Bloodby TerrasoraChaptersThe Police StationThe HospitalChapter 3The Police StationBurgers was, as per usual, filled to capacity. A deep mumbling filled the room, punctuated by the occasional outburst of laughter. Two fans stood on either end of the room, fighting a losing battle against the combined forces of summer and the heat radiating from the kitchen. The sun had already set over Canterlot, but it was sweltering within Burgers. The restaurant, though calling it so is a bit of a stretch, was nestled in the heart of Canterlot, surrounded by towering hotels and what a few of the more uptight upper-class had dubbed “real” restaurants, by which they meant that everything was over-priced and a waiter stood nearby, brushing away the crumbs that inevitably fell from the patrons’ chops. Burgers, by comparison, had two waitresses total and a metal box of napkins that, more times than not, had no napkins whatsoever. And yet, Burgers, named after the faded, chipped sign that stood atop its red roof, was thriving. Indeed, it had become something of a legend, a testament to hard work in the middle of a city ostensibly run by a class of elites. A large portion of Burgers’ customer base had come simply because of this reputation and had spent a large portion of their time their trying to order a salad before realizing that Burgers specialized in one particular kind of food: Burgers. Vinyl Scratch, unlike some of the other patrons, reveled in the unhealthiness, hands a blur as she shifted from hamburger to french fry to onion ring and back again. Lyra Heartstrings sat across from her, absentmindedly sipping a small milkshake. The two were, admittedly, a mismatched pair. Lyra rested an elbow against the table, gazing through a nearby window with the air of someone lost in their own thoughts. She wore an immaculate green vest over a white and equally well-kept dress shirt. Her hair, a green just a shade lighter than her vest with a white strip curling just over her ear, was neatly maintained and covered her face slightly. Vinyl Scratch, for her part, was slouched over the table, the sleeves of her white jacket rolled up to her elbows. She wore a rather revealing top, bearing essentially everything but her breasts. A necklace bearing a small, golden pendant in the shape of bridged eighth notes hung just under her collarbone and pair of purple sunglasses rested on her forehead. They sat in silence, an inconsistency in the otherwise noisy restaurant. Indeed, neither Lyra nor Vinyl had said a word to one another after entering Burgers, breaking their silence only to place their orders. Lyra set aside her drink, turning away from the window. “ Sun’s setting. We should leave soon.” Vinyl thumped a fist against her chest, trying to get down her mouthful of burger. “We just got here!” “I told you to order something light.” “Yeah, and I did!” Lyra arched an eyebrow, surveying the remnants of Vinyl’s meal before shifting her gaze to the glutton. “Not my fault we have different standards.” “I’ll pay,” said Lyra, smoothly sliding out of the booth. “I’ll ask for a doggy bag.” Vinyl pouted, shoving a few french fries into her mouth as Lyra approached the counter. True to her word, Lyra returned after a few moments, armed with a black plastic box and a paper bag. Vinyl shifted her food into the box, grumbling all the while. “What’s the point of going out to eat if you don’t even finish your meal?” “You’ll finish it later, Vinyl.” Vinyl held her bag tightly, cradling it again against her as they exited the restaurant. “Yeah, but it’ll be cold.” “Heat it up.” “It’s not the same!” Lyra shrugged, leading the way through Canterlot’s winding roads. “Not much of a difference anyway.” Vinyl gasped, recoiling from her companion. “Have you no shame, Lyra Heartstrings?” “Well, considering that I’m actually wearing clothes.” The pair turned into an alley, the tall buildings that lined it blocking the freshly risen moon. “Lyra?” asked Vinyl, glancing around warily. “Yes, Vinyl?” “Are you sure this is the right way?” “Uhhhh.” Lyra stopped walking. “I’m… pretty sure?” “Awesome. Let’s walk a bit faster, yeah?” The two picked up their pace, their footsteps echoing on the alley’s walls. A shadow turned into the other end of the alley, walking towards the two woman. Lyra and Vinyl exchanged a glance, turning on their heels and hurrying down the alley. Another figure stepped out, blocking that end and trapping the pair. Something metallic flashed in the shadow’s hand. “Lyra,” said Vinyl nervously. “Stay close, Vinyl.” The two figures approached, growing clearer as the women’s eyes grew used to the dark. Both of the shadows were male, perhaps a bit larger than normal and dressed in dark clothes. Ski masks covered their faces and their gloved hands tightly clutched long, serrated knives. In the middle of the alley, the women drew closer, pressing their backs against one another. “Lyra,” repeated Vinyl. Lyra gulped, her mouth too dry to speak properly. The figures drew closer. They were just outside of arm’s length. “Now, Vinyl.” Lyra and Vinyl broke apart, diving towards the shadowy figures. Lyra reached hers first, wrapping a hand around the side of his head and slamming it against the alley’s wall. The man went limp, falling to the ground and dropping his knife. Lyra kicked it away for good measure, keeping a close eye on the would-be assailant. He stayed on the ground. “Vinyl?” called Lyra. “Are you alright?” Vinyl walked out of the shadows, tossing a knife from hand to hand. “Nah, he chopped off my head.” Lyra ignored her, bending down and stripping away the figure’s ski mask. “I got better,” Vinyl continued. “Thanks for asking.” “Hand me that knife,” said Lyra, forcing open one of the man’s eyes. Vinyl huffed in annoyance, extending the knife handle-first. “You used to be fun.” Lyra took the knife. “Guess I just got used to it.” She pressed the blade against the man’s arm, pulling it away when the first beads of blood appeared. Lyra pressed a finger against the wound, then brought that finger to her mouth. She shivered slightly. “Human.” Vinyl sighed. “Then I guess we keep looking. What do you want to do with these two?” Lyra thought for a moment, reaching into her pocket and extracting a lime green band-aid. She placed the band-aid over the man’s wound before getting to her feet. “Turn them in, if we can. There’s a police station about two kilometers from here.” Vinyl nodded, walking deeper into the alley and returning a few moments later, an unconscious body slung over her shoulder. “Leave the other knife on the body, might work as evidence.” Lyra wiped the knife she and Vinyl had held on the cuff of her pants, then dropped it onto the ground. She stomped once, shattering the blade and handle before kicking the pieces aside. Then Lyra hefted the other unconscious man. “Now we head to the station. Try not to be too conspicuous.” “Yeah,” scoffed Vinyl. “Just two girls lugging around unconscious men, no biggie.” “Good point. We’ll take the alternate route.” “Rooftops?” asked Vinyl hopefully. “Rooftops.” “Sweet.” *** “Rooftops are awesome,” said Vinyl happily, looking over the edge of the building. “Feels like I’m a superhero. Just, you know, one of the ones that can’t really do anything.” “Be quiet, Vinyl.” “No, but seriously! Detectives and archers and stuff are cool and everything, but you can’t really say that they’d be able to take a superhero with powers in a—” Lyra took hold of Vinyl’s jacket, tugging on it sharply. Vinyl let out a stifled cry, falling onto her back. “Now’s not the time,” scolded Lyra, her eyes fixed on the police station entrance. An officer had just emerged, nearly tripping over the two unconscious presents Vinyl and Lyra had left them. “And it’s not the superpowers that make the superheroes, its the character,” she added in a harsh whisper. The officer called something into the station. More officers joined the first and, together, they dragged the two men inside. “Yeah, but powers help,” said Vinyl, oblivious to what had occurred on the other side of the street. Lyra let out a sigh, stretching slightly when she felt that the coast was clear. “I’m not saying that they don’t, they just don’t guarantee victory.” “Yeah, but they help.” “You can’t just repeat the same thing and call it an argument.” “Yeah, but it helps.” Lyra arched an eyebrow, throwing an annoyed look at Vinyl. Vinyl gave a cheeky smirk. “In any case,” continued Lyra, “the night isn’t over yet. We’ll continue the search.” “Aye, aye, boss.” Vinyl gave a loose salute. “Where’re we checking next?” “I’ve no idea.” Lyra set off across the rooftop, heading away from the police station. Vinyl followed, some sarcastic remark on the tip of her tongue. The sound of gunshots ripped through the night. Three loud bangs in quick succession, coming from the police station. Vinyl and Lyra spun around, running back across the building, stopping just at the edge. More gunshots sounded, this time followed by the sound of breaking glass. A body fell from the station’s highest floor, screaming with all its might. Vinyl shut her eyes. Silence. The metallic, tangy smell of blood floated up from the street. Lyra rolled back her shirt sleeves, taking a few steps away from the roof’s edge. “Vinyl, I want you to keep a close eye on the exits. Follow anyone that gets out.” “Lyra, what are you—” Lyra took a running start, leaping from the roof and through the station’s broken window. She rolled to a stop, crouching low to the ground and looking around the room. Hardwood floor, white walls, desks and paintings; she’d rolled into the prototypical office space. And right onto a pool of blood. Her forearm and the lower parts of her dress pants were covered by it and the strong smell of blood permeated the entire room. Lyra wiped a finger over the blood on her arm and brought it to her lips. Overly sweet, with a