Chapters My name is Philomena, and for the last eight hundred years I have been Princess Celestia's spymaster. Initially, my duties involved gathering any and all information that could harm my princess, and I performed them exceedingly well. No beast in the Everfree Forest, no villain in Equestria would make a step without me knowing about it. Even the moon and Tartarus were under constant watch by my network of agents. Any threat, any concern, no matter how slight, would reach me and I, in turn, would share it with Celestia. At times the princess would even confide in me, for I was the only immortal being close to her. She would often share her hopes of freeing her sister and hope for the day they would be reunited once more.
As time passed, the pony population steadily increased, going to parts of Equestria never before ventured. Every few decades a new town would appear. Every few decades I would send agents there to act as my eyes and ears. Soon the burden of knowledge became far too great for me to handle. Ponies, unicorns, pegasi had simply become too much, and further away they went, the more they changed. Some sought to build cities surpassing Canterlot itself, others wished to live in ways society frowned upon, others still followed darker paths - purists, nightmare followers, neoaurites, everfreers...
Before I knew it, my organization had become so vast that the majority of agents didn't know of my existence. Separate branches had formed, each keeping to itself. As far as their agents were concerned, they served princess Celestia and their direct superiors. Any other information was restricted. Under such circumstances it was normal for me to step down - there were other ponies more than capable of taking the reins.
Every year I would expect things to become calm enough to for me to retire. And every year there would be a new reason for me to remain spymaster. The pure blood incident, the Tartarus fiasco, Nightmare Moon's return... There simply was no way for me to go yet. Time, however, waits for no one, and although I am immortal I too succumb to old age and all the pains that come with it.
"Philomena," princess Celestia said to me one morning. "You need some rest."
I looked up from the bottom my cage. My body had become so old that I had to be carried everywhere by Royal Guards. Usually I would have rebirthed, but with all the latest events I had been postponing that for after my retirement.
"You need to retire," The princess said warmly, but firmly. "You have been by my side for far too long, longer than any pony. You have earned a few decades of rest. Your agents are no longer little foals. They have their own agencies now. Leave them to protect Equestria and me for a while."
Her words rang true, yet I didn't feel comfortable. In my eyes and hers, the ponies were but children. The most experienced of them were seven decades at most. What could they know about the world? Their information came from books and third-hoof accounts, while I had been there. Even now that Princess Luna had been restored, I felt the burden would be too heavy for them.
"Philomena," the princess raised her voice. She knew me too well. There was no way I could argue with her. Once she had made her mind up, nothing could change it, and I felt too old to suggest otherwise. In part I agreed with her - a rebirth and some time roaming the skies would do me good. Let others take protect her for once.
It was a stupid mistake to make, and one I could never forgive myself for. I should have been by my princess' side. Instead I was enjoying my rebirth in the skies above my native forest, blissfully unaware of the dangers that had befallen Equestria not once, but several times. By the time I learned, everything was over. Princess Celestia had survived by a thread. She might have taught me everything I know, but even she wasn't infallible. At that point I saw the truth I had been avoiding - a spymaster never retires. My responsibilities might change, as could my surroundings and the ponies I worked with, but I would never allow such a catastrophe to happen again. I was going to fly back to Canterlot, straight to the princesses' throne room and inform Celestia I was returning, only this time there were going to be a few changes.
* * *
Three years later.
"Good mourning, ma'am," Cold Light greeted me.
As always she was the first to arrive at work, precisely seventeen minutes to eight. The perfect image of a unicorn, many considered her nothing but a lovely flank. Little did they know she had witnessed the death of both parents at the hooves of an insane neoaurite. She had been no more than seven. The experience had traumatized her to the point that she had used lethal magic to frost burn their murderer, along with everything else in her house.
"Here are the files you requested yesterday," she said, floating five yellow folders to the desk under my perch. "I believe that number two would make a suitable Walker. She has adequate skills and drive. No field experience, but that could be remedied. Also, she is a Wanderbolt in training."
