Encore in the Final Nights

by leeroy_gIBZ

Rating: teen
Tags: Adagio Dazzle, Violence, Slice of Life, Crossover, Dark, Death, Human, Lyra, Drama, Gore, Octavia, Other, Equestria Girls
Length: 7055

Being a Siren is a lot like being a vampire, or so Adagio thought. Can she navigate the World of Darkness, or will her return to immortality be cut short by Final Death? Crossover with Vampire: The Masquerade.

After the disastrous Battle of the Bands, the defeated Sirens parted ways, leaving Adagio Dazzle to fend for herself. Alone, human, and without magic, she struggled to make ends meet until accosted one day by a mysterious prince, who offered her a second chance at life. Naturally, it was an offer she couldn't refuse.

That night, she was dug out of her own grave and began unlife anew as a vampire of the aristocratic Clan Ventrue. However, the other denizens of the night won't take well to the newest addition to their ranks. They do have long memories, after all. Can the former Siren survive the Final Nights? Can she overcome her endless hunger and beast? Can she recover her lost glory, and find redemption even in death?

Published 2019-02-13 10:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2019-02-20 12:53:47 UTC

1: A Life to Die For

You’d think that adapting to life as a human would be easy, after all I did spend the last thousand years trying to do just that. And sure, clothes and language and money are all pretty easy to master. But people? Those take effort. Especially when you’re starting from scratch.

That’s right, scratch. I can’t actually remember the last time I spoke to anybody as an equal before last month, spoke without using magic to make things easier. Well, to anybody who wasn’t my sister. Not like Sonata or Aria exactly treat me like an equal anymore. It’s all my fault, they told me, that we screwed up the Battle of the Bands and lost our powers. Lost the only thing that kept us from basically being fucking Sunset Shimmer, without the friends.

And it isn’t like I can exactly just go home either. The portal’s open now, sure. I watched Twilight Sparkle walk through it yesterday. Problem is, if I get close to it, Harmony’s little curse comes back and tries its damn hardest to choke me to death. That and there isn’t anything there anymore, anything that I’d want to see. It’s been a millennium. My memory gets hazy after a century. After three, I’m drawing a blank. Yeah, I know I’m a Siren because I tell myself that every morning. I know some dickhead called Starswirl exiled me here ages ago, but that’s because I tell myself that too. I can’t remember anything else though; I wrote that down too, all my experiences, successes and failures, all my songs, but nobody speaks Old Church Slavonic anymore. Not anyone that I know. I miss Zagreb sometimes. At least, I think I do. The stars on my belt came from there, probably. Doesn’t matter now. I pawned those last week, for rent.

I hate being mortal.

Although it does have one upside. Or quite a few, depending on how you look at it. Namely, alcohol. Or drugs, or whatever, but mainly drinks. Knocking back shots until I can forget about all of this. But I have no desire to fuck up what remaining talent I have by tarring my lungs. That and the other stuff costs money. Money I no longer have, since my voice no longer automatically enslaves everyone who hears it. I’m told there’re other ways to get cash by singing and dancing though, but I’d like to think I still have a little more dignity than that.

My sisters took everything else. My house, my instruments, my treasure. Bitches. But I’m not even mad anymore. It was a matter convenience at most, not like we ever actually loved each-other. That’s a pony thing. A human thing. A warm-blood thing. And, as far as I know, I’m still in danger of freezing to death every winter so screw them.

Now I’m stuck where I’m stuck every night. At a bar, think this one’s called the Whinnychester, if the rifle hanging over the door is anything to go by. Rum’s cheap. I’m happy enough. Should’ve learned to pickpocket sooner, to be honest. Only thing keeping me alive at this point, because I have already run out of gold to throw at my problems. Is this how humans normally live? Frantically scrambling around for money, desperately searching for food and shelter, hysterically seeking out what needs improving? I’m almost glad I’ll die in sixty years; an eternity of this would be torture.

Some guy just walked into the bar. That’s wrong. Like, it’s technically a Ladies Night but there still are men hanging around. Like flies. Don’t know if that makes me candy or rotting meat. But this guy doesn’t belong here. He’s in a suit, a good one, I almost cut myself looking at it. His smirk is the physical embodiment of petty stuck-up idiot aristos that think that just because they have power, they’re the smartest person in the room. Like, he looks the kind of blond asshole who’d go to a Burger King, and bitch and whine about how they messed up his order until they’d give him a coupon for a free Whopper, and then he’d drive across town to cash it in, and do the same trick there; he’d end up eating two and a half burgers and spend three times their value on petrol. This dick looked like that sort of person. Nobody has an excuse to be that smug. If he sits next to me, I’m going to punch him. I need the exercise.