terribly bitter aftertaste. A vampire’s blood. Lyra slowly got out of her crouch, balancing on the balls of her feet, lithe as a cat as she made her way through the room. She stopped at a wooden door with a frosted glass window built into it and, crouching below the window, placed her ear against the door. No gunshots. No sounds of conflict. Shit, thought Lyra. The door swung open on well-oiled hinges, leading into a narrow hallway. Blood splattered the walls here, covering a corkboard with some notes pinned to it. Lyra stepped out into the hallway, flipping a mental coin and turning right. She crept up the hall, listening at each door before moving onto the next. Eventually, Lyra reached the end of the hallway. The final door was a supply closet of some sort, lacking a frosted window. Lyra pressed her ear against the door, holding her breath slightly. A thin, steady breathing came from inside the supply closet. Each breath was shallow, but there was definitely someone in there. Lyra braced herself, crouching against the wall as she took hold of the handle. She flung the door open. Bang! A gunshot rang out from within the closet, a shot which would have pierced through Lyra’s forehead if she’d stood in front of the door. Crouched as she was, however, the bullet flew high over Lyra’s head. She lashed out, knocking the gun away with one hand and grabbing the shooter’s throat with the other. Lyra noticed two things in that brief moment. The first was the shooter: a woman with black hair, wearing a grey blazer and a pink bowtie. The second was that the woman’s neck was covered in blood, courtesy of two puncture wounds. Lyra’s fingers were currently covered in blood. “Shit,” said Lyra. The woman’s eyes were wide-opened, her purple irises doused in fear. “It’s okay.” Lyra let go of the woman’s throat. “I’m here to help. I won’t hurt you.” “Lyra!” Vinyl’s voice came floating in from the first room. A few moments later, Vinyl herself came running into the hallway. “Vinyl! I told you to stay outside and watch the exits!” “It’s too late for that!” Vinyl stopped just beside Lyra. “The cops are rounding the corner; someone must have called in and—” She caught sight of the woman “—Oh, shit.” “Alright, Vinyl, I’ll need your help to carry Miss…” Lyra turned to the woman. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.” The woman went bleary-eyed briefly. Her mouth opened and closed uselessly, then she collapsed. “Fantastic,” muttered Lyra. “Oh, shit, she’s turning, isn’t she?” “Yes, Vinyl.” “Ohhhhh, shit!” “Yes, Vinyl, I heard you the first two times!” Lyra hefted the woman over her shoulder. “Lead the way out.” “You know, she’s kinda hot if you get over the whole dyi—” “Now is not the time, Vinyl!” “I’m sorry, I get stupid under pressure! And slightly horn—” “Find a fucking way out, Vinyl!” “Okay, this way!” Vinyl threw open a door on the opposite side of the hallway, quickly crossing the room and breaking open the window. She could hear sirens in the distance. “Through here!” Lyra nodded, awkwardly maneuvering both herself and the woman through the window. She managed it, however, dropping three stories without so much as a scratch. Vinyl followed suit. The three of them fled into the Canterlot night. Author's Note Vampires are cool. TaviScratch is cool. So I figure that Vampire TaviScratch has to be doubly cool, right? Maybe? Oh, whatever. I'm only writing this story because the Megarexetera's art is fantastic and it's basically the only really good vampire TaviScratch pic that I could find and seriously, just look at that art! (Thought the blood spot on Vinyl's collarbone looks a bit like ketchup). As with all of my stories, every comment will be read, appreciated, inverted so that the back is black and the letters are white, printed out on black paper, painted red on one side, and worn as one of those high-collar cape. Blah! The HospitalOctavia was burning. Every part of her was on fire, searing pain coursing through her veins. She was moving; she was certain of that, but it didn't matter. Octavia could not move fast or far enough to escape the pain. The fire burned hotter as time passed, slowly devouring the little consciousness she had. The sirens of the coming police cars, the sound of feet slapping against pavement, the urgent whispers of two unintelligible voices, we're all drowned by the pain. It seemed an eternity before the pain retreated. The change was sudden, one moment debilitating heat and the next a comfortable warmth. But the pain had taken its toll. Octavia did not even have the strength to sigh in relief, she simply dropped into sleep. "Is she out?" asked Vinyl. Lyra leaned in, listening to Octavia’s breath. Still slightly erratic, but deeper than before. "Yeah, just sleeping. Hand me those bandages." Vinyl tossed the box of bright pink bandages. Lyra caught it, applying one of them to a fresh cut on her arm. She drew her shirt back into place. "You know," began Lyra, "you should really be the one doing this." "You're better at it than I am. Hell, you got me through it just fine." Lyra frowned slightly. "I suppose so." A pause. The only sound in the room was Octavia’s breathing. "Sooo," said Vinyl, "what do we do now?" Lyra's frown deepened. "I'm not sure." She regarded Octavia for a moment. "This one's thrown a bit of a wrench into things. We should take her back to Everfree." "But?" "But we haven't finished business here." "We can't just leave her alone." "No. No we can't." Lyra sighed, rubbing at her eyes. "How long until morning?" Vinyl crossed the small room, peeking through a heavily curtained window. The sky had lightened substantially. "I'd give it an hour or two." Lyra thought for a moment. "Head to sleep. We'll do four hour shifts to watch over this one." "We should really learn her name." "Fair point." Lyra leaned over Octavia once more, quickly and gently going through her pockets. "No ID," she muttered. "Let's call her Police Girl." "That's a terrible name for a vampire." Vinyl shrugged. "I like it." Lyra shook her head, then turned her attention back to Octavia. She reached out, quickly undoing the bowtie before moving on to the shirt's buttons. "Woah!" shouted Vinyl. "Buy her dinner first, Ly!" Lyra scowled, gently easing Octavia out of her shirt. She tossed it at Vinyl. "I don't want blood anywhere near her when she wakes up. That shirt's covered in it. Burn that before the sun comes up." Vinyl held the shirt up. The entire right side was red with drying blood. The smell was immense. Vinyl closed her eyes, balling up the shirt and tossing it over her shoulder. "Yeah, no problem. Next time you do something like that, though, can you do it... slower?" "Shut up, Vinyl." Vinyl snickered, climbing to her feet and walking towards the discarded shirt. "Don't let anyone see you," said Lyra. "Yeah, yeah." "And bring back a blanket!" *** The fire flared, then died, then flared again. Octavia had rather gotten used to her circumstances. The ebb and flow of pain was not comfortable, but it was bearable. Slowly but surely, Octavia climbed her way up to lucidity. Opening her eyes was beyond her, but her other senses returned. Touch came first. Something had been draped over Octavia. A blanket. A blanket that smelled lightly of mildew and damp, but a blanket nonetheless, and Octavia was grateful for the gift. Then came hearing. At first, Octavia did not realize that she could hear again; so quiet was wherever she currently lay. She could, in the depths of her delirium, remember a pair of hushed, warped voices, but those voices did not sound. Only the slight sound of cloth scraping skin, magnified a hundred times by a pounding headache, revealed that someone else sat with Octavia. The pain flared again, a pressure slowly building behind Octavia’s eyes. It felt as though her head would be crushed, caught in some iron grip that tightened with every passing moment. Octavia let out a weak cry, the first sound she’d made since— A sudden, stabbing pain shot through Octavia. Her back arched and she let out another cry, louder this time. In some far-gone corner of her mind, Octavia heard a yell, followed by the sound of feet smacking against ground. The pair of voices returned, one of them speaking in a hushed, comforting tone, the other barking commands. Another stab, this one a twisting knife that sent Octavia into spasms. She felt hands hold her head, felt something warm and sticky and smelling of putrid sweetness trickle onto her lips. Then the world went black. *** “Lyra!” Vinyl held up the woman’s head, trying to keep her in place, applying as much pressure as she dared. Octavia writhed in pain, letting out a torrent of cries. “Lyra, get the fuck out here!” Lyra stormed into the room, dressed in her sleeping clothes. She paused slightly at the sight of Octavia and Vinyl, her eyes widening. Then she ran, sliding into place on the side opposite of Vinyl. “This doesn’t make sense,” muttered Lyra, eyes roaming over the woman, “the blood shouldn’t be taking this quickly.” “Well it is!” Octavia flailed, one of her hands cracking against Vinyl’s face. Vinyl reeled back, cheek quickly turning red. “Shit, she’s fucking strong!” “Calm down, Vinyl.” “I’m calm!” shouted Vinyl hysterically. “If I was any calmer, I’d be dead!” “Fantastic. Keep holding her still.” Lyra brought her wrist to her mouth, holding it against a wickedly sharp fang. She slid it across her wrist. Not a deep cut, but blood was flowing. “Still, Vinyl, hold her still!” “I’m trying!” "Try harder!" “If I try any harder, I’ll cave her skull in!” “Calm her down, then!” shouted Lyra in frustration. A single drop of blood traced its way down her arm. “Calm her—What the hell are you talking about?!” “Just talk to her or something!” “Are you joking?!” Lyra glared, shouting a few choice words that surmounted to “No, I am most certainly not joking.” Vinyl, fearing for