Sanguine Joy

Chapter 8: Lies, Assumptions, and Misconceptions

It was still early in the morning when Rarity stood in front of Pinkie’s room, knocking and waking her. And for what? So she can ask if her life-long friend is hiding some information about a bloodthirsty, murdering monster? Ridiculous.

The longer Rarity thought about it, the more inclined she was to just go away, to forget about the whole Pinkie thing and look somewhere else. But, as the Voice kept reminding her: where? Berry’s blood was on her hooves, and the one responsible was still out there, killing more innocents every day. She wasn’t going to let a clue slip away, no matter how small and unlikely it was.

The door opened, and Rarity was greeted by sleepy eyed Pinkie Pie. When Rarity spotted how straight Pinkie’s mane was she felt a small sting of envy, remembering the time and effort it took every morning to put her mane in order. However, the mane wasn’t the only thing she noticed – Pinkie’s coat was darker than usual. It said a lot about the situation in town when its happiest inhabitant looked like the very incarnation of depression.

Rarity walked into the room and sat on a chair, while Pinkie just lay on her bed, her eyelids repeatedly drooping and then snapping open again as she stared at the ceiling.

“So, why are you here, Rarity?”

“Is it so unusual for me to visit my good friend just to cheer her up?”

“It is at...” Pinkie glanced at her alarm clock. “... 7:26 in the morning.”

“Oh.” Rarity said, scolding the ‘Voice’ for making her wake Pinkie Pie up. “You are right, of course, darling. Curiosity brought me here. Curiosity of such strength, that I forgot to take the time into consideration. I’m sorry, Pinkie Pie.”

Pinkie sat up, gave Rarity a weak smile, yawned, and said, “Okie dokie. What are you curious about? If it’s about ninjas, then I can’t help you.”

Rarity smiled – this was the good old random Pinkie that she had always known. “I’d like to know why you were against Twilight studying vamponies.”

Pinkie inhaled sharply, and her eyes widened, no longer looking sleepy at all. She got up from her bed, and looked at Rarity. “Why... Why would you want to know that?”

Rarity raised an eyebrow, and moved a step closer to Pinkie Pie. “Curiosity, my dear. As you correctly pointed out yesterday, you are the one who believes in those things. So why wouldn’t you want Twilight to investigate?”

Pinkie’s gaze shifted from side to side, avoiding Rarity’s eyes, while taking a step back.

“I– I didn’t want to waste any time. Just like you, I didn’t want Twilight to do it, because vamponies don’t exist.”

“You believed that Zecora is an evil enchantress,” Rarity said, looking Pinkie Pie directly in the eyes, “only because she wore a hood. You know and believe in obscure animals and beings that everyone thinks extinct, which is why you were among the few who recognised parasprites, and the only one who knew how to deal with them. But you do not believe in vamponies, even though they are among the most believed of myths? I find it hard to believe that.”

Pinkie bit her lip, retreated by another step, and started sweating.

“Stop lying to me, Pinkie Pie!” she yelled, while Pinkie cowered in a corner of the room. “I know that you are hiding something, and I want to know what!”

When Pinkie started sobbing, Rarity softened her tone. “Don’t worry, darling. I’m sure that you did nothing wrong. Just tell me – what do you know? Is there somepony who you consider to be a vampony around? Did somepony hurt you? Please, Pinkie, tell me. We are friends, are we not?”

“Yes,” Pinkie said mid-sob.

“So tell me, please.”

“There... There was a vampony. It was a stallion, and I saw him kill Caramel. He then told me to keep quiet, otherwise he’ll kill me.”

Rarity embraced Pinkie Pie and started stroking her back, waiting until the sobs stopped.

“What did the stallion look like? Where did he go? When did it happen?”

“He... He was dressed in black and his voice sounded male, but it was muffled by his clothes, so I couldn’t recognise it. He then ran out of the door and into the streets, turning right at the nearest corner. I saw him after leaving the party, so it must have been... three o’clock?”

Rarity smiled and loosened her hug. “Thank you, Pinkie. And don’t be afraid to tell me if you see anything more. Now go get some sleep, alright?”

“But where are you going to go? Are you going to tell the guard?”

“If I told the guard, then the vampony would know that you ‘spilled the beans’, as they say. Don’t worry, darling. I won’t tell them a thing. I’ll try to find him on my own.”

With that, Rarity turned around and walked out of the room, leaving teary-eyed Pinkie Pie behind.

