When The River Runs Crimson.

by Hopefullygoodgrammar

Rating: mature
Tags: Adventure, Alternate Universe, Sad, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Trixie
Length: 9548

A terrible plague, born of blood, has begun to spread throughout Manehattan, and the only one who can put an end to the spread is a suffering showmare. Set in the Pony Dreadful 'Verse

It's been three yeas since the Alicorn Amulet Incident.

Three years of suffering.

Now all the once Great and Powerful Trixie wants to do is end it all.

But, as she prepares to embrace the cold waters of the Hoofren River, something terrible happens: a griffon airship crashes into the bridge, and a horror of fangs and flesh emerges, carrying with it the stench of rotted earth and warm blood.

Now Trixie finds herself waging war against a foe that is far older than any other, one of the most vicious and horrific members of the Children of Darkness.

The Vampires have returned, and they're intent upon spreading their disease across all of Equestria.

Published 2015-01-10 05:30:02 UTC
Last updated 2015-02-06 08:50:16 UTC

Prologue: Cargo.

It was dark when the lights of Canterlot began to grow visible off in the distance like a swarm of lightning bugs.

The airship glided through the still air with hardly a sound, the only movement that could be seen were the blinking lights that had been mounted on the hull and sides in order to warn pegasi in flight.

Viktor sat at the helm, looking out at the ghostly waves of the clouds with a strange unease bubbling away in his gut. Usually the trips to Canterlot were events that he looked forward to, as the massive, opulent city provided his sharp eyes with a much-needed change from the simplistic, rambling streets of Hawke, the griffon capital.

But this night was different, he felt on edge, his hearing registering every bump and rattle louder than usual and his tongue weighing heavily in a dry mouth.

It’s those damned boxes. he thought, pulling a lever that caused the powerful craft to veer left. They had been a last-minute addition, those boxes, and Viktor hated having extra baggage thrust upon him unexpectedly. But the pony who had sprung the request on him, an alabaster unicorn whose name escaped him at the moment, had paid handsomely, and Viktor wanted to give his hard-working crew a bit extra for their services.

He was thoroughly regretting that decision now, though, if asked, he wouldn’t be able to say why.

There was just something….off about his extra cargo. The boxes themselves, 5 in total, were medium-sized, perfectly square and padlocked tightly, with the instructions given that they were to be handled with utmost care.

“They’re fragile.” the unicorn had said simply, shrugging his thin shoulders and not elaborating further, much to Viktor and the rest of the crew’s annoyance.

The boxes took up a space near the back of the cargo hold, but the pungent stink that they emitted encompassed the whole area and had probably made its way beyond by this point. The smell bothered them all, it was one that they were familiar with, a salty, metallic odor: it was the smell of raw meat.

Viktor was not one for transporting perishables and, given how strongly the boxes smelled, he wasn’t inclined to do so ever again; He really didn’t want to end up with a health code violation marring his otherwise-perfect flight record.

The aging griffon pushed away from his console and kneaded his temples. His doctor had told him that his blood pressure was getting...iffy at his age, and had, on more than one occasion, suggested that he retire.

But Viktor knew that he couldn’t do that, no matter the risks. He had been piloting the airship since he was 20, its lofty ceilings, gleaming steel corridors and steady, humming motors were a comfort to him that he couldn’t replicate anywhere else.

No, he’d stay onboard even after he got too old to drive, he’d grown too accustomed to the ship.

His revere was broken, suddenly, by the arrival of Gemma, his lieutenant, who was looking far less stoic than usual, with her bright yellow eyes gleaming with worry, and her blue-gray feathers ruffled as if she had run. All of these details came together and set off an immediate alarm in the old griffon’s brain, and he got to his paws.

“What is it, Gemma?” he asked, looking her in the eyes.

“It’s Rugan, sir.” she said, her eyes darting around widley.

“What about him?” asked Viktor, “Has he gotten into the sherry again?”

Gemma shook her head, “No, sir. He’s….he’s gone.”

Viktor blinked, he had been expecting trouble from the impulsive first-mate, Rugan being younger than either of them and far less composed, and he was honestly surprised that he had lasted even a single month, considering that an airship could be Hel for the impatient or claustrophobic.

Now he was gone.

But that was impossible, the airship was large, but it was easy to map out and there was no place that anyone could hide, not from Gemma, who knew every nook and cranny like the back of her talon.

Still he had to ask.

“Did you check all the guest rooms?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you check the kitchens?”

“Yes, sir.”

“The ventilation ducts?”

“Yes….sir.”

Viktor sighed angrily and gritted his teeth as he felt the beginnings of a headache creep into his skull. He moved towards Gemma, then stopped as one more location came to his mind.

“Did you check the cargo hold?”

Gemma blushed and looked down, “Well….no….sir.”

Viktor flew upright and crossed his arms, “Gemma-” he started to say.

“I’m sorry, alright?” interrupted his lieutenant, looking thoroughly ashamed, “I just….I just don’t like that place. It’s smells….wrong, like there’s a butcher’s shop in there or….or a morgue.”

Viktor reached out and lifted her head so that he could meet her eyes, “I know, Gemma. None of us like those boxed, Hel, I get dragon-bumps when I go in there myself, but I do it anyway because I have a job to do. Now let’s go down and see if Rugan’s there, if not, then we can get worried.”

Gemma nodded and absentmindedly ran a talon through her plumage, straightening it out. “Alright, sir. Forgive me for my childishness, it won’t happen again.”

Viktor nodded, “I should hope so, now let’s find the slacker. Then you can go rest, we’re almost there and you definitely need to take nap.”

He passed her by and knew that she had rolled her eyes, but he didn’t comment. He was just doing what most captains do and exercising some of his rarely-used fatherly muscles, something that he knew Gemma didn’t mind, even if she didn’t openly state it.

The two advanced down the corridor, letting an amiable silence settle between them.