“Hello, gorgeous. What brings a fine lady like you to an establishment like this?” He said, sitting down on the stool next to mine. His cologne stank of synthetic flowers, expensive wine, and rusty copper.

“I’m not interested. Keep talking to me and you’ll be picking your teeth up off the floor.”

“Feisty, aren’t we?”

My fist whacked into his face. Or, I thought it did. The crunch jolting through my knuckles and down my arm felt more like the time I’d tried to punch through a wall of white marble. Don’t ask. Thessaloniki was wild during the war.

“Now, my dear, whatever was that for?” He yawned, holding my hand in his, just half an inch off a nose that got looked down more than Eifel Tower did.

“I still have dignity.” I grumbled. He started twisting my fingers, cracking them like a kid hammering at spaghetti sticks.

“Is that so? Hoops, Score, get over here. Take her out back.” He ordered, and a pair of seven-foot goons with bangs longer than their IQs who were hanging by the door stomped over

“Teach her some respect.”

“What’s your problem, dickhead? Go find a slut on the side of the road who’ll tell you that your life means anything. Fuck, I know two of them personally.”

He glared at me, flashing a set of moon-white teeth, “If you want an opinion, Adagio, I’ll give you one. I tried being polite.”

“No, you tried being suave and you failed. Now let go before I stick a fork in your neck.”

“As I said, men, put her in the car. And bring a shovel, will you?” The man said, standing up and adjusting his tie.

As soon as that chump let go of me, I grabbed my switchblade out my purse, flicking it open across one of the goon’s chins. He growled and swung a fist. His partner followed it up with a kick. I ducked the first one and blocked the second with the bar stool. It shattered, stabbing a foot-long splinter into my hand. I tore it out, stuck it in the brown-haired mook’s chest. He coughed blood, collapsing to the ground. The other bodyguard fumbled for a gun. Hand burning, bleeding, I leaped over the ruined chair, slashed him across the knuckles. He shouted an insult. Pistol clattered to the floor.

In the background, I heard the few other patrons screaming, somebody jabbering into a phone. Spotted the leader sitting back a few feet away, sipping from a hip flask. The other guy was more important. He threw an uppercut. I hopped to the side, grabbing a bottle off the bar. Ducking his next attack, I weaved forward, smashing the glass across his eyes. While he was clawing out the shards, I lunged again with my knife, plunging it into his shoulder, kicking him down to join his friend.

The suit stood up, wiping the wine off his lips. “Impressive. You managed to take out two Brujah neonates.”

“You learn a lot when you don’t negotiate with monkeys.” I panted.

“A woman after my own heart, clearly. Now put the knife down.” He said, slipping out of his jacket, rolling up his sleeves. “And let’s settle this like gentry.”

“I thought you rich kids liked to hide behind your thugs? What’s the point of doing your own dirty work when you have a whole squad of poor morons willing to do it for you?” I said, wiping the blood of the knife, taking a step forward to the discarded pistol.

“One must keep in shape. Put the blade away, Adagio. You’re better than that.”

My fingers twitched, and I felt my grip on the weapon loosen. Fuck this guy! Who does he think he is, ordering me around? I’m a thousand years old. The only thing that separated me from a goddess is a cult of idiot worshippers. I tightened my grip on the blade. I am not losing another fight to some human.

“Screw you.”

“Drop it. Now!”

The switchblade clattered to the floor. What? How in Tartarus did he do that? I had my fingers wrapped around that thing tighter than… well, never mind, let’s just say that Casanova and I had some fun times a few centuries back.

“What are you?” I asked, “Are you a Siren?”

The man’s eyes flashed, “No. I am a Prince.”

“Cheap outfit for a prince then. Only two minions and you’re stripping down in a hole-in-the-wall bar to fight some teenage girl? Pathetic.”

“Watch your tongue or I’ll have it out.”

“Isn’t like I haven’t heard that a thousand times before. Are you going to stand there and whine or are you going to do something?”

“If you insist.” He said, smiling, walking forward. I ducked down, grabbing the pistol. Can’t remember the last time I used one of these.

The bullet thudded into his chest with a puff of ash. Damn. He’s got a bulletproof jacket under that shirt. He kept walking, quickly, I fired another shot. Missed. He batted the gun out of my hands.

“I said we would duel.”

“You challenged me, you grandiose prick. Therefore, I pick the weapon. And I chose firearms.”

He sighed, “What savages you Kine are.”

The Prince threw an uppercut; I ducked, right into his other fist, blasting the air out my lungs. I felt my head whack against bloodied tiles. Shouldn’t have sold the big hair. Good for cushioning.