I opened the folder in question. Since we had lost our previous Walker, we were aching for a replacement. Pegasi were highly needed in our type of work. Every undercover agency tried to recruit as many of them as possible. This particular candidate was a member of the Wonderbolt reserves. Good to know, though it wouldn't make a difference. My position allowed me to get any pony I wished ahead of any other agency or organization.
I flapped my wings in approval and looked back at Cold Light.
"Understood, ma'am," the unicorn nodded. "I'll see to it that she is approached by a neutral party and will keep you informed of events. There have been reports of nightmare worshipers in Canterlot, but Dark Section is dealing with that. Do you wish us to step in?"
Dark Section was run by a former student of mine, one of the few ponies who knew my real position in the undercover world. Old age made him grumpy and protective, though. Getting involved was never a good idea unless absolutely necessary.
"I'll keep my ear to the ground, in case things get out of hoof," she said correctly interpreting my silence. "Finally, I have a priority message delivered by sun dog. Shall I open it for you, or do you prefer to read it in private?"
Sun dog messages meant they were for my eyes only. Similar to princess Celestia's dragon, sun dogs had the ability, among other things, to transport messages across the whole of Equestria in a flash. That was done rarely, and only in extreme emergencies. It went without saying that all such messages were reserved for me alone, although lately I allowed Cold Light to read them to me. It was a necessary step if she were to become my right wing pony.
Flapping my wings twice I waited. Clear with my intent, the unicorn tore the seal off the scroll.
"We have a horn collector, in Manehattan," she read slowly and clearly. "Signed - Hatred."
A chilling statement, especially having in mind who had sent it. 'Hatred' wasn't one to shy away from the horrors in our world. On the contrary - he found the vile and grotesque fascinating, and as addictive as dragonfruit whiskey. For him to send me a message, the matter had to be dire indeed.
I looked at my surprodonate. Originally today had been reserved for leadership training - a necessary step if she were to someday move beyond the role of assistant. Hatred' message had changed all that. I had to go to Manhattan immediately.
"I'll take care of things here, ma'am," Cold Light said, understanding. "Good luck in Manehattan, Spymaster."
Ponies loved Manehattan, me not so much. It was too crowded, the skies were too small, and the sun seemed always too far away. Things had been different a while back. When the city was young it showed so much promise. For most ponies it still did - in their eyes the city was a true marvel that combined culture, glamour and progress. Some went as far as to call it the business hub of Equestria. For me it was just vexingly uncomfortable. Too much glass and stone, and not enough trees, not to mention how tricky it was to enter unnoticed.
For the last five years I had only visited the city twice - once to investigate a rather unpleasant incident involving a neoaurite group, and the second to recruit one of its members. In both cases I had been accompanied by sun dogs. This time, I chose to go alone.
My point of entry, as always, was the Celestia Tower. Taller than any building in the city, it was the perfect spot to fly in unnoticed. Few knew that it was built on my orders, using funds from the royal treasury. Even decades ago I knew it would be useful to control sky entry to Manehattan, A quick swoop down and I was on the executive terrace.
"Short notice this time," a voice said. It was Good Investment - the CEO of Metal Line Industries. Equestria knew him as a prominent steel magnate and genius of the business world. What they didn't know, was that he was in close ties to several secret services agencies. I personally had recruited his great-great-great-grandfather centuries ago. At present, every heir did me, and a few other agencies, small favorites from time to time.
"I have arranged to have you delivered to the pet shop," he said opening the terrace door for me to enter.
The office was wide, elegant and grey - a copy of Good Investment himself. The only source of colour was a small photo of him and princess Celestia displayed proudly on the wall among diplomas and other significant certificates. A large silver birdcage was placed on the black desk - my home for the next few hours.
"Any chance you tell me what you've come for?" he asked walking towards the wall safe.
I shook my head. I knew him well enough to be sure he'd use the information for personal benefit. If he were a unicorn, things might be different, but with his dislike of unicorns and pegasi, it was out of the question. I wouldn't go as far as call him a purist, but given a choice he would always go with earth ponies, provided the other races didn't have vastly superior skills.
