be out in a public setting.

Across the way, Twilight could see that there was another pony who could see it as well. Octavia was watching intently, her eyes filled with suppressed rage and hate. Octavia was the one of the orders most experienced vampyre hunters and she could see the signs of Sweetie’s troubles just as clearly as Twilight could. For a split second, Twilight’s eyes met Octavia’s and in that moment, Octavia was able to clearly indicate that she would be more than happy to end all of them if the opportunity ever came up. Twilight had seen how ruthless and efficient Octavia could be when she put her mind to it and she didn’t want Sweetie to wind up on the wrong side of the ageing grey mare.

Rather than dwell on the risk of a confrontation, Twilight turned back to the four ponies now just beginning to get back to their hooves. Two unicorns, an earth pony, and a pegasus made up the new additions to the ranks. One of the unicorns, a shock white mare with an electric blue mane reminded Twilight of her older brother, Shining Armour. He was one of only a hoofful of ponies outside of the order who had been clued into Twilight’s true nature as the undead and he had been sworn to secrecy, having made his vow upon the official secrets act. Twilight decided that she was going to keep an eye on this one.

Celestia finished branding the last of her new recruits and they all rose as one and took their new places among the ranks of their fellows. Twilight knew what was coming next, and it wasn’t going to be good.

“Everypony,” Celestia began, “This is a time of crisis for us. Though the public doesn’t know it, they are currently under one of the greatest threats that Equestria has ever faced. For reasons that we still do not yet fully understand, there has been a sharp rise in both the number and savagery of werewolf attacks. For the good of Equestria, I am charging you all with finding out why this is occurring, and stopping it. Do not underestimate your enemy. Lycans, though once ponies like yourself, are now vicious and bloodthirsty creatures. You are never to try and take one on alone, no matter how well prepared you think you may be.” Her gaze twisted slightly so that she looked at Octavia. It only lasted a moment before she returned to looking at the group as a whole. “For right now however, I am going to assign each of you recruits to an experienced operative, so that you may learn from their skills.”

The four recruits, along with Sweetie Belle stepped forward and once again knelt. “Recruit Frost Mane, you will be working under Cloakshape.” The other unicorn nodded and rose to his hooves and moved to join his new partner. Twilight wondered about that; Cloakshape worked best alone. Assigning him a student would only slow him down. Still she trusted that Celestia knew what fits would be best and she decided to simply allow things to play out. She could always step in if she had to.

Blinking slightly, she realised that she had missed the next assignment. It would be ill befitting of her to miss any more, especially if she was assigned a recruit herself. She could worry about things later on; right now she had to pay attention.

Soon, only Sweetie and the blue maned unicorn remained kneeling. Celestia nodded at Sweetie Belle. “Recruit Sweetie Belle, you are assigned to work collectively under Grandmaster Sparkle and her Coven.” Twilight had expected this one. Sweetie was far too young to be assigned to anypony else; she had a lot to learn about her new vampiric nature and it would be safest, both for her and for everypony else if she was kept out of the way for at least the next year.

There was only one recruit left, the one that reminded Twilight of her brother. She knelt down, her magenta eyes averted in a show of respect. Celestia looked down at her, “And finally, recruit Vinyl Scratch. You shall serve under one of our most distinguished members. Miss Philharmonica, she is all yours.”

“WHAT?” Both Octavia and Twilight screamed out at the same time. Neither of them had expected this. Given Octavia’s track record, Twilight had recommended that she not be assigned a student, and Octavia certainly hadn’t wanted one. It was about the only thing on which the two of them agreed. It appeared that Celestia had decided to overrule both of them on this issue.

“I have assigned you a student, Octavia. You are one of the most capable ponies ever to walk through these halls, and it would be poor allocation of resources if I did not make use of that. Vinyl has proven herself to be proficient at illusionary magic and she has experience in the musical field, which will allow the pair of you to travel undercover far more easily than another. Believe me, I have thought about this for some time and you two would be the best fit.”

Octavia wasn’t convinced. “But, your highness. I don’t have time to train up a rank recruit.”

“Standing right here,” Twilight heard Vinyl mutter under her breath. she spoke softly, but Twilight’s enhanced hearing caught easily. She was sure that the vamponies could hear her too.

“Enough,” Celestia commanded, her voice taking on a steely edge. “I have assigned you a student, Octavia. The next words I want to hear from you are ‘yes, your highness.”

Octavia sighed in defeat. She knew from the tone of Celestia’s voice that this discussion was over. “Yes, your highness,” she bit out and motioned for Vinyl to come over to her.

“Good,” Celestia said, her voice returning to her normal level before she addressed the assembled ponies again, “You all have your assignments. Each master and student will be assigned to a different city, where you will be expected to investigate and track down any suspicious activity you come across. For the benefit of the students, remember that your actions in the name of this sect are not officially sanctioned by the crown. If you are seen or caught by the local guards, then I am powerless to help you. You will all depart to your postings at dawn tomorrow. I suggest that you spend time today getting to know your students and fellow new members. You will need to be able to trust each other with your lives, so it is vital that you know your weaknesses and strengths of your partner. Dismissed.”

With that, everypony present turned and began to file out of the meeting hall, each one heading off to their respective quarters, training areas or just somewhere that wasn’t there. Celestia kept an eye on Octavia. She was a skilled hunter, but her life was out of balance. Unlike most of the others, she had never had a normal foalhood; the monks had been her life since almost before she could be called a true mare. Vinyl would give her some perspective; she just hoped that the two wouldn’t try and kill each other before this was all over.

Sighing, Celestia turned around and began to exit the hall herself. It was still only early afternoon and the endless stream of court nobles and requests would still be waiting for her. Putting on her regal Ruler of Equestria face, she walked through a concealed entrance into her private chambers and out into the royal throne room, where the congregated masses were blissfully unaware of the threats that constantly loomed over them, nor the lengths that ponies had to go to in order for them to remain as such.

Down in the main training room, Cloakshape led his new partner, Frost Mane to the sparring ring. The best way to learn about his students skills, he reckoned, was to see them in action.

’Time to see just how good you think you are’ he mused. If the kid was arrogant, then he could knock him down a peg and start from there.

“Alright, Frost; Ok if I call you Frost?” he started. Some ponies were very sensitive about their names and would refuse to answer to anything other than their full title.

Frost mane nodded once, “Yes, Master Cloakshape.”

Cloakshape recoiled from that title. “Ugh, don’t call me master, makes me feel old. We are going to be partners in this, so just call me Cloakshape, or even just Cloak. So, first order of business today is for us to get to know each other, and more importantly, I need to see exactly what sort of skills you have. With that in mind, en guard.” Cloakshape readied himself into a battle stance, dropping low to the ground with his horn pointed directly at Frost Mane’s head. He was pleased to see that Frost Mane did exactly the same thing; a mirror stance of his own battle posture without a moments hesitation.

‘Reflexes are decent. Lets see how he handles improvisation’ he thought as he began to charge up his favoured combat spell. Cloakshape’s special skill, the entire reason that he was selected to join the monks in the first place was invisibility. Cloaking spells were rare, and a practitioner that could use them well was equally as rare. It gave him a vast advantage in his role as the orders primary scout and recon expert.

It was with no small measure of delight that he noticed Frost Mane appear to perform a very similar spell. His technique was sloppy, and Cloakshape could feel the wasted power flow from his student’s horn, but there was no mistaking the result. Frost Mane began to fade from view, leaving a translucent shimmering outline behind that indicated his location. It didn’t hide him completely, but it would shield him from a casual observation if he was standing still. Cloakshape smiled as he finished his own spell. Unlike his student, his spell was flawless; the result of countless years of practice and diligent training. When he cast his invisibility spell, it left no trace behind. No tell-tale distortions in the air, no muffled hoof steps; he just vanished.

Silently, Cloakshape stalked around the edge of the ring, keeping his movements slow and controlled. It didn’t matter though. Cloaked as he was in his magic, it would take a very powerful or diligent observer to spot him. He had even once managed to sneak into and out of the Vampony nest in the west wing of the Orders living chambers without being spotted, and they were meant to have supernatural levels of eye-sight and hearing. Frost Mane didn’t stand a chance against him.

Before him, the pony shaped distortion began to flail around, clearly searching for him. All it really did was to highlight exactly where and in which direction Frost Mane was looking. Cloakshape paused just behind Frost and just waited, enjoying the rush of power that he always felt when he knew he held another’s life in his hooves. It was a rush, knowing that every second his target lived was one that he had granted them, and it was a boon that he could retrench at any time. As he simply waited, he could make out Frost Mane’s increasing levels of panic and frustration. He figured that his student had never experienced this before; he was used to being the hunter, not being the prey. Cloakshape knew the feeling intimately.

Finally deciding that his game had run on long enough, he lunged in and grabbed Frost Mane just as the younger stallion turned away from him. With one swift motion, he shed his disguise and ran his hoof along the underside of Frost Mane’s throat, whispering ‘check mate’ as he did so. While there was no actual violence involved, the message was clear – ‘you’re dead’.

Frost Mane froze up and shed his own cloak spell, his body shimmering before the spell matrix dissolved and he reappeared. He slumped down to the ground and hung his head, clearly ashamed of his performance. Cloakshape rested a hoof on his back and pulled him to his hooves.

“I-I failed you, master,” he muttered demurely.

Cloakshape shook his head, “No, this was never a win/lose situation, just training to see what skills you had. I can see why the princess assigned you to me. Invisibility spells are hard to master; you clearly have the talent, you just need practice, and I can teach you plenty. And what did I say about calling me master?”

Frost Mane gave him a small smile, “Not to?”

“Damn straight. I think we are going to get on just fine, Frost.” Cloakshape started marching off out of the ring and headed towards the mess hall. “Let’s say we go get acquainted over some grub. You can tell me about your life, and how it is that you caught the Princess’s eye. She doesn’t pick just anypony for this life you know. Whether you know it or not, you did something to attract her attention.”

Frost Mane caught up with his master, glancing around at the surrounds with a practiced eye, as if he was sizing the place up. “Well, it’s not something I am all that proud of, but I wasn’t always the upstanding citizen I was now. I was something of a break in expert. I’ve yet to find a lock that I couldn’t crack…”

Octavia stormed out of the meeting hall, chased rapidly by her new student, Vinyl Scratch. She didn’t bother to slow her pace to allow her charge to catch up, or even pause to acknowledge her at all; she had places to be and more important ponies than this flashy white mare to see. With any luck, this mare wouldn’t even last a week here, and she could quietly get back to the job that she had dedicated her life to; the job of safeguarding Equestria from the kinds of hell spawn that had killed her father and caused her mother of commit suicide.

“Hey, Octy, wait up!” Vinyl called from down the hall they were travelling through. She had managed to catch up despite Octavia’s brisk pace. Just hearing her voice, Octavia knew that they weren’t going to get along. Vinyl managed to draw level with Octavia and fell into step along side her, a manic grin on her face. She was having a ball with this. “So, where are we headed, Octy? A secret lab? Training rooms? Off to kick some fla…”

Vinyl had to cut herself off sharply as Octavia’s hoof nearly slammed into her face; the rapidly moving hoof brushing against her mane and missing her skull by a centimetre at the most. When she rose up, she saw Octavia’s face contorted with fury, but she had mastered her hoof and planted it back on the ground. As length, Octavia spoke, her voice a growl of barely contained rage, “Firstly, you will address me as Octavia or Master. You will NOT call me Octy again, if you value your horn. Secondly, I don’t like you, and I don’t need a student. I’m going to the armoury. If you insist on following me, you will be silent unless spoken to, you will not touch anything, and you WILL do as instructed by any other higher ranked member of this order, which is everypony. Understood?”

The smile on Vinyl’s face faltered for just a second. “Crystal, Octavia,” she said, her reply tinged with enough insolence to almost be considered insubordinate. Octavia thought about deciding to beat Vinyl just for the fun of it, and to teach her some manners, but she decided against it. She had more important matters to attend to.

Right now, she was going to see one of the few ponies in the entire world who could openly and honestly claim to be her friend, the Orders chief explosives expert and demolitions master, Blast Radius. She resumed her walking, and Vinyl followed her at a slightly more subdued pace, some the bounce gone from her step.

‘She needs to learn that this isn’t a game. Real ponies are going to get hurt if she isn’t 100% focused at all times. Better she learn that now, than later on’ Octavia thought to herself. She still didn’t think that Vinyl would last past her first field mission.

Beside her, Vinyl spoke again. This time, her voice was measured and careful. “So how did you wind up here, Octavia? I’ve heard about you before. Classical cellist, winner of Princess Luna’s Prize for musical excellence, member of one of Canterlot’s most highly regarded Quartets. None of that seems conducive to being a secret agent hunting down threats to Equestria.”

Octavia regarded Vinyl out of the corner of her eye for a long moment before shrugging one. “I suppose if I don’t tell you, you will just ask some of the others about this, so you may as well get it from me. When I was very young, I saw my father murdered before my eyes, killed by a demon from the depths of Tartarus. It killed my father for no other reason than that it was hungry. Shortly after that, my mother committed suicide. She wasn’t able to cope without my father, so I was raised by my grandparents. I never forgot the creature that shattered my life, and I trained endlessly so that I could avenge their deaths. One day, I tracked down another vampyre and tried to make him talk. When he didn’t, I simply killed him. Turns out that I was being watched, and the order recruited me. This has been my life ever since.” Octavia stopped and turned to face Vinyl, giving the younger mare a hard look. “Everything you think you know about me is a lie; every piece of information carefully constructed and fabricated to present the illusion of a normal life. The Classical Cellist you have seen in magazines is all a lie; the award that Princess Luna supposedly presented to me was a sham. This right now, this is this is the real me, and it has been for far longer than the me you have heard about.”

Vinyl just stared at Octavia, her eyes wide. Hearing all that, this new life of hers had just suddenly become a whole lot more real. Visions of her slaying monsters and protecting the foals, fighting off hordes of demons in a heroic battle vanished in a second. This wasn’t at all what she had imagined this to be. She had just gotten a card one day after she helped save a caravan from marauding griffons, with the instruction to ‘see Celestia’ written on the back.

“Come on,” Octavia called from down the hall, having started moving again while Vinyl was spaced. “I need to see Blast Radius.” Vinyl chased after her, her hooves striking hard on the stone.

Blast Radius’s workshop was large, but still managed to feel cluttered. Half built designs and schematics littered every available surface. Wires, components and boxes marked with such danger signs as ‘highly flammable’ or ‘danger, explosive’ were stacked high in the corners. Octavia stepped lightly through the mayhem, keeping to a very narrow clear pathway that had been marked out in tape. Vinyl paused as she entered the workshop. To her, it was like a tinkers paradise. She had built and maintained her own amps and turntable in her previous job, so she recognised most of the equipment that was on display; at least the electrical components. There was still plenty that she didn’t quite understand.

In the centre of the workshop hovered a pegasus, oblivious to the mess that she had created. Once a vibrant yellow, she was starting to grey around her edges. Blast Radius had been a member of the Silver Sun’s for longer than Octavia had been, and it was beginning to show on her body. She wasn’t a young mare anymore and a lifetime of having been around and experimenting with explosive compounds and other volatile mixtures had finally taken their toll on her. A particularly nasty failed experimental compound some years back had robbed Blast of what little remained of her hearing and half blinded her in one eye. After the accident, she had been removed from active service, though she had elected to remain working for the order, rather than take the generous pension that Celestia had offered. She claimed that everypony she ever knew was here, and she could still help out.