Vision blurred. Through the haze of red, I spotted a flash of matte grey. His foot crashed down. A second ago, that would’ve been it. Don’t plan on dying yet though. Not to a human. I rolled out of the way, dodged him, reaching for the pistol. My fingers brushed the cold iron, then a heel rammed into my back like a bolt of lightning. I dropped the gun.

Well, I’m dead. And here’s thinking I would have at least wound up somewhere else after I finally kicked it. But no, I’m just stuck in coffin for all eternity. I hope they serve food in Tartarus because I am starving. Damn this thing’s uncomfortable, they could’ve at least had the courtesy to bury me with a cushion.

My head feels like somebody scooped my brains out and filled the cavity with dynamite, and then set it off. The rest of me doesn’t feel too much better. Oh yeah, it shouldn’t. The barfight. That actually happened. I seriously lost my life to some stuck-up idiot brawling in some cheap whorehouse? If only the other Sirens could see me now. I wonder what they’d say. Would they laugh? Cry? Offer to help?

Can I starve to death trapped underground? I don’t know. One the hand, I am supposed to be dead. On the other, I feel pretty alive. And by that, I mean I wish I was dead. It hurts to breathe. Hurts to think. My outfit’s a mess, isn’t it? Probably got torn pretty badly during the fight, and it wasn’t in great shape before that. Last decent thing I owned, honestly. Good red dress and flats. Practical. Almost.

Might as well keep myself entertained. Tap. Tap. Tappity tap. How’d it go again? You don’t know that you, uh, damn what was it? Fell, right? Yeah, that sounds decent. Aria always wrote the music anyway. I just sang lyrics and played guitar. Sonata sat there and wasted our time.

I began to sing. Might as well. I need the practice. Maybe something will hear me.

Now that you’re under our spell

Blindsided by the beat

Clapping your hands, stomping your feet

You don’t know that you fell…

Hours passed. Or maybe they were minutes. My voice started cracking. My throat stung. I stopped. I remembered why we wrote that song.

I wonder what time it is? What day it is? Does time pass in Tartarus even? It was hard to tell buried underneath six feet of earth. And I couldn’t reach my phone. Though I think I heard it crack when that asshole punched me down so that’s a bite out of my next pay check. Not like I get paid, but still. It makes me sick to even think about taking orders from one of those humans.

Wait. Somebody’s talking. Above. I stopped tapping and started listening.

“So, this new minion of Blueblood’s?” One voice said. Masculine. Western, judging by the drawl.

“Yes? Whatever about it? I’m sure it’ll be just as insufferable as the last one.” Said another voice. Feminine. Received Pronunciation.

“The Sheriff meant where’s it buried.” A third voice asked. Also, Feminine. Vague South Slavic accent. Croat, maybe?

“Said it was around here.” First voice said, “Adagio Dazzle, 8th Jan 2000- 9th Feb 2019.”

That’s me! “Hey!” I screamed, “I’m alive!” Probably. Better to tangling with demons than rotting down here, anyway.

“Oh good. She’s conscious. That’ll clear a few things up. You hang in there, Miss. We’ll get you out in a jiffy.”

Soon afterward, something metal clunked against the roof of my coffin. Then another clunk, followed by scraping. Clunk. Scrape. Clunk. Scrape. And then silence. Something jolted the edge of the box, knocking me into a side panel. Not helping. Still hurting. The box was lifted up, jolting me to the other side. Ouch. Then it crunched back down to earth, kicking another wave of pain through my back.

I pushed up with both arms and, slowly, the lid flipped open. Ignoring the ache in my lungs, I took a few deep gulps of air. It was night. In a graveyard, predictably. I was supposed to be dead after all. Three people stood over me. The man offered me a hand. I batted it aside.

“I don’t need your help. I can get up on my own.” I said, climbing out of the coffin, brushing the dirt off my dress.

“Hey, if ain’t for us, you’d still be buried six feet deep, childe.” He said, arms crossed, glaring at me from underneath his Stetson.

“Yes, before you head off on your merry way, we need to talk.” Said one of the women, tall and grey, with a mop of long raven hair.

“No, we don’t. Now, if you excuse me, I need to find a certain Prince and key his car. Either you three idiots are helping me or you three idiots are fucking off. Got it?” I do not negotiate with humans.

“Hey! Who’re you calling an idiot?” Said the second woman, short, green skin, messy white hair. Vaguely familiar, as was the other one.

“You. Obviously.” I said, starting for the gate out of here.

A hand grabbed me on the shoulder and jerked me back. It was the cowboy. He was not happy. “No, y’all are staying right here and listening to what we have to say, childe.”