"As you wish," he grumbled and opened the safe. From there he took a small pouch and placed it on the desk, beside the bird cage. Fire-colour pallets - a must have since I started going on the field myself. Their taste was awful, but they changed the colour of my flame to the extent that nopony could recognize me. Today's type was Silvery White - not the worst taste, but low on the efficiency scale. I would have to eat one every two hours to hide my true colours.
"Is there anything else you need?" Good Investment asked with a hint of impatience. "I have a few important meetings and would like to get going.
Temper, temper. He always acted foalishly when things didn't go his way. Had I shared the reason for my visit, he would have cancelled all appointments, made several calls to the MPD, and sent a dozen private eyes to investigate. Since that was precisely what I wanted to avoid, I flew into the silver cage, grabbing the pallet pouch as I did so. Swallowing a pallet, I waited as its chemical composure slowly changed the colour of my feathers. The roaring red and orange was replaced by an elegant white. I could tell that Good was impressed, for he waited until the process was over before phoning his secretary to deliver me to my destination.
"The best of luck," he said walking to the picture of him and Celestia. "With whatever it is you came to do."
A delivery pony entered the office. My conversation with Good Investment was over.
From memory, I imagined the trip to the pet shop to take about half an hour, less depending on the crowd outside. The birdcage cover preventing me from seeing anything outside, I took the time to think on the matter that had brought me here. It wasn't going to be very efficient, considering the only information I had was a single sentence, but as everyone who lived over two hundred knew, history had a tendency of repeating itself. When it came to 'collectors', it took even less. The subject wasn't discussed much outside law enforcement or analytic circles. The term officially stood for deranged serial killers who took mementos from their victims. Most notorious was Jack the Clipper - a pony who had a thing for pegasus wings. 'Horn collectors', though, were a whole different breed. Not the insane chaotic criminal, they had a purpose, a plan they meticulously followed. I had read reports of horn cutting been done by extreme purists, yet if that was the case Hatred would have mentioned it. He himself had been the victim of such harassment as a foal, and knew their methods intimately.
"Hey, watch where yer going, buddy!" I heard somepony shout.
Sounded like the typical Manehattan crowd. Another reason I preferred to avoid the city. It didn't help that the neighborhood I was going to was of questionable repute. Slum would be a kind word to describe it. To this day it amazed me why had Hatred preferred to remain there. With the money he earned he could easily afford a flat in a good neighborhood. On several occasions I had asked Cold Light to talk to him on the matter, and every single time he had refused.
Arriving to the pet shop turned out a be greater hassle than I thought. With the constant shaking and bumping into ponies, the only thing I could concentrate on was remaining upright. When I finally felt the birdcage be placed on a solid surface I let out a sigh of relief.
"Here you go," I heard the voice of the delivery pony. "Direct from Metal Line Industries. Better take good care or the boss will flip."
"Don't worry about," a mare replied, probably the store owner. "He can't go wrong. Nothing but the best here."
It was an act, of course. The entire pet shot was a front for stolen goods. Discrete, and slightly on the high end, it was overlooked by local law enforcement. The owner happened to be an old friend of Hatred's. She had no idea about me, or what Hatred was involved with, and was wise enough not to ask.
As the cover came off, I saw the surprise in the mare's eyes. She definitely wasn't expecting a white phoenix. Being a professional, however, she didn't let that get her out of character.
"Say, how long will this beautiful thing remain here?" she leaned closer, smiling, but also examining me.
"Heck if I know." The delivery pony shrugged. "Till the boss sends somepony to collect it, I guess."
"Her," the pet owner corrected immediately.
"Yeah, that," the delivery pony sounded slightly embarrassed. Not so much he had referred to me as an 'it' - that he couldn't are less about. He felt embarrassed that he had made a fool of himself in front of an attractive mare. "So, must run," he smiled gingerly as he headed towards the door. "See ya around."
The pet shop owner kept her smile until the moment the door closed. A split second later, it headed away replaced by an extremely annoyed expression.
"It's here, Caramel," she shouted, tacking out a pack of cigarettes.