Nowadays, she still worked as the Order’s armourer, but she no longer saw field action. Octavia walked up carefully through the minefield of equipment and tapped Blast Radius lightly on the shoulder. The yellow pegasus held up a hoof and kept working on a empty case for a moment. After working for a few more seconds, she put down her tools and turned to see Octavia standing below her. She quickly floated back down to the ground and hugged Octavia in a bone crunching hug. Octavia returned the hug. From the corner of the room, Vinyl just watched the two, not wanting to interrupt.

“HEY, OCTAVIA,” Blast yelled out. For as long as she had known her, Octavia had never seen Blast speak normally. She had always been a little deaf and had never quite learned to adjust her voice. “HOW ARE YOU? DID THE GRENADE WORK WELL?” she paused for a second to catch her breath.

“Hello, Blast. I am well, and the grenade worked perfectly,” Octavia replied, making sure to over exaggerate her lip movement, as well as moving her hooves in Equestrian sign language. “How are you doing down here?”

“I’M GOOD. I’VE GOT A FEW NEW TOYS IN PRODUCTION, BUT NOTHING IS QUITE READY YET.” Octavia winced; while Blast Radius was one of her dearest friends, speaking to her would result in a headache after a few moments. Blast Radius didn’t seem to notice, but she did catch sight of Vinyl standing over in the corner, examining a speaker that was sitting on a table, most of its components strewn haphazardly in all directions. “HEY, WHO IS THAT?” she yelled out.

“That’s my new… student,” Octavia said. “We got a new bunch out outsiders today. I don’t like her though. I don’t need a student to slow me down.”

“AWWWW, DON’T BE LIKE THAT, OCTY,” was Blast’s reply. Vinyl appeared to finally notice that they were talking about her and she looked up from the speaker. Blast Radius flapped over to her quickly. “HEY, I’M BLAST RADIUS. WHO ARE YOU?”

Vinyl grinned at Blast. “I’m Vinyl Scratch, former DJ and now Octavia’s student,” she said. She spoke normally, but also waved her hooves in flawless sign language. After even just a few seconds, Octavia could tell that Vinyl was far more skilled at it than she was; her movements were fluid and practiced, clear indications that she had mastered using signing at some point in her life. “Hey, Blast. Did you build all of this yourself,” she asked, pointing towards the speaker on the table.

“YEA, BUT I COULDN’T QUITE GET IT TO WORK PROPERLY. SOMETHING’S WRONG WITH THE AMPS.”

Vinyl picked up the speaker in her magic, grabbing several components with her hooves and coupling wires and sockets together before slipping all the parts into the housing and screwing down the outer casing. After a couple more seconds, she put the speaker back down on the table in the now cleared space. “There you go, all fixed. There was just a simple short in the wires. I used to fix these things all the time,” she said and hit the speaker with her magic a second time. Loud bass music blared from it. While Blast couldn’t hear it, she could feel the vibrations through her hooves, and she grinned.

Octavia covered her ears to protect them from the horrid noise. It was everything she hated about modern music; loud disjointed melodies, a lack of anything resembling a real instrument and glow sticks. Oh how she hated glow sticks.

Beside her, Blast Radius began laughing hard. “HAHAHA. OCTY, I LIKE THIS ONE. SHE’S A KEEPER.” She and Vinyl exchanged a hoof bump before Blast radius began showing her all her new inventions and designs.

Octavia could only groan after them. This was going to be a long visit.

On the other side of the Orders living chambers, Sweetie Belle followed her new family towards the rooms that they had claimed as their space. While it was officially referred to a living quarters B, almost everypony called the space that the vamponies had claimed as ‘the nest’. Sweetie hadn’t actually seen it yet, having only arrived in Canterlot that day with her coven and she was curious to see exactly how it had been decorated. In her mind she saw the same kinds of things that had been on display the night she had been turned, barely a week ago. Fountains of running blood, sharp gothic architecture, overt displays of carnality; everything she had read about in the trashy vampony books of her youth.

At length, all five ponies came to a stop outside a plain looking door. There was nothing unusual about it; it just looked like any one of a dozen doors they had passed along the way. “Well, here we are, everypony. Don’t get too comfortable though, as we will all be heading off to Fillydelphia tomorrow morning,” Twilight said as she opened the door. Sweetie Belle rushed inside to find that it was just a plain looking dormitory. Some comfortable looking beds, a fridge in the corner; nothing to indicate that it was being used by the undead in anyway.

The disappointment must have shown on her face, as Lyra came over to her and patted her on her shoulder. “Don’t worry Sweetie, this is just a temporary place for us. Once we get to our new home, we can decorate it how we see fit. For now though, you must be thirsty. We all know just how much blood you will need over the next few months, and it is important for you to keep your supply up. As useful as we are, we are all just one mistaken frenzy away from being ended, and I don’t want to see you die because you were hungry.”

Over by the fridge, Bon-Bon pulled out five blood packs and threw them over to everypony. Lyra caught hers and quickly ripped one side of it off and chugged it down, swallowing the cold vitae with clear enjoyment. Bon-Bon and Twilight joined her, each of them opening the top off of their meals and drinking the blood straight from the plastic packets.

Rarity was a different story however. Unlike the others, she only made a small hole in her pack, and poured the contents out into a wine glass. The deep crimson liquid looked almost exactly like the wines that she used to drink, back when she was mortal.

“No matter how many times I have this, Blood is the most delectable thing I have ever tasted. It is a pity that we never tried it when we were ponies,” she said, delicately sipping from her glass.

Sweetie just followed the example of Lyra and the others, using her sharp fangs to pierce the blood pack and quickly drain it dry. The blood was salty, but deeply satisfying in a way that no mere mortal food could ever compare with. Drinking it quenched a thirst that she hadn’t even realised she was feeling until she began drinking, and she quickly felt a flash from below her waist, which she covered up with a hoof. If she had still been capable of blushing, she would have as the flash slowly turned into something more.

Lyra and the others had explained to her the feeding and arousal often went hoof in hoof, and that feeling desire while she was feeding was nothing to be ashamed about; they had all done it at some point. Plus they were all brethren here, so she shouldn’t feel embarrassed about embracing her nature here in the privacy of their own quarters. Indeed as Sweetie looked around, she saw that all semblance of normality that they maintained when interacting with normal ponies had vanished the second that they had entered their private space. In here they were vamponies, open and undisguised.

Having finished her meal, Bon-Bon had quickly assumed her favoured position, hanging bat-like from the roof of the room. She just hung there above the others, her hooves attached to the rafters as if she was a barnacle. It apparently relaxed her, though Twilight was sure that it was just a side effect of the blood pooling in her brain. Twilight herself was seated at a desk and was nose deep in a book. She was flicking through it far faster than any normal pony could possibly do and hope to be able to remember or comprehend the contents.

Rarity was seated over in another corner, a file floating in her magic and grinding away at her fangs. Just as a well groomed horn was a point of pride to most unicorns, Vamponies, so Rarity reasoned, should also take just a good of care of their fangs, and she made sure to clean and file them on a regular basis. While the fangs would regrow over time, hers were the sharpest out of all. Sweetie ran her tongue over her own pair of elongated teeth. Even now, a week later, she wasn’t quite used to them and she had bitten herself more than once as a result of not remembering that they were there.

Lastly, Lyra had taken up position in the centre of the room, nearly directly below Bon-Bon. Unlike the others, she wasn’t doing anything. Lyra had simply switched off and now resembled a mint coloured statue. She didn’t blink, she didn’t tremble with the act of breathing. She had retreated into herself, leaving her body totally immobile. It looked a little bit creepy to Sweetie Belle, but she figured that Lyra knew what she was doing.

Sweetie walked around to where Twilight had finished her first book and was picking up a second. She didn’t look up, but said, “Yes, Sweetie? Do you need something?”

Sweetie Belle nodded. “Yes, Twilight. What are we actually going to be doing in Fillydelphia?”

Twilight put her book down and turned to face her charge. “Our goals in Fillydelphia are two fold. First we need to be on the lookout for any signs of increased werewolf activity. We don’t know why they have become so much more active over the last few months, and ponies in Equestria are in danger. Secondly, as I’m sure you would have noticed, we can’t stay in Ponyville for much longer. Ponies were beginning to ask all sorts of questions about Lyra, Bon-Bon, and Rarity; about how they didn’t seem to be aging. You and Rarity could easily pass for twins now.” It was true. Aside from her mane colour and cut, Sweetie Belle was almost the splitting image of her older sister. And always would be, she was now beginning to realise.

Twilight wasn’t finished. “To avoid exposure and to help protect the ponies living here, we are going to have to move around every few years. Until Equestria is ready to accept that Vamponies are real, and can be trusted; a time that most likely will never come, we are going to have to keep our secret secret. Fillydelphia has a large enough population that the addition of five new ponies wouldn’t be noticed, and is far enough away from other cities that the chance of gossip spreading is minimal. We also deemed it best that we choose somewhere a bit remote until you learn to control yourself around others.”

Twilight’s face turned hard, “I saw you struggling while at the initiation ceremony today. It’s nothing to be ashamed of; we all went through it at some stage. The urge to feed can be hard to resist and until we are all convinced that you have mastered it and can be out in public without giving yourself or us away, then I’m afraid that you must be accompanied at all times when not at home.”

Sweetie Belle nodded. She had expected something like this, and Twilight was right. She had almost been ready to pounce on the closest living blood bag she could sink her fangs into. ‘NO, mustn’t think of them like that. They are living ponies to be respected, not walking meals to be preyed upon’ Sweetie mentally told herself, ashamed that she had even considered it.

“I understand Twilight. I won’t let you, or the Order down, I promise,” she said. She meant it too. Unlike all the others gathered here, Sweetie Belle had chosen to give up her mortal life for this one. The others had had no choice, but she had asked for it, knowing full well what would likely be expected of her.

“Don’t worry, Sweetie,” Lyra said from behind her. She had come out of her trance state and was wandered over to where Twilight and Sweetie were talking. “We will teach you everything there is to know about being a vampony. How to feed without getting caught, how to fight, and maybe when you are ready, how to seduce. Being a vampony isn’t all service to Equestria.” Lyra shot a look over at Twilight. When they were alone like this, it was Lyra who was in charge, due to her being the eldest among them. In matters that concerned their activities as members of the Silver Suns, Lyra had agreed to defer to Twilight’s judgement.

“There are a few more things that we all need to go over at some point, but they can wait for now,” Twilight said, bringing their conversation to a close. “Right now, we should all get some down time and make sure that we are ready to move out. There is a specially chartered train leaving just before sun up tomorrow, and we need to be on it.

Lyra nodded and returned to her frozen state. Twilight picked up her book again and began reading at an absurd pace. All Sweetie Belle could do was lie down on her bed and close her eyes, imagining what the next few years of her life would hold for her.

Chapter 2 - Investigations

Tugging at my Undead Heartstrings II - The Belle, it tolls for thee

Chapter 2 – Investigations

Manehattan
3 days later

Octavia paced around her new one bedroomed apartment in Manehattan. She and Vinyl Scratch had been assigned to this city as it was a perfect location for both of them to set up and ply their cover stories while being able to keep an eye out for trouble. Manehattan had a number of formal concert halls, and gala occasions that would call for Octavia’s skills, while there was also a developing club scene that Vinyl could blend into easily enough.

While the apartment was clean enough and reasonably upmarket, it was pitifully small, and meant that the two of them would have almost no privacy; they even had to share a sleeping room, which didn’t bother Vinyl. The unicorn had been almost insufferably upbeat about all of this, regarding it more as a game or an adventure than as actual work. Octavia knew that her mood wouldn’t last much longer, not once they actually start dealing with the bottom rung of pony life.

Finally, Octavia had had enough. She walked over to where Vinyl had already begun taking their small stereo system apart and yanked the white mare up off the ground. “Come along, Vinyl. We have work to do here.”

Vinyl looked at her as if she had just spoken in another language, her magenta eyes scrunching up and cocking her head to the side. “But we just got here like an hour ago. We haven’t even unpacked yet.”

Octavia gave Vinyl a harsh look, directing all her frustrations at having been assigned a student into this one glare. “We are not being paid by the crown to sit around and tinker with toys. If you wanted to do that, you could have requested to be assigned to Blast Radius. Now come on, we have somepony to meet.”

This wasn’t exactly true, but Octavia did have somepony whom she wanted to at least look in on. It had been many years since Octavia had set hoof in Manehattan, and she wasn’t sure how intact her old network of contacts would be. The pony she had always gone to, Fast Eddie he liked to call himself, had long since retired from the game, but Octavia knew that one never really retired from his particular line of business.

Octavia grabbed a pair of saddlebags and filled the pouches with a reasonable supply of bits; more than enough to get the wheels of information flowing if it came to that. Fast Eddie was reliable, but he didn’t come cheap. Vinyl followed Octavia, more out of curiosity than actual desire. This was going to be her first actual field work for the Order, and Octavia was going to keep a close eye on her to see how she did. At the first sign that she couldn’t handle it, Octavia was dumping her flank and sending her packing back to Canterlot. Then Celestia would see that she didn’t need a student or a partner.

The pair exited their apartment and walked out into the shining streets of Upper Manehattan. The apartment they had been provided with was in the upper class areas of the city; anything less and it would have looked suspicious for a musician of Octavia’s calibre. Despite the fact that it was just a cover for her, Octavia was a fully trained and competent cellist, a skill she had made sure to keep up with. While she would have been more than happy to live in a crackerbox apartment that had nothing but a bed and a roof, she knew that she had to maintain her image, lest she lose one of her greatest assets to the order; namely her ability to move through the upper circles of Equestrian society.

Despite its distance from the capital of Canterlot, Manehattan shared many architectural designs with the royal city. Maybe out of a desire to be talked about in the same sentence, or possibly just a product of some of the same designers working on both developments, the town of Manehattan was built from glittering marble and edged in gold and purple.

Just like Canterlot though, Manehattan’s gleaming spires and high-rises served another purpose: to cover up the rot that infested the core. Under the rich socialites and the glittering façade, there was a starving underclass or ponies that didn’t have a bit or home to their name. Octavia knew this place well, or at least she used to. It was here that she had tracked down and captured two vamponies who had escaped her many years ago. There wasn’t much of a progression from rich to poor in this town. All one had to do was turn down the wrong street to find a pony desperate to do almost anything to put food on the table.

Octavia nearly dragged Vinyl through several of Manehattan’s back streets, looking for one bar in particular. It was in one of the seedier parts of town, a place that Octavia would never willingly set hoof in if she had a choice, but it looked like Vinyl would be right at home here. Run down buildings and rotting trash piles sat everywhere. Beggars and errant children sat on every corner. Many of them ran up to Octavia, hooves out and pleading for bits or scraps of food. Many of them quailed at a harsh look from Octavia, fleeing back to whatever dumpster or box they called home, though a few of the braver, or at least more desperate ones remained.

Octavia rummaged through pocket in her saddle bag and pulled out a few gleaming bits. She showed them to the ponies clamouring at her and many of them fell silent. A few tried to grab the coins from her hoof, though Octavia expected that and quickly withdrew her hoof, so that they swiped at nothing but air. “Fast Eddie,” she said. Two of the beggars understood who she was asking for and pointed down an alley way. A sign on the wall indicated a bar was located down the alley and Octavia recognised it as one she had met her contact in once, a long time ago.

Octavia tossed the bits to the crowd of beggars and they swarmed on the small coins as one, shoving and pushing at each other in an attempt to grab the money. Octavia shook her head at the desperation, but kept moving. Vinyl however was rooted to the spot, watching the display with a look of horror on her face. Octavia had taken three steps before she noticed Vinyl still standing there and turned back to pull her along.