As Viktor and Gemma walked down the corridor, a distinct and unsettling chill reared its icy head and smothered the air, tinting it with their now misty breaths.

“What the Hel-?” said Viktor aloud, “Did that idiot turn the thermostat down? Why haven’t I fired him yet? I swear, sometimes I’m far too lenient towards that buffoon.”

Gemma snickered, “Maybe he’s going through the fridge again.”

It was a joke that lacked the usual barbs that she added to her tone, but it made Viktor chuckle all the same, even though he could hear the unease behind her words.

They turned to the right and passed the staff quarters, Viktor feeling a deep longing for his bed as he passed his room and Gemma letting out a tiny yawn as she passed hers.

They descended the steps that led down to the underbelly of the ship without a single thought, their keen vision slicing through the darkness that lurked at the bottom of the steps. Their paws echoed off the sturdy steel grating, sounding like cannon fire to their ears.

A door lay at the end of a shorter corridor, the thick iron door with an equally thick padlock, the door that led to the much-disliked cargo hold.

The door was ajar, and a soft light peaked around the edges.

Both griffons stopped and stared, feeling the unease grow within them. They exchanged nervous glances and Viktor placed a talon to his beak, indicating total silence; Gemma nodded and the two turned and crept closer.

As they drew nearer, a strange sound made itself known. A soft clinking of chains and soft, but still audible, breathing.

These sounds ignited a spark of primal fear in both griffon’s hearts. They couldn’t name why these sounds disturbed them, but they knew that something was very, very wrong just by listening to those sounds.

Viktor pulled ahead of Gemma and, steeling himself, threw the door open.

The breathing stopped, but the chains still rattled.

Viktor felt his blood go cold as he stared at the scene that lay before him.

The unicorn stood next of one of the boxes,surrounded by candles. The expensive-looking clothing cast aside, revealing his cutie mark as a black blotch with a bright red full moon at the center. His black mane was wild and greased with sweat, and there was a demented grin on his lips.

Viktor opened his beak to ask him what the Hel he was doing. Then his eyes traveled upwards and his throat went bone-dry.

The ceiling beaks that kept most of the ship’s infrastructure stable were low to the ground and sturdy, their large rivets gleamed in the candlelight, as did the thick chain that had been wrapped around the support that loomed above the box.

From the end of the chain was a massive hook, and, hung from the hook like a piece of meat, was Rugan. The griffon’s eyes were wide with fear and glassy with death. His brown crest was stained red with the blood that leaked from the massive gash in his throat into the opened top of the box.

Gemma came in behind him and he heard her gasp and go silent with sheer terror.

The unicorn turned to the two and smiled, and Viktor saw the fire of madness behind his green eyes as he placed the massive, gore splattered blade on the floor.

“Hello, captain,” he said, his soft voice tinged with the same stuff held in his eyes, “is there an issue?”

Viktor closed his beak and swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat with some effort, having decided to kill the psychotic unicorn before he could attack and hurt him or Gemma.

Then he saw the shadows in the box shift.

Sweet Maker, he thought, ashast, There’s something alive in there.

“Sorry for the mess.” continued the unicorn, his tone conversational, “But my bosses are rather hungry, they haven’t eaten in a very long time and I decided to wake them up with a nice midnight snack.”

Something smacked wetly on the side of the box and then a crimson-stained, wrinkled appendage that looked like a pony’s hoof extended out from the pitch dark and grasped onto the lip.

Then, slowly, steadily, something unfurled and stretched long, mummified limbs. On the shriveled mass that Viktor thought might have been a face, a raw gash opened up and he saw the gleam of hundreds of sharp, needle-like teeth.

The unicorn turned and let out a gasp, “Oh, my. I didn’t think that you were fully awake. Look-” he gestured towards the pair, “-I brought you seconds.”

Viktor whirled around and shouted, “Run, Gemma, run now!!”

The lieutenant looked at him as if he had lost his mind and started forwards as if to protest. Viktor felt a surge of pride at her courage, but he forced it down and glared at her worldlessly.

Then the creature let out a long, low, rasping hiss and Gemma turned and fled.

Viktor turned around, ready to fight and expecting the withered thing to be too weak to have gotten out of its box. He expected the unicorn to attack, for him to attempt to do to him what he had done to Rugan. He expected a quick fight with a weaker foe.

Then the creature in the box was out of the box, and was in the process of covering the distance with the speed of a cannonball.

Vikor saw the brown, dried skin and the rows of fangs heading for him, and he raised his talons in defense. But the creature slammed into him with far more force than he had anticipated, lifting him off the ground and throwing him into the wall.

The air that had started to leave his throat was blocked off by a fanged mouth closing around his throat, biting through it, shredding the muscles and crunching into the bone. Viktor didn’t even have time to scream and the last thing that he saw were two smaller slits opening up on the horrible face to reveal two pure-red eyes.

Starless Night watched as his master tore the old griffon’s head off with a powerful snap of its jaws and smiled.

He allowed himself a few moments to watch the beauty of the spectacle before he braced himself and went to stop his master.

“Excuse me.” he said, remembering to keep his manners as impeccable as his his posture, “But shouldn’t you let your brethren have some, too?”

His master looked at the mangled corpse at its hooves, then at him, then at the boxes. It turned and motioned for him to bring the other four to it. Starless Night obeyed without hesitation, knowing that it was weakened by lack of food and probably more than a little cranky at being woken up from its nap.

Once the remaining boxes had been lined up, the creature approached and let out a series of low clicks, hisses and strangled vowel sounds that composed its language.

There was a brief silence, then the sounds of sluggish movement came from within.

Starless Night moved to open the boxes, but the first one held out a bloodied hoof to halt him.

Then the first box cracked and splintered.

Starless Night’s smile grew even wider and he turned away from the others and addressed the First.