The sound of hooves came from the back room. Then a unicorn entered. Looking at him, nopony would suspect he was involved in anything sinister, or what his assigned code name was. 'Caramel Lime' by birth, his fur was a warm mix of greenish yellow, reinforced by a fine white mane. By pony standards he could be described as dashing in a roguish kind of way. When I found him he was a complete mess. Horn half broken off by purists, he had fallen prey to neoaurites, who had promised him a bright future, in which magic would be all-achieving and free for everypony. Of course, they hadn't mentioned he was to be used as a sacrifice to provide power for their experimental spell. Half of Manehatten could have gone up in flames, if I hadn't intervened. It had taken considerable effort to keep him from getting locked up, ten times more to convince him to join my group. In the end, he folded, and the gradual transformation from Li'l Lime to Hatred began.
"I don't know what your deal is," the pet shop owner said taking a puff from cigarette. "But don't get me in trouble."
"Those things will kill you, you know," he remarked as he approached.
"These are low hay," she replied not caring overly much.
"It's not the hay that's the problem, Gem."
One nod from me made it clear there was no time to waste. He had called me here and I had responded. Now it was time to get to work.
"I owe you one, Gem," he said opening the birdcage. I flew out and landed on his back. "Put it on my tab."
"One of these days I'll collect," she said nonchalantly. "So don't go crazy. And hide the phoenix. Thugs have killed for less."
"You're sweet, Gem," he laughed. "I'm sure the bird could take care of itself."
Outside, traffic had started to calm down. For a moment I could almost imagine I was in a normal town during rush hour. As we walked, the buildings gradually changed from middle class, to unkept then totally run down. Wide streets were replaced by filthy alleys. The entire time Hatred kept an invisibility spell on me. As Gem had said, carrying a phoenix in a place like this was a sure way to get a blade in the side.
"Come alone, boss?" he asked. A single peck on his back indicated yes. "You might want to call some help. I've no idea what we're dealing with. Two of us might not be enough."
Two more turns and we were at Hatred's lair. A crude sign above the entrance read "C. Lime - Private Eye". When he wasn't working for me, or performing experiments in his basement, that was his day job. Most of his cases involved cheating husbands, but paid well enough to sustain his rather exotic hobbies.
Entering his apartment, we immediately went to the work room. Photos, notes and newspaper clippings were everywhere, along with several boxes filled to the brim with folders. Hatred didn't believe in furniture - it slowed things down during a move. The only exception was a brand new perch, placed strategically next to the wall covered in paper clippings. At least he was learning some manners.
"Twelve cases," he pointed at a collage of paper clippings. "Going back ten months. I was first told be a friend on the force. We've done some work in the past, so he asked me to check out one of his cases."
I flew on the perch, then turned in his direction.
"Textbook suicide."
Suicide? I arched a brow.
"Yeah, tell me about it!" he said levitating a glass of water towards him. "There was a note, witnesses, and all the other things. No foul play involved. Only weird thing was his horn - removed twenty four hours prior to death. And when I say removed, I mean surgically removed, as skillfully as them that did this," he tapped his horn.
That was alarming. There were only three facilities in Equestria that dealt with horn related procedures of such intricacy. Two of them were in Canterlot, and all three were carefully monitored by a number of agencies. The fact that somepony had performed an unsanctioned surgery meant one of two things - either there was another organization capable of such a feat or it had been ordered on behalf of the princess. To be honest, i couldn't tell which was worse. At the very least I would have to sent a message to princess Celestia, warning of the possibility that one of her agencies might have gone rogue. In the meantime I would continue to deal with things here.
"Gave him my thoughts," Hatred continued. "Minus the horn, and asked if there had been similar cases. Few days later he comes with three of them. Two murders and an accident. In all instances the horns removed before death."
I flapped my wings and cowed twice. The whole thing sounded like a neoaurite experiment. A magic horn being a unicorn's source of magic, it was logical to think they would be involved. Why only remove the horns and leave the victims alive, thought? Neoaurites didn't hold a pony's life in high regard.