“First time seeing this?” she asked, “The level of desperation that a pony will stoop to for even the slightest chance. In some ways, death would be a kindness to the ponies here. They have their uses though, as you will learn in a moment or two.”

“It’s not that,” Vinyl replied, “That was me many years ago. I ran away from home when I was still a filly. My father was more interested in making money that he was in me or my mother, so I left him for a new life. I was convinced that I would be able to make it on my own. I wound up in the gutter, right where these ponies are now. I got lucky and father took me back, but not before I experienced the worst the pony kind has to offer. I did things that I’m not proud of to survive.”

Octavia motioned for Vinyl to keep moving. “The best thing you can do for them now is to give them a purpose, make them work for you. We are going to meet an old contact of mine, Fast Eddie. He ran the homeless network the last time I was in town, and he should be able to give us some info on what is happening around the city.”

Vinyl nodded and the pair of them entered into the bar at the end of the alley. At once, they were assaulted by the smells of cheap booze and even cheaper company. The place was an absolute dive; peeling paint and cracked wooden walls. Vermin openly scurried around the tables and legs of the patrons. It was the kind of place that you came to when you had grown bored with life, and were looking for nothing but the oblivion that came at the bottom of a glass.

Octavia slid smoothly though the few ponies that were in the bar. Most of their were either too far gone to even notice her, and the few that did moved away from the sight of her obviously groomed and cared for coat. Here was a pony who clearly didn’t belong here, and they instinctively moved away from that. Vinyl walked in after her, her eyes open and observing everything she could. She had seen places like this before, and they were all the same. Without even glancing around, she could make out who the troublemakers would be; that there was a hooker in the corner currently trying to interest a john and that there was one pony at the bar unlikely to see his next sunrise.

At the bar, Octavia ordered a whiskey for herself, insisting on a clean glass and slapped down an extra helping of bits to go along with it. “Eddie,” was all she said. The barkeep pocketed the bits before they had even had a chance to stop rolling around and he nodded towards a booth in the back. Octavia could make out several ponies clustered around what looked to be a fairly young stallion, one who was clearly not the pony she was looking for. Octavia turned back to the barkeep and repeated her demand, this time with a little bit more force. Once again the barkeep pointed at the stallion in the booth.

“Eddie don’t come round here no more,” he said, his voice barely more than a deep growl, “He’s six feet under; caught the short end of the long arm of the law down a dark alley a couple years back. That pony in the booth, Shady, is the guy you want to talk to now. Except Shady there, he don’t talk to nobody unless they got something that interest him.

“He’ll see me,” Octavia replied. She was confident that she could get what she wanted to know out this new stallion. It was a snag in her plans though. She had known Eddie, knew his methods and trusted him, at least as far as she could trust an underground figure who only worked for her as long as the money remained good. She left the bar and approached the booth, making directly for the pony seated at the centre.

Without hesitation, a burly earth pony, one who had clearly been hired as muscled stepped into her path, raising up a hoof to block her path. “No one sees the boss without his say so. You just best turn around, pretty mare, before we decide to have a little fun with you.”

Octavia smiled sweetly at the pony blocking her. ‘The bigger they are’ she thought to herself before she struck. Within half a second, she rose to her back hooves, grabbed the muscle’s outstretched hoof and twisted it to the right, spinning to add in extra force. A sudden snap could be heard in the bar, and the muscular pony fell to the ground, clutching his now clearly broken hoof of his body. Octavia dropped back down to her hooves and stepped over his writhing body to sit down at the other end of the booth, facing the pony she had been told was Shady.

He leaned forward in his seat, resting the tips of his hooves together as he did so. He took one quick look at the pony he had hired to protect him from exactly this kind of thing. With a curt nod to his other associates, he turned back to face Octavia, who was once again the picture of pleasantness. Shady’s other ponies picked up the muscle pony and dragged him out of the bar, leaving Octavia and Shady alone. Vinyl was keeping a respectful distance away, cowed by Octavia’s sudden outburst of violence. It was one thing to know that Octavia was a deadly hunter and a capable combatant; it was another thing entirely too actually see it.

“If you wanted me dead, I would not still be sitting here; that much is clear. You want something. Very well, I’m listening,” Shady said. He didn’t appear perturbed at all by Octavia’s display; it was as if such an occurrence was daily routine for him. Octavia matched his own stare with hers, eager to get down to business. She needed to know if this Shady was even the pony she wanted to talk to, plus she had to get his measure. Behind her, Vinyl walked off to the bar to grab herself a drink. She had a feeling she was going to need it shortly.

“I’ll get straight to the point, I’m looking for information and I’m hoping that you are the one to supply it,” Octavia said, not wasting any time. Small talk was for nobles and dignitaries; she had business to conduct.

“Info ain’t cheap round here, darlin’. Everything has its price. Tell me what you need, and maybe I can help you. That is, providing you got something that interests me back.”

Octavia withdrew her bag of bits and dumped most of what was left on the table between them. Behind her, Vinyl had reappeared, a glass of something fizzy in her magical grasp. “I’m looking for anything that seems strange in this town, but not just unusual strange. Ponies vanishing, unexplained mutilations, possibly even classed as a dog attack,” she said calmly. As she spoke, she saw Shady’s eyes light up.

‘He knows something’ she thought. Shady quickly recovered however, mastering his face in a second. With a push he returned the bits to Octavia’s side of the table, a move which confused Octavia.

“Sorry, doll. Information like that is way out of this price range. I’m gonna need something a bit more solid than this.”

Octavia raged inside. She wasn’t getting anywhere with this new stallion. She didn’t have anything she could use as leverage on him, nor did she have anywhere enough bits on her to grease his pockets, not after she had had to bribe the bar tender. She was just about ready to resort to breaking his legs when Vinyl stepped up next to her, slipping on a pair of deep purple shades that Octavia had no idea she had been carrying. She tapped Octavia on the shoulder and leaned down to whisper into her ear.

“Relax, Octy. I got this one.” Vinyl pulled herself into the seat next to Octavia and levelled her gaze at Shady. Her face was impassive behind her glasses; they were oversized and took up most of her face.

Shady instantly turned his attention to the newcomer. After a few seconds his eyes lit up in recognition and he became totally enraptured by her. Octavia noticed his eyes begin to mist over, as if they were no longer getting or sending information to Shady’s brain. Shady also began breathing slowly and regularly, becoming very limp in his seat. Octavia recognised the signs of magic being used, but she hadn’t seen anything like this before.

Lifting a shot of booze up to her lips that she had been holding with her magic since she arrived at the booth, Vinyl leaned forward and began to talk. “Yo, my man,” she began, “why you gotta be like this? All we want is a name. You do that for me, and who knows; maybe we can help each other out. I’m sure that I can find something you need.”

Shady seemed to freeze for a moment or two before he suddenly jerked and began speaking rapidly, “There is another bar on the other side of town; they call it the Wet Mutt. I hear that there are things going on in there that ain’t quite right: Ponies that aren’t really ponies, howling during a full moon. Sometimes a pony goes in, but he don’t come out again.”

Vinyl game him a cold, humourless smile. “That’s all we wanted. Now, you go up to the bar, buy everypony in here a round, and then go home; bang your ho, or whatever it is you do at night. When you wake up tomorrow, you won’t remember a word of this, understood?”

Shady nodded slowly, clearly under some kind of trance. Vinyl wasn’t finished though, “And the next time we need some info,” she indicated Octavia and herself, “you will give it to us without question, and at a fair price. Now get out of here, before I make you do something really embarrassing.”

Shady nearly leapt out of his seat, trotting up to the bar with nearly mechanical movements. Blinking a couple of times, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was doing, but couldn’t stop it either, he pulled out a couple of coins and put them down on the table. “Barkeep, a round for everypony here, on me.” He turned to look at the prostitute in the corner, who had given up trying to entice a new client for the moment. “Hey Orchard, get over here. We’re leaving.” With that he simply left the bar, with the prostitute, Orchard following him meekly. Vinyl watched them go and burst out laughing. Octavia was just frozen in place. She couldn’t believe what she had just seen.

With Shady gone, and the booth to themselves, Vinyl took her glasses off and turned to face Octavia again, a superior smirk on her face. Octavia was frozen in place, her eyes not blinking and her jaw hanging loosely open. Vinyl shrugged and quickly picked up her glasses in her magic. After a second they seemingly vanished, caught in a small space fold. After a few seconds of Octavia’s staring blankly, Vinyl lifted up a hoof and closed her jaw. Octavia blinked a few times after than and returned to the present. Vinyl began chuckling to herself at the sight of Octavia flailing like a fish out of water.

“Wh-w-w-what was that?” Octavia asked, “How did you do that.”

Vinyl stopped laughing and turned to face Octavia. Her horn glowed again and this time Octavia could see Vinyl’s eyes begin to glow as well, pulsating bright and dim in a regular rhythm. Octavia felt herself drawn to those eyes, like she was caught in a whirlpool. “Tell me, why you don’t like me?” Vinyl asked her. To Octavia’s ears, her voice sounded distorted with a slight echo.

As she spoke, Octavia could hear something whispering in the back of her head. A calm soothing voice that promised her everything would be alright if she just told this mare before her what she wanted to know. Try as she might, she couldn’t tear herself away from Vinyl’s glowing eyes; it was like looking into the proverbial abyss. Two bottomless pits that seemed to draw everything into them, including Octavia’s will to resist.

“I-I don’t like you because you are unprofessional. I actually said that you wouldn’t last past your first week out here. You seem to treat everything like a game and you aren’t dedicated to the cause like I am. You would only slow me down; make me a less efficient hunter. Plus you represent the death of proper music with your synthetic electronic junk.” Octavia couldn’t help herself; the words just came pouring out of her. She had no control over what she was saying, but it was all unfettered truth.

Once she was finished speaking, Vinyl released her spell and her eyes ceased glowing. Octavia heard the whispers praise her for being such a good pony and vanish as well. She slumped forwards on the table as if she was exhausted after running for miles.

“What…was…that?” she asked eventually.

Vinyl leaned forward and handed Octavia the remains of her drink. The relaxants in the booze would help her recover. “A little trick I learned when I was young; a combination of light hypnosis and some auditory hallucinations. Those whispers you heard were very much real, but carefully modulated to appear as if they were in your own head.” Vinyl paused to indicate her cutie mark, a combined pair of quavers. “This doesn’t just mean that I am good at music; it means that I can create sound. What you heard just then was me using a combination of magicks to convince your subconscious to tell me what I wanted to know. When I did it to Shady, I hid my eyes behind my glasses; the lenses are specially crafted to work with that spell, and I also was levitating a glass to cover my horn’s aura.”

Octavia took a moment to process that. “That’s impressive,” she admitted, and it was. Vinyl had clearly shown more forethought and preparation that Octavia had originally credited her with.

“It only works on those who aren’t prepared for it. If you know it’s coming, then the suggestions don’t work; and the more that it is used on a single pony, the more they become resistant to it.” Vinyl paused for a second before levelling her eyes at Octavia again. This time there was no magical glow, just her natural magenta. “We are going to have a talk about this later on, Octavia. I don’t like the fact that you don’t seem to have even given me a chance.”

Octavia was about to retort when she saw the look on Vinyl’s face. She was all business right now. Octavia was put off slightly by the look; this Vinyl was clearly not the pony she had met before.

‘Maybe there is hope for her afterall’ she thought as the pair of them got up from the booth to leave. Their next stop would be to stake out this Wet Mutt bar and see if there was anything to the rumours that Shady had heard. If not, they were back to square one.

Fillydelphia

In the woods that bordered Fillydelphia, the single deer never stood a chance. While it had been alert for predators or monsters that would be interested in trying to eat it, it had failed to notice the far more dangerous creature closing in on it; a pair of creatures in fact.

Sweetie Belle moved slow and kept low to the ground, allowing her new hunting instincts to take over. She could see the deer through the trees as if it had been wearing neon yellow, could hear the steady beating of its heart as it grazed from the succulent grasses under its hooves. The thick musk of its coat assailed her nose, creating a trail almost as clear as if it had been carved into the ground. Slowly, she moved forward, an invisible threat among the high bushes, pushing forward ever so slightly until she reached the distance when she could lash out and strike.

The deer didn’t notice her approach, and it would be the last mistake that it would ever make. With all the speed and ferocity of a snake, Sweetie Belle lunged forwards and tackled the deer to the ground. It struggled against the unknown attacker, but Sweetie held it fast and in one motion, bared her fangs wide and sank them into its neck. A burst of rich warm blood filled her mouth, and Sweetie swallowed every drop she could manage, marvelling at the sweet taste. It was as if every one of her favourite foods had been combined into one perfect liquid and she couldn’t get enough of it.

With every mouthful she drank, the deer struggled less and less until it finally stopped moving at all. Unable to drain anything further from the body, Sweetie Belle released it and turned to look at the other pony who had been watching her. Her sister, Rarity had been tasked with teaching her how to hunt, now that they had arrived in their new home. The woods outside Fillydelphia made for a good hunting ground, as plenty of animals roamed freely there and as it was generally empty of other ponies, the chances of them being observed were slim.

Rarity nodded approvingly at Sweetie, indicating the deer at her hooves, “Well done, Sweetie Belle. You are getting better at that, though,” Rarity paused for a moment and pointed at Sweetie’s coat, “You made a bit of a mess.”

Sweetie looked down to see that her pristine white coat was now marred with some spilt blood. Rarity leaned in and licked up a quick drip of the crimson liquid, sighing with delight as she tasted it. “Delicious,” she remarked. “You will need to go and clean up before we head back to home. We passed a river not too far back, and it should be deep enough for you to get a good soak. You go clean up while I dispose of the deer’s body. Don’t take too long though, as I still want to visit the fabric store before it closes.”

Sweetie nodded and made her way towards the river that they had passed while stalking the deer. Behind her, she heard Rarity’s horn begin to glow, and she knew that Rarity was dissolving the body. Rarity had found that she could use her telekinetics in new ways over the last few years, and one of the new uses was to create overlapping fields that could crush an object as if it were in a vice. Once she was finished with her spell, there would be nothing left of the deer, save for an unrecognisable mass, and even that wouldn’t last too long. Some predator would come along eventually and find a free, if slightly dry meal.

Reaching the river, Sweetie looked for the deepest place and jumped in. The water was freezing; it was just coming out of winter and like Ponyville, Fillydelphia also didn’t use magic to clear up the snow. Small chunks of ice still floated in the water, and Sweetie Belle aimed for a relatively clear space. Landing with a splash, Sweetie quickly ducked under the surface, trying hard not to notice the dagger like feel of the frigid water. The sensation went away as her body temperature quickly dropped until it matched the water around her.

Her hooves touched the bottom of the river, and Sweetie looked up. She was about two inches under the surface, and she could see clearly the river bank around her. With her magic, she grabbed a small patch of silt and used that to scrub herself clean of the evidence she had accidentally splattered herself with earlier. The scrub felt good on her body, and she was quickly cleaned of all the remaining blood. She had managed to get to it before it began to dry, so it wasn’t a challenge to get it out. Even if she had unable to get it out, she could have cast an illusion spell to cover it up, but that would have been wasteful.