“Child? You are calling me a child? I’ll have you know that I, Adagio Dazzle, am far older, and far more dangerous, than a mere kid. So, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll let go before I stab you in the throat.”

White haired woman groaned. “Seriously? We got a Malk?”

Black haired sighed, “Lyra, Derpy is a Malkavian. They’re perfectly good Kindred, if not a little strange. But, then again, aren’t we all?”

Apparently, Lyra, again, “Yeah, Octavia, but she’s one of the good ones. I heard this one tried to kill Blueblood, and that was back when she was mortal.”

“What are you people on about? I am mortal. Unfortunately.”

“No, you ain’t. Not anymore. You, Adagio, are now a vampire. Welcome to the Camarilla.”

“Yeah, and you’re straight. Pull the other one, Tex.”

“Braeburn’s right, you know. It might seem hard to believe at first, but you honestly are now undead. I’d highly suggest you pay attention.” Octavia said, “This could save your life.”

“No, really? I think I’d know if I was a vampire. Namely, as those things aren’t real.”

Lyra threw something at me. Reflexively, I ducked it. Good skill to pick up if a concert ever goes south. Then she threw another at me. That one I caught. It was a bottle, the kind you can buy at a sports store, and it was filled with blood. Two seconds later, it was empty.

“What just happened?” I asked, wiping the last of it off my chin.

“The beast happened.” Octavia said.

“Tasted real good, didn’t it?” Braeburn asked.

“What? It didn’t taste like anything. I was just thirsty, that’s all. I have been trapped in a coffin for the last day, remember?”

Lyra stifled a laugh, “Sure you did. You just so happened to down a glass of human blood, you were so thirsty. Face it, Dagi, you’re one of us now, like or not.”

Suddenly, she had a point. Normal people do not do that. But then again, I think vampires are also able to keep blood down as well. I threw up, retching until there was nothing left but air inside me. Fuck that tasted awful. Hurt like anything too.

“Cute prank. But fuck you for that.” I said, once I’d recovered.

“Y’all owe me twenty bucks.” Braeburn said, holding out his hand to the other two humans.

Octavia scowled, and fished a note out of her purse. Lyra seemingly conjured hers out thin air, literally sliding one out of her hand. Show off.

“Well, darling. It seems that you are a Ventrue.” Octavia said, “And you just set me back one new E string. Thank you kindly.”

“What? What in Tartarus is a Ventrue? Is that some kind of vampire thing?”

“Oh, you mean a clan. Yeah totally. Ventrue are guys with three things, namely money, ego, and more money. Sometimes, guns.” Lyra said.

“Well, pretending I believe you, which for the record I don’t, I like two of those things and I’m pretty good with the other. Now what?”

Lyra shrugged, “Don’t know. I mean, are you still hungry?”

“Starving.”

Octavia smiled, “Well, I am always up for going to the mall. Get your hair done, get some new clothes, get a bite to drink. No offense, but you do look like you just climbed out of an open grave.”

“I did, remember? But sure, I’ll come along. As long as you people pay. I’m flat broke and something tells me that if I don’t eat something soon, I’ll go insane.”

“Oh yeah, you totally will go insane. But that’s like, a major Masquerade breach, so… uh… yeah, food. Let’s figure out what you can eat before you Frenzy and start figuring that out yourself, violently.” Lyra said, starting towards the gate. Braeburn shrugged, and followed her. Octavia looked at me. Single eyebrow raised, lips pulled thin, eyes narrowed. Typical glare of disappointment. About sums up my life up until this point.

“What?” I asked.

“I know what you did during the Battle of the Bands.”

“That was four years ago, you chav, get over it. Besides, that was Sonata’s fault. She masterminded the entire thing. I was just along for the ride. If you’ve got a problem, we can burn her apartment down later. I know where she stays and Aria’ll probably be there too if you’re feeling… hungry. We can split them”

She let herself smile, faintly. “And you’re taking to vampirism like a fish takes to water.”

“Like a Siren takes to water. And don’t you forget it.” I said, walking towards Lyra’s car and, hopefully, towards a meal.

2: Dressed for Dinner

Alright. Somebody better remind me never again to let Lyra Heartstrings drive again, not even if my life depends on it. Apparently, I can’t actually die from a car crash now, but I don’t think that message got sent to the right place considering how hard I had to hang on to not be thrown out the convertible whenever that madwoman changed gears.

“Alright. Let’s never do that again.” I said, once I’d the world stopped spinning and the green-skinned nutjob stopped driving.

“You’ll get used to it. Hopefully.” Octavia panted.

“So what day is it? It felt like I was trapped for days in that damn coffin.”