“We’re close to Canterlot, master.” he said, “The last griffon will most lively be trying to radio in, but I’ve cut the lines; She is yours for the taking….or the turning.”

The creature’s skull-like head swiveled and it fixed him with a cold, appraising gaze. The unicorn stood his ground and allowed his master to look him over. When it snorted wetly and turned back to the still-breaking boxes, he smiled and moved off to find the last griffon and bring her to them.

I wonder if she’ll be enough for them. he thought as he levitated the knife in his golden aura. I should ask….no, no that would be impolite. They told me that they had slower metabolisms. So I guess they’ll be able to take their fill and maybe even leave some for later.

He smiled and began to hum a tuneless song as he walked up the steps to the corridor.

Behind him the bloodsucking creatures closed in around the corpse of Viktor and began to feed, filling their withered bellies with still-warm blood.

They were glad to be awake, and even gladder to be coming to the biggest city in Equestria.

The hunt would be amazing in Canterlot, and the prey wouldn’t know what had hit them until it was too late.

Author's Note

Here begins a new story in the Pony Dreadful 'Verse.

You might have noticed that the genres change a bit with each story: With Seeing Monsters being Lovecraftian and Stitches being more gothic and Frankenstein-ish. This story is going to be Splatterpunk, plain and simple, hence its M rating.

I hope you all enjoy the story and that you sleep.....fitfully tonight.

Bye for now :pinkiecrazy:

Chapter 1: Demeter.

The air was freezing by the time that Trixie left the bar, but she didn’t care.

After all, the waters of the Hoofren river were probably much, much colder.

The former showmare walked down the darkness enshrouded streets slowly, pacing her hooves in time with her heart beat. She glanced up, past the looming shadows of the tall apartments and stores, to the night sky, where a full moon hung fat in the dark, surrounded by stars that twinkled as if laughing.

Laughing at her, probably.

Trixie looked back down and sighed, then steeled herself and continued onwards.

I’m not going to be distracted. she thought, If I can do anything right then it’s gonna be this. I can’t do this anymore.

And so she marched onwards, she found herself breaking out into a cold sweat as the memories of her last three years began to creep through the dam that she had thrown up to keep herself sane.

Word of the incident with the Alicorn Amulet had spread fast, Trixie had only been free of its influence for two days before the first signs of trouble began.

The very first instance, and one of most painful, was when she had dragged herself into a motel, paying with the last of her bits and trying to keep from crying in front of the obviously concerned manager.

Once the door to her room had shut, all of the guilt and self-loathing that had been squirming in her stomach decided to lash out in truth, and she spend a good five hours in the bathroom, vomiting and crying in tandem. After that she managed to crawl into her bed and pull the covers up around her shaking body.

She had spend the rest of the night and most of the following day like that, whimpering softly as a fever raged in her blood. She could feel the dark magic clinging desperately to her body, fighting to keep from fading away, like a parasite trying to keep itself alive.

It had been the longest 26 hours of her life, and she had been too weary to even move. By the time that she had fallen into a thankfully dreamless sleep, her eyes were swollen and aching from tears, her stomach was in slimy knots in her belly and her bones felt leaden.

She had only managed to get a few hours sleep before the manager barged in and demanded that she leave.

She had asked him what she had done wrong in a raw, weak voice, and he had said, “I heard about what you did in Ponyville, it's in today’s paper. I won’t have a monster like yourself in my establishment a moment longer, now git!”

Monster.

Trixie had attempted, out of sheer depressed self-loathing, to count the number of times that somepony had shouted that word at her on a daily basis, and had made it up to 2,009 before she broke down and stopped.

Her life had plummeted like a lead brick. Her money was gone, and begging earned her more sneers of derision and mocking words than it did money, but she managed to scrape by, if just barely.

But then the first winter came and she was forced to seek out a homeless shelter after a blizzard overturned and shattered her cart. The ponies who ran the shelter were some of the only individuals who showed her any sympathy, and they treated her well.

Though that didn’t stop other ponies from spitting at her when she begged, and it certainly didn’t protect her when a group of drunken “Do-Gooders” decided to assault her for, as they put it, “Trying to scam eveypony into giving her money.”

She still had the bruises and aches from their hooves, and nightmares of that dark night and the terror that she felt as they closed in on her, reaching for her, stinking of booze and smiling with the kind of stupid maliciousness found in manticores.

That night had finally succeeded in breaking her, and she had decided to end it all.

It was a scary thought, committing suicide, she wondered constantly how she would do it, if it would be successful or if it would take multiple attempts, and, most terrifying, how painful it would be. These thoughts frightened her and she often found herself wondering if she should back down, but she always found her mind returning to the noose, the knife and the pills.

But she had heard horror stories of ponies who had attempted such things and had failed, often crippling themselves in the process. She didn’t want any more pain, so she looked into other ways to do it.

It took a while, but she had finally settled on jumping from the bridge that spanned the Hoofren river. It would be a cold few seconds, but the cold’s sting had lost its effect on her.

Now she was heading for the bridge, leaving the warmth and comfort of the shelter behind, and with it, her last chance at life.

She approached the bridge and slowed down, examining the height of the stone railings and the drop that lay beyond. The railings came up to her barrel and wouldn’t prove to be much of a problem to get over.

She got closer and peered between the small, decorative pillars at the river below. The water rushed by down below, the moon’s light reflected off of the frothing eddies and ripples, making the river look like liquid glass. Trixie stared down and tried to see her reflection, but the rapids distorted everything except the night sky.

No reflection, how appropriate for someone who’s less than nothing.

Trixie got up on the railing and closed her eyes, listening to the hiss and murmur of the water below, imagining that those sounds were masking and distorting voices, voices that were calling to her and her alone.

She felt oddly comforted by that prospect.

She moved a step closer and felt the cool air rush up to meet her.

Please let this be painless. she prayed as she put a hoof over the edge.