It wasn’t until about two minutes later that Sweetie realised that she hadn’t felt the need to breathe yet. While she knew that she didn’t need to breathe air anymore, the reality of it still stunned her at times. She hadn’t yet actually tried to explore the limits of her new durability, though Lyra had told her once of how Bon-Bon had survived and healed back from a fall that should have killed her within an hour of having been turned. Maybe, once she had learned a bit more about control, she would have to experiment a bit and find out just how much punishment she could take now.

Something hard splashed into the water and wacked the top of Sweetie’s head. She looked up to see Rarity looking back down at her with a concerned expression on her face. Sweetie Belle pushed up off the riverbed and rose back to the surface of the water, breaking it horn first like a spire of rock bursting out of the ground. Rarity was waiting for her and she had a look of impatience on her face. Sweetie Belle realised that she must have taken longer that she though to get clean.

“Took you long enough; I was starting to get worried,” Rarity began. Sweetie Belle lowered her head in apology, falling back into the old habit of the little sister. Part of her mind protested, saying that they were now equals. It was something that she had never quite gotten used to, but she would have to shortly.

“I’m sorry, sis, I guess I lost track of time under the water,” she said, contrite. Sweetie hoped that Rarity would still have time to pick out some fabric. She had plans to open up a new dressmakers shop so that the five of them would have some income to help them blend it. The Order of the Silver Suns provided a small stipend for them, but Rarity had quickly pointed out that this was going to be their home for potentially some time, and they should make it look as such.

Rarity sighed but smiled weakly, “it’s ok, Sweetie Belle. I think we all did something like that at one point or another. It takes some getting used to, not having to eat or breathe. Now come along; we can still make Furriers if we hurry.”

Sweetie nodded once and the two of them began to fall into step next to each other. As they passed through the woods, they saw the evidence of the coming spring beginning to bloom. Small buds heralded the growth of flowers, a few shoots of new grass were beginning to push up through the hard packed dirt. A very pregnant deer caught sight of the two and turned tail to run into the woods. Rarity saw it but let it go. She didn’t hurt pregnant animals; it was a rule that they had all agreed on a long time ago and she was going to make sure that Sweetie Belle knew that such animals were off limits.

She was about to turn and tell Sweetie Belle about her personal rules for the hunt, when she caught the scent of something else. Something that she had only smelt a few times before, but she would remember for the rest of time; something that she had hoped Sweetie Belle would be spared until she was at least a little bit older. Beside her, she could tell that Sweetie could smell it too.

Sweetie turned at the unknown smell. She didn’t know what it was that was approaching, but it appeared that Rarity did, as she quickly adopted a defensive stance before Sweetie Belle. “Get behind me and stay there,” Rarity said, somewhat redundant as Sweetie was already behind her.

“What’s going on,” Sweetie asked her sister. “What’s coming?”

Rarity took another good sniff of the air before turning her head slightly, “Smell that, it’s the smell of dead flesh and it’s moving this way. Sweetie Belle, we have another vampony headed this way, and quickly.”

Chapter 3 - Strella

Tugging at my Undead Heartstrings II - The Belle, it tolls for thee

Chapter 3 - Strella

Sweetie Belle’s first encounter with a vampony that wasn’t part of her family was a surprisingly understated affair. Once Rarity was sure that this newcomer was indeed headed straight for them, she led Sweetie to a clearing in the woods no too far away. They would need both the space and the privacy if it came to blows.

Sweetie Belle watched as a dull yellow blur landed in the forest on the other side of the clearing. A few moments later, a pegasus mare walked slowly out of the trees and came to rest on the other side of the clearing. Rarity put herself between Sweetie and the strange pony, body low and in a ready position with her fangs out. Her horn was glowing with a bright red aura; a clear sign that Rarity had augmented one of her spells with a little bit of blood magic.

The mare slowly came closer and Sweetie could see that she was about the same age as she was, maybe a few years younger when she was turned, not that that really counted for anything when it came to vamponies. She had a light green mane and tail, mixed in with a few streaks of copper, and oddly for a vampony, she wore a pair of wire frame glasses. The mare walked slowly into the clearing, her movements calm and fluid. Rarity kept her position, but it was clear that the mare wasn’t here to attack them.

Once she was within easy talking distance, Rarity signalled for the mare to stop. “Who are you and what do you want?” she asked, not bothering with any preamble.

The mare smiled at her, a genial smile clearly showing off the pair of fangs in her mouth. There was no point in hiding their nature at this point; all of them knew exactly what they were and no other ponies were around to see them. When she spoke, her tone was calm and measured, carefully crafted to show no hostile intent. ‘Relax,” she said, “I’m not here to cause you any trouble. This wood is my hunting ground, and I sensed your arrival here two days ago. I’ve been watching you since you arrived and I figured that it was the right time to meet the neighbours, so to speak. I am Strella. Who are you?” Her voice was strongly accented and it sounded like she had either grown up or spent a lot of time in Stalliongrad at some point in her life.

Rarity relaxed slightly, but didn’t let her guard down. “My name is Rarity, and this is my sister, Sweetie Belle.” Sweetie moved out from behind Rarity and waved a hoof at the mare, Strella, if that was her real name. Strella smiled at her and returned the wave. “You said that these woods were yours; are you here to chase us off? We were just leaving.”

Strella shook her head, “No, I am not here to chase you off. I am one, while you are many. I know that there are others that you can signal close by, and to tell you the truth, I am lonely for the company of my own kind.”

Sweetie Belle felt her unbeating heart go out to this mare. It sounded like she had been alone for a long time. “Are you alone here?” she asked the mare before her.

Strella nodded once, “Indeed I am, and it has been that way for as long as I have been a vampony. My cave is not far from here, if you would like to talk in private. It is well sheltered from the sun and I have some caged animals if you are still hungry.”

Rarity recoiled at the idea of spending time in a cave, no matter whose it was. She released her spell and straightened up, though she didn’t break eye contact with Strella. “That’s a… lovely offer, Strella, but why don’t you come with us. We have a home in town and I’m sure that the others would love to meet you.”

Strella paused for a moment but she eventually nodded, “Very well, I will come with you. I will admit that I am curious to see how you live; I’ve never met another vampony who lives like you do. I’ve always lived alone in my cave. I think that the locals believe that it is haunted and leave it and me alone.”

Rarity motioned for Strella to follow her. “Come along then. Just remember to hide your fangs; we don’t want to spook the locals just yet.”

Strella clamped down her mouth, hiding her fangs from sight. Rarity and Sweetie Belle covered theirs with illusions and the trio began to walk towards the edge of the forest.

The house that Twilight had selected as the base of operations while they were living in Fillydelphia was located on the far outskirts of the town, close to the edge of the wood and lacking any close neighbours. Rarity led them towards the house, silently thankful that it was now late afternoon and everypony was either already at home or headed to a bar or tavern for a drink. As such, they didn’t garner much attention; just another three ponies making their way home after a days work.

Sweetie Belle had to focus hard on the ground before her. Around her, her senses were telling her that the walking blood bags were ripe for the picking. Even though she had just fed on the deer, her mouth was watering at the smell of such rich ponies just walking right before her. It would be so simple to grab one and vanish into the forest before anypony could react. Maybe a young colt or filly so that they would be extra juicy.

‘No! I mustn’t think like that. These are living ponies and not walking meals,’ Sweetie Belle mentally told herself. Swiftly she distracted herself by biting down on her lip, digging her right fang deeply into the flesh. The pain quickly distracted her, though the taste of her own blood made her feel hungry again. She knew that she would be constantly hungry for many months to come; it had taken that long for the others.

Beside her, Rarity noticed Sweetie and pulled her in close. She wasn’t going to let Sweetie Belle get hurt. Walking on her other side, Strella was looking around the town in wonder. Behind her glasses, her eyes were constantly scanning the ponies around her, as well as looking at all the buildings. From her expression, it was clear that she had never seen anything like this before. She looked uncomfortable in the light crowd, but Rarity could tell that she wasn’t in danger of snapping.

A few ponies gave them a second glance, but they reached the house without incident. Recently renovated for their stay, the house looked no different on the outside than any of the other houses that dotted the landscape around Fillydelphia. A small but well maintained garden sat proudly before it; Bon-Bon liked to garden when she had some free time.

Even thought she knew that the others would be able to hear them approaching along the stone path, Rarity called out for good measure, “We’re home, everypony, and we have a guest.”

A second later, the door to the house opened and Lyra stepped out onto the porch. She was all smiles, though Sweetie noticed that her fangs were still hidden, even in the increasing dark of the afternoon. “Welcome back,” she said happily before turning t face Strella. “Please, come inside,” she said stepping aside to make room.

At the invitation, Strella began walking towards the house. She had been hanging back slightly from Rarity and Sweetie Belle. While she didn’t need to be formally invited into their house; the rules governing entry into a private home only worked for mortal residencies, it was still common courtesy. She also didn’t want to appear threatening on her first visit to this new group. They were the first vamponies who hadn’t tried to kill her on sight in a long time; she wasn’t lying about being lonely for her own kind.

As she passed into the house, Strella noticed several powerful wards on the walls. There was some strong magic at work on this house, but of what kind, she couldn’t guess. Safely inside, She noticed that Rarity and Sweetie Belle nearly instantly dropped their illusions and revealed their true natures. Upon seeing them show fang, Strella did the same and unclamped her mouth.

It was then that she noticed that the other occupants of the house had come out to meet her. Standing in the front hallway of the house, Strella was faced with four unicorns and an earth pony, all of whom were looking at her with varying degrees of welcome and suspicion on their faces. Her first instinct was to fight; to show her fangs to intimidate her enemy. She quickly quashed that thought; five on one was suicide, and they had not shown any hostile intent just yet.

It was Twilight who first broke the silence. “Who are you?” she asked, all business.

Strella launched into a slightly abridged version of the story she had told Rarity and Sweetie Belle. As she spoke, she saw the earth pony smile at her. She could tell that the cream mare would be a kind soul and the way that she stood next to the mint mare who had welcomed them said that they were an item together.

“And that’s my story so far,” she finished up. “I just wanted to meet with some of my own kind. I never imagined that you would live like this, side by side with the cattle.”

“We don’t think of them as cattle,” Bon-Bon said, “they are living ponies to be respected and protected. Just because they are our food, doesn’t mean that we can’t live along side them.” She paused for a moment before exclaiming, “Oh, but where are our manners? We haven’t yet introduced ourselves yet. I’m Bon-Bon.” She pointed to herself before passing a hoof over to Lyra, “This is Lyra. She is the eldest here.”

Eventually she turned to face Twilight, who still had a suspicious look on her face. She clearly didn’t trust Strella yet. “This is Twilight Spark…”

Upon hearing Twilight’s name, Strella instantly leapt up to her hooves and flared her wings. Her entire posture screamed of barely contained anger and a goodly dose of fear.

“Strella, calm down,” Sweetie called out, trying to get in close enough to sooth her new friend. “What’s wrong?”

Strella pointed a hoof at Twilight. “She is the betrayer of our kind. The famous Twilight Sparkle, who stole her immortality from a captured vampony and now leads the suns forces in a crusade against us all.”

Twilight looked stunned at the accusation. “What? No, that’s not it at all,” she tried to defend herself.

Strella didn’t look convinced. Instead she turned to face Lyra and Bon-Bon. “She will betray you. You think she is loyal, but one day she will turn you in to her master.”

“That’s enough!” Lyra commanded, putting enough volume into her voice that it cut through Strella’s fear like a knife. “You will not talk about my childe that way.”

The mention that Twilight was Lyra’s progeny caught Strella off guard. “What?” she asked Lyra, “She is your childe? But that would mean that…”

“That the story as you have heard it is wrong. It is true that Twilight tried to turn herself, using blood that was taken from me and Bon-Bon, but she didn’t steal her immortality. I gave it to her in order to save her life.” She paused for a moment to indicate all of them, “We all serve Celestia by hunting down threats that are too great for her royal guard to handle; Threats that have sometimes included rogue vamponies.”

At the mention of hunting vamponies, some of Strella’s earlier fears returned and she started looking for a way out. Lyra quickly held up a hoof. “However, that doesn’t mean that we kill every one we meet. If you are able to live without attracting attention; exist alongside mortal ponies without having to kill them to feed and are able to cover your tracks well enough that no suspicion is raised, then you have nothing to fear from us. We only hunt down those who have broken the first rule of being a vampony – never get caught.”

Strella calmed down slightly, though she was still on edge. “So you are saying that I am free to return to my cave if I wish; that you will not harm me?”

Twilight nodded, “Right. As long as you obey our rules, then your existence is safe. Though,” she turned to look at Lyra, who nodded almost imperceptibly, “You are welcome to join us here if you like. There is room for you in our coven, and we could certainly use a pegasus in our ranks. We have regular supplies of blood delivered and I dare say that this house is more comfortable than the cave you have been living in.”

Strella regarded Twilight for a long moment. “Will you kill me if I refuse?”

“No, this is your choice. If you would rather return to your home and live alone, then we won’t stop you. Just know that we are here and that you have friends in the city.”

“I will think about it,” Strella said. She wasn’t used to being shown this much kindness; or any kindness at all. The last time she had tried interacting with others, it had not ended well.

“At least join us for dinner,” Bon-Bon said. “Do you like A or O?”

“I do not know what that is,” Strella admitted.

“O then,” Bon-Bon said, moving off to the small kitchen. It consisted of not much more than a refrigerator and an oven, along with a few cupboards for cups and plates. It wouldn’t look odd to a visiting pony, but it was on the small side. The sounds of pots and pans being moved around could be heard followed by the clicking of a gas stove.

A minute or two later, Bon-Bon emerged with a laden tray on her back. Six bowls filled with dark crimson filled the tray and she quickly passed them out to the others. Each of them took a spoon or a straw as was they preference and started to drink their dinner.

Strella looked at her bowl of ‘soup’ with a little suspicion. “What is this?” she asked. Her nose told her that it was blood and that she should drink it down, but she had never seen it served like this.

Bon-Bon paused, leaving a straw in her own bowl. “It’s just a couple of blood packs we had in storage that I heated up to body temp. It’s not as good as the real thing, but quite palatable.”

“You don’t drink fresh?” Strella asked incredulous.

“Sometimes, when supplies are low or there is a special occasion, but as we said, no one dies and they do not remember after,” Lyra said, putting her spoon down. She looked over to Bon-Bon and gave her a slightly sad smile. “We haven’t had to kill anypony while feeding for a very long time and for the most part we have a stable supply of bottled blood from Canterlot which can sustain us. The princess doesn’t mind us feeding on living ponies if we have to; she knows how hard it can be to resist the hunger at times, but her rules are absolute. No getting caught and nopony dies.”

“There is much about your princess that I do not know,” Strella admitted before dipping her tongue into the bowl of blood. It was as Bon-Bon had said – warmed to body temperature and she dug in, lifting the bowl to her mouth and gulping down its contents. She wasn’t particularly hungry, but every vampony knew to never turn down a free meal; you never knew when you might get the chance again.

“I’m sure that we can teach you about her, if you want,” Sweetie Belle said. She liked Strella and hoped that the pegasus would at least stay in contact with them, even if she didn’t join them permanently.

The rest of the meal passed in relative silence; a few questions from Strella about life before they moved here; some back at her about how long she had been living in her cave; conversation that would have seemed normal had they been just any old family of ponies sharing a meal.

Eventually, they all finished up their blood. Lyra and Bon-Bon took the dishes away to be cleaned while Twilight and Rarity moved off to finish setting up some of the other rooms. There were some underground rooms being built which were going to be an emergency sanctum, holding cells, and a practice room if they needed it.

All of that left Sweetie and Strella alone in the dining room. Sweetie gave Strella a smile; this was her chance to get to know her better without the others around.