whatever life she had left, leaned in towards the woman. “Hey,” she began hesitantly. Octavia gave a particularly hard spasm at the sound of her voice. “Still, Vinyl.” “I know, shut up!” Vinyl took a deep breath, then turned back to the prone woman. “Look, I know it sucks. It feels like every part of you is burning. When I went through it, all I could think about was the pain. I wouldn’t have been able to hear some random chick trying to calm me down, but Lyra told me to do it, and Lyra normally knows what she’s talking about.” Vinyl took hold of Octavia’s wrist, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “But we can help you. Or, Lyra can. Hell, she got me through it. But I broke her nose. It was pretty sweet.” Lyra flexed her wrist, forcing more blood to seep out. “Open her mouth,” she told Vinyl. Vinyl nodded, letting go of Octavia’s arm and carefully parting her lips. Octavia groaned slightly as her mouth was forced open, but offered no further resistance. Lyra hung her wrist in the air just above Octavia’s mouth, allowing a few drops of blood to fall into place. Octavia gulped it down eagerly. The thrashing lessened, growing calmer until it stopped altogether. Vinyl let out a breath. “Holy shit. Was it like that when I changed?” “No. You were worse.” Lyra adjusted herself, coaxing more blood out of her wound. “Bonnie and I tried talking to calm you down, but you were completely gone. We had to tie you up.” “And I wasn’t even awake for it.” Lyra laughed lightly. The two sat in silence for a time, eyes fixed on the woman. “She could hear me?” asked Vinyl. Lyra nodded. “Semi-lucid state. This entire experience will feel like a dream to her once she’s awake. That is, if she remembers anything about it.” “Do you remember yours?” A sharp glance at Vinyl. “You’re chatty today.” Vinyl shrugged. “I just felt like talking.” "There are other things to worry about,” replied Lyra firmly. “Bring over a few gauze rolls.” “You don’t have to be so pissed about it.” “Bring over the gauze, please.” Vinyl nodded, quickly crossing over to the other room. As soon as Vinyl turned out of sight, Lyra turned her attention to the other woman in the room. She pulled back Octavia’s blankets with her free hand, exposing her neck. The two deep, circular wounds had healed in the 20 or so hours the woman had been in Lyra and Vinyl’s care, but they had not disappeared fully. And if they haven’t healed by now, thought Lyra with a small, sad frown, they’ll probably scar over. “Lyra!” called Vinyl from the other room. “I can’t find the gauze!” “Check the dresser on the left!” “I have!” “Check again!” Lyra continued her search, looking at the other side of the woman’s neck, her wrists, and her palms in turn. Lyra paused slightly at Octavia’s left hand. There was a slight discoloration on the woman’s ring finger, a lightening at the very base of the digit. “Shit,” muttered Lyra. “Found it!” called Vinyl. Lyra moved quickly, throwing the blanket back into place just as Vinyl stepped back into the room. “It was all the way in the back of the drawer; pretty much everything else got in the way. How’d it even get there?” “No idea.” Lyra slowly retracted her wrist, allowing a few more drops of blood to fall into Octavia’s mouth before bringing it away altogether. Octavia groaned slightly, tossing and turning at the absence, but nothing close to her state from a few minutes before. Lyra began rolling the gauze over her wound. “She looks better,” remarked Vinyl. “She’ll last for now, but she’ll still need blood. More blood than we have at the moment.” Vinyl smiled uncertainly. “Are we heading out?” “Indeed.” Lyra turned to look at Octavia. “She probably shouldn’t drink any more vampiric blood, either way. There’s a hospital a few blocks down that we could sneak a few bags out of.” “How much do we need?” Lyra paused slightly, thinking of something. “About twelve pints for her, though it wouldn’t hurt to take a few extra. Fifteen, to be safe.” Vinyl looked towards Octavia. “And what about her?” Lyra got to her feet, crossing into the next room. She returned a moment later, a white long-sleeved shirt pulled over her sleeping top. “Stay here. I can head to the hospital on my own.” A pause. “You want me to stay?” “Yes.” “Like… without you here?” “Yes, Vinyl.” Lyra pulled her vest over her dress shirt. “O-Okay. I guess I’ll just… You don’t want me to go to the hospital with you?” “No. I want you to watch over that one and nothing else.” Vinyl deflated, her bottom lip pouting outwards. “That sounds boring.” “Deal with it.” Lyra turned on her heels, striding across the room and through the doorway. Vinyl caught only a glimpse of the outside before the door slammed shut again. “Fan-fucking-tastic,” muttered Vinyl. She turned towards the unconscious woman. “Wanna chat about something?” Octavia groaned softly. “That’s what I thought." Vinyl sat in place for a few moments, hands tapping a rhythmic beat on the floor. Then she stood, walking around the room in a loose circle, fingers occasionally brushing against the cold, battered plaster walls. “You know,” Vinyl said to no one in particular, “this is actually Lyra’s place. Like, she owns the deed or whatever. And she might have built it herself. Can’t really remember if that’s true; I was eating a really good sandwich while she was talking. At least, it looked really good.” Octavia tossed slightly in her sleep, kicking away the blanket that covered her. Vinyl sighed, slumping into place next to the woman and pulling the blanket back into place. “I really hope you’re better at talking when you’re not unconscious.” *** Lyra strode through the hospital’s hallways, a frantic lilt in her steps, her hair dishevelled, and a white coat tossed over her slightly wrinkled clothes. She held a clipboard in one hand, an assortment of random and brightly colored papers stacked atop it, and a small black box in the other. Not one person challenged Lyra as she worked her way through the hospital, heading into the basement. Lyra slowed slightly as she came to a rather large steel door. A single handle stuck out on the door’s left side and, right next to the handle, sat a small black box. She reached into her stolen coat, withdrawing a small, yellow card with a picture of a doctor who looked nothing like Lyra. A shuffling sound came from within the refrigerator. Lyra drew back swiftly, flattening herself on the wall next to the door. She waited. One breath. Two. Everything was quiet. Lyra took a tentative step away from the wall, drawing quietly towards the steel door. There was a draft here, a steady breeze of frigid air. The refrigerator was open; cracked open just enough for it not to lock, but open nonetheless. More shuffling. The sound of steps taken with dragging feet. Two possibilities ran through Lyra’s head. It could be a human, one of the faculty inspecting something within the refrigerator. Or it could be something not human; something like Lyra. She didn’t like either of these options. The shuffling sound continued, occasionally followed by a quiet mumble. Lyra stood just outside the door, keeping her breath even and quiet, waiting for whatever was in there to finish whatever it was doing. She crouched, arms slightly open, eyes focused on the doorway, unaware of the light steps trailing their way down the stairwell leading into the room. The door creaked open. Lyra whirled around, catching a glimpse of a young woman with bright pink hair, wearing a nurse’s uniform and a confused expression. The nurse blinked, getting over the sight of what seemed to be a randomly crouched doctor. She opened her mouth to speak. Shit, thought Lyra. “Excu—” began the nurse. Lyra dove forward, one hand shooting out and covering the nurse’s mouth, the other chopping softly into the human’s neck. The nurse’s eyes went wide for a moment, then flat; the light of consciousness had abruptly left them. Lyra crouched again, now burdened with the nurse’s limp body. The steel door had not moved. The shuffling sound continued. Lyra allowed herself a mental sigh of relief, gently tucking the nurse in a corner. After a bit of maneuvering, the nurse was, more or less, hidden from view. With that job done, Lyra crept back towards the refrigerator door, sliding silently into place. Alright, she thought, let’s get this over with. Lyra pressed forward, placing one eye over the slight crack of the open door, peeking into the refrigerator. A tall, thin figure stood on the other side of the fridge, slowly shuffling from place to place. His hair was jet black, his skin deathly pale, his clothing tattered and patched. Occasionally, the man would slowly reach out, taking hold of a bag of blood and drawing it to his nose. Lyra could hear the faintest sound of the figure inhaling. The bag fell slightly lower. The figure’s jaw opened slowly, as though the action pained him. Then he bit down. Suddenly, the smell of blood, human blood filled the room. Lyra had to grit her teeth to keep her composure. Her grip on the refrigerator’s handle tightened. If she was going to make a move, it would have to be now, while the other vampire was distracted by his meal. Smack. The sound of a step directly behind her. No creaking door. The nurse had come through. Lyra hadn’t closed the door. Lyra whirled, spinning and twisting as best she could. She felt something bit into her side, smelled the sweet, rotten scent of vampire blood mix with the human blood. Another figure, this one larger, stronger than the first, holding a steel dagger in his hand. Shit, thought Lyra. Author's Note A little under a month for an update. Not bad. Not particularly good, either, but not bad. As always, all comments left to me are read, appreciated, printed out, scanned multiple times, broken down into individual letters, and used to build a thesaurus entry for the word "blood". Chapter 3Vinyl sat outside, the