Suddenly, as if manipulated by some invisible presence, the sounds of the water grew muted as a new sound appeared in the air and increased in volume. Trixie faltered and then, with less hesitation than she herself would have expected, retracted her hoof; She listened.

The sound was louder now, and Trixie was able to make it out clearly: it was a mixture of rattling metal, moaning timbers and a grinding, metallic screech that sounded like a propeller on the fritz.

Then the acrid stink of oil hit met her snout and she opened her eyes, gasping at the sight that greeted her.

It was an airship, its propellers were kicking out sparks and belching forth black smoke as it plummeted downwards at a sharp angle headed straight for the beach that bordered the river and, by extension, her.

As she watched, frozen in horror, the craft slammed into the beach in a storm of sand, splintered wood and shredded iron, the titanic balloon that kept it afloat ruptured with a massive pop! as it connected with the ship itself.

Trixie barely had time to register the disaster before the shock wave struck.

It threw her off the railing and she rolled across the hard cobblestones, coming to a painful stop against the railings on the opposite side.

The sound of the crash ripped through the still night like dragon’s breath through a cloud. Trixie pinned her ears flat to her skull in time to avoid the worst of the blast, but her ears popped anyway.

She waited until the debris had stopped falling before she shakily got to her hooves and moved to the bridge to see the extent of the damage.

The airship had been torn apart by the force of the impact, the bottom had been reduced to little more than scrap and driftwood, the balloon was deflated and draped over both sides like a saddle, and its hull lay open like a wound.

Trixie looked around, trying to see if anypony was coming.

Surely, they must have heard the crash. she thought, scanning the darkened roads and sidewalks. She saw a few lights come on in the windows, but the unicorns that lived in this art of the neighborhood often placed soundproofing spells around their homes to blot out the sounds of drunken partying or….other things.

Trixie growled and turned back to the beach.

Should I go and see if the people in the ship are okay? she wondered, shooting a glance at the set of steep steps that led down to the beach.

That thought was immediately followed by another: Maybe, if I save whoever’s in that ship, the other ponies will see that I’m not the monster that I used to be. Maybe they’ll smile at me instead of yell, maybe they’ll give me more money on the streets. Maybe….maybe I can be forgiven.

She had considered the idea of redeeming herself, but she hadn’t had many opportunities. The part in Canterlot where she lived was rife with crime and sticking your snout where it didn’t belong could lead to a loss of life or limb, and Trixie wasn’t sure that she was ready to let herself be tortured to death by some hitstallion or….

She shuddered at the other possibilities that flowed through her mind. But, on the other hoof, she now had a chance to do good, and she wasn’t going to pass it up, not even if the possibility of her being forgiven was far and faint.

It was like a light had suddenly pierced the darkness and Trixie found herself galloping down to the beach at a speed that she didn’t know that she was capable of.

She reached the beach, taking the stairs three at a time, and leaping onto the sand, just as a figure staggered out from the gaping hole that had once been the hull to fall on the beach with a pained squawk.

Trixie gasped and put on an extra burst of speed that carried her over to the fallen figure. In the dim light of the moon, she was able to see that the figure was a female griffon with blue plumage that was currently spattered with bright blood.

The griffoness was laying face down and Trixie hesitantly turned her over her over. She gasped when she saw the wounds that marred the groffoness’ wrists, throat and hind legs. Deep, ragged wounds that leaked blood like a sieve, and there were several small, white objects lodged in the torn edges.

Trixie bent over and placed an ear to her chest, feeling a rush of relief when she heard the slow thudding of her heart.

Then the griffoness let out a low, pained moan. Trixie started, then said, in a vice that she hoped could pass for soothing, “It’s going to be alright, Trixie’s sure that the medics will be here soon. There’s no way that they didn’t hear that.”

“R...r...r…” stammered the griffoness, her eyes still shut, though now they were clenched tight in agony.

“What?” asked Trixie leaning closer, hoping against hope that she was not hearing her last words.

The griffoness heaved a rasping wheeze, then opened eyes that shone with pure, unfettered fear and said, “Run.”

Trixie felt a cold chill roll down her spine, but she didn’t move. She’s probably got a concussion. she thought looking at the wreckage, But if she doesn’t then I’ll have to move her.

“Run….now…” repeated the griffoness.

“No.” said Trixie, “I’m going to stay with you and do what I can for you. I think I can remember some healing spells I learned in-”

She was interrupted by the griffoness, who, against all odds, managed to lever herself into a sitting position to grab the showmare by the scruff.

“You have….to run….now!” she rasped, spraying a fine mist of red on her face, “They’re….coming…”

“Wh-who’s coming?” asked Trixie, unable to pull herself away from those terrified eyes.

Then she heard something, a slow, screeching sound, like metal on metal. She turned and found herself staring at the hole in the hull, which yawned open like a mouth with wood shards and metal shavings for teeth; A gust of cold air whistled through its bowels and exited the hole to stir the sand into small whirlwinds.

I should call out, see if anyone’s still in there. thought Trixie, opening her mouth and filling her lungs with air.

But the words just wouldn’t come, the air left her mouth as a harsh gasp and she realized that the griffoness’s terror had infected her, stopping her throat with fear.

She lifted a hoof to start forwards, then dropped it back down again.

I’m not going near that thing. she decided, I know it’s stupid, but something’s wrong with that ship. Why hasn’t anyone called out? Why is it so damned silent? I’ll just keep this poor griffon company until the real authorities get here.

Another gust of wind whistled through the ship and Trixie saw some of the sand that had covered the side of the ship that was nearest to her blow away, revealing a name, stenciled in big, blocky letters.

DEMETER.

Trixie shuddered again and pried her gaze away from the name to look at the wounded griffoness, who was staring at the sky, barely blinking, but still breathing.

She’s gone into shock. thought Trixie, There’s no other explanation for that look except...no, no! She’s not going to die on me, I won’t let that happen.