Strella was looking out the window. Night had fallen while they were eating, and all around them, small specks of light could be seen flickering to life. Each one contained another pony resting up from the day.

Sweetie Belle thought for a moment. There was something that she wanted to know from Strella, but she didn’t know if it was appropriate to ask it yet; they had just met and it could be rather personal.

“Hey, Strella. Can I ask you something?”

Strella looked away from the town and turned to face Sweetie. “I have no secrets that need to be kept. Ask your question, and I will answer if I can.”

Sweetie took a deep breath, more out of habit than any actual need. “Do you remember how you were turned? I’m the only one who had a choice; the others all had this life thrust upon them.”

Strella looked back out over the city, watching as ponies returned home at the end of their day. “I only remember fragments of how it happened. A temple of some kind, crowds of ponies all worshipping some kind of statue, a pony wearing a hood. It was degrading and I don’t think it was my choice. Would you like to hear about it?”

Sweetie Belle nodded once. She was interested, and she felt that it would be good for Strella to tell her story to somepony.

Strella paused, lost in her memories. Finally she came back and began speaking.

“It would have been about twenty years ago now, I’ve not been keeping exact track of the time and it happened in a place far away from here. A stone temple hidden away in a canyon. I was bound and gagged and left on display like a prize. As I begged for death, a priest appeared, a vampony.”

Temple of the Cult of Sanguine, Location unknown
23 years ago

Cut directly into the walls of a desert canyon, a glorious temple stood proudly. Its edifices stood silently, as sharply defined as the day that they were carved from the rock. The site of hundreds of perverse acts and more than a few blood sacrifices, the temple was the last safe refuge of an order of devotees to an ancient occult god. None knew of its location as anything other than a long forgotten relic not worth the trip.

Ordinarily silent, had one been around the temples entrance this day, they would have heard the sounds of deep voices praying and chanting from within.

“We give you this offering, that you might shower us with your glory, oh great lord of the night,” A deep voice echoed off of the walls of the temple. The rhythmic sounds of dozens of ponies chanting quickly followed.

Lord Sanguine we beseech you, shower us with your glory.

On the stage, a hooded figure stood behind a lectern. His face was covered by the hood, but a pair of glowing red eyes looked out. Only his lower jaw was visible in the gloom, and it was clear from the stripes covering his jaw and legs that he was a zebra. The stripes were generally the second thing a pony would notice about him though. The first was the gleaming pair of fangs protruding over his lower lip; fangs that had been filed to needle sharp points, along with the rest of his teeth.

Occult symbols were etched into his robe, conveying prayers and incantations in a tongue that hadn’t been uttered outside the sacred halls of the temple for centuries. None, save for the highest ranked of the inner circle could read them.

Flanking the zebra on either side were two fully grown werewolves. They stood silently on either side of the altar. Turned at birth by their own parents, they had been raised within the confines of the Cult of Sanguine and acted as the protectors of the shrine. The zebra personally didn’t care for them, but they had their uses so long as their bloodlust could be controlled.

Eventually, the chanting died down as the zebra raised a hoof into the air. Today was a special day after all, and it wouldn’t do to have chatter. From within his hood, he looked over the throng of ponies and zebras assembled before him. He knew them all; every one of them had proven their loyalty to the cause a hundred times over in order to earn their place at this special occasion.

“My devoted flock, I bid you welcome to this sacred occasion,” the zebra called out, “Today you shall all witness as the next phase of the prophecy come to fruition. The chosen one has been found and she shall serve as the vessel of our god’s rebirth!” Thrusting both fore hooves into the air as he spoke, he rose up onto his back legs revealing scars and tattoos covering his body. Many of them matched to glyphs on his cloak, though he made sure not to reveal his face. Sacred doctrine forbid him from ever showing his face to any, save the highest ranked of the Inner circle.

Cheers rose from the crowd. Many of them had been waiting their whole lives for this moment; some had been waiting for several generations, with the trust being passed down from parent to child.

“Agents devoted to the cause have found a child in a village bordering the deserts north of here. The child matches the prophecies perfectly. Tests have been administered and the signs read; there is no doubt that she is the one fated to serve our lord as his vessel.”

With a flourish, the zebra stepped aside from his lectern to reveal a young pegasus mare strung up to a frame being wheeled in by a pair of earth ponies. Both were masked and covered from head to hoof in cloths. The mare was bound and gagged, but she was fully awake and struggling uselessly against her bonds. Her wings had been bound to her sides and all her legs had been spread apart, leaving her on display for all to see; Even her tail had been secured to the frame to prevent her from covering herself.

At the sight of her, the crowd reached an even greater frenzy of activity. Many were shouting and cheering up at the priest. A few were silent in deep prayer, silently uttering worship their god. Two young members who had been initiated as werewolves shifted on the spot and lunged at each other, tearing chunks of fur and skin from each others bodies as the frenzy of the moment over took them.

The priest, his temple guards and the two ponies wheeling in the stricken mare took the scene in with no apparent emotion. The carnality of such mortals was beneath the notice of the zebran priest. All that mattered to him was completing the ceremony. It had been nearly three thousand years, but he had finally found the one and he had her right where he wanted her.

“SILENCE!!!” He called out, his vampire nature allowing him to project his voice far louder than would normally be possible. At once the crowd ceased in their revelry; the ponies and zebras present froze in whatever action they were doing. The two wolves separated at once, shifting back into their natural forms, though now covered in scratches and gashes. They continued to growl at each other and both looked ready to lunge again at the slightest provocation.

Once he was sure that the congregation had settled down, the priest turned around to face the mare bound behind him. He gave her a wide grin, allowing her to see his fangs clearly. At once, she tensed up and her struggling increased. He knew that it was no use though. She would never break those bonds, and even if she did, there was nowhere for her to go. There was nothing for miles in any direction outside of this temple; just barren wasteland. It was the reason the temple had been built here, far from prying eyes.

Speaking to her, but addressing the crowd, the zebra advanced on her. “After so long, our grand search is over. This mare shall serve as the vessel to our lord’s rebirth. She is the chosen one.”

With a deft hoof, he ripped the gag from her mouth and she gasped in air. Standing right before her, he could see the fear in her eyes. This mare was terrified out of her mind; not that that was surprising. She had just seen her village razed to the ground around her and been spirited off by creatures beyond imagination.

“Do not fear, little one,” he said soothingly to her, lightly stroking her face with his hoof. “Soon, you will be free from the curses of your mortality. You will drink of me and soon you shall rise again, ever free from the ravages of age; reborn into the glory that is our lord.”

The mare shivered against his touch; his hoof was as cold as ice. Looking into the two burning orbs that served as his eyes, she knew then and there that she was not going to leave this place alive. They were going to kill her.

“What’s your name, little mare?” he asked her. He added in just a little bit of mental force behind his request.

“St-Strella,” she whimpered. “Please, let me go. I haven’t done anything.”

The priest shook his head ruefully, “I’m sorry, Strella. I’m afraid I can’t do that. You see, you are going to be the prophet of the coming age of Sanguine. He shall usher in a new age of darkness and overthrow that tyrant, Celestia.”

Stepping closer, the zebra bared his teeth in preparation for the next part of the ritual. Strella flinched at the sight of his fangs, squeezing her eyes shut in preparation for what was surely going to be her final breaths.

A moment later, she felt a lance of pain in her neck as the vampire; for it could only be a vampire that stood before her, bit deeply into her neck. Despite the pain, she refused to give it even the slightest sense of satisfaction and didn’t scream out. If this was going to be her death, then she would face it like the brave pegasi in the stories her mother had always told her about.

She could feel the zebra sucking on her neck; feel her life force ebbing away. Slowly, a greying fog began to descend upon her mind and Strella hoped that this was going to be the end.

Just as the last sparks of life began to flicker out from her mind, Strella felt something cool and wet being poured into her mouth. Almost without thought, she swallowed the thick liquid, followed by another mouthful, and then another. It was as if this mystery liquid contained pure life and she began sucking harder, teasing out every drop that she could.

Nearly as suddenly as it had begun, the liquid vanished from her mouth, and Strella’s mind blacked out entirely. Strapped up in her frame, she went limp; her wings flopped out as far as the ropes binding her would allow and her head rolled forward.

Withdrawing back from her body, the priest turned to inspect the twin bites on her neck. With a pleased smile, he noted that they were beginning to close up on their own. He could sense his blood coursing throughout her body, altering her physiology and remaking her in his lord’s perfect image.

Turning to face the expectant crowd, he lifted his hooves up again. “My devoted brothers and sisters, the deed is done. Soon our prophet shall rise again, reborn in eternal glory and she shall lead us to the promised land in Lord Sanguine’s name!”

The crowd cheered at his words. The two wolves shifted again, but rather than return to their fight they added their howls to the chorus of whinnies and cheers. The priest took it all in, a little woozy from the blood loss. Strella had drunken more than would normally be needed to create a newborn vampony, but he had wanted to make sure that the blessing had taken root in her. It wouldn’t do to have the chosen one fail to turn because he was a little stingy with his blood.

Absently, he thought of the blood slaves he kept hidden away. Hopelessly addicted to the pleasure that could be found when a vampony fed on you, they had volunteered to serve the cult in this fashion. They would make a fine snack to replace his missing blood.

“Go now, my children,” he commanded the ponies before him, “Return to your lives and quietly serve our lord. Prepare the lands for his arrival.”

Some of the ponies looked disappointed, but none of them complained or remained. The next phase of the ceremony was only for the eyes of the inner circle; having mortal ponies around when a newborn vampony awoke was inviting disaster.

Soon, the hallways had cleared of worshippers and the lower level initiates, leaving only the priest and a small cabal of others behind. Aside from the two temple guards that had remained silent sentinels throughout the entire event, there were five other vamponies present: One from each of the tribes of pony, a fellow zebra mare and strangely, one griffon. Each of them was his progeny; turned at different points in his life. They made up the inner circle of the Cult of Sanguine.

Despite their ages, the zebra knew that his new childe would be far more powerful than any of them. He had been saving his blood for nearly 1000 years for this moment; both the time between turnings and the age of the progenitor made differences in how powerful a newly turned neonate would be.

Alone with only the highest ranked members of his cult, the zebra pulled back his hood, revealing his face for the first time. Where normally there would have just been stripes covering his face, the zebra had a wide jagged scar running down the side of his muzzle, nearly bisecting his left eye. A very close cut grey mane ran down the back of his neck. Combined with his teeth, he knew that his visage made him look like the very definition of a vampony monster; he should know, as it was his likeness that was used in some of the classic texts on such creatures. That was a relic of a long gone age when he delighted in tormenting mortals, back before he realised his true path.

Motioning to his followers, the priest approached the limp body of Strella. The unicorn vampony magically undid her ropes and levitated her over to a small stone pedestal set into one side of the dais. Once she was settled in and as comfortable as could be made, the cabal made a semi circle around her and settled in to wait. There was nothing else to do right now but wait. Their prophet would rise when she was ready, and then the learning would begin.

It took nearly a full twelve hours for Strella to begin to stir again; an abnormally long time but not unheard of. It was the priest who noticed it first – the slight motions of her chest as her body began to breathe the air it no longer required followed by a gentle fluttering on the eyes.

With a grin, he motioned for his companions to step back a little. They had started to crowd around her ‘bed’ and he didn’t want them getting too close right at the start.

Slowly, Strella’s eyes opened and she blinked several times before her eyes focused on the priest standing before her. At the sight of him, she instantly flared her wings and backed up as quickly as she could; she hadn’t even noticed that she was unbound yet, it was all instinctive.

Smiling gently at her, the priest held up a hoof before moving in slowly until he was standing right before the stone bed. Strella tried to press herself right up against the walls, hoping to vanish or wake up from this nightmare she was having.

“Peace, childe. I mean you no harm,” the priest said calmly. He meant it too; he wasn’t going to harm her, not if he had a choice. She was too valuable to him now.

Strella didn’t back down from the wall, her eyes terrified of what she was seeing. “What do you want from me?” she yelled before pausing when she felt something wrong with her mouth. Instantly she ran her tongue along her teeth, finding two sharp points now wedged near the front of her teeth. “What… what did you do to me?” she nearly sobbed.

The priest appeared unperturbed. “I have freed you from the curse of mortality and given you life ever lasting. You are the one who shall lead our people into the promised lands of glory. The cursed sun shall fall, leaving only one eternal glorious feast of blood.” He paused for a moment before indicating his own fangs; he had carefully prepared them for tonight and they gleamed in the dim firelight of the temple. “As for what I have done to you, my dear childe, is it not obvious?

His voice lowered and he stepped forward with each word for extra emphasis. “I have made you vampyre!”

At his words, something snapped in Strella and she bolted. With a powerful sweep of her wings she launched into the air and dashed for the only path she could see, hoping that there would be some kind of exit at the end. Despite flying in near darkness and at speeds she had never before reached, she had no trouble in navigating herself around obstacles and seeing exactly where she was going. As she reached the other end of the temple, she caught sight of the night sky above her and she dashed for it, not caring about what she might find there; anything would be better than what was down here.

The two temple wolves made to chase after Strella, and the pegasus and griffon flared their wings to follow, but the priest held up a hoof to stall them. “No, let her go,” he commanded them. “You would never catch her, and if she truly is the one, then she shall survive on her own and will one day come back to us. If she isn’t, well then those sun cursed monks of Celestia’s will take care of her for us.”

Staring up at the entrance to the tunnel, the priest could only chuckle lightly. Despite this set back, things were finally progressing as he had foreseen. He had waited dozens of lifetimes for this moment; he could certainly wait a few more. One day, they would meet again, and on that day, destiny would play its hand.

“I flew faster than I had ever done before as I escaped that temple,” Strella said, her eyes glazed over as she recalled her past. “I didn’t know what I was capable of at the time and I just picked a direction and bolted. It wasn’t until later on that I realised just how hungry I felt and picked up the scent of something wonderful in the distance.”

“What happened next?” Sweetie Belle asked. She had become engrossed in Strella’s story.

Strella gave her a grim smile. “I found a small caravan of zebra’s camped out next to an oasis. I touched down a little way from them and they welcomed me into their camp, offering me food and water; even a spare bed roll for the night if I wanted it.”

Strella paused for a moment before closing her eyes in anguish. “I drained them all. They had done nothing to me, but my body demanded food and acted without me, convincing me that it was the greatest thing I had ever tasted. It was over in moments and afterwards, as I sat there covered in their blood, there was no question as to what I was. I was damned and cursed, so I came to these woods as there was no settlement here back then. I’ve been here ever since.”

Sweetie Belle blinked a few times as she felt something wet trickle down her face. Dabbing at her eyes, her hoof came away bloody. She had been crying without realising it, but being a vampony, she couldn’t cry normal tears. Grabbing a tissue from a box on the table, she cleaned her eyes of the leaking vitae.

“That’s horrible,” she finally muttered.

Strella turned away from her, looking out through a window into the encroaching gloom. It had become full dark in the time that she had been speaking. “I do not like to think about it. What is done is done and I have no intention of becoming the vessel of any god. Over the years, I have learned to control my hunger and I have spoken to a few others who have filled me in on much of what I would have learned if I was still with my sire.”

“Fascinating,” a voice came from the other side of the room. Sweetie and Strella both turned to find Twilight standing in the doorway, levitating a pen and quill. From the looks of things, she had been writing for some time.

She walked over to where Strella was seated and sat down opposite her. “I’ve never heard of this ‘Cult of Sanguine’ before. Do you think I could ask you some questions about it? The princess would certainly be interested in learning all that she could about it, especially if it is prophesising doom for all Equestria.”