“Feb 10th, ‘bout half nine, why?” Braeburn answered, checking his watch.

“Phone’s dead, idiot. This Prince asshole busted it while he was busy covering the bar with my brains.”

“I’d highly suggest you don’t refer to Mr Blueblood as that. Although he is a great deal more down-to-earth than his compatriots, I can’t imagine he’d take to kindly to the insult.” Octavia said, climbing out of the Porsche and attacking her hair back into shape with a brush.

“Wait. You can see your own reflection?”

She snapped shut the hand mirror, “Of course. Not all myths about vampires are true. And I certainly would not go around spreading that particular one, of all things.”

“Yeah, can we move this along please?” Lyra asked, “The place is going to be closing soon and I don’t exactly think Adagio here is up for any smash and grab just yet.”

“Why not? I’m a vampire now. What’re they going to? Shoot at me? Does that even work?”

“Not really. That’s generally why them law-enforcement types got told to just ring up the CIA instead. Let them handle it, y'know. And let me tell y’all, the guns they got work just fine against us.” Braeburn said, before walking off, “Anyhow, I got places to be and Ministers to fight. Be seeing you round, kid. Don’t get into no trouble, alright?”

“Well. Let’s hurry on then. I do believe the local boutique is still open for business. We might as well pick her out something nice for her interview at the chantry.” Octavia said, gesturing for me and Lyra to follow.

“Wait. What’s a Minister?” I asked as we walked.

“Exactly what it says on the tin, Dagi.”

“Don’t call me that. I have a perfectly good name already, you psychopathic cat smasher.”

“Hey!” Lyra yelled.

“What? It’s true. You even shouted ‘ten points’ before running the thing over, Heartstrings.”

“That is beside the point. Anyway, Adagio, Minsters are effectively vampire snake priests. Our faction, the Camarilla, is currently at war with them. We have a shoot-on-sight policy, if you were wondering.”

I patted my hip, and the suspicious lack of a holstered firearm saying, “I don’t exactly have anything to shoot with, you know? Maybe we should fetch that sheriff friend of yours again?”

“All in due time, Dagi. Now come on, its fashion time!” Lyra cheered, shoving into the store and then jingling the bell again for good measure.

Somebody better remind me to make a list of where those Rainbooms live nowadays. Because guess who owns the Carousel Boutique for the foreseeable future? That’s right, everybody’s favourite tailor, poseur and keyboardist: Rarity Belle.

“Good evening, Octavia. Always a pleasure to see you.” She greeted, waving as the cellist and I walked into her store. “I see you've brought friends.”

“Don’t I get a hello?” Lyra protested.

“Hello then, Miss Heartstrings. Have you and Miss Dazzle here come to apologize yet, or are you just going to cause more mayhem?” Rarity frowned.

“Oh, come on, what did I do?” Lyra sighed, taking a seat on an ottoman, kicking off her shoes.

“You know what you did! Sassy still hasn't recovered from that fitting. I don’t even know how you got pins stuck… there. And, as for you.” Rarity said, turning to me.

I gave her the finger, before walking past her, to the first of many racks of bedazzled clothes. Now, what to get? Going off the assumption that somebody who isn’t me is paying, I think a new wardrobe is definitely in order. Preferably something that screams “Queen of the Night". Midnight blue, maybe, it contrasts well with my complexion. Either that or another one in red, because honestly subtlety can go stuff itself; I am a vampire and the grey lady is right, I am going to own this.

Eventually, after emptying half of Rarity’s stocks over the floor while she was busy bickering with Lyra, I managed to decide on something that didn’t remind me of her. Too much, anyway. Everything in this place glittered. I’m going to be finding rhinestones in places rhinestones should not be for weeks, aren’t I?

I slapped the maroon halter dress on the counter, then I slapped Rarity out of her argument. Seriously, neurotic assistants are a dime a dozen, and you have like three. Go serve a paying customer, will you, ideally me?

“Why, I never! I ought to throw you out of the store, you incorrigible maniac!” She whined, clutching her cheek. A red print of my hand was already beginning to form. Guess vampires are stronger than I thought. What a nice surprise. Maybe her children will inherit it, and one part of their faces will actually look tolerable, because going with Rarity’s taste in men, that’s probably going to be their only shot.

“It’ll grow back. Besides, nobody will care if you slather another layer of makeup on. You already look like a clown.”

Rarity gasped, “That’s it! Out!”

Octavia stepped between us, “Rarity. Calm down. Sell me the dress. We were never here. You’re overworked and half-asleep. Sell me the dress, then close up shop and go home to Sweetie Belle immediately.”