She focused her horn and lit it, mentally prepared a healing spell, one of the few spells that she knew that didn’t pertain to her stage persona, and cast it with more grace than she usually displayed.

The spell settled over the griffoness in a sparkling blue cloud that dissipated a moment after it made contact with her skin. The griffoness let out a contented sigh and closed her eyes as the magic numbed the pain and knitted some of the lesser wounds closed. It wasn’t a total solution, but it still had helped.

Trixie watched as the last wound closed and noticed that one of the objects that had been lodged within had been expelled. Allowing herself a moment of curiosity, she lit her horn again and levitated the thing off the griffon’s chest so that she could look at it.

The object was long, bone white and tapered to a wickedly sharp point, upon closer inspection Trixie saw that it’s tip had a small hole in it, and that the top was hollow.

Just like…..no, that’s crazy. There’s no way.

“See how it’s hollow?” he had asked, tilting it so that a young Trixie could look into it.

“Yeah.” she had said, interest evident in her voice, “Why is it like that? Do they use it to store water or something like that?”

He had shaken his head and said, “No, the answer is a bit….darker than that. Y’see, the fang is hollow so that, when the manticore bites, it can inject its prey with venom. That means that, even if the prey gets away, it won’t get very far and the manticore will have its meal.”

Trixie had screwed her face up in disgust at that remark. “Ew, that’s nasty,”

Her father had laughed and said, in kind tone that later became alien to him, “That’s just nature, sweetie. All creatures have ways to protect themselves and to feed themselves, that’s just how life works.”

He had given the fang to Trixie and, after inspecting it more closely, had said, “I guess that makes sense, but it’s still gross.”

Her father had laughed at that and they had left the museum to go get lunch; It had been one of her happiest memories.

Trixie dropped the fang, as she had realized that’s what it was, and turned to look at the bridge.

The darkness was slowly giving way as the familiar sirens of an ambulance pierced the silence. Trixie smiled and placed a hoof gently on the griffoness’s talon.

“It’s going to be alright.” she said, “You’ll be fine.”

Then she turned and looked back at the hull, wondering if she should enter this time and try to help. Feeling a pang of the old self-loathing as she wondered why she hadn’t acted sooner, and feeling a stab of fear at the possibility that she may have let someone die whilst she was too frightened to help.

She made up her mind then, and got to her hooves to enter the dark hull.

I have to do this, I have to see. Even if what I see will give me nightmares for the rest of my life. I can’t just sit by and let innocents die because I’m too much of a coward.

Three hooves.

Two hooves.

A hoof.

She stood at the hole, then entered it.

The inside was dark, the only sounds that she could hear were the sparking of snapped wires somewhere in the bowels of the craft and the drip-drip of liquid close by.

A foul smell rose up to greet her, a nauseating, warm stench, like rotting meat. She held a hoof to her snout and blinked her watering eyes, but the stench was persistent, and it choked her like a tangible thing.

What in Celestia’s name IS that stink?! She thought as she halted.

She lit her horn to see if she could find anything to stuff in her nose, hoping that the ambulance had arrived and that the griffoness was being attended to.

She turned her head and stopped short.

There were two red lights shining out at her from inside of the vague outline of a doorway.

Her breath caught in her throat and she took a step back. The lights remained still.

Trixie stopped and stared at them, then, with a faint laugh, she said, “Oh, Trixie’s a fool. You’re only lights!”

She let out another laugh that ended just as soon as it had begun, leaving the silence to fill the space where it had been.

Then she heard a sound.

It was raspy, gurgling and wet, like whoever was making the sound was doing so with a throat filled with bile or mud. And it was coming from within the doorway.

Trixie’s heart began to beat wildly as the sound bounced echoed off the fallen and broken equipment that lay around her. She took one step back, then another as the sound rose and fell, almost like….

Like a laugh. she thought, her blood going cold as the idea entered her head, Something is laughing at me.

Then the lights disappeared and reappeared closer to her, close enough to see the faint wrinkled lids around them and the tiny, black dots of its pupils.

The gurgling laughter rose in pitch and Trixie saw the light of her horn glinting on rows of saliva-coated fangs.

She screamed, then turned and fled, leaping over felled timbers and smashed boxes without looking back, behind her she could hear the wet breaths of the thing accompanied by the sounds of soft hoof-falls as it pursued her.

Trixie leaped from the hole in the hull and charged down along the beach at a full gallop. Not seeing the paramedics until they had wrapped their hooves around her. She fought, bit and screamed, her mind in a haze of terror.

They begged her stop, to calm herself down, but she couldn’t not with those red eyes still smoldering in her retinas.

Finally, the terror and exhaustion of her ordeal and the events that preceded it overtook her, and she passed out, trembling with fear, in the arms of a surprised and worried pegasus, who loaded Trixie into the ambulance next to the griffoness and drove off to the nearest hospital.

The vampire watched from the shadows, narrowing its beady eyes and hissing through its clenched fangs.

It had wanted the unicorn, wanted to feel her screams rolling down its throat as it drained every last drop of her precious blood and gorged itself until it was swollen with life-juices.

But it was weak, it needed easier prey, ones who wouldn’t run away. Foals perhaps, or the very ill. It looked over its shoulder and saw the gleam if its brethren's eyes coming out from the shadows.

It noted the unicorn who followed them, a look of reverent awe on his face. It felt a surge of its old pride at that look, it had been so long since a mortal had looked at it like that, like he was looking at a god.

The vampire smiled and turned its head back towards the outside world and the technological advancements therein.

It had already seen the strange vehicle that had taken its prey from it, and it had glimpsed the airship in brief during its wakeful hours. But they seemed paltry to the rest of the new age’s splendor.

It would be difficult to overrun this place, but not impossible.

Outside, the sky was beginning to brighten as the hated sun arose. The vampire hissed and turned, communicating the urgency of the situation through its ancient dialect.