"I went through medical records going back a few years - morgue, hospitals, the works," Hatred went on. "Found me four more cases, all alive and well. Two moved to Trottingham, one went to the frontier, and one got himself a fancy penthouse uptown."
I waited. Judging by Hatred's eager expression there was more to the story to follow.
"So, I go to have a word. The colt had spent big bits for a new identity. Was Golden Glow, unicorn, became Steady Income, earth pony. At first he denies it, says I'm crazy. But then, I have a word and convince him otherwise. Says he was approached by some fancy lawyer. That pony offers a case of bits for his horn, and the shmuck agrees. Now, I be thinking, what's this lawyer, where did they clip the horn, but then I hear a noise from one of the rooms. So, I tell Golden to wait, and go check it out. Been gone five seconds, tops. I get back and he is gone. And I mean teleport gone. Windows closed, doors shut, nothing. Cops found him next day, dead in an alley south side. And then the bodies start popping up."
That was all I needed to hear. And as usual, Hatred had made matters worse by tipping his hoof instead of reporting in sooner, as he should have. Had he done so, the ponies behind this would be less cautious, and, more important, there would have been a lot less dead bodies. I looked at him displeased and shook my head. His involvement had been sloppy and full of mistakes, but he was right about one thing - we were going to need more help. From the information so far I had a theory what somepony was trying to do and the thought made me feel uneasy.
"So, what you think, boss?" he asked. I told him. For almost a minute he just stood there, as if struck by lightning. Not a single muscled in his entire body twitched. Then, realizing the implications, his face stretched in a wicked smile. "Those buckers! They are trying to make an alicorn!"
I spent the whole night reviewing the cases. Twelve documented instances of horn removal, nine deaths. Hatred had been quite thorough. His ability to see connections was one of the reasons I recruited him in the first place. Give him a few bits of information and he would piece the whole story together and then link it to five others. Sadly, even with his incredible skills, there was next to nothing for me to go on. The victims had been selected at random. Something more, with the exception of two, they were absolute strangers to one another. This could be no coincidence. Whoever was behind the horn taking, had selected his targets in such a fashion, that they could not be traced back to him. The only common element was that all of them were proficient in magic, not the best by any extent of the imagination, but slightly better than the average unicorn. It seemed weird that Hatred hadn't caught on that. Thinking about it, maybe sharing my concerns with him was a mistake. Despite his many talents, there was one crucial thing he lacked - experience. For him all this was new. There mere thought that somepony could attempt to construct an alicorn excited him in the most morbid way possible. I, however, had seen it attempted several times, and with one exception, each had ended disastrously.
Come morning, I sent a message to Cold Light via sun dog. My "requests" for her were quite a few - look into the possibility that an agency had gone rogue, investigate the horn transplant clinics, track down the three hornless unicorns, and, finally, send somepony to help out with my investigation in Manehattan. Quite the tall order. In the meantime I had to find a way to get myself and Hatred in the MPD. The city authorities had made the connection, once again thanks to Hatred's involvement, and would start muddying the waters.
"Morning, boss," Hatred entered the room.
He hadn't slept either. One look was enough to tell me he had become obsessed with the alicorn angle of the case. I was treading on thin ice - if I were to get him too involved, I might bring out his darker side.
"I've been thinking," he levitated what looked to be a week-old piece of pie towards him, and took a bite. "Them shmucks must be on a schedule. I don't care how rich they are, they can't just buy off random ponies. So, I says to myself, what do I need to make a list?"
I shook my head. Again, he was going about it the wrong way. The question wasn't how they were gathering the horns, it was why. Judging by the lack of similar cases outside the city, it had to be Manehattan related. The fact, that they had chosen to pick up the pace, told me they had an endgame planned.
"You don't just find them specs lying around!" He persisted, sticking to his point. "A lot of time and money invested, and I'm talking corporate amounts here. So if I had them bits, why stop there, you know what I mean?"
Now I felt ashamed. Being used to unlimited funds and information had made me blind to certain realities of life. If our collectors had the means to buy horns, they could buy anything, including having reports falsified.