———

Greenleaf had a bad day. He went to the morgue right after visiting the library, and listened to several doctors that had just one, simple job – determine how the blood got out of the victim’s body. A job they failed miserably. All they discovered was that the blood went through those bite marks on the neck, which was nothing surprising, and even the long awaited specialist from Canterlot couldn’t find anything new. Greenleaf scolded them for their incompetence and went to Scisco’s office, where he was scolded for being incompetent.

It was already getting dark when he walked back to the barracks, the heavy clouds above him promising rain. He kept replaying the events of the past several days in his head. It just wasn’t fair – he lived a fairly comfortable life, he was respected, and the biggest of his worries was whether the weather will be nice during his upcoming vacation. All these things were gone now: the more victims they found, the lower was his respect among both the townsfolk and his men, he had to cancel his vacation, and Scisco turned his life into a torment. There were even rumours saying that sergeant Ignavus was going to fire him!

His eyes moistened as he thought about it. Being fired... He had dreamed about being a member of the royal guard ever since he was little, and could imagine no worse disgrace than being fired from it. Normally, such rumours wouldn’t worry him, but this time they seemed to hold some truth. Just like Scisco, Greenleaf tried to speak with his commanding officer, and just like Scisco, he was turned away by Ignavus’s secretary. Why would the Sergeant avoid him? Other guards had no problems reaching him, only he and Scisco did.

And Scisco! Greenleaf couldn’t get today’s meeting out of his head. He tried to convince him about the whole vampony theory, and even managed to get his hooves on the Manehattan case from ten years back. It was very similar to their current case – bloodless bodies, bite marks, no murder weapon. They even caught, or rather killed, the murderer, and it was indeed a vampony. From what he gathered from the little info that wasn’t classified, vampony’s fangs slide out after death, since the muscles keeping them retracted relax. But did Scisco listen? No. Right after the word ‘vampony’ left Greenleaf’s lips, Scisco started mocking him and didn’t even open the damned file.

Greenleaf arrived to the barracks, and a guard approached him right in front of the front door.

“Sir, glad to see you, sir. There was a mare looking for you, sir. I think she said she’ll wait at the canteen, sir.”

“Thank you for informing me,” Greenleaf said, heading towards the barracks’ canteen.

A smell wafted from it, telling tales about mushroom cream and delicious pasta. Licking his lips, Greenleaf walked in, and saw a purple mare surrounded by guards. Judging from the amount of laughter, they were either ridiculing her or trying to seduce her, neither of which Greenleaf liked.

“Soldiers!” he shouted. “Go back to your duties and leave this mare alone!”

They dispersed immediately. “Guess you want to bang her yourself, eh Corporal Greenhorn?” one of them said, to the delight of his friends. Greenleaf ignored him and sat across Twilight.

“I apologise for my men, Miss Starker.”

“It’s Sparkle,” Twilight said, frowning a little.

“I’m sorry; my mistake. I assume that you have discovered the meaning behind those symbols?”

“Yes and no. I found out that those symbols were part of a powerful spell or ritual, but I don’t know what it does. I’m sorry, but the kind of magic we’re talking about has been forbidden for thousands of years now, and the only reason for why I recognise them is because I have had access to the restricted areas of the Canterlot library back when I was living there.”

Greenleaf leaned towards Twilight. “Why was it forbidden?”

“Well, I can’t be sure, but I guess it’s because you need to sacrifice somepony? Are you seriously incapable of deducting this on your own?”

Greenleaf blushed and looked around, scanning the room for anyone who could have heard his faux pas. Things like this were the reason why he was dubbed Greenhorn! Fortunately, they were alone; otherwise his already tarnished reputation would lower even more.

“Would the Princess send that book to me?”

“No. The danger is just too great.”

“But she allowed you to read it!” he exclaimed as he threw his forelegs up.

This was Twilight’s turn to blush. “I uhh... I kind of borrowed it from the forbidden section when the librarian wasn’t looking. But I returned it just a few hours later!”

Greenleaf sighed, and rubbed is eyes. “Well, how about we send the photos over to the Princess, and she’ll tell us what the spell does?”

“That’s not a good idea.”

“What? Why? This is our best lead!”

“I read through a lot of history books and know what Princess Celestia did the last time forbidden magic appeared. About 500 years ago a young, aspiring mage tried experimenting with blood. He wasn’t even that dangerous – a bunny was the largest sacrifice he made, yet it was enough for the Princess to dispatch a regiment of elite royal guards. The mage was executed on spot and his house burned down. Now, imagine what would happen if the Princesses were to know that forbidden magic on a much larger scale is being performed here on a daily basis, and that we don’t know who is doing it. Ponyville would become a smoking ruin!”