trees of the Everfree Forest towering above her. It was daytime; almost noon if her internal clock could still be trusted, but the leaves were dense here and filtered out most of the sunlight. As far as she was concerned, only two times existed this deep into the Everfree: evening and night. A sharp clap rang out, drawing Vinyl’s attention away from the leaves and back to Lyra. “As I was saying,” Lyra said with a glare. “There are approximately twelve pints of blood within the average body. Losing five to six pints puts a human in critical condition, though that number is severely reduced if shock is taken into account. Which is why you should never drink more than a pint from any human you don’t fully intend to kill.” Vinyl raised her hand. “Yes, Vinyl?” “How am I supposed to know how much blood I’ve drunk?” “Best-case scenario, you won’t have to drink from a person at all.” Lyra grimaced. “But you know how I feel about best-case scenarios. Practice starts tomorrow.” Vinyl nodded. “Anyway,” continued Lyra, “this is the part that matters. Vampires have the same twelve pints of blood as humans, but that’s where the similarity ends. We’re far more dependent on blood than humans are and there are a few rules that you absolutely have to follow. Do you understand me, Vinyl?” “‘Course! Me and rules are totally best friends.” Lyra scowled. “I am being entirely serious, Vinyl Scratch. These are ironclad rules, not guidelines to be bent and broken. If I find out that you intend to break one of these rules, I will be merciful and tear your head from your neck. It will save you hours of torment.” “Glad to know you care.” Lyra sighed, shaking her head slightly. Then she continued, pacing slowly as she spoke. “Vampires have a deep connection with blood. It is, in every possible sense of the phrase, our life source. Forget food and drink as you knew it, that holds no purpose for us. You can eat a king’s banquet for every meal of every day and still die of starvation within five days. “At the absolute minimum, the average vampire requires one pint of blood every two days. You would be malnourished, hardly capable of walking, and about as weak as a human child, but you would be alive.” Lyra paused, turning towards Vinyl. “While you are under my care, I expect you to drink blood as you once drank water.” “I never really drink water,” said Vinyl. “I don’t like the way it tastes.” Lyra sighed again, rubbing at the space between her eyes. “Vinyl Scratch, I would rather not cut your tongue from your mouth, but the thought becomes more attractive by the moment. Are you going to withhold your comments or should I take the easy way out?” Vinyl mimed zipping up her mouth and throwing away the key. “Thank you.” Lyra took a moment to collect her thoughts. “Now, if the first rule can be summed up as ‘You Must Drink Blood,’ then the second is ‘You Must Not Lose Blood.’ Losing half a pint will leave you nauseous, one pint and you won’t be able to stand. Your vision will fade soon after that and, should you continue to bleed, you will lose consciousness and die. Three pints is our absolute limit." “I thought vampires were immortal,” Vinyl blurted out. Lyra shook her head. “We age only as much as we want to, we can heal most any wound if we have enough blood, and there are very few fights we cannot win; we are as close to immortal as a creature of flesh and blood can be, but vampires die all the time. Care to guess the number one cause of death?” Vinyl thought for a moment. “Murder?” Something of a smile tugged at Lyra’s lips. “Well, yes, but that falls under something of an umbrella term. 'Carelessness' is the leading cause of death among vampires. Don’t be careless, Vinyl.” *** Careless, thought Vinyl, her eyes fluttering open. Don’t be careless. She worked her jaw a few times, trying to work some moisture back into her mouth. Her eyes roamed around the small, dark room, resting briefly on the woman sleeping on the floor. A throb of pain ran through Vinyl’s bandaged arms. “Fuck me,” Vinyl muttered. “Where the hell is Lyra?” She paused for a moment, gathering her strength. Then Vinyl pushed herself out of her seat. The room swam, dissolving into multi-colored mist and swirling around Vinyl. The vampire shut her eyes, allowing the storm to wash over her, counting the seconds as the mist spun back into solid shapes. “Six seconds,” Vinyl noted. “Lost about three-fourths of a pint.” She leaned over slightly, eyes quickly inspecting Police Girl. “You’ve got a pretty healthy appetite, don’t ya?” Police Girl didn’t respond. She was a mess, her hair tangled, her skin drained of color from the pain of turning. Specks of Vinyl's blood spotted the area around Police Girl's mouth, standing stark against her pale skin. Vinyl sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Well, hey, that’s fine. Everyone’s gotta drink something. I just wish you weren’t drinking me.” She chuckled nervously. “But no worries. Lyra’ll be back any minute now with gallons of blood. Then I’ll be able to sit down without worrying about dying from blood loss. Which is nice.” Police Girl didn’t respond. “But this is fine to!” Vinyl threw her arms into the air, slowly pacing around Police Girl’s body. “I am totally, completely fine with walking around and talking to somebody who won’t talk back just to make sure that I stay conscious. Yup, this is the best fucking thing to happen to me in my whole goddamn life! Couldn’t be any freaking happier being alone with Police Girl while Lyra’s out in Canterlot with a whole shitload of renegade vampires prowling around!” She ran both hands through her hair, only just resisting the urge to tear handfuls of blue hair out of her scalp. “Everything’s fucking peachy!” Vinyl stopped her ramblings, breathing heavily. Then she laughed, a choppy chuckle that seemed to rattle out of her. “Lyra really wasn’t kidding about the blood loss. Forget about all of that, Police Girl.” Police Girl started screaming, a piercing cry that Vinyl found only too familiar. With hardly a pause, Vinyl reached into her pocket, drawing out a razor blade and tracing a sizeable cut across her arm. She drew closer to Police Girl, placing a hand on the prone woman’s forehead while Vinyl’s other arm rested in the air above Police Girl’s mouth. A few drops of blood fell into place. A few more missed their mark entirely. Police Girl’s spasms began to lessen in intensity, her face still contorted in pain. The outside door slammed open. Vinyl spun towards the sound, eyes wide, razor blade raised defensively. “It’s fine, Vinyl,” said Lyra, striding into the room. She’d lost her shirt at some point in the night, leaving her with only a white undershirt. A red case was slung over her shoulder, marked with white lettering reading Blood Products in Transit. “Lyra!” Vinyl exclaimed in relief. “Where the hell were you?” “There were complications,” Lyra responded, slipping the case over her arm and handing it to Vinyl. “What kind of complications?” Lyra scowled slightly, more out of reflex than any actual anger. “Get some of that blood into Police Girl first.” Vinyl nodded, unzipping the red case and producing a bag of blood. She bit into it, tearing off a corner with her fangs before pressing it into Police Girl’s mouth. Lyra, meanwhile, crossed deeper into her home, reemerging as she buttoned up a new white dress shirt. The movement brought Vinyl’s attention to Lyra’s neck. “You were hurt,” Vinyl noted, pointing towards a jagged, red line beginning at the base of Vinyl’s neck and running out of sight. Lyra shrugged, buttoning up her shirt and covering the blemish. “Complications, as I said.” “It looks like someone almost tore your arm off!” “It wouldn’t be the first time.” Vinyl couldn’t quite decide how to respond to that. However, Police Girl saved her the trouble, draining the bag of blood completely. Lyra let out a sigh. “Go rest, Vinyl. Take a few pints for yourself; I’ll take over caring for our friend.” “I’m fine.” “Just shut up and listen to me.” Vinyl pouted, swooping down on the red case and taking a bag of blood. She stormed over to a chair, sitting heavily before biting into the bag. It took only a moment for her to drain the pint and a few moments more before she had drifted off to sleep. Lyra pulled a blood bag from the red case before taking a seat next to Police Girl. The vampire took a swig of blood, just enough to kick her healing factor into gear. The angry red welt on her neck vanished, leaving completely unblemished skin. Then Lyra turned her attention to Police Girl, gently turning her head and exposing the prone woman’s bite marks. The wounds had scarred over, leaving jagged, star-shaped discolorations in their place. Lyra frowned sadly at the sight, silently cursing the fangs that had dug into Police Girl’s neck. Then she moved on, taking hold of Octavia’s left hand and holding it up. The band was still there, a slight shift in skin tone on her third finger. Lyra kept a careful eye on the band, tipping blood into Police Girl’s mouth and allowing her healing factor to take hold. In a few short moments, every blemish on Police Girl’s body faded away, leaving only the scars on her neck. Author's Note Have I ever talked about how much I love long-winded fantasy novels? Probably not, considering that I tend to focus on romance when writing pony fiction, but I absolutely love long-winded fantasy. However, I've never been a fan of having a narrator explain things that can be explained by the characters. This, coupled with my love of suddenly tossing people into situations that they have no information about, is rather troublesome, especially in the early stages of the story. The only thing I can do about this, short of a massive information dump, is ask that you trust me. As always, all feedback, written or otherwise, is appreciated and every comment is read, touched, assimilated, and used to fuel my horsewords.