The others nodded and turned to the Unicorn, who seemed to also understand, for he nodded and gestured out the hull, saying, “I’ve memorized the layout of Canterlot, masters. There is a place we can hide no too far from here. And you needn’t worry about others seeing you, ponies around here tend to turn a blind eye to things that don’t concern them.”

The vampires nodded and allowed the unicorn to lead the way.

Somewhere, nearby maybe, a foal’s plaintive cry came to their ears on the cold, invigorating wind and they all smiled hungrily, anticipating the feast to come.

Author's Note

If you want to know more about Trixie's dad....and I'm not sure how big a percentage of you that is, read my story Seeing Monsters.

Also, the theme for this story in general is:

Chapter 2: Hospice.

“Oh, look who it is.”

No.

“Hey, it’s the Lame and Dorky Trixie!”

Oh please no.

“I can’t believe you came back here, are you some kinda sadomasochist or something?”

Not again.

“You’re worthless, did you really believe that you could be forgiven? You cannot be that stupid!”

She turned to run, but tripped and went sprawling to the muddy earth.

The ponies surrounding her roared with laughter and Trixie pressed herself into the muck, whimpering like a kicked puppy.

A powerful kick turned her over, exposing her soft underside to a desolate sky.

“You’re weak.” said a pony with a pink mane and a yellow coat.

An orange forehoof slapped her across the face and she bit her lip to keep silent.

“Yer foolish.” said the mare who had slapped her, her stetson obscuring her eyes.

A sharp rock, held in a light blue aura, lifted up, turned itself so that its pointed end faced her ear, and came down. This time Trixie couldn’t help but cry out.

“You’re wretched, darling. Utterly, hopelessly wretched.” said an alabaster unicorn mare with a red scarf around her neck.

A blur of rainbow slammed into her and lifted her off the ground before dropping her.

“You’re worthless.” hissed the blur, her glowing eyes the only things visible through the blue and rainbow haze that was her body.

Trixie’s whimpers grew into harsh sobbing.

“You’re a villain.” said a final voice, its owner was obscured by shadows, but the violet aura of her horn gave her identity away.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” wailed Trixie, abandoning herself to her tears. She knew that she deserved this, but it was still agony, even after all the repeat performances.

Time to end it. she thought, laying down and preparing for the killing stroke.

Then she was leaving her body, seeing herself surrounded by the Six.

But something wasn’t right.

The killing blow hadn’t come.

Trixie’s doppelganger continued to sob, but now a note of mania had crept in like a fox into a henhouse, leaving the real Trixie feeling cold dread spawn in her gut.

The Six had stopped their taunting and were looking…..afraid? But that wasn’t possible, nightmares couldn’t get scared, right?

Oh yes, something was very, Very wrong.

The doppelganger rose to her hooves, her sobs changing into psychotic laughter as the blue fur began to bubble and slough away. Trixie gasped when she saw the raw, wrinkly flesh that lay beneath, rippling with animalistic power and glistening with fluids.

The Six nightmares turned and fled, but the Doppelganger moved faster than any of them. It pounced upon them and began to savagely tear them apart, its sharp teeth laying their false hides open and spilling their innards.

The screams made Trixie want to vomit, but they died off quickly.

Then the doppelganger looked up at her, its face looking nothing at all like her own. It’s maw grinned at her and she saw several barbed tendrils squirming wetly at the back of its gullet.

She blinked and then it stood before her.

“LeT me TaKE AWayyy Y-YoUr PaIN.” it said, its voice garbled and sibilant, like a serpent trying to speak. “I WAnt Youuuu…..W-wANT YOUR life, YoUr WeT, WarM LiFE!”

Trixie turned and started to run, even as the void of her dream-sky became dotted with red stars.

Behind her she could hear the flapping of leathery wings, and a voice came out from the cold, reddening darkness.

“The BLooD Issssss tHe LifE!”

Then Trixie was falling, falling into shadows…

Trixie awoke with a strangled scream that died away when her senses returned to her. With a shuddering sigh, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and got a look at her surroundings.

A hospital room. she thought, letting her shoulders slump, Was….was all that a dream? Did I really jump and somepony saved me before I could die? Was everything I did a dream? It had to be….it had to be….

Then she moved, and the sharp spikes of pain that lanced through her body coupled with the bitter taste of blood in her mouth made the reality reassert itself.

Trixie shuddered to her bones and hugged herself as a cold wave of dread swept over her.

The crash, the blood, the choked breathing of the maimed griffoness and that….creature, that thing that attacked her.

What was it? She had never once heard of anything that looked even remotely like what she had seen, and she had grown up with ghost stories and campfire tales about monsters that ate unwary or naughty foals.

Trixie’s hazy ruminations came to a sudden and terrifying realization that made her breath catch in her throat.

It’s still out there.

She held a hoof to her mouth as the images of what the thing in the airship could do to the city before it was caught…..IF it was ever caught.

I have to tell somepony, she thought, starting to get out of her bed, I can’t let that thing, whatever it was, hurt anypony.

She gritted her teeth against the pain and had almost gotten out of bed fully when her door opened and a unicorn mare with a green mane, a white coat and brown eyes entered with a tray of plastic-looking food and a small cup of what Trixie assumed to be painkillers.

When she saw that her patient was getting out of bed, she stopped and gently levitated the tray off of her back.

“Uhm….Miss, Lulamoon, what are you doing?” she asked.

“I have to...w-warn them…” said Trixie, hating how weak her voice sounded.

The nurse braced herself and shook her head, “I’m afraid not, Miss. Lulamoon, you’re still quite battered from last night. You’ve got a few fractured ribs and I think that it’d be best if you took some painkillers and rested.”

“No!” snarled the showmare, wincing as a twinge of pain stabbed her side, “I need to talk to somepony, I need-”

The nurse raised a placating hoof, “I understand, there are some guards who’d like to talk to you, but they’re busy right now, they’ll be dropping by in a little while.”