After she stopped speaking, I almost felt like rushing back to check on my own little sister. And I hate Aria. Rarity blinked a few times, then shoved the single dollar note into the register, before grabbing her handbag and shooing us out the store. Keys flashed and then the woman’s car screeched away under a minute later.

“I’m almost impressed.” I said.

She handed me the bag, and then bowed slightly, “Just a bit of Presence at work, my dear. Nothing a neonate like you couldn’t handle, given the proper training of course.”

“Got it. Presence. Makes people do what I say. I’ll be sure to master that one sooner rather than later. What’s next on the list? A drink?”

“A woman after my own heart. To the movie theatre! And or hunting grounds!” Lyra cheered, before running off in the direction of the theatre.

It was small, shabby, and it had probably been cleaned, once. Likely a decade earlier, judging from the way the seat cushion stuck to my dress. Definitely going to burn this one after I get an opportunity to change. Once we arrived, I spotted Lyra rushing off to greet another woman, catching the tan girl in a bone-mashing hug. Off balance, she collapsed into the couple’s seats Lyra had picked out. Rustling and unzipping began to occur.

“That’s Bon-Bon. She’s one of us, and Lyra’s best friend.” Octavia commented, while flicking through a magazine.

“Looks more like girlfriend the way Lyra’s sticking her tongue down her throat. Also, that thing is disturbingly long. And forked.”

“That’s Miss Heartstrings for you. I highly recommend you stay on her good side. She can and will literally rearrange your face if make an enemy of her.”

“Noted. Shoot first. So why are we even here, again? I’ve seen Power Ponies: Endgame before. And it didn’t impress then either. This Juniper Montage character has got to be the worst director I’ve even seen. Seriously, the soundtrack could not be mixed worse!”

A bunch of people shushed me. I ignored them. Frankly, listening to me, even as out of talent as I was, was still better than just raising tension by making the same track of music louder.

“Do keep it down, and yes, if I wanted a show, I would’ve just attended the local club. I do believe Vinyl Scratch is performing and she is quite simply wonderful. Have you even heard her work?” Octavia said.

I sighed, “I am very familiar with her music. Painfully familiar remember? I still have scars from when that shitty car of hers zapped me.”

“Oh, yes, that. Never mind then, you don’t seem like the dubstep type anyway.” Octavia said, slipping the tabloid back into her handbag.

“Neither do you.”

“Fair point. But I did ghoul her so I feel somewhat obliged to put up with whatever nonsense she writes. You’ve never known true misery until you have to edit your imbecile friend’s written music, you know.”

“Preaching to the choir here, remember? Anyway, why are we here then? I can’t imagine we’re networking.”

“Of course not.” Octavia whispered; the trailers had finished rolling, “I just needed a crowd of people. That way I can match your prey’s aura to yours. You could liken it to connecting puzzle pieces.”

“I suppose that’s also a vampire power?”

“They’re called disciplines, but yes, Auspex is. Out of your clan, unfortunately, and I don’t trust those two lovebirds to do it. So that’s why I’m here. Now hold still.”

I held still. Didn’t notice I was twitching until right now but hoo boy, this reminds me of the time Byron shot me. Hurt like anything and I was in bed for a week. Poisoned his lunch afterward, the twat. Don’t know what I saw in him. Speaking of, all that blood pooling around me sure looked tasty in hindsight. Shit, I’m hungry. I could a horse. Well, I would anyway, considering my track record with those bastards, but in addition to the spot in my stomach reserved for alicorn steak, I could drink a whole swimming pool right now.

“Please, Adagio. Hold still.” Octavia whispered, peering at me and rubbing her temples.

“I am trying.”

“Try harder then, please, I can’t see the missing patch elsewise. You’re shaking harder than washing machine with a V8 engine.”

“Do I even want to know?”

“Let’s leave it at Malkavians for now, alright? The insane clan of vampires has… particularly interesting ideas relating to engineering, and everything else really. And… there. Got it. Three seats down, seven to your left.”

Following the directions, I saw somebody I had absolutely no desire whatsoever to see again. Twilight fucking Sparkle. Just great. Well, on the other hand, I get to exsanguinate that know-it-all smirk right off her prissy purple face. Oh yeah, rip and tear. Probably drag her out here first, don’t really want to see if Braeburn’s threat is too or not, but after that… I am painting the walls of my shoebox apartment with her blood.

A hand grabbed my wrist. “Sit. Down.” Octavia ordered. I shrugged her off and started across the seats.

I was just about to grab her too, before Octavia swatted my hand again. How’d she even get here? She was sitting down pretending to care about fictitious losers in spandex the last time I looked.