"So you'll assign me to the police case?" Hatred asked. Quite cocky of him. There was no way I'd let him deal with this alone, and he knew it. Rather he was testing how far he could push things and get away with it.
He took it relative well, when I told him it would be years before I considered making him the lead. This time he only spat on the floor. Naturally, I hinted things might change depending on the outcome of this case. That made him feel a slightly better.
My approach towards the case was going to be different. Not knowing who in the agencies to trust, I could not risk asking for favours directly. There were a few operatives in the MPD, but they were too low level to know of my existence. Looks like Hatred's past would come in useful.
I told him the plan. Unsurprisingly, he was unimpressed. As far as he was concerned, any idea that didn't come from him was bad. That was one of the reasons I never introduced him to the princess, unlike the rest of my team. Having him make one of his usual comments in front of Celestia, might amuse her, but would definitely annoy me.
"Not for nothin', boss, but that's one stupid plan," he snorted. "In this town you're nothing without connections. So, I gets us through the door, then what?"
I looked him straight in the eye. We weren't going to go in through the door. Rather, I had something special planned.
The MPD headquarters were an hour's walk from Hatred's place. I made him take a cab. If nothing else, I wanted us to get to the building as quickly as possible. Naturally, I had eaten another color pellet, this time turning me a royal orange. For what we were going to do, I needed to look flashy.
Arriving at the building, I could tell something was wrong. The entire area was packed with ponies. Even from this distance I could make out the carts of several broadcasting networks.
"Come on! Move it!" I heard our cabby yell. "What's the hold up?"
So much for my plan. Hatred gave the cabby some bits, then left him to continue his yelling. At the same time, I tried to make out what the ponies in the crowd were saying. For the most part there was too much noise to understand a thing, but I did catch one phrase repeated over and over - "Broadway murder". It sounded like an ordinary police matter, possibly involving a local celebrity. However, I felt am uncomfortably tingling in my feathers. What if it was related to the horn collector?
"Lay low, boss," Hatred whispered as he cast an invisibility spell over me, then proceeded to shove his way as close as possible to the MPD entrance.
This had to be the craziest press conference I had ever seen. Even in Canterlot the reporters weren't as wild. I counted no less than twenty ponies in uniform trying to keep the crowd at bay, while the commissioner himself made his way towards a hastily set up podium.
"Commissioner Hard Burn!" a reporter next to Hatred shouted. "Can you confirm that the body had been mutilated?"
"Is it true that Dame Whitehoof had been seen with notorious mobster Lucky Two-Shoes?" Yelled another.
"Do you suspect an Everfree sect?"
"Everypony, please," the commissioner said as loudly as possible. The microphone somehow managed to carry his voice over the roars of the crowd, causing the reporters to calm down. "The only thing I am prepared to say is that the Manehattan Police Department has started its investigation of the untimely demise of Dame Whitehoof, one of our cities's greatest talents. The mayor, myself, and every other pony on the force, express our deepest condolences to the Dame's family and would like to make it very clear that no expense will be spared until the perpetrator is brought to justice!"
Several reporters tried to restart their offensive, but a raised hoof on the commissioner's part made them stop.
"The investigation will be lead by detective Sharp Eye - one of MPD's most capable ponies." A middle aged mare stepped forward next to the commissioner.
A single look was all it took for me to peg her as the fall pony. For one thing, I had never heard of her, which I would have if she really was as capable as Hard Burn made her out to be. Looking at Sharp Eye, she didn't exactly inspire confidence - her green mane was short, but unkept, and although her uniform was brand new, I could tell by her posture she rarely wore it according to code. Then again, some of the best agents I had trained weren't overly fond of regulations.
"Know her," Hatred whispered under his breath. That was good, at least - it gave us a way onto the case. The difficult part would be convincing her.
The press conference continued in standard big city fashion - one side would ask whatever insane question came to mind, while the other would completely ignore them. There was no point in having around any longer. I tapped Hatred's back with my food. It was time to go.
"Think it's ours, boss?" he asked once we went out of the crowd. "I'm thinking too much fuss for a dame. Two weeks ago this ballerina kicks it, and hardly gets page five. And it was messy too. Jumped from the seventh right down to the pavement."