Trixie shook her head and began to trot towards the nurse, setting her jaw in determination and saying, “You don’t understand, I need to talk to them right now!”

“Please, Ms, Lulamoon, don’t force me to put you out.” said the nurse, her horn flaring with green magic.

Trixie stopped as the thought of another bad dream entered her mind. She didn’t want to have to sleep again, but she couldn’t comply with her orders, not when there were lives at stake.

“Please, Nurse-?”

“Nurse Gentle Hoof.” said the unicorn, “I’m sorry, I really am. But you need to rest.”

“I can’t!” shouted Trixie, stamping her hoof angrily, “I’m telling you that everypony is in danger, why don’t you believe me?”

“I believe you.” said a voice from the doorway.

The two mares started and turned to see the speaker. He was a royal guard, his icy blue eyes narrowed and staring at Trixie with unhidden distrust.

“Uhm….e-excuse me, sir-” started Nurse Gentle Hoof.

The guard raised a hoof to silence her, “Don’t start with me, ma’am. I’ve had a trying day.” He turned his attention back to Trixie, “Now, what were you saying about everypony being in danger?”

Trixie gulped, then started.

Elsewhere, in the intensive care ward, a group of worried doctors were clustered around a particular bed, their eyes shining with fear behind their facemasks.

They had evacuated the ward, alerted the authorities and placed several protective spells around the bed and its occupant, which, if the reports were correct, had been an adult female griffon not ten hours previously.

They could see the vague form of the griffoness, but a profound and disturbing change had taken place while they hadn’t been paying attention. The bed was now occupied by a large, sickly-green cocoon that pulsed like an organ and shone from the inside like some kind of phosphorescent fungus.

They had taken the requisite samples for testing, but they had done so with extreme caution and had left the cocoon alone afterwards.

“How the hay did this happen?” asked one, eyeing a set of strange holes that lined the hardened side that faced him.

“I have no clue.” said another, “The nurse said that she was only gone for a few minutes.”

“That’s impossible.” snorted yet another, “There’s no way that a living body could produce something like this in such little time.”

There was contemplative silence that lasted for a full minute before another doctor made a suggestion.

“Maybe something….helped her along?”

“Like what?” asked the first, feeling a stirring of dread in his gut. He knew the answer even before it was said. After all, there was only one creature that could produce a cocoon that was big enough to encase a griffon and had the same green coloration.

“Like a changeling.” said the doctor.

There was a chorus of horrified exclamations and, as one, they turned and rushed off to alert the guards, leaving the cocoon unguarded and missing the changes that it began to go through.

The cocoon shifted, the holes along the side puckered, then opened to expel a slurry of brown and red liquid, liquefied scraps of fur, and disintegrating feathers. The green light faded as it was overtaken by a deep crimson color that filled the room with an eerie glow.

Then the surface began to bubble and split, spilling its foul excretions and allowing the creature inside to flop out onto the floor.

The thing which used to be a griffon raised its new head and let out a long, cold breath.

Chapter 3: Hunger.

The sun was setting when Starless Night entered the desolate courtyard with several homeless stallions and a single foal in tow.

“Are we there yet?” asked the foal, her teal eyes sparkling with hope.

“We are indeed.” said Starless Night, smiling down at her and then leveling his gaze at the six other homeless ponies that trailed behind her, each looking around at the garbage-strewn ground and the towering arches that hemmed them in with faint concern.

He knew that he had told them that they were closer a few times before, but this time he was serious and quite glad of it. He loathed the homeless, those stinking, desperate, dirty vermin who loitered around, eyeing the normal ponies hungrily.

The thought of what awaited these stinking insects was barely enough to keep the grimace from his face, but only just.

“Where’s the food?” asked one of the stallions, casting about a gaze that was growing increasingly more worried by the second.

Starless Night smiled and then activated his magic, creating a barrier around the only exit to the courtyard and himself. The barrier blotted out all sound, but the panicked look on the rabbles’ faces were as telling as any cried of terror.

The alabaster unicorn saw the shapes flitting through the shadows created by the tall pillars and framed by crumbling arches, and his smile grew.

Then he sat down and watched as the vampires descended upon his group of sacrifices with hunger that outshone that of any vagabond, and he chuckled as the blood and viscera began to pool across the white stone.

Something brushed against his left forehoof and he looked down to see a roach scuttling away, clearly confused by the barrier’s walls.

With desperate urgency, he reached out and picked the roach up, then, without a single moment's’ hesitation, he placed the squirming insect into his mouth and began to chew, savoring the warmth of its innards.

He giggled through a mouth-full of crushed roach, thinking, Soon….soon I’ll get my reward.

Nurse Gentle Hoof watched the police question her patient with deep worry. It was true that she was put-off by the wounded mare’s disturbing talk of imminent danger, but the way that the police were looking at her with a mixture or distrust and outright contempt.

It all left an unpleasant taste in her mouth, and she wished that she had checked up on the foals in the pediatrics ward instead of looking in on this unicorn.

And there was another layer of worry beneath those distrusting looks. Gentle Hoof knew that the guards had grown more suspicious after Queen Chrysalis had infiltrated the Palace and had done so right under their snouts, and what had happened with the airship would only bring more unease to the ponies of Canterlot.

And when the nobles grew suspicious, the changeling detection spells would be strengthened and her days of hiding would come to an end.

Gentle Hoof gritted her teeth in anger, No! I only just managed to escape the blast, I won’t be outed, they’ll kill me if they find out what I really am and I don’t want to die.

“Are you alright, miss?”

Gentle Hoof gasped and looked at the guard nearest to her, who was looking at her worriedly. She started to ask him what he meant, but then she felt the warm tears rolling down her cheeks and realized that she was crying.

Hastily wiping the tears away, she said, “It’s nothing. I’m just tired, that’s all.”