The Police StationBurgers was, as per usual, filled to capacity. A deep mumbling filled the room, punctuated by the occasional outburst of laughter. Two fans stood on either end of the room, fighting a losing battle against the combined forces of summer and the heat radiating from the kitchen. The sun had already set over Canterlot, but it was sweltering within Burgers. The restaurant, though calling it so is a bit of a stretch, was nestled in the heart of Canterlot, surrounded by towering hotels and what a few of the more uptight upper-class had dubbed “real” restaurants, by which they meant that everything was over-priced and a waiter stood nearby, brushing away the crumbs that inevitably fell from the patrons’ chops. Burgers, by comparison, had two waitresses total and a metal box of napkins that, more times than not, had no napkins whatsoever. And yet, Burgers, named after the faded, chipped sign that stood atop its red roof, was thriving. Indeed, it had become something of a legend, a testament to hard work in the middle of a city ostensibly run by a class of elites. A large portion of Burgers’ customer base had come simply because of this reputation and had spent a large portion of their time their trying to order a salad before realizing that Burgers specialized in one particular kind of food: Burgers. Vinyl Scratch, unlike some of the other patrons, reveled in the unhealthiness, hands a blur as she shifted from hamburger to french fry to onion ring and back again. Lyra Heartstrings sat across from her, absentmindedly sipping a small milkshake. The two were, admittedly, a mismatched pair. Lyra rested an elbow against the table, gazing through a nearby window with the air of someone lost in their own thoughts. She wore an immaculate green vest over a white and equally well-kept dress shirt. Her hair, a green just a shade lighter than her vest with a white strip curling just over her ear, was neatly maintained and covered her face slightly. Vinyl Scratch, for her part, was slouched over the table, the sleeves of her white jacket rolled up to her elbows. She wore a rather revealing top, bearing essentially everything but her breasts. A necklace bearing a small, golden pendant in the shape of bridged eighth notes hung just under her collarbone and pair of purple sunglasses rested on her forehead. They sat in silence, an inconsistency in the otherwise noisy restaurant. Indeed, neither Lyra nor Vinyl had said a word to one another after entering Burgers, breaking their silence only to place their orders. Lyra set aside her drink, turning away from the window. “ Sun’s setting. We should leave soon.” Vinyl thumped a fist against her chest, trying to get down her mouthful of burger. “We just got here!” “I told you to order something light.” “Yeah, and I did!” Lyra arched an eyebrow, surveying the remnants of Vinyl’s meal before shifting her gaze to the glutton. “Not my fault we have different standards.” “I’ll pay,” said Lyra, smoothly sliding out of the booth. “I’ll ask for a doggy bag.” Vinyl pouted, shoving a few french fries into her mouth as Lyra approached the counter. True to her word, Lyra returned after a few moments, armed with a black plastic box and a paper bag. Vinyl shifted her food into the box, grumbling all the while. “What’s the point of going out to eat if you don’t even finish your meal?” “You’ll finish it later, Vinyl.” Vinyl held her bag tightly, cradling it again against her as they exited the restaurant. “Yeah, but it’ll be cold.” “Heat it up.” “It’s not the same!” Lyra shrugged, leading the way through Canterlot’s winding roads. “Not much of a difference anyway.” Vinyl gasped, recoiling from her companion. “Have you no shame, Lyra Heartstrings?” “Well, considering that I’m actually wearing clothes.” The pair turned into an alley, the tall buildings that lined it blocking the freshly risen moon. “Lyra?” asked Vinyl, glancing around warily. “Yes, Vinyl?” “Are you sure this is the right way?” “Uhhhh.” Lyra stopped walking. “I’m… pretty sure?” “Awesome. Let’s walk a bit faster, yeah?” The two picked up their pace, their footsteps echoing on the alley’s walls. A shadow turned into the other end of the alley, walking towards the two woman. Lyra and Vinyl exchanged a glance, turning on their heels and hurrying down the alley. Another figure stepped out, blocking that end and trapping the pair. Something metallic flashed in the shadow’s hand. “Lyra,” said Vinyl nervously. “Stay close, Vinyl.” The two figures approached, growing clearer as the women’s eyes grew used to the dark. Both of the shadows were male, perhaps a bit larger than normal and dressed in dark clothes. Ski masks covered their faces and their gloved hands tightly clutched long, serrated knives. In the middle of the alley, the women drew closer, pressing their backs against one another. “Lyra,” repeated Vinyl. Lyra gulped, her mouth too dry to speak properly. The figures drew closer. They were just outside of arm’s length. “Now, Vinyl.” Lyra and Vinyl broke apart, diving towards the shadowy figures. Lyra reached hers first, wrapping a hand around the side of his head and slamming it against the alley’s wall. The man went limp, falling to the ground and dropping his knife. Lyra kicked it away for good measure, keeping a close eye on the would-be assailant. He stayed on the ground. “Vinyl?” called Lyra. “Are you alright?” Vinyl walked out of the shadows, tossing a knife from hand to hand. “Nah, he chopped off my head.” Lyra ignored her, bending down and stripping away the figure’s ski mask. “I got better,” Vinyl continued. “Thanks for asking.” “Hand me that knife,” said Lyra, forcing open one of the man’s eyes. Vinyl huffed in annoyance, extending the knife handle-first. “You used to be fun.” Lyra took the knife. “Guess I just got used to it.” She pressed the blade against the man’s arm, pulling it away when the first beads of blood appeared. Lyra pressed a finger against the wound, then brought that finger to her mouth. She shivered slightly. “Human.” Vinyl sighed. “Then I guess we keep looking. What do you want to do with these two?” Lyra thought for a moment, reaching into her pocket and extracting a lime green band-aid. She placed the band-aid over the man’s wound before getting to her feet. “Turn them in, if we can. There’s a police station about two kilometers from here.” Vinyl nodded, walking deeper into the alley and returning a few moments later, an unconscious body slung over her shoulder. “Leave the other knife on the body, might work as evidence.” Lyra wiped the knife she and Vinyl had held on the cuff of her pants, then dropped it onto the ground. She stomped once, shattering the blade and handle before kicking the pieces aside. Then Lyra hefted the other unconscious man. “Now we head to the station. Try not to be too conspicuous.” “Yeah,” scoffed Vinyl. “Just two girls lugging around unconscious men, no biggie.” “Good point. We’ll take the alternate route.” “Rooftops?” asked Vinyl hopefully. “Rooftops.” “Sweet.” *** “Rooftops are awesome,” said Vinyl happily, looking over the edge of the building. “Feels like I’m a superhero. Just, you know, one of the ones that can’t really do anything.” “Be quiet, Vinyl.” “No, but seriously! Detectives and archers and stuff are cool and everything, but you can’t really say that they’d be able to take a superhero with powers in a—” Lyra took hold of Vinyl’s jacket, tugging on it sharply. Vinyl let out a stifled cry, falling onto her back. “Now’s not the time,” scolded Lyra, her eyes fixed on the police station entrance. An officer had just emerged, nearly tripping over the two unconscious presents Vinyl and Lyra had left them. “And it’s not the superpowers that make the superheroes, its the character,” she added in a harsh whisper. The officer called something into the station. More officers joined the first and, together, they dragged the two men inside. “Yeah, but powers help,” said Vinyl, oblivious to what had occurred on the other side of the street. Lyra let out a sigh, stretching slightly when she felt that the coast was clear. “I’m not saying that they don’t, they just don’t guarantee victory.” “Yeah, but they help.” “You can’t just repeat the same thing and call it an argument.” “Yeah, but it helps.” Lyra arched an eyebrow, throwing an annoyed look at Vinyl. Vinyl gave a cheeky smirk. “In any case,” continued Lyra, “the night isn’t over yet. We’ll continue the search.” “Aye, aye, boss.” Vinyl gave a loose salute. “Where’re we checking next?” “I’ve no idea.” Lyra set off across the rooftop, heading away from the police station. Vinyl followed, some sarcastic remark on the tip of her tongue. The sound of gunshots ripped through the night. Three loud bangs in quick succession, coming from the police station. Vinyl and Lyra spun around, running back across the building, stopping just at the edge. More gunshots sounded, this time followed by the sound of breaking glass. A body fell from the station’s highest floor, screaming with all its might. Vinyl shut her eyes. Silence. The metallic, tangy smell of blood floated up from the street. Lyra rolled back her shirt sleeves, taking a few steps away from the roof’s edge. “Vinyl, I want you to keep a close eye on the exits. Follow anyone that gets out.” “Lyra, what are you—” Lyra took a running start, leaping from the roof and through the station’s broken window. She rolled to a stop, crouching low to the ground and looking around the room. Hardwood floor, white walls, desks and paintings; she’d rolled into the prototypical office space. And right onto a pool of blood. Her forearm and the lower parts of her dress pants were covered by it and the strong smell of blood permeated the entire room. Lyra wiped a finger over the blood on her arm and brought it to her lips. Overly sweet, with a terribly bitter aftertaste. A