“What’s your plan?” She hissed.

“Brute force. Now let go.”

“What? In the middle of a crowded theatre? Are you insane?”

“I believed you when you told me I had joined the ranks of the undead, so yeah maybe I am. Also, I was going to drag her out of here first. I can talk to people, you know. I just completely and utterly despise doing so.”

Octavia’s phone went off. Bad wubs filled the theatre. People started whining again. Twilight looked up. I didn’t remember her having glasses. No matter. Time to try out Presence for myself then.

I clicked my fingers, “You. Bitch. Come with me.” I said, while the other vampire jabbered at her phone.

Twilight shuffled back in her seat, “What!”

The man sitting next to her stood up, nasty frown on his rugged face, cigarette burns on his cargo shorts, “Who the hell do you think you are calling my girl that?”

“Timber. Sit down. Please.” Twilight said, tugging on his sleeve.

“To answer your question, you green-haired imbecile, I am the most incredible person you’ll ever meet. Now make like your better half says and sit down. While you’re at it, you can shut up too.”

He did not, in fact, sit down. In fact, he shoved past his girlfriend, over to the aisle, fists balled and glared at me. “You say that again.”

“Listen, idiot. Are you really going to hit a lady in a crowded theatre? Your ass will rot in prison for the next decade if you lay a finger on me. And then, you won’t get to lay your fingers on her.” I said, pointing over to Twilight, who was watching this unfold with an expression like that you’d have if your dog suddenly grew wings, learned to talk and set your house on fire. It suited her.

Timber grumbled. Octavia continued to chatter at the person on the other end of the line. Vinyl was in serious trouble, apparently.

“Listen, you arrogant pot-scented chump, I just want to talk. Sparkle here and I have history. We went to the same high school and I have some unfinished business with her.”

Twilight and Timber shared a look. She tried puppy-dog eyes. He shrugged, and let her pass. Now standing, Twilight was smaller than I remember; thinner, and hunched over slightly. I guess a life stuck behind a computer will do that to you, in addition to gluing those milk bottles to your face. Scowling, she pointed to the exit, “You first.”

“I am a lady, after all. You should try it some time.” I said, before tapping Octavia on the shoulder. She merely frowned before returning to the phone, and the four of us walked out the theatre.

The night air was a refreshing change from the muggy heat of the sticky showhouse. I made for Lyra’s car, leading both of them well out the range of any streetlamps or security cameras. Judging from my rather unfortunate appearance in the Carousel Boutique changing room, I’d wager that I’m not one of those vampires that lacks a reflection. Lucky me. Maybe tomorrow night I’ll be looking decent again.

“Alright, this is far enough. What is it?” Timber asked, arms crossed.

“Something that doesn’t concern you, sandalista. Go find a tree to shit in and let the intelligent people talk in peace.”

“I think you should do as Adagio says. This is Equestrian business, Timber. It should really only take a minute.” Twilight said, feeling for the necklace under her blouse.

The man groaned, and stamped off, his hiking boots crunching against the loose gravel.

Twilight turned to me, “Now what is it? You do know that I’m the other Twilight, right? The one native to earth.”

Well. That was unexpected. I honestly though that there was only one of these pricks. But, then again, she could just be lying. Not worth the risk.

“Come closer.” I said, taking a step forward to her, smiling, “I’ve got something to tell you. Something… important.”

She took a step back, “No. Sunset told me who you are, and I really don’t actually think I should be talking to you.”

“Correct!”

“Wha-” Was all she managed before I clamped a hand around her mouth. My other one knocked hers aside. Don’t want any magic interfering here so that amulet has to go. I snapped the strap off her neck and tossed it in the bushes. There, if her boy scout boyfriend wants to feel useful, he finally can.

She struggled, and screamed against my palm. Timber bought a pack of Camels in the gas station store. Octavia stood watch in an alleyway. Here we go. I shoved her against the bonnet of the Porsche. She wriggled, wide-eyed and kicking and punching uselessly with her free hand. Barely felt it. Either these vampire powers are finally kicking in or she’s scrawnier than I thought.

I bent down, and clamped my teeth around her neck. Something clicked. My fangs. They slid down into her. The struggling ceased. The blood began to flow.

Fuck. Fuck! This feels amazing!

It was like sex, and drink, and Siren song all at once. This tastes, this feels so much better than negative energy. I sucked deeply, forcing my teeth further into her arteries.

“Stop!” Somebody yelled. In the background. Didn’t care. Blood to drink. Can finally forget.

“Stop, now!” Octavia repeated. I blinked.

Twilight crumpled to the tarmac, limp. Her skin was grey, and her eyes rolled back in her skull. She moaned weakly. I looked over to Octavia. The Brit was not happy. She was furious.