The guard nodded reluctantly, then turned his attention back to Trixie.

“What did you see in the airship?” asked the one nearest to her bed, his tone cold and hard.

“I saw….” Trixie shuddered, then swallowed thickly before continuing, “I saw something….I don’t know what it was, but it had red eyes and-and sharp teeth, like a piranha.”

The guard rolled his eyes, “Sure you did, Miss. Trixie.” he spat the name out like it left a bad taste in his mouth and the unicorn wilted under his gaze.

“Why don’t you just come clean?” continued the guard, a sneer slithering onto his lips.

“What are you talking about? I’m telling the truth.” said Trixie, her tone getting darker as her eyes narrowed.

The guard snorted, “Sure you are. Listen, we have better things to do, so don’t jerk us around. Tell us what you were doing out on that bridge. Better yet, let me tell you what I think happened.”

Trixie moved to protest, but the guard began speaking before she could, “You see, I think that you were a little bit tipsy, and you were looking for some attention. You saw the airship and you thought that maybe a little light show might catch their eye-”

“Hold it right there, Steel,” said the guard nearest to Gentle Hoof, a current of anger and annoyance running through his tone, “I think that you should let the mare talk for herself.”

“Why are you taking this cow’s side?” asked Steel, looking genuinely incredulous, “You know what she’s done. She was probably-”

“I was going to kill myself.”

Those words, said with such deep sadness that it made Gentle Hoof want to break down, turned both guards’ eyes on her.

Trixie looked down at her hooves and said, “You don’t think that I don’t feel bad for what I did? I feel horrible, like there’s a weight around my neck, choking me, letting me know how worthless I am.”

She heaved a shuddering sigh as tears began to gather at the corners of her eyes, “I’m the most hated mare in all of Canterlot. I bet even Queen Chrysalis isn’t as hated as I am. I did a terrible thing and last night I was going to pay for it.”

“Yon were going to jump.” said Gentle Hoof, and it wasn’t a question.

Trixie looked at her and nodded, the movement of her head causing the tears to finally start their trek down her face, which bore an absolutely wretched expression that made Gentle Hoof want to abandon her professional manner and wrap her in a tight hug.

The guards were silent and Steel shuffled his hooves.

His partner turned to him, “We need to talk, now.”

Steel nodded and the two exited the room. Leaving Trixie and Gentle Hoof alone with each other.

Gentle Hoof looked back at the door, but her conscience wouldn’t allow her to leave the poor mare unattended. So she cantered over to Trixie and sat next to her, not bothering to ask her if it was alright, knowing that she was too miserable to care.

“I can’t believe those guards would be so mean.” said Gentle Hoof.

“I deserve their hatred.” said Trixie, the tears still rolling down her cheeks.

The disguised changeling wrapped both of her hooves around Trixie’s neck and pulled her into a tight embrace, feeling the unicorn’s too-thin body begin to shake with silent sobs.

“If it’s worth anything, I don’t hate you.” said Gentle Hoof, “I think you can earn forgiveness from everyone, you don’t need to take your own life.”

“I’ll never be forgiven.” whimpered Trixie, shaking her head, “Never.”

“You will be.” insisted Gentle Hoof, “I believe that you can. You’re a good pony, you just made a mistake.”

Trixie let out a mirthless chuckle, “I turned an entire town into my slaves with an evil amulet. How can I be anything other than bad?”

Gentle Hoof lifted Trixie’s head so that their eyes met, “I know that you’re a good pony, you wanna know how I know that? I know because you feel bad for what you did, and you wouldn’t feel that way if you really were a bad pony.”

Trixie sniffled and shook her head, “I don’t know if I can believe that.”

Gentle Hoof smiled, “Believe it, Trixie. Oh, and for your information, Most everyone agrees that Queen Chrysalis is the biggest bitch since Nightmare Moon, so I think you’re in the clear in that respect.”

That got a small laugh from the blue unicorn, and she gently pried herself away from Gentle Hoof.

“Thanks. I feel a bit better.”

“You won’t try anything?”

Trixie shook her head, “I don’t….no. I want to try and earn forgiveness instead, maybe I can entertain some of the foals in the hospital?”

Gentle Hoof smiled, “I’ll see what I can do. But right now, you need your rest. So get back into bed and close your eyes. I’ll be back later, I promise.”

Trixie gave her a slight smile, one that looked weak on her gaunt face, and settled into bed, closing her eyes as she did.

Gentle Hoof watched as her breathing slowed, then turned and left quietly.

I can’t believe I did that. she thought as she made her way towards the pediatrics ward, I guess being away from the hive has changed me.

She snorted at the irony in that thought and continued onwards, feeling her stomach grumble and taking some comfort in how some things never change.

BLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLoodblodblodbloodblood

The thing that had once been a griffon hissed in pain as the hunger tore fiery divots in her newly-transformed stomach.

She slithered through the vent, her soft, moist skin, new wings and unnatural joints allowing her to move speedily in the dark, cramped metal tube.

Another pang of hunger tore through her, and she snarled silently.

Then she smelled it, sweet and strong and more intoxicating than any drug.

Blood.

And its source was near.

The vampire smiled as best she could with her maw and moved closer.

She quickly picked up the sounds of arguing and moved even closer, her slimy skin rustling softly as she closed in on her prey.

She reached the vent in seconds and spied two ponies, thickly-muscled and clad in golden armor. They were both locked in a heated conversation, their voices rising with the emotion that she knew to be anger from the remnants of her past memories.

They didn’t hear her hissing breath, and didn’t notice the vent buckle under her weight.

They only realized the danger that they were in when the vent gave way and the vampire squeezed her body through the hole, extending her neck outwards like a snake and looking at the nearest guard with her beady, red eyes.

His screams hadn’t even reached his lips before her questing teeth found his neck and her hungry stomach filled with his blood.