Greenleaf couldn’t believe his ears. Was this mare making fun of him? Princess Celestia would never do anything like that! He narrowed his eyes and looked at Twilight, preparing a sarcastic response, but Twilight spoke before he even opened his mouth. “I know that it doesn’t sound like her, but you must understand – this is the kind of magic that turned princess Luna into Nightmare Moon! While it had nothing to do with blood, it was in the same field.”

This forced Greenleaf to think. It was true that Princess Celestia was extremely harsh when somepony endangered her sister. Prison awaited ponies that were foolish enough to confront princess Luna about her past as Nightmare Moon. They weren’t there for long as Luna usually gave them a royal pardon on the very next day, but it was enough to illustrate what princess Celestia would do if the magic that corrupted her sister appeared. He didn’t want to see Ponyville burnt down – he lived here, and the danger didn’t seem that big to him.

Furthermore, it wouldn’t prove that I’m as capable as Scisco. Quite the opposite, actually. On the other hoof, isn’t this technically treason?

“If we don’t figure out what is going on in three days,” he said, “I’m telling princess Celestia. Perhaps you’d like to help me more. Unless you want to see this town burnt down, that is.”

Twilight glared at him and gritted her teeth. “You know that if you just asked nicely instead of threatening me, I would do it much more willingly, right?”

“I’m not in the mood for being pleasant. Now go find some evidence somewhere or something,” he said, waving his hoof dismissively. Twilight glared at him again, and left.

Finally she’s gone; I need some peace and quiet. There is just one more thing for me to do today.

He moved towards the canteen’s bar. “Give me a bottle of spiced rum.”

He wasn’t an alcoholic, and knew that he’d pass out before he could finish that bottle – pass out and leave his problems behind, even if just for a few hours. He opened the bottle given to him, and took a large swig.

———

The last rays of sunlight glinted off the polished desk, while Scisco looked at the sundown through his window, holding a glass of cognac in his hoof. He had little else to do – the responses on his letters will take a few days to arrive, and he already scolded Greenleaf today. He spent the rest of the day taking strolls, visiting local restaurants, and generally letting off steam.

There was a knock at the door, which completely destroyed the atmosphere of the moment. Scisco only answered the door after finishing his cognac, for which he was grateful right after seeing who knocked. A stallion like Scisco needed some alcohol in his bloodstream when dealing with a mare like Derpy Hooves.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“Hi! I saw somepony dressed in black in Cherry Berry’s house.”

“Really? That’s amazing!” Scisco said, and stormed through the door. He was, however, stopped by Derpy’s hoof. She loudly cleared her throat and held her hoof in front of him in a demanding fashion. Scisco cursed under his breath a gave her one bit. She smiled, yet her hoof stayed in place. Scisco cursed again and gave her another bit, but the hoof remained.

Several minutes later, Scisco was running towards Cherry Berry’s house, his wallet lighter by ten bits.

It was already dark when he arrived. The windows of the house were devoid of any light, but that didn’t keep Scisco from entering. He concluded that the pony is probably still in the house right now, so he found an unlocked window and slipped inside. He sincerely hoped that Derpy didn’t make the whole thing up to get some money out of him.

His doubts were, however, washed away when he heard silent chanting from somewhere below him.

Probably the cellar. I have you, you Celestia damned cultists!

He prepared his miniature crossbow and crept onward, searching for the cellar entrance. It wasn’t hard to find, as it was a trapdoor in the middle of the hall. Scisco slowly took the handle in his hooves and pulled. There was a loud creak when he opened the trapdoor, and he chanting stopped instantaneously.

Oh crap!

He aimed his crossbow at the cellar entrance, prepared to fire. Then he heard hoofsteps behind him. When Scisco turned around, he saw a black figure approaching him, two sharp, white fangs the only thing visible from inside the black hood.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

Scisco aimed at the figure, but it was just too fast, avoiding the crosshair and quickly approaching.

Ohcrapohcrapohcrapohcrap!

When the assailant leaped at him, Scisco pulled the trigger. The bolt hit the figure into its chest, and forced it to land behind Scisco, rather than on him. The hooded individual lunged at Scisco again, but only managed to tear off his trousers. Scisco galloped towards the nearest window and jumped through it, the broken glass cutting into his flesh. He then ran as fast as he could towards the barracks.