Strella gave Sweetie Belle a quick look before shaking her head. “Another time perhaps. I am weary from the day and have spoken too much as it is. If it is all the same to you, I would like to retire to my cave. We shall meet again, Sweetie Belle. Thank you for the food and company.”

With that, Strella got up and began to head for the door. Twilight tried to stop her, though she didn’t actually restrain Strella in any way.

“But, what about…” she began, lifting her scroll up in front of her.

“Another time, Twilight Sparkle,” Strella repeated a bit more firmly. She reached the front door and pulled it open gently. Stepping outside, she took a quick look around to confirm that they were alone. Finding nopony around, Strella flapped her wings a few times before launching herself into the darkened sky with a speed that would have made Rainbow Dash seem like a sloth. One moment she was there, the next she was gone; a dull yellow wake trail disappearing behind her as she disappeared over the woods.

Sweetie Belle could only watch her go. She hoped that Strella had been telling the truth when she had said they would meet again.

With one last look to where she had vanished to, Sweetie Belle and Twilight returned into their home. They still had things to do in this town.

As they closed the door, Twilight paused for a moment. There was something that Strella had said that jogged her memory; something important to do with…

She shook her head. Whatever it was, it would come to her in time; most likely popping up at the worst possible time and annoying her endlessly. Tomorrow, she would be out looking for evidence of werewolves around town.

Author's Note

A few of you that I contacted back when I started originally writing this story may recognise elements of the latter half of this chapter.

Originally this was going to be chapter 1 of the story and it had a far darker tone, before I decided to remove the explicit sex from the narrative.

The original draft had Strella, then called Buttercup as a willing volunteer who had been raised from a foal to believe in the cults teachings. There was to be an orgy in which Buttercup had sex with the priest in front of the worshipping ponies before being drained and turned.

She and the sanguine vamponies were also based off of the Nagaraja vampires from White Wolf's World of Darkness tabletop RPG and later Troika's epic Vampire The Masquerade: Bloodlines. Those who know the series will know what sets the Nagaraja apart from other clans, but for the rest of you, the Nagaraja, in addition to drinking blood also have to eat the flesh of their victims in order to survive.

I eventually decided to scrap the idea, as I couldn't make it fit in with a major plot point that will be happening in a later chapter. I deleted almost all of the original chapter and started over, changing Buttercup into Strella and making her unwilling

Chapter 4 - A Harsh Reality

Tugging at my Undead Heartstrings II - The Belle, it tolls for thee

Chapter 4 – A Harsh Reality

Cloakshape looked out over the boggy marsh that he and Frost Mane were currently traversing. While the pair had been assigned to the city of Trottingham, they hadn’t spent much time within the city proper. Most of their time had been spent ranging around the variety of terrain types that littered the landscape around Trottingham. This had stemmed from a purely training need. Frost Mane would one day replace Cloakshape as the Order’s scout and that meant he had to be adept at moving through nearly every environment Equestria had to offer, as each type of terrain carried its own unique challenges.

Right now, they were practicing survival skills in one of the marshes to the south of Trottingham.

“Damn bloodsuckers,” Cloakshape heard Frost Mane call out from behind him, followed a second later by a solid thump of hoof hitting flesh. He paused for a moment, turning to see Frost Mane swatting at several bugs that were buzzing around him. Several mosquitoes were currently biting Cloakshape, but he overlooked them; he had more important things to worry about than bug bites.

“Careful there, Frost. Better not let the vamponies know you are killing their relatives,” he half joked, waving a hoof to shoo away one bug that got a little too close to his eye. It was a humid day out here, and the bugs were out in force. Still, he mused to himself, this was exactly the kind of thing that they were out here to experience.

Frost Mane froze for a second before he realised that Cloakshape was joking. “That isn’t funny, Cloak,” he groused, but he stopped swatting uselessly at the bugs surrounding him.

Cloakshape took a look around himself. They were currently in the deepest part of the marsh. There was nothing but mud and bogs in every direction, but the faint outline of the city could be seen through a shimmering haze. It had just passed mid afternoon, and it was getting time to be heading back to the city and their dry lodgings. While Cloakshape was no stranger to roughing it out in the wilds, he wasn’t the kind of pony to pass up a bed when he had the option. It would be well into the afternoon and approaching dark by the time they got back anyway and it wouldn’t do to be stuck out here after nightfall.

“Alright then, let’s head back to town,” he said to Frost Mane, who brightened at the suggestion. “Let’s make it interesting through. Last one back to the road is buying the drinks tonight.” Cloakshape wasn’t as uptight as some of the others; namely Octavia. He was more than willing to allow Frost Mane to drink while on the clock, providing that the younger stallion kept it in moderation and didn’t let it affect his work.

Frost Mane gave Cloakshape a sly smile. “You’re on, old timer. Eat my mud.” A second later, both stallions broke into a fast trot. Running was impossible in the sticky mud, and they were restricted to wading through it. Sweat quickly began to trickle down both of their brows as they worked hard to pass through the dense goopy not-quite-liquid.

Cloakshape kept pace with his younger partner, but he could see Frost Mane slowly draw ahead. He considered trying to trip Frost with a telekinetic shove; it surely wouldn’t be noticed with all the activity going on already, but he dismissed the idea. He had better things to do than cheat at a meaningless contest.

A moment later, fate rewarded his restrain, as he watched Frost Mane trip over something concealed in the mud and stagger sideways before falling over entirely, disappearing below the brown surface. He reappeared instantly, coughing and spluttering. Frost Mane dragged a hoof across his eyes just in time to watch as Cloakshape waded past him, giving him a friendly nod and leaving the downed stallion in his tracks.

He got back to his hooves quickly, but for the remainder of the trip, Frost Mane couldn’t quite close the distance and Cloakshape reached the edge of the bog a good body length ahead of his partner. Exhausted from having dragged their bodies through the mud at a run, both ponies fell to the ground panting and wheezing.

Once he had his breath back, Cloakshape put a hoof on Frost Mane’s shoulder. “Good hustle, kid. Need to watch your footing though.”

Frost Mane was about to nod in agreement when a piercing scream assaulted their ears. Both stallions turned to face where the scream came from and saw that it came from down in a small valley that they had passed through to get here. The valley was tight, with shear rock walls. The scream was followed by several yells and the sound of objects clattering to the ground. Cloakshape recognised it as the sounds of a wagon being overturned. Bandits likely in search of an easy mark.

“Come on,” Cloakshape called out, getting back to his hooves, “Let’s go be heroes for a moment.” Frost Mane followed him and they both edged over to one of edges of the valley walls, taking care not to disturb any rocks that could clatter down and give away their position.

Looking down, Cloakshape confirmed what he had suspected. Four ponies and what looked like a hooded zebra were being herded into a corner by a trio of diamond dogs, while another two were carelessly searching through an overturned wagon, throwing what looked like bolts of cloth and sealed jars out onto the ground. One of the searching dogs pulled out a wooden mask of some kind and threw it hard on the ground, shattering it. Seeing that, the zebras lunged forward, only to slapped across the face by one of the guards.

“You all our slaves now,” one of the guards barked in broken Equestrian. “You work in mines, haul gems, dig tunnels.”

Cloakshape had heard enough. While his first duty of care was technically hunting down supernatural threats, he wasn’t about to sit back and watch while citizens of Equestria were harmed. There was no time to alert the formal authorities on this one. He and Frost Mane would have to deal with this themselves. Very carefully, he pulled a pair of gleaming silver daggers from two sheaths strapped to his flanks. Behind him, Frost Mane did the same, though his were still covered in rapidly drying mud.

“Not the way I wanted you to get your first taste of real combat, Frost, but I suppose we have no choice. Give them one chance to surrender, and hopefully if they are smart, they will take it. If they don’t, try to scare them off. Most Diamond Dogs are scavengers and poachers; they will run from a real fight. Top priority is to protect the civilians. Watch your back and check your spacing; not much room to move around.”

Frost Mane nodded, but he looked nervous. Cloakshape couldn’t blame him. This would be the kid’s first real fight. No amount of training could ever truly prepare him for the reality.

Slowly, the pair made their way around the edge of the valley, finding a way down that was out of sight. Holding their weapons at the ready, they both emerged into full view of the raiding party and their prisoners. One of the ponies noticed them and gasped, bringing her hooves up to her face at the sight of two armed unicorns stepping around the corner.

All five diamond dogs turned as one to stare at the new intruders; their eyes focusing on the weapons held in their magical grasp. One of them looked ready to run, but was held in place by a harsh look from his partner.

“Let them go,” Cloakshape said. His voice took on a steely edge to match his dagger. “Leave now, and we can pretend this never happened.”

The diamond dog that had spoken before laughed. “We are five while you are two. Dogs, kill them.”

‘Shame,’ Cloakshape thought. Turning to address the captive ponies, he said, “Close your eyes. Don’t look.” Turning back to Frost Mane, he added, “Remember, this one is for real.”

Frost Mane nodded once and the pair of the charged forward, weapons up and ready.

From the other side of the valley floor, the five diamond dogs followed suit. The three guards hefted crude spears while the two foragers just curled their paws into fists.

With a quick, practiced motion, Cloakshape sent a dagger flying across the space, angling it so that it would clip the hind leg of one of the armed dogs. He still hoped that the sight of blood would force them to reconsider fighting.

The dog barely slowed down at the strike. He didn’t even seem to notice the blood now beginning to stream down his leg and with a snarl he thrust his spear right at Cloakshape’s head. Cloakshape sidestepped easily; only a greenhorn would have failed to anticipate such a move, and with an internal sigh he recalled his dagger, sending it directly towards the dog’s back.

With a slick thud, the blade of the dagger penetrated the diamond dog’s back and it instantly fell to the ground. A quick glance showed that there was no question about it being dead. Cloakshape didn’t hesitate, but brought his other dagger up parry a thrust from another dog’s spear.

Dimly, he could hear one of the captive ponies screaming from the other side of the valley, but he blocked that out. He would attend to them once they were safe.

One of the foraging dogs bull rushed him, one of its forearms braced before it and Cloakshape couldn’t’ quite make it out in time. The pair tumbled to the ground, ass over head until they hit the side wall of the valley. The diamond dog had the upper position and he quickly brought both paws up with the intent of throttling Cloakshape.

Cloakshape quashed the sense of panic that always accompanied the feeling of choking. He had been in worse situations before. Calmly, he picked a simple flare spell and cast it. His horn glowed brightly for a moment before flashing once with an intense burst of light. Instantly, he felt both paws let go of his throat, followed by whimpering as the diamond dog above him covered his eyes against the burning light. The whimpering was cut off a moment later as Cloakshape’s second dagger found its home in the dog’s heart. It was a clean, surgical blow and the dog instantly fell to the side. Cloakshape didn’t like to prolong the pain of death when he had the option; quick and clean was his preferred method.

Cloakshape rolled the dogs body off of himself, pulling his dagger free as he did so. Getting back to his hooves, he looked around. Off to his left, Frost Mane was fending off attacks from the second of the spear wielding dogs, while the other two appeared to have decided attack together. Having seen their numerical advantage drop from five to three in the space of half a minute, the dogs were far more cautious than before. Cloakshape levitated both his daggers before him, keeping them between himself and the two targets in front of him.

“Give up, pony,” one of them, the one that had spoken before said. “Leave now, and we might let you live.” Cloakshape realised that he must have been the alpha male of the group and was its nominal leader. Cloakshape figured that maybe if he could force this one to back off, then the other two might break ranks and flee.

“Funny,” he replied. “I was just thinking the same thing.” Keeping his weapons up, he shifted his attention to the other brute closing in on him. “How about you? Are you willing to die for nothing?” He gestured to the two dead diamond dogs on the ground beside him.

The dog looked at the bodies for a moment before throwing its head back with a loud howl. A second later, it charged at Cloakshape, leaving the alpha behind to watch.

“Very well,” Cloakshape said, more to him self as he watched the lumbering brute close the distance between them. At the last second, Cloakshape pulled his weapons back and thrust them up. A short yelp of pain followed before it was cut off. A loud meaty thump followed as the brute’s body hit the dirt right next to the others. Its momentum caused it to skid for a few metres and it ended up crashing against the wall of the canyon. Two large wounds to its chest began to leak blood.

Now alone, the alpha dog looked up into Cloakshape’s eyes. He was afraid, and it could be seen easily. With barely any effort, Cloakshape had dispatched his foes and was now ready to make short work of him. Desperately he looked around for anything he could use to fend off this clearly superior attacker. Not finding anything, he did the only other thing he could. He ran.

“Don’t think this is the end of it, pony,” he screamed as he rushed around the corner of the canyon. “My brothers will be avenged in your blood.”

Cloakshape let him go; he had more important things to do than to hunt down a lone diamond dog. Searching for another assailant, Cloakshape found none. It seemed that they had won. “Hey, Frost Mane, you ok?” he asked, looking around for his partner. He found him on the ground, seated before the body of the last diamond dog. One of his daggers was buried up to the hilt in the dog’s chest and Cloakshape could see that Frost Mane was just staring at it, mumbling something to himself.

Cloakshape recognised the signs. This was Frost Mane’s first kill, and it was something that could never be fully prepared for. One could train all their life for it, but the reality always caught them unprepared. He walked slowly up to Frost Mane, slow and measured steps. “Frost, you alright?” he asked again.

“Why didn’t he stop?” he could hear Frost Mane muttering, now that he was closer. “I told him to surrender. Why didn’t he listen? He didn’t have to die.”

“Frost Mane!” Cloakshape said a little harder. Frost Mane looked up at his sharp words, his eyes refocusing on him. “Hold it together, kid. You may not feel it right now, but you came out the victor here. Not everyone makes it through their first field engagement. That you are still alive to tell the tale is more than some can say.”

“How do you do it?” Frost Mane asked, looking desperately at the three other dead diamond dogs over where Cloakshape came from. “How do you just put it all behind you? I don’t know if I can do this.”

“You want to know something? My first battle, I peed myself,” Cloakshape admitted. Frost Mane smiled slightly at that, but Cloakshape went on, “Of course, I’ll deny all of this if you ever mention it to anypony, but the first time I took another life, I felt that it was all I would ever be; a killer. There isn’t anything I can actually do to help you through this right now; you have to process this at your own speed, but if you ever need to talk about this, then I’m all ears. All I can promise is that the second time will be easier.”

Cloakshape picked Frost Mane’s dagger up from the ground and with the tip of his own dagger, he carved a small notch into the handle. Once he was done, he proceeded to do the same to his own weapons. Two notches were carved into one, while only one went on the other, mingling with the dozens of notches already carved into the wood. When he was done, he hoofed over Frost Mane’s dagger back to him. Frost Mane took the weapon and looked at the new mark before staring at the criss-cross of marks covering Cloakshape’s hilts.

“What’s this for?” he asked, “You want me to keep count? Like it’s some kind of contest. That’s sick.”

Cloakshape shook his head. “No, it’s not for that. You make a mark so that you never forget. You must never forget that what we do is wicked. For Equestria to live its care free life, it must have ponies like us. We are that worst of all things – the necessary evil.” He paused and indicated a very old notch near the top of his weapons, “This one was my first. She was a griffon who had taken to piracy. She preferred a duel to the death rather than submit to justice and trial. I didn’t want to kill her, but it was clear that it was going to be me or her.”