As much as I admired his observation skills, I did not share his fascination of morbid details. Flapping my wings, I told him I'd like to arrange a meeting with the detective.
"Sure about that?" he asked. "Our little act won't work on her."
At this point it hardly mattered. If this case was linked to the rest, there was no way I'd miss getting involved. Hatred attempted to convince me otherwise, but a wing flap on my part set him straight. Ultimately I was the spymaster, and he answered to me.
After some consideration, I decided the best place to meet would be at a coffee shop. I left Hatred to choose, and he did not disappoint. The place was old, but not run down, one of those that must have been something great in its time, now replaced by the next new thing. I stood on the back of a chair, to the amazement of the ponies nearby, while Hatred ordered a cup of cherry liqueur and a fried hay sandwich. He always did have a sweet tooth.
It didn't take long for Sharp Eye to arrive. The conference over, the detective had slipped into a far more comfortable set of clothes. I noted she was quite surprised upon seeing me.
"Little Lime," she said with an annoyed sigh, as she sat across him. "That better not be a stolen bird, you got."
"How ya doing there, detective," Hatred smile in the way only he could. "Congrats on the promotion. Lead of a major case."
"At least till Tuesday," she frowned. "What's with the bird?"
"Don't worry about it. Belongs to a client of mine. Pony has trust issues, so he sends me a phoenix to make sure I'm on the level."
"Really?" The detective crossed her forehooves.
"Can't hide from a phoenix," Hatred shrugged. "Kill it, and it's back again, and not too happy about it."
His performance was deliberately over the top, but conveyed the message perfectly. As far as the detective was concerned, Hatred was working for somepony with deep pockets, who didn't like being disappointed.
"What's your game?" She got directly to the point. "I don't know how you got that note in my office, but it's enough to take you in, so you better come clean."
It was clear she was dying to know how he had managed that feat. That reason alone must have dragged her to the meeting. Sadly for her, she would never know. Such information was far beyond her pay grade.
"My client wants to know more about the case," Hatred said.
"Fine. When I learn something you'll be the first to..."
"No," Hatred interrupted her. "My client wants to know before you learn."
For a moment she looked at him puzzled, then hey eyes suddenly narrowed. Carefully she studied Hatred, trying to determine whether he was being serious.
"You're crazy," Sharp Eye said after a while. "There's no way I could put you on the case, even if I wanted to."
"You're lead detective."
"Buck it! I'm the face the press will tear up next week, and we both know it! The commissioner is keeping an eye on me, the lieutenant is breathing down my neck. Everypony in HQ is expecting me to fail. They are even holding bets how many days I'll last!"
"So they won't ask any questions." A smile appeared on Hatred's face. "I be thinking, them big wigs will let you do anything, as long as it's make a fool of yourself. Hear what I'm saying?"
Very good. Hatred had provided the excuse, now it was time for the lure.
"Your filly is a few years away from college," he took a sip of his liqueur. "I hear art could be quite expensive. Not for a lieutenant, though."
"A lieutenant?" Her eyes opened wide.
"My client has connections and wants to find who's behind this, as much as you. You get your promotion, my client gets to know. Everypony happy."
"I'm not working for Lucky Two-Shoes," she said bitterly. Obviously he had tried to get to a few ponies on the force, maybe even succeeded.
"It's not Lucky," Hatred said. "Not somepony you have to worry about. So what do you say, detective? Or does my client have to wait till next week?"
The implication was clear. In a way everything Hatred had said was true - I did have money and connections at my disposal, and I would find a way on the case with or without Sharp Eye's help. Fortunately for both of us, she nodded.
"I'll get the paperwork sorted," she said. "Consulting detective. Don't expect to get paid much."
"Just one thing," Hatred said as the detective was getting up. "The Dame, was her horn missing?"
Ten seconds of silence. Under the circumstances, even for me that seemed like an eternity. At first I feared that we might have been wrong, that the case was indeed local and had nothing to do with our horn collector.
"Yes," the detective said at last. "Just like an earth pony..."