vampire’s blood. Lyra slowly got out of her crouch, balancing on the balls of her feet, lithe as a cat as she made her way through the room. She stopped at a wooden door with a frosted glass window built into it and, crouching below the window, placed her ear against the door. No gunshots. No sounds of conflict. Shit, thought Lyra. The door swung open on well-oiled hinges, leading into a narrow hallway. Blood splattered the walls here, covering a corkboard with some notes pinned to it. Lyra stepped out into the hallway, flipping a mental coin and turning right. She crept up the hall, listening at each door before moving onto the next. Eventually, Lyra reached the end of the hallway. The final door was a supply closet of some sort, lacking a frosted window. Lyra pressed her ear against the door, holding her breath slightly. A thin, steady breathing came from inside the supply closet. Each breath was shallow, but there was definitely someone in there. Lyra braced herself, crouching against the wall as she took hold of the handle. She flung the door open. Bang! A gunshot rang out from within the closet, a shot which would have pierced through Lyra’s forehead if she’d stood in front of the door. Crouched as she was, however, the bullet flew high over Lyra’s head. She lashed out, knocking the gun away with one hand and grabbing the shooter’s throat with the other. Lyra noticed two things in that brief moment. The first was the shooter: a woman with black hair, wearing a grey blazer and a pink bowtie. The second was that the woman’s neck was covered in blood, courtesy of two puncture wounds. Lyra’s fingers were currently covered in blood. “Shit,” said Lyra. The woman’s eyes were wide-opened, her purple irises doused in fear. “It’s okay.” Lyra let go of the woman’s throat. “I’m here to help. I won’t hurt you.” “Lyra!” Vinyl’s voice came floating in from the first room. A few moments later, Vinyl herself came running into the hallway. “Vinyl! I told you to stay outside and watch the exits!” “It’s too late for that!” Vinyl stopped just beside Lyra. “The cops are rounding the corner; someone must have called in and—” She caught sight of the woman “—Oh, shit.” “Alright, Vinyl, I’ll need your help to carry Miss…” Lyra turned to the woman. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.” The woman went bleary-eyed briefly. Her mouth opened and closed uselessly, then she collapsed. “Fantastic,” muttered Lyra. “Oh, shit, she’s turning, isn’t she?” “Yes, Vinyl.” “Ohhhhh, shit!” “Yes, Vinyl, I heard you the first two times!” Lyra hefted the woman over her shoulder. “Lead the way out.” “You know, she’s kinda hot if you get over the whole dyi—” “Now is not the time, Vinyl!” “I’m sorry, I get stupid under pressure! And slightly horn—” “Find a fucking way out, Vinyl!” “Okay, this way!” Vinyl threw open a door on the opposite side of the hallway, quickly crossing the room and breaking open the window. She could hear sirens in the distance. “Through here!” Lyra nodded, awkwardly maneuvering both herself and the woman through the window. She managed it, however, dropping three stories without so much as a scratch. Vinyl followed suit. The three of them fled into the Canterlot night. Author's Note Vampires are cool. TaviScratch is cool. So I figure that Vampire TaviScratch has to be doubly cool, right? Maybe? Oh, whatever. I'm only writing this story because the Megarexetera's art is fantastic and it's basically the only really good vampire TaviScratch pic that I could find and seriously, just look at that art! (Thought the blood spot on Vinyl's collarbone looks a bit like ketchup). As with all of my stories, every comment will be read, appreciated, inverted so that the back is black and the letters are white, printed out on black paper, painted red on one side, and worn as one of those high-collar cape. Blah!
The HospitalOctavia was burning. Every part of her was on fire, searing pain coursing through her veins. She was moving; she was certain of that, but it didn't matter. Octavia could not move fast or far enough to escape the pain. The fire burned hotter as time passed, slowly devouring the little consciousness she had. The sirens of the coming police cars, the sound of feet slapping against pavement, the urgent whispers of two unintelligible voices, we're all drowned by the pain. It seemed an eternity before the pain retreated. The change was sudden, one moment debilitating heat and the next a comfortable warmth. But the pain had taken its toll. Octavia did not even have the strength to sigh in relief, she simply dropped into sleep. "Is she out?" asked Vinyl. Lyra leaned in, listening to Octavia’s breath. Still slightly erratic, but deeper than before. "Yeah, just sleeping. Hand me those bandages." Vinyl tossed the box of bright pink bandages. Lyra caught it, applying one of them to a fresh cut on her arm. She drew her shirt back into place. "You know," began Lyra, "you should really be the one doing this." "You're better at it than I am. Hell, you got me through it just fine." Lyra frowned slightly. "I suppose so." A pause. The only sound in the room was Octavia’s breathing. "Sooo," said Vinyl, "what do we do now?" Lyra's frown deepened. "I'm not sure." She regarded Octavia for a moment. "This one's thrown a bit of a wrench into things. We should take her back to Everfree." "But?" "But we haven't finished business here." "We can't just leave her alone." "No. No we can't." Lyra sighed, rubbing at her eyes. "How long until morning?" Vinyl crossed the small room, peeking through a heavily curtained window. The sky had lightened substantially. "I'd give it an hour or two." Lyra thought for a moment. "Head to sleep. We'll do four hour shifts to watch over this one." "We should really learn her name." "Fair point." Lyra leaned over Octavia once more, quickly and gently going through her pockets. "No ID," she muttered. "Let's call her Police Girl." "That's a terrible name for a vampire." Vinyl shrugged. "I like it." Lyra shook her head, then turned her attention back to Octavia. She reached out, quickly undoing the bowtie before moving on to the shirt's buttons. "Woah!" shouted Vinyl. "Buy her dinner first, Ly!" Lyra scowled, gently easing Octavia out of her shirt. She tossed it at Vinyl. "I don't want blood anywhere near her when she wakes up. That shirt's covered in it. Burn that before the sun comes up." Vinyl held the shirt up. The entire right side was red with drying blood. The smell was immense. Vinyl closed her eyes, balling up the shirt and tossing it over her shoulder. "Yeah, no problem. Next time you do something like that, though, can you do it... slower?" "Shut up, Vinyl." Vinyl snickered, climbing to her feet and walking towards the discarded shirt. "Don't let anyone see you," said Lyra. "Yeah, yeah." "And bring back a blanket!" *** The fire flared, then died, then flared again. Octavia had rather gotten used to her circumstances. The ebb and flow of pain was not comfortable, but it was bearable. Slowly but surely, Octavia climbed her way up to lucidity. Opening her eyes was beyond her, but her other senses returned. Touch came first. Something had been draped over Octavia. A blanket. A blanket that smelled lightly of mildew and damp, but a blanket nonetheless, and Octavia was grateful for the gift. Then came hearing. At first, Octavia did not realize that she could hear again; so quiet was wherever she currently lay. She could, in the depths of her delirium, remember a pair of hushed, warped voices, but those voices did not sound. Only the slight sound of cloth scraping skin, magnified a hundred times by a pounding headache, revealed that someone else sat with Octavia. The pain flared again, a pressure slowly building behind Octavia’s eyes. It felt as though her head would be crushed, caught in some iron grip that tightened with every passing moment. Octavia let out a weak cry, the first sound she’d made since— A sudden, stabbing pain shot through Octavia. Her back arched and she let out another cry, louder this time. In some far-gone corner of her mind, Octavia heard a yell, followed by the sound of feet smacking against ground. The pair of voices returned, one of them speaking in a hushed, comforting tone, the other barking commands. Another stab, this one a twisting knife that sent Octavia into spasms. She felt hands hold her head, felt something warm and sticky and smelling of putrid sweetness trickle onto her lips. Then the world went black. *** “Lyra!” Vinyl held up the woman’s head, trying to keep her in place, applying as much pressure as she dared. Octavia writhed in pain, letting out a torrent of cries. “Lyra, get the fuck out here!” Lyra stormed into the room, dressed in her sleeping clothes. She paused slightly at the sight of Octavia and Vinyl, her eyes widening. Then she ran, sliding into place on the side opposite of Vinyl. “This doesn’t make sense,” muttered Lyra, eyes roaming over the woman, “the blood shouldn’t be taking this quickly.” “Well it is!” Octavia flailed, one of her hands cracking against Vinyl’s face. Vinyl reeled back, cheek quickly turning red. “Shit, she’s fucking strong!” “Calm down, Vinyl.” “I’m calm!” shouted Vinyl hysterically. “If I was any calmer, I’d be dead!” “Fantastic. Keep holding her still.” Lyra brought her wrist to her mouth, holding it against a wickedly sharp fang. She slid it across her wrist. Not a deep cut, but blood was flowing. “Still, Vinyl, hold her still!” “I’m trying!” "Try harder!" “If I try any harder, I’ll cave her skull in!” “Calm her down, then!” shouted Lyra in frustration. A single drop of blood traced its way down her arm. “Calm her—What the hell are you talking about?!” “Just talk to her or something!” “Are you joking?!” Lyra glared, shouting a few choice words that surmounted to “No, I am most certainly not joking.” Vinyl, fearing for whatever life she had left, leaned