He moved up and put his hoof of Frost Mane’s shoulder again. “You heard that dog. If it hadn’t have been him, it would have been you. Try to remember that you did it in defence of others.” He motioned towards the huddling traders. Despite some time having passed, none of them had moved or even made a sound since the last surviving dog had run off.

Cloakshape turned to get a better look at the group. “Are you all ok?” he called out. “Are any of you hurt?”

One of the ponies stepped forward, putting a hoof in front of the other who were still huddling on the ground. “Stay back!” he said to Cloakshape. “That’s close enough.”

Cloakshape stopped and quickly noticed that he was still holding on to his weapons. Quickly he slid them back into their sheaths and waited. “I don’t mean you any harm. My companion and I are members of a special detachment of the royal guards.” It wasn’t a total lie, but it was hardly the truth either. “Do any of you require any form of aid?”

Slowly, the other stallion backed down a little. “We are fine,” he said, “We just got careless.”

“What are you doing out here? There are easier roads to travel just up and over the ridge.” Cloakshape said.

We were just on a trading run when we ran into the zebra over there. She said that she was looking for a friend of her fathers. Something about there being a death in the family that she didn’t know about. I don’t suppose you might have seen her? A dull yellow pegasus mare with a green mane, copper highlights? She would be fairly young, not much more than twenty.”

Cloakshape shook his head. “Sorry, can’t say I know anypony by that description. You might have better luck in town.”

“A pity,” the stallion said before he motioned for his companions to get up. They did so quite timidly but they soon got to their hooves and went over to start examining their wagon, carefully avoiding looking at the carnage around them. The zebra started to collect the shattered remains of the wooden mask; each fragment brought another jerk of pain to her face.

“Are you sure that you don’t need any help. We can be back here with some more ponies in an hour or so,” Cloakshape suggested.

“I think we can take it from here,” the stallion said, glancing at the bodies on the road. “What about you? I’d watch out. That last one looks like he is going to hold a grudge.”

“I can handle him,” Cloakshape assured the stallion.

Soon the wagon was uprighted and ready to go again. Two of the ponies had sorted out all of the goods that they were transporting. Some of the jars had cracked from rough treatment and had to be thrown away. Cloakshape figured that it was a fair trade to having to spend the rest of their lives as slaves.

Cloakshape had taken the time to build a bonfire for the bodies. Frost Mane had helped, pulling the bodies over to the pyre. They didn’t have the time to give then a proper burial, but he wasn’t just going to leave them to rot.

“Thanks for your assistance,” the lead stallion called out once they were ready to go. “You ever need a favour, just let a trading caravan know; it will filter down to us eventually.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Cloakshape said before the zebra walked up to him. She had her cloak on and the hood pulled down tight. She held out a small gold coin in her hoof.

“Please take this talisman, protector. It shows that you have acted with kindness to the people of Zebraca and will ask that any zebra return that kindness to you. Know that you have friends among my kind now.”

“Thank you,” Cloakshape said, taking the coin. For a moment when their hooves touched, Cloakshape noticed that his right hoof was glowing slightly. For a brief second, his order glyph flashed visible before it vanished when their hooves parted. He looked at to see the zebra’s eyes staring at where the mark had appeared. For a second he could have sworn that her eyes flickered a bold red as she looked at where his mark was now hidden.

“A strange magic, that.” She said calmly, passing the coin over to him before turning to head back to the caravan. Cloakshape nodded and gripped the coin in his magic, tucking it into the straps holding his weapons on.

He was just about to turn away and head back to where Frost Mane was standing. The kid had calmed down significantly since his near break down after the fight. Cloakshape was still going to keep an eye on him though. Just as he started to turn away, the zebra spoke up again.

“His coming can’t be stopped, servant of the sun. All will bow before the coming of Lord Sanguine.”

Cloakshape whirled around at that, only to see the zebra holding up a hoofful of bright purple powder. A pair of gleaming fangs protruded from her mouth. “Who are you?” he asked, bracing himself for another fight.

The only answer he got was a cruel smile from the zebra before she hurled the powder down onto the ground, covering everything in a blinding cloud of dust and smoke. Cloakshape coughed several times and lunged into the smoke, hoping to catch the zebra, but he stumbled out the other side having touched nothing.

The smoke cleared to reveal that the zebra had vanished. Nothing save for a pair of prints in the dirt marked where she had once stood. Even those just stopped as if the vampony had just teleported away.

A sudden set of hoof falls came up to stop beside Cloakshape. Frost Mane had rushed over the second he had seen the zebra throw down the powder. “What happened?” he asked. “Where did that zebra go?”

“That was no zebra,” Cloakshape said. “Come on, we need to get back to town. Whatever she was looking for, it can’t be good for us. The Princess needs to hear about this right away.”

“Yes, this is disturbing news indeed,” Princess Celestia said, listening to the report Cloakshape had just given her. “I do know of this ‘Sanguine’ you mentioned and it is nothing good. Legends say that one day a dead god will be revived and will return to plunge Equestria and all lands into an eternal harvest of blood. I thought that I had wiped all traces of such worship out many years ago, but apparently it still survives even now. This mare she mentioned could just be a cover story, but I would like you to keep an eye out for her. Your other orders remain the same however. I will investigate the old records and see if I can find anything.”

“As you will, my lord,” Cloakshape’s voice came through the glyph on her hoof. A few moments later the glyph faded as Celestia cut communication. Pressing a hoof up to her head, she sank into deep thought. To say that the news was disturbing was to put it mildly.

She had been so sure she had wiped out every last trace of information pertaining to that blasted cult. If they had survived and were searching for something, then it almost certainly explained the recent increase of Werewolf attacks. The cult used them as scouts and berserkers, front line cannon fodder.

She would have to plan her next move carefully.

Chapter 5 - Stakeout

Tugging at my Undead Heartstrings II - The Belle, it tolls for thee

Chapter 5 – Stakeout

A/N: This chapter contains a few risqué moments, but nothing descriptive enough to warrant a sex tag

The Wet Mutt bar was even more dingy than the dive Octavia had just left, something that despite her continued interactions with the underbelly of society never failed to impress her. The old saying was certainly true in this case: that no matter how bad things were, they could always get worse. The Wet Mutt didn’t seem to feel the need to advertise its presence; certainly no signs proclaimed its location to the outside world. Octavia was only sure that they were even in the right spot from the very faded sign of a mug of ale in one of the grimy windows, and the rather large and supposedly imposing earth pony bouncer standing out front.

Still, the stench of stale beer, pony sweat, bile, vomit, and what could only dried blood lingered in the air, making it more than clear that this was the place they were looking for. This was the kind of bar you only came to if you had a death wish, or if you didn’t care if the number of limbs you exited with didn’t match the number you had when you went it, if you even left at all.

Rather than just go in and scope the place out from the inside, Octavia had called for caution on this one. Nopony went inside without a reason, and simply wanting a drink wasn’t going to cut it here. Instead, she had set up camp inside an abandoned apartment building with a semi boarded up window overlooking the street. From there, she could keep an eye on the coming and going of the bar with ease. The bouncer didn’t seem to consider looking up as part of his job description, and he just occasionally swept his gaze around the street, then went right back to looking bored.

Over the last few hours, she had watched a number of ponies enter and leave the bar, though the number leaving was far fewer than those going in. One or two ponies were thrown out, one with a knife hilt protruding from between his shoulders. The body was flung down into the dank alley next to the bar and business resumed as if it had never stopped; petty murder was just a normal part of the day here.

Beside Octavia, Vinyl was resting on her back, idly levitating a stone above her head. She was bored out of her skull at the lack of activity. They hadn’t done anything since they had arrived. All Octavia had done was settle in and she hadn’t looked away from the window once. Sighing to herself, she hurled the stone away into one of the far reaches of the room. Multiple squeaking noises followed as rats rushed about in a frenzy to see if the stone was edible.

Octavia barely even registered the noise, glancing at Vinyl for a brief moment before turning back to watch the entrance to the bar.

“If you aren’t going to help me, then at least sit there quietly,” she muttered to Vinyl. Despite her quite voice, she knew that the other mare would hear her. Vinyl always seemed to be able to hear her.

“I can’t help it, Octy. I’m bored. This stakeout business is SO boring. Why can’t we just go and storm the place or something instead of just sitting here.”

After her moment of brilliance in dealing with Shady, Vinyl was right back on form for annoying Octavia. Suppressing another sigh, she turned to look directly at Vinyl. “I told you not to call me Octy, and I don’t care if you are bored. This is how we gather information. If you are really that bored for something to do, go and get us something to drink.” Octavia’s water canteen had run dry an hour ago and she was starting to feel thirsty.

“Will do, boss.” Vinyl replied with a grin. She grabbed the canteen and nearly galloped to the door, clearly eager for something to do that didn’t involve just sitting around.

‘That will keep her occupied for a few moments,’ Octavia thought as she returned to staring out the window. Vinyl was right though. Storming the place would likely be the fastest way to provoke a reaction from those inside the bar. Werewolves were stupid; part of the transformation into being a werewolf was a radical increase in aggression, even when they were in pony form. A pair of ponies starting a fight would almost certainly cause at least one of them to shift into were mode. And once one shifted, the others would follow. It was part of their pack mentality.

But before they could do that, Octavia needed conclusive proof that something sinister was going on, and she didn’t have that just yet. All she had was the word of an informant she didn’t trust, and a gut feeling that there was more going on here than met the eye.

Something happened down the end of the street, causing the bouncer pony out the front of the bar to turn and look. Octavia couldn’t quite make it out from her vantage point; she had selected this spot because it gave a clear view of the bar, though not much else. Whatever it was clearly had the bouncer on edge; he didn’t resume his original placid state, but kept staring down the alley way. A shadow came into view, making its way up towards the bar. Clearly a pony, and one that had the bouncer interested, though not necessarily in a good way, judging by the scowl on his face.

The shadow kept getting closer, and Octavia saw a white hoof glide into view, followed by a shock of blue hair. Instantly, a hoof pressed against Octavia’s face. Vinyl couldn’t be this stupid, could she?

Vinyl walked totally into view, and began talking animatedly to the bouncer, making a sign that was clearly meant to be mimicking taking a drink. She was grinning like a maniac, and Octavia could have sworn that she saw Vinyl’s glasses flicker her way for a second.

'For the love of Luna, don’t look at me,' Octavia thought to herself, getting up from the window and cracking a few joints. If Vinyl actually got inside, then she was going to need a bailout, and fast.

The bouncer seemed to think about it for a moment, but eventually stepped aside and ushered Vinyl inside the bar. Octavia didn’t waste a moment, gathering her weapons and gear and hightailing it down the rickety stairs to ground level. She cursed herself that she hadn’t gone over stakeout procedure a little more carefully with Vinyl, but surely the one about not actually going into the place you were watching should have been so obvious that it didn’t need to be said. Now she was going to have to blow her cover to go and rescue her stupid apprentice. And that meant they were right back as square one, possibly even further behind than that if anypony had talked.

Down on the street, she stowed her weapons behind a couple of rotting barrels of what had presumably once been fruit or vegetables. Now they were nothing but mush. While she would have certainly felt a whole lot more comfortable if she could have brought in some of her favoured weapons, she doubted that she would be able to get past the door with them on. Werewolves were dumb, but even they weren’t stupid enough to let a clearly strange mare inside without at least one search.

'And they would probably enjoy doing a body search just a little bit more than they should.'

Of course, all she had to do was make sure that the bouncer was unable to search her first…

“Hey there, big stuff,” she called out sweetly, putting just enough sultry lust into her voice that she was sure she would get his attention. As an added bonus, Octavia had applied a few drops of a synthetic pheromone she had stored in her gear to her coat. It wouldn’t last long, but it would make her smell like she was in heat.

The bouncer looked up, this time suspicion clear on his face. One surprise visitor was bad enough, but two of them was getting just a little too popular, and if there was one thing the Wet Mutt wasn’t, it wasn’t popular. From the same end of the alley as the DJ had come from came another mare. A little grey number, batting her eyes at him. Everything about her radiated ‘doesn’t fit here.’ She was too clean, clearly well groomed, and her eyes were just a little too sharp. On the other hoof, she was clinking towards him with only one thing in her eyes.

“I don’t suppose you could let me inside? I’m awful thirsty, mister.” Octavia internally cringed at what she sounded like. She was getting too old to be pretending to be so young. By now, she was only a few feet away from the bouncer, and she could see a tell tale brightness to his eyes, almost as if they were glowing slightly.

“Beat it, lady,” the stallion growled, and Octavia caught a rank odour coming from his mouth. The kind of rotting smell that could only have come from week old meat. There was no question anymore in her mind. This stallion was a werewolf, which gave her plenty of liberty for what was going to happen next.

“Oh, come on, mister. Surely you could let me in? I’ll do anything,” she mock pleaded, walking past the werewolf and swishing her tail under his nose. He took in a lungful of her chemically altered scent, and instantly stiffened a little. Once she was sure she had his full attention, she stopped and wiggled her rump at him, giving him an eyeful of her flank and plot. “And I do mean anything.

There was no way that even the most dense pony could have mistaken her signals. Octavia had done this dozens of times before, so she knew just how to work her body so as to get what she wanted. A quick flash of tender flesh, the promise of a moment of bliss, and all males were like putty in her hooves. Mares too, on occasion if her cover called for it.

The bouncer seemed to think about it for a long moment, before he nodded and motioned for Octavia to follow him around the side of the bar, into the alley where the last unlucky stallion had wound up.

“Gotcha,” Octavia muttered under her breath. Sometime she was going to have to say thankyou to whatever forces had ensured that stallions didn’t have enough blood to run their brains and their dicks at the same time. Once you set one off, the other just stopped working. “This is almost too easy.”

The bouncer motioned for Octavia to enter first, which she did, quickly looking around for anything she could use. One item stood out among all the trash and junk laying scattered around the alley, and she made a beeline for it, careful not to make it too obvious.

Once she was within easy reach of her goal, she stopped and leaned forwards a little, flicking her tail out of the way. The first time she had done something like this, putting her intimates on display like this had been hard for her, though the stallion had been appreciative enough to tell her everything she had wanted to hear. Now, it was nothing more than just another facet of the job. It wasn’t as if this stallion would have much time to appreciate the view, after all.

Two meaty hooves landed on each side of her body, and Octavia braced herself for the coming weight. He pressed himself forwards, and Octavia felt something jabbing her in the back, something soft but hardening. It didn’t take a genius to work out what it was, and without missing a beat, she bucked a leg upwards and slammed into it, hard.

The stallion grunted and fell to the ground, hooves clutching at his crotch. Octavia just turned around and looked at him, a smug little smirk forming on her face. This was too easy.

“Stupid bitch,” the stallion growled, eyes glowing brighter now. “Last mistake you ever make. I might save that sweet little ass of yours, though. Plenty tight on those long winter nights.”

Octavia didn’t even blink as she watched the stallion’s body ripple and change. Fur grew out in patches, his muzzle elongated and teeth grew out in rapid motion. She had seen this so many times before if didn’t even make her interested. This wolf didn’t know it yet, but he was dead the moment he woke up this morning. Outwardly, she started to affect airs of shaking in terror.

"Wh-what's going on?" she squeaked, letting fear and confusion leech into her voice. As long as the werewolf thought that she was just some damsel who didn't know anything, then that meant she would have the hidden advantage.

His transformation finished, the wolf looked up at her with hungry eyes. A throaty growl escaped his lips, now covered in slobber. Yellowing fangs protruded from his mouth. The fangs were the only thing that Octavia actually was worried about; all a werewolf had to do was bite you once and there was a better than even chance that you would end up just like them. Multiple bites over several days ensured it. Octavia had been bitten once; just a nip when she was starting out, and she got off very lucky with only a mild case of blood poisoning from her opponents filthy fangs. She had no desire to repeat the encounter here.