“What where you thinking?” She shouted.

“I was hungry. And she tasted incredible.”

“You nearly killed her!”

“So? Either tell me why I should care or get out of my way.”

“We do not kill people. That should be our least favourite thing to do! Besides, in addition to turning you into a bloodthirsty sociopath, it is also a serious Masquerade breach to find somebody lying drained of blood in front of a mall. We do not want people finding out about vampires, please.”

“Cool it. I wasn’t going to Black Dahlia her or anything. Probably going to shove her in a bush or something. Maybe burn the corpse. I might already be a bloodthirsty sociopath, but I’m not stupid.”

“Just… trust me, alright? If you kill her, not only will the Prince likely have you executed, you’ll be down one Kine. One less mortal to drink from. Don’t go thinning your own herd.” She opened the car door, “Now get in. We need to leave before she and her boyfriend wake up.”

I raised an eyebrow, and wiped the blood of my face. “What about Lyra and Bon-Bon? Aren’t we supposed to get them too?”

“I’ll fetch them afterwards. Once they’re done exchanging bodily fluids.” Octavia said, climbing into the driver’s seat, starting the car.

She clicked on the radio as we drove and she was not subtle about any self-promotion. Listen, I don’t remember that much about how cellos work but you playing one and your favourite classical station also paying one raises some eyebrows. She was pretty good though.

“You do know my place is in the opposite direction, right?” I said, looking back at the lights of Canterlot City, fading into the distance.

“I am well aware of that. I thought you might like to stay at mine instead, it is a great deal more comfortable.” Octavia responded.

“Congratulations, you’re number five hundred thousand. I’d give you a gift, but that runs contrary to the idea of keeping track of all the losers that try to hit on me.”

She snorted, “Well then, I was merely being hospitable, as we Kindred tend to be. And besides, it isn’t like you had a snowball’s chance in hell anyway.”

“One, I totally do. I have seduced kings, you lyrical self-aggrandizing chav, you would not be a challenge. Two, I don’t take charity. Not from people like you. So, turn this car around now, please.”

If anything, she actually sped up. Not to her crazy friend’s level of speeding, but my hair was definitely blown out of style, or maybe back into it, considering the way the last day went.

“I’m counting to three. You might be better at this whole vampire affair than I am, but I am me, Adagio Dazzle, and I don’t get pushed around by humans, undead or otherwise.”

“Blinds, right?” Octavia said, keeping her eyes on the road, jamming her stiletto down on the accelerator. Seriously, what kind of idiot drives in heels; I get the composure aspect just find but I’d rather not be picking bits of shattered windshield out my broken neck, thank you very much. I learned that lesson the hard way.

“Blinds.” She repeated.

I rolled my eyes, “Can it with the metaphors, I’m perfectly perceptive. I just don’t like you.”

“You have blinds in your flat, don’t you?”

“Have you been in my home, rooting through my stuff?”

“It was all either thrifted or undeniably tacky. But that’s beside the point, which is that your current setup doesn’t actually allow you to sleep without the risk of burning to death.”

“We’re vampires, remember? We don’t need sleep. Now slow down before you drive off a cliff.” I said, reaching to extend the convertible’s roof back before my curls were blown off my head in the wind.

She slapped my hand away, “Yes, we need to sleep. We do it during the day, and unless you want to rest curled up beneath your own sink, you are staying at my manor tonight. I’m informed that Prince Blueblood himself personally embraced you and, as my charge for the foreseeable future, it is in both of best interests to not let you accidentally kill yourself.”

“Fine. But I’m using your shower.”

Octavia sighed, her stiff upper lip finally giving way to some actual anger. Stoicism is so boring. “That was part of the arrangement.”

“And I’ll have one actually attractive virgin sent to my quarters every sunset, and make sure she’s my type, whatever that actually is.”

“Don’t push your luck. Those two things are mutually exclusive and, besides, you will hunt like the rest of us.” Octavia said, bringing the sportscar to a stop in front of a set of elegant iron gates. The warm glow of the mansion’s red-orange lights on the cold smoke-grey stone were faintly visible in the distance, behind a thick black-green line of forest. It like a cross between a fairy tale castle and a hunting lodge. Perfect for a legendary queen of the night.

I smirked. “Cute place.”

“Rather, isn’t it? I acquired it after we ousted the local bishop. I’m sad to say Miss Heartstrings shares it with me though. She came with the house unfortunately.” Octavia said, as a guard clinked the gate open and we began the drive up the path to it. Well, I guess its true what they say about vampires and religion then. We do not get along apparently.