in towards the woman. “Hey,” she began hesitantly. Octavia gave a particularly hard spasm at the sound of her voice. “Still, Vinyl.” “I know, shut up!” Vinyl took a deep breath, then turned back to the prone woman. “Look, I know it sucks. It feels like every part of you is burning. When I went through it, all I could think about was the pain. I wouldn’t have been able to hear some random chick trying to calm me down, but Lyra told me to do it, and Lyra normally knows what she’s talking about.” Vinyl took hold of Octavia’s wrist, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “But we can help you. Or, Lyra can. Hell, she got me through it. But I broke her nose. It was pretty sweet.” Lyra flexed her wrist, forcing more blood to seep out. “Open her mouth,” she told Vinyl. Vinyl nodded, letting go of Octavia’s arm and carefully parting her lips. Octavia groaned slightly as her mouth was forced open, but offered no further resistance. Lyra hung her wrist in the air just above Octavia’s mouth, allowing a few drops of blood to fall into place. Octavia gulped it down eagerly. The thrashing lessened, growing calmer until it stopped altogether. Vinyl let out a breath. “Holy shit. Was it like that when I changed?” “No. You were worse.” Lyra adjusted herself, coaxing more blood out of her wound. “Bonnie and I tried talking to calm you down, but you were completely gone. We had to tie you up.” “And I wasn’t even awake for it.” Lyra laughed lightly. The two sat in silence for a time, eyes fixed on the woman. “She could hear me?” asked Vinyl. Lyra nodded. “Semi-lucid state. This entire experience will feel like a dream to her once she’s awake. That is, if she remembers anything about it.” “Do you remember yours?” A sharp glance at Vinyl. “You’re chatty today.” Vinyl shrugged. “I just felt like talking.” "There are other things to worry about,” replied Lyra firmly. “Bring over a few gauze rolls.” “You don’t have to be so pissed about it.” “Bring over the gauze, please.” Vinyl nodded, quickly crossing over to the other room. As soon as Vinyl turned out of sight, Lyra turned her attention to the other woman in the room. She pulled back Octavia’s blankets with her free hand, exposing her neck. The two deep, circular wounds had healed in the 20 or so hours the woman had been in Lyra and Vinyl’s care, but they had not disappeared fully. And if they haven’t healed by now, thought Lyra with a small, sad frown, they’ll probably scar over. “Lyra!” called Vinyl from the other room. “I can’t find the gauze!” “Check the dresser on the left!” “I have!” “Check again!” Lyra continued her search, looking at the other side of the woman’s neck, her wrists, and her palms in turn. Lyra paused slightly at Octavia’s left hand. There was a slight discoloration on the woman’s ring finger, a lightening at the very base of the digit. “Shit,” muttered Lyra. “Found it!” called Vinyl. Lyra moved quickly, throwing the blanket back into place just as Vinyl stepped back into the room. “It was all the way in the back of the drawer; pretty much everything else got in the way. How’d it even get there?” “No idea.” Lyra slowly retracted her wrist, allowing a few more drops of blood to fall into Octavia’s mouth before bringing it away altogether. Octavia groaned slightly, tossing and turning at the absence, but nothing close to her state from a few minutes before. Lyra began rolling the gauze over her wound. “She looks better,” remarked Vinyl. “She’ll last for now, but she’ll still need blood. More blood than we have at the moment.” Vinyl smiled uncertainly. “Are we heading out?” “Indeed.” Lyra turned to look at Octavia. “She probably shouldn’t drink any more vampiric blood, either way. There’s a hospital a few blocks down that we could sneak a few bags out of.” “How much do we need?” Lyra paused slightly, thinking of something. “About twelve pints for her, though it wouldn’t hurt to take a few extra. Fifteen, to be safe.” Vinyl looked towards Octavia. “And what about her?” Lyra got to her feet, crossing into the next room. She returned a moment later, a white long-sleeved shirt pulled over her sleeping top. “Stay here. I can head to the hospital on my own.” A pause. “You want me to stay?” “Yes.” “Like… without you here?” “Yes, Vinyl.” Lyra pulled her vest over her dress shirt. “O-Okay. I guess I’ll just… You don’t want me to go to the hospital with you?” “No. I want you to watch over that one and nothing else.” Vinyl deflated, her bottom lip pouting outwards. “That sounds boring.” “Deal with it.” Lyra turned on her heels, striding across the room and through the doorway. Vinyl caught only a glimpse of the outside before the door slammed shut again. “Fan-fucking-tastic,” muttered Vinyl. She turned towards the unconscious woman. “Wanna chat about something?” Octavia groaned softly. “That’s what I thought." Vinyl sat in place for a few moments, hands tapping a rhythmic beat on the floor. Then she stood, walking around the room in a loose circle, fingers occasionally brushing against the cold, battered plaster walls. “You know,” Vinyl said to no one in particular, “this is actually Lyra’s place. Like, she owns the deed or whatever. And she might have built it herself. Can’t really remember if that’s true; I was eating a really good sandwich while she was talking. At least, it looked really good.” Octavia tossed slightly in her sleep, kicking away the blanket that covered her. Vinyl sighed, slumping into place next to the woman and pulling the blanket back into place. “I really hope you’re better at talking when you’re not unconscious.” *** Lyra strode through the hospital’s hallways, a frantic lilt in her steps, her hair dishevelled, and a white coat tossed over her slightly wrinkled clothes. She held a clipboard in one hand, an assortment of random and brightly colored papers stacked atop it, and a small black box in the other. Not one person challenged Lyra as she worked her way through the hospital, heading into the basement. Lyra slowed slightly as she came to a rather large steel door. A single handle stuck out on the door’s left side and, right next to the handle, sat a small black box. She reached into her stolen coat, withdrawing a small, yellow card with a picture of a doctor who looked nothing like Lyra. A shuffling sound came from within the refrigerator. Lyra drew back swiftly, flattening herself on the wall next to the door. She waited. One breath. Two. Everything was quiet. Lyra took a tentative step away from the wall, drawing quietly towards the steel door. There was a draft here, a steady breeze of frigid air. The refrigerator was open; cracked open just enough for it not to lock, but open nonetheless. More shuffling. The sound of steps taken with dragging feet. Two possibilities ran through Lyra’s head. It could be a human, one of the faculty inspecting something within the refrigerator. Or it could be something not human; something like Lyra. She didn’t like either of these options. The shuffling sound continued, occasionally followed by a quiet mumble. Lyra stood just outside the door, keeping her breath even and quiet, waiting for whatever was in there to finish whatever it was doing. She crouched, arms slightly open, eyes focused on the doorway, unaware of the light steps trailing their way down the stairwell leading into the room. The door creaked open. Lyra whirled around, catching a glimpse of a young woman with bright pink hair, wearing a nurse’s uniform and a confused expression. The nurse blinked, getting over the sight of what seemed to be a randomly crouched doctor. She opened her mouth to speak. Shit, thought Lyra. “Excu—” began the nurse. Lyra dove forward, one hand shooting out and covering the nurse’s mouth, the other chopping softly into the human’s neck. The nurse’s eyes went wide for a moment, then flat; the light of consciousness had abruptly left them. Lyra crouched again, now burdened with the nurse’s limp body. The steel door had not moved. The shuffling sound continued. Lyra allowed herself a mental sigh of relief, gently tucking the nurse in a corner. After a bit of maneuvering, the nurse was, more or less, hidden from view. With that job done, Lyra crept back towards the refrigerator door, sliding silently into place. Alright, she thought, let’s get this over with. Lyra pressed forward, placing one eye over the slight crack of the open door, peeking into the refrigerator. A tall, thin figure stood on the other side of the fridge, slowly shuffling from place to place. His hair was jet black, his skin deathly pale, his clothing tattered and patched. Occasionally, the man would slowly reach out, taking hold of a bag of blood and drawing it to his nose. Lyra could hear the faintest sound of the figure inhaling. The bag fell slightly lower. The figure’s jaw opened slowly, as though the action pained him. Then he bit down. Suddenly, the smell of blood, human blood filled the room. Lyra had to grit her teeth to keep her composure. Her grip on the refrigerator’s handle tightened. If she was going to make a move, it would have to be now, while the other vampire was distracted by his meal. Smack. The sound of a step directly behind her. No creaking door. The nurse had come through. Lyra hadn’t closed the door. Lyra whirled, spinning and twisting as best she could. She felt something bit into her side, smelled the sweet, rotten scent of vampire blood mix with the human blood. Another figure, this one larger, stronger than the first, holding a steel dagger in his hand. Shit, thought Lyra. Author's Note A little under a month for an update. Not bad. Not particularly good, either, but not bad. As always, all comments left to me are read, appreciated, printed out, scanned multiple times, broken down into individual letters, and used to build a thesaurus entry for the word "blood".