The wolf laughed at her. "You picked the wrong pony to mess with, little mare. You now face your apex predator. If you're lucky, I might snap your neck first, though I think I’m going to take what you promised me earlier."

Octavia caught a glimpse between his legs, and it didn't take much to work out what would happen if she made a mistake here. Fortunately, this was hardly the first time she had done this. Werewolves were predictable when enraged; dangerous, but predictable.

She backed up a little, seeming to stumble when she bumped into the body of the pony that had been left there earlier. Sensing her mistake, the wolf padded forwards, eager for the thrill of a fresh kill. All that healthy meat on her body; he would feast tonight. When he came to within a few body spans of her, he pounced, jaws open and ready to tear her throat open.

Octavia watched the wolf lunge at her. When he hit the moment when she figured he was committed to the jump, she reached behind her and pulled out the object she had seen earlier – the knife jammed into the dead ponies back. Bringing the rusted blade around, she threw herself forward, closing in between the wolf’s claws, and buried the blade deep into his throat. The wolf instantly froze and began sinking to the ground, whining pathetically as blood seeped out around the knife.

“When you get to Tartarus, tell Tierek that Octavia sent you,” Octavia said, not even bothering to watch him die with a look of surprise on his face. Almost every vampire or wolf she had tracked down had heard of her, even if it was just as a legend. One vampire had even called her the Grey Hunter shortly before she had staked her.

Clearly, this wolf had had no idea with whom he was dealing with. "His loss," Octavia thought to herself, walking out of the alley. His wound was fatal, and there was no point in hanging around any longer. She wasn’t worried about the body being discovered any time soon, and even if it was, there was no way that anypony would report it. In a few minutes, he would revert back to pony form and that would be that; just another drunk who bit off more than he could chew.

With the entrance to the bar now open, Octavia gathered her remaining gear and weapons. A silver stake, a short sword, a couple of darts and a pair of Blast Radius's silver nitrate grenades rounded out what she could bring in with her. Her larger sword would be useless in the close quarters of the bar, and her cloak would slow her down.

Not wasting any more time, she hitched her weapons to her body and walked calmly into the seedy bar to rescue her partner from the clutches of vile forces that she had sworn to eradicate from this land.

This is going to be fun.

Octavia's entrance into the Wet Mutt generated exactly the reaction she had been hoping for. Every single set of eyes in the bar, be they pony, or otherwise, instantly turned to look at the newcomer into their midst. All sound ceased, with the exception of Vinyl's panicked breathing over in one of the corners. Two werewolves in full change had her pinned, and they were advancing slowly, working as a pair to keep her boxed in while others looked on and laughed. Vinyl had been tyring to keep them at bay with bursts of magic, but it was becoming clear that they would quickly overcome her if nothing else happened.

All that stopped when Octavia walked in. Vinyl looked at her with hope and relief in her eyes, or so Octavia assumed; Vinyl's glasses made it hard to tell exactly what expression she was making half the time. The wolves smelled the large quantities of silver on her body and shied away, or just stood their ground, growling at her.

One pony, the one in charge here, Octavia guessed, pointed a hoof at her. "How did you get in here?"

Octavia smiled at him. “The Wolf you had on guard duty caught the end of a rather... cutting remark. Needless to say, he won't be reporting for work tomorrow."

The leader pony scowled for a moment, but didn't say anything. The pony outside had been a liability for a long time, so his death was hardly a major concern. "Is that so?" he finally said. "From your appearance, and your apparent lack of concern, I'm guessing that you must be the famous Octavia Philharmonica, the hunter in grey."

"You've heard of me?" Octavia replied, nonchalant.

"Indeed. Your pelt will make a fine trophy that will restore me in the master’s eyes," he said before turning to address the assembled ponies in the bar. "Two hundred bits to whoever kills them both, but bring me Octavia's head. I'm going to have it mounted."

With that, half the patrons charged at Octavia, and things got bloody.

Two minutes later, Octavia calmly drew her sword from the back of the last standing wolf. It hadn’t been much of a battle in the end. When the first two to attack her had fallen, seemingly without her having to even move, a couple of the less committed werewolves had turned and fled, clearly valuing their own continued survival over that of loyalty to their master. They hadn’t gotten far, with one of Blast’s grenades splashing searing silver all over them. After that, it had been more cleanup than actual fighting. Sure some might gripe that it was dishonourable, that a true warrior would give their opponent a fighting chance. Octavia was not interested in semantics, only that her job was done in the most efficient way possible.

Soon it was just her, the group’s leader and Vinyl left, though Vinyl had apparently taken the position of just watching from the sidelines. It was like she had just been forgotten the moment Octavia had walked in. Which was fine as far as Octavia was concerned. She didn’t need help in a fight, and certainly not with something as one sided as this one had been. Compared to some scraps she had been in, this barely rated a warm-up.

With his minions now either dead, or so crippled as to be useless, the stallion snarled at Octavia, showing off teeth. “Morons,” he muttered to himself, “Werewolves have to be the biggest waste of…”

Octavia just gave him a confident smile. “And here I thought that werewolves were meant to be tough. All that apex predator stuff your doorman was spouting earlier. These ones couldn’t even hunt down an already dead fly.”

The stallion snarled at her again, nearly foaming at the mouth. With a casual air, Octavia undid the clips holding her weapons on and let them fall to the ground. All except one of her stakes. Her remaining nitrate grenade would make this too easy, and suck out all the fun.

The stallion was just about to lunge at her when a bottle of cheap hooch shattered on his head. Enraged he turned around to see Vinyl levitating another bottle towards him. He had almost forgotten the pale horse. Still, if a bottle was the worst she could manage, then she was no threat to him.

He brought his attention back around to Octavia, only to find her hoof rushing right at his face. It connected and he fell like a sack of stones to the ground, leaving only Octavia and Vinyl left standing.

Vinyl dropped the bottle she had been holding to the counter and let out a long exhale. Octavia didn’t rest, quickly cantering over to Vinyl, determination in her eyes.

“Are you ok?” she asked, eyes quickly narrowing in on a trickle of blood running down Vinyl’s flank. “Were you bit?”

Vinyl looked around, noticing the wound for the first time. “No, I don’t think so. They nipped my tail a couple of times, if that counts?”

Octavia shook her head, “No, hair is dead cells, no danger there.” She quickly wiped away the blood with a rag. “It looks like a scratch to me.”

Satisfied that her partner was in no more danger, Octavia gave her a hell warmed over stare. “Now then, just what in all HELL where you thinking, Vinyl? You would have blown your cover, compromised our entire operation, or even gotten one or both of us killed. Well, I’m waiting.”

Vinyl quailed under the barrage. “I-I don’t know, Octy. I though I could just sort of go in, ask a quick question or two and get out before anypony noticed. I didn’t think that…”

Octavia interrupted her, “That’s right. You didn’t think. Do you have any idea what they would have done to you if I hadn’t come in after you?”

Vinyl paled a little, clearly only just now starting to understand exactly how foolish she had been. “They would have killed me, wouldn’t they?”

Octavia nodded curtly. “Yes, Vinyl, they would have killed you. But first they would have taken turns gang raping you, maybe bitten off a limb or two for dinner, and then tortured you until you told them everything you know. If they were feeling perverse, they may even have tried to turn you into one of them and use you as a broodmare for a while.”

“Oh, Celestia,” Vinyl breathed before covering her mouth with a hoof. She leaned behind the counter before vomiting.

Octavia softened slightly, grabbing Vinyl’s made and holding it away from her mouth. “Werewolves are vile, almost as bad as vampires are. They are brutish, stupid, depraved, and violent, easily one of the most dangerous combatants you can face. You never just walk into one of their lairs, do you understand?”

Vinyl wiped her mouth. “But, you made it look so easy just then. You took on like five or six of them without even blinking.”

“I’ve been training for this since I was a foal. My first time out, I made a total mess of things, and very nearly lost my head because of it.”

Vinyl took her glasses off and looked directly at Octavia. “When they started to corner me, I just froze up. I don’t want to feel like that again. I want to be as good as you. I just panicked, while you were just so calm.”

“I can teach you, Vinyl. But don’t think you are off the hook for this,” Octavia indicated the bar, and the stallion who was beginning to moan a little on the ground. “You will be punished for severe lack of judgement and disobeying my orders, but not now. We still have work to do.”

"What are we going to do with this one?" Vinyl asked, indicating the fallen leader.

Octavia thought about it for a moment. Normally, she would just go straight for the interrogation. Her gear outside contained a variety of truth serums of various strengths and side effects, but she figured that if Vinyl was really serious about learning then this might be a good time to let her get a little hooves on experience. Plus if they were going to be working together, then it made sense for her to use Vinyl's skill sets when it suited them.

"Can you do that hypnosis thing on him? Find out what he knows. Anything that might point us towards a base of operations, or even the next link up in the chain."

Vinyl nodded quickly and focused on the slowly recovering pony. In his disorientated state it was easy for Vinyl to subdue his mind, and it didn’t take long before they had him singing like the proverbial canary.

“Who is The Master? You mentioned being out of favour with them.” Vinyl was right to the point now, crisp and businesslike. Octavia was impressed; she had missed that part about him mentioning returning to favour, having been too focused on prepping herself for the coming fight.

“The Master is The Master. With you as a trophy he would have seen fit to embrace me and raise me high in his services.”

So The Master is a he, and embrace suggests he is a vampire, Octavia thought. More than we had before.

“What is The Master’s plan?” she asked.

“The Master searches for a pony dear to him. One who will usher in the age of Sanguine. When he finds her, then shall he eradicate the scourge of the sun from the land, and all shall be washed away in a glorious feast of blood where only the faithful will survive.”

“What is The Master’s name, and where can we find him?”

Beside her, Vinyl shuddered with concentration. “That one touched a nerve. He’s fighting the spell. I can’t hold it for much longer.”

The stallion blinked a couple of times, clearly resisting Vinyl’s impulses. “The Master’s name is… Armane. He is in… hiding in the… San Palomino desert. An… abandoned temple…” With that, he shook his head sharply and threw off the last vestiges of Vinyl’s influence. “Not that either one of you will live to find it.”

In a flurry of speed, he pushed Vinyl aside and lunged at Octavia, clamping his teeth around her throat with the intention of tearing out her throat, or at least choking her to death. With her weapons pushed off to the side, and him pressed right up next to her, Octavia couldn’t generate the needed leverage to dislodge him. Black spots started to appear in her vision as she flailed around.

Suddenly, the stallion released her and slumped to the ground next to her, eyes glassing over and very clearly dead. A large shard of the broken liquor bottle protruded from the back of his head, while Vinyl had a second shard floating in her magic. The shard clattered to the ground and Vinyl rushed over to roll him off of her body.

Octavia clutched her throat and coughed, thankful that pony teeth were very poor at tearing flesh. Had he been a werewolf or vampire, she would certainly be dead now.

“Vinyl, I *cough*, I… Thank you,” she choked out, wheezing with every breath. At least she could still breath, though every inhale was like swallowing a mouthful of razors. Probably her windpipe had been bruised.

Vinyl helped her up to her hooves. “I sorry. He broke free. I couldn’t stop him.”

“It’s *cough* ok… Vinyl. You did *cough* good. You saved my life.”

“Does that make us even?”

Octavia gave Vinyl a deadpan look. “Not by a long *cough* shot. But we’ll save this for later. Right now the princess needs to be told about what we learned. We have a name and possible location. And,” she paused, taking in another shuddering breath, “we have to sanitise this place. Nopony can know we were ever here, or what happened here.”

“How are we going to do that?” Vinyl asked. She had no idea how they were meant to clean this place up. At least eight bodies lay scattered around, including one that lay dead from her own hooves. That was blood that wasn’t going to just wash off in the bath.

'I’ll work that baggage out later,' she thought, shoving the knowledge that she had killed down into a dark little compartment in her brain. This would almost certainly not be the last pony who would give her no other choice, and she knew that if she hadn’t done what she did, Octavia would be dead, and likely her as well.

“You’d be surprised at the kinds of things that just left lying around.” Octavia looked around and he eyes alighted on one very particular piece of equipment not uncommon to this kind of establishment. Very naughty, and oh so useful for her purposes right now. Someone had been running a moonshine still behind the counter.

“Homemade stills are such unreliable pieces of equipment. Prone to ignite at the slightest provocation. I think this place is about to have a little ‘industrial accident.’”

An hour later, Octavia and Vinyl were back in their tiny apartment. The Wet Mutt Bar was fully ablaze now, and Octavia wondered if the fire brigade would even respond to a call in that part of town. Nopony would miss the bar; some would almost certainly have not known it was there to begin with. Life would just go on without it.

Octavia had made herself a soothing herbal tea, and her throat was feeling better, though bruising was clearly forming in an obvious bite pattern. She would have to break out some makeup from the Estée Luna ‘it never happened’ collection. It could wait though; she had to report back to the princess.

“This is most troubling news,” Celestia’s voice reverberated around the tiny room. “I have received a similar report from Cloakshape. You and your apprentice are to be commended for such timely work.”

“Do you have new orders for us?” Octavia asked, all business with the princess.

“Yes. I want you to remain in Manehattan for another two or three days; make sure that you didn’t leave any traces that could lead back to you. Once you are certain that you are in the clear, I want to you return to Canterlot.”

“Aww, but we just got here,” Vinyl complained from over on her bed. She had, of all things, a Mane-iac comic open on her pillow. Octavia was impressed with how Vinyl had handled herself. She had expected Vinyl to start blubbering or have a breakdown; taking that first life was never easy, even if it had been a knee-jerk reaction moment. Instead, Vinyl had just seemed to a mental shrug and blot it out, burying herself into an action packed comic the moment they had gotten home. Even still, that was no reason that she could be rude to their princess and high commander.

“Hush, Vinyl,” Octavia hissed. “Please go on, princess.”

“Thanks to you we now have a better idea of where this Armane is. Once we locate this temple you mentioned, I will recall the others. From there, a surgical strike on their headquarters will end this threat, if not for ever, then at least for centuries to come. I will not allow my little ponies to be threatened in such a manner again. It will be risky, but I have no doubt that you and the order are up to the challenge.

Octavia smiled inwardly, then realised that the princess couldn’t see her, and a grim look crossed her face. This was exactly the kind of thing she had been hoping to do for a long time. It would be just like the old days again, back when the lines were clear cut. Vampires bad, that’s how it used to be, back before Lyra and her ilk had corrupted the purity of the orders goals. “I understand, princess. We will be back in Canterlot by weeks end. Agent Philharmonica out.”

The enchantments faded, and Octavia was left alone in the room with Vinyl.

“We heading out again?” Vinyl asked

Octavia shook her head. “No. Get some rest, Vinyl. I suspect we might be very busy from here on out.”

Author's Note

And we're back!

I know I've kept many of you waiting for an absurdly long time to get this going again. I got more than one PM of varying levels of impatience asking when I would be returning to writing this story, and now I can say that I'm back, and I'm ready to get going again. The couple of major plot holes I could see myself going towards have been pre-emptively resolved, I know where I want to take the ending, and I'm in the mood to write about vampires being vampires.

No idea on chapter updates from here on out, but they certainly won't be anywhere near as long as this one was.

A thanks to everyone who stood by and waited for this to happen; I know that many people view the on hiatus setting as a soft cancelled, but not this time.