Chapter 3Vinyl sat outside, the trees of the Everfree Forest towering above her. It was daytime; almost noon if her internal clock could still be trusted, but the leaves were dense here and filtered out most of the sunlight. As far as she was concerned, only two times existed this deep into the Everfree: evening and night. A sharp clap rang out, drawing Vinyl’s attention away from the leaves and back to Lyra. “As I was saying,” Lyra said with a glare. “There are approximately twelve pints of blood within the average body. Losing five to six pints puts a human in critical condition, though that number is severely reduced if shock is taken into account. Which is why you should never drink more than a pint from any human you don’t fully intend to kill.” Vinyl raised her hand. “Yes, Vinyl?” “How am I supposed to know how much blood I’ve drunk?” “Best-case scenario, you won’t have to drink from a person at all.” Lyra grimaced. “But you know how I feel about best-case scenarios. Practice starts tomorrow.” Vinyl nodded. “Anyway,” continued Lyra, “this is the part that matters. Vampires have the same twelve pints of blood as humans, but that’s where the similarity ends. We’re far more dependent on blood than humans are and there are a few rules that you absolutely have to follow. Do you understand me, Vinyl?” “‘Course! Me and rules are totally best friends.” Lyra scowled. “I am being entirely serious, Vinyl Scratch. These are ironclad rules, not guidelines to be bent and broken. If I find out that you intend to break one of these rules, I will be merciful and tear your head from your neck. It will save you hours of torment.” “Glad to know you care.” Lyra sighed, shaking her head slightly. Then she continued, pacing slowly as she spoke. “Vampires have a deep connection with blood. It is, in every possible sense of the phrase, our life source. Forget food and drink as you knew it, that holds no purpose for us. You can eat a king’s banquet for every meal of every day and still die of starvation within five days. “At the absolute minimum, the average vampire requires one pint of blood every two days. You would be malnourished, hardly capable of walking, and about as weak as a human child, but you would be alive.” Lyra paused, turning towards Vinyl. “While you are under my care, I expect you to drink blood as you once drank water.” “I never really drink water,” said Vinyl. “I don’t like the way it tastes.” Lyra sighed again, rubbing at the space between her eyes. “Vinyl Scratch, I would rather not cut your tongue from your mouth, but the thought becomes more attractive by the moment. Are you going to withhold your comments or should I take the easy way out?” Vinyl mimed zipping up her mouth and throwing away the key. “Thank you.” Lyra took a moment to collect her thoughts. “Now, if the first rule can be summed up as ‘You Must Drink Blood,’ then the second is ‘You Must Not Lose Blood.’ Losing half a pint will leave you nauseous, one pint and you won’t be able to stand. Your vision will fade soon after that and, should you continue to bleed, you will lose consciousness and die. Three pints is our absolute limit." “I thought vampires were immortal,” Vinyl blurted out. Lyra shook her head. “We age only as much as we want to, we can heal most any wound if we have enough blood, and there are very few fights we cannot win; we are as close to immortal as a creature of flesh and blood can be, but vampires die all the time. Care to guess the number one cause of death?” Vinyl thought for a moment. “Murder?” Something of a smile tugged at Lyra’s lips. “Well, yes, but that falls under something of an umbrella term. 'Carelessness' is the leading cause of death among vampires. Don’t be careless, Vinyl.” *** Careless, thought Vinyl, her eyes fluttering open. Don’t be careless. She worked her jaw a few times, trying to work some moisture back into her mouth. Her eyes roamed around the small, dark room, resting briefly on the woman sleeping on the floor. A throb of pain ran through Vinyl’s bandaged arms. “Fuck me,” Vinyl muttered. “Where the hell is Lyra?” She paused for a moment, gathering her strength. Then Vinyl pushed herself out of her seat. The room swam, dissolving into multi-colored mist and swirling around Vinyl. The vampire shut her eyes, allowing the storm to wash over her, counting the seconds as the mist spun back into solid shapes. “Six seconds,” Vinyl noted. “Lost about three-fourths of a pint.” She leaned over slightly, eyes quickly inspecting Police Girl. “You’ve got a pretty healthy appetite, don’t ya?” Police Girl didn’t respond. She was a mess, her hair tangled, her skin drained of color from the pain of turning. Specks of Vinyl's blood spotted the area around Police Girl's mouth, standing stark against her pale skin. Vinyl sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Well, hey, that’s fine. Everyone’s gotta drink something. I just wish you weren’t drinking me.” She chuckled nervously. “But no worries. Lyra’ll be back any minute now with gallons of blood. Then I’ll be able to sit down without worrying about dying from blood loss. Which is nice.” Police Girl didn’t respond. “But this is fine to!” Vinyl threw her arms into the air, slowly pacing around Police Girl’s body. “I am totally, completely fine with walking around and talking to somebody who won’t talk back just to make sure that I stay conscious. Yup, this is the best fucking thing to happen to me in my whole goddamn life! Couldn’t be any freaking happier being alone with Police Girl while Lyra’s out in Canterlot with a whole shitload of renegade vampires prowling around!” She ran both hands through her hair, only just resisting the urge to tear handfuls of blue hair out of her scalp. “Everything’s fucking peachy!” Vinyl stopped her ramblings, breathing heavily. Then she laughed, a choppy chuckle that seemed to rattle out of her. “Lyra really wasn’t kidding about the blood loss. Forget about all of that, Police Girl.” Police Girl started screaming, a piercing cry that Vinyl found only too familiar. With hardly a pause, Vinyl reached into her pocket, drawing out a razor blade and tracing a sizeable cut across her arm. She drew closer to Police Girl, placing a hand on the prone woman’s forehead while Vinyl’s other arm rested in the air above Police Girl’s mouth. A few drops of blood fell into place. A few more missed their mark entirely. Police Girl’s spasms began to lessen in intensity, her face still contorted in pain. The outside door slammed open. Vinyl spun towards the sound, eyes wide, razor blade raised defensively. “It’s fine, Vinyl,” said Lyra, striding into the room. She’d lost her shirt at some point in the night, leaving her with only a white undershirt. A red case was slung over her shoulder, marked with white lettering reading Blood Products in Transit. “Lyra!” Vinyl exclaimed in relief. “Where the hell were you?” “There were complications,” Lyra responded, slipping the case over her arm and handing it to Vinyl. “What kind of complications?” Lyra scowled slightly, more out of reflex than any actual anger. “Get some of that blood into Police Girl first.” Vinyl nodded, unzipping the red case and producing a bag of blood. She bit into it, tearing off a corner with her fangs before pressing it into Police Girl’s mouth. Lyra, meanwhile, crossed deeper into her home, reemerging as she buttoned up a new white dress shirt. The movement brought Vinyl’s attention to Lyra’s neck. “You were hurt,” Vinyl noted, pointing towards a jagged, red line beginning at the base of Vinyl’s neck and running out of sight. Lyra shrugged, buttoning up her shirt and covering the blemish. “Complications, as I said.” “It looks like someone almost tore your arm off!” “It wouldn’t be the first time.” Vinyl couldn’t quite decide how to respond to that. However, Police Girl saved her the trouble, draining the bag of blood completely. Lyra let out a sigh. “Go rest, Vinyl. Take a few pints for yourself; I’ll take over caring for our friend.” “I’m fine.” “Just shut up and listen to me.” Vinyl pouted, swooping down on the red case and taking a bag of blood. She stormed over to a chair, sitting heavily before biting into the bag. It took only a moment for her to drain the pint and a few moments more before she had drifted off to sleep. Lyra pulled a blood bag from the red case before taking a seat next to Police Girl. The vampire took a swig of blood, just enough to kick her healing factor into gear. The angry red welt on her neck vanished, leaving completely unblemished skin. Then Lyra turned her attention to Police Girl, gently turning her head and exposing the prone woman’s bite marks. The wounds had scarred over, leaving jagged, star-shaped discolorations in their place. Lyra frowned sadly at the sight, silently cursing the fangs that had dug into Police Girl’s neck. Then she moved on, taking hold of Octavia’s left hand and holding it up. The band was still there, a slight shift in skin tone on her third finger. Lyra kept a careful eye on the band, tipping blood into Police Girl’s mouth and allowing her healing factor to take hold. In a few short moments, every blemish on Police Girl’s body faded away, leaving only the scars on her neck. Author's Note Have I ever talked about how much I love long-winded fantasy novels? Probably not, considering that I tend to focus on romance when writing pony fiction, but I absolutely love long-winded fantasy. However, I've never been a fan of having a narrator explain things that can be explained by the characters. This, coupled with my love of suddenly tossing people into situations that they have no information about, is rather troublesome, especially in the early stages of the story. The only thing I can do about this, short of a massive information dump, is ask that you trust me. As always, all feedback, written or otherwise, is appreciated and every comment is read, touched, assimilated, and used to fuel my horsewords.