He was bruised heavily and had many cuts from the glass on his body, but what mattered most to him were his trousers. It wasn’t because he liked them; it was because they covered his hated cutie mark.

He was the object of ridicule ever since he got that accursed thing, classmates laughing at him and the adults avoiding him. His cutie mark was a stallion behind bars, locked in a prison cell. He kept explaining that it meant he was good at getting criminals into prison, but everyone who saw it assumed that he was good at getting himself into prison.

The worst thing were the glances he got while walking down the street: everypony kept staring at his behind, silently judging him. Whenever a crime happened in the vicinity, he was the first one everypony suspected, and even when proven innocent, there was gossip painting him as the local crime lord. When he tried to explain, nopony believed him, their prejudices clouding their mind, and deafening their ears, so he did the only logical thing he could – he hid that shameful picture. It was quite ironic, actually: throughout his whole foalhood, he kept wishing for his cutie mark to appear, but when it did, he hid it and hated it.

Now it was uncovered, however, and anypony could see it. Sure, it was late at night, but if he showed himself with such a thing on his butt at the barracks, those idiots could take him in for questioning, seeing how they desperately wanted to avenge their fallen comrade and lay the blame on somepony. No, it was better if he just bought a new suit, and went to the barracks afterwards.

I think I saw some clothes shop around here somewhere. The wounds might raise some eyebrows, but they won’t ask if I pay them enough. Besides, it’s nothing serious, just a few cuts and bruises.

———

Rarity had spent the whole day asking around the town for a black-dressed stallion that moved around Ponyville at three o’clock in the morning, but nopony knew anything. In most cases everypony just assured her that if there was such a person, then the night guard patrols would surely stop him. Then again, the night guard patrols often spent their shifts in pubs around the town, so if they actually noticed somepony like that, they would probably attribute it to their drunkenness.

She was preparing adding firewood to her fireplace and boiling water for a cup of tea, when she heard banging on the front door. Outside of her boutique stood a gray, black-maned stallion, who was bleeding profusely from many cuts and bruises on his body, the blood trickling down on his legs. When he spotted her through the glass door, he intensified is banging and started calling for help.

Rarity sped to the door and let him in, immediately asking, “What happened to you, dear sir? Wait here, I’ll go fetch a doctor!”

“Stop!” he said, scrunching his face. “It’s just a flesh wound, I’ll... I’ll be alright. I just need a new suit.”

“A new suit? You need a doctor, not a suit!”

“Just give me... give me a suit and... and... don’t look at my... cutzsh,” he said, and collapsed on the ground unconscious.

You are so lucky! A meal just walked right into your very house, served on a silver platter. Good time to fulfil your promise, don’t you think?

He won’t survive if you feed on him.

Rarity moved towards the door, carefully avoiding the blood that flowed from the many glass-filled gashes on the stallion’s body. However, when she reached the door, she stopped. The beautiful smell of blood was filling the room more and more by the second, and Rarity just couldn’t bring herself to leave.

Go on, you know what you want to do.

Rarity moved closer to the body, inhaling the bloody scent deeply. She moved her lips towards his neck, but then she heard his intermittent breath and just couldn’t continue any further – this was Berry Punch all over again.

Continue! Even if you left to get a doctor, it will be too late anyway. Just look at how much he’s bleeding!

Yes, he’s bleeding... But why so much? All these cuts look quite small.

Rarity turned the body over, and, to her horror, saw where the blood was coming from. There was a large shard of glass stuck in his chest that managed to get in through the gap between two ribs, and was probably stuck in one of his lungs. If that was the case, then he was already dead. Rarity pressed her ear against his chest and listened. The breathing was regular, but so, so shallow. That on one hoof meant that his lungs were undamaged, but also that his blood loss was indeed as serious as ‘Voice’ said.

The similarity with Berry Punch was striking: face growing pale, unconsciousness and, most notably, blood. She knew what she had to do. What better way to atone murder is there, than saving a life?
She slowly removed all the glass pieces with her magic, and levitated over her sewing kit. She started sewing the largest wound, trying to ignore the little stream of blood that kept flowing from it. When she was done with that one, she moved to next. It was quite an easy job – it felt like sewing leather, so all the cuts were sewn in just a few minutes. The blood, however, kept soaking through the thread. Rarity knew that if the stallion looses any more of his blood, he won’t survive, so she opted for drastic measures. She went to her fireplace and stuck a poker inside. She waited until it was red hot, and went back to the body. She heard about this kind of thing from various story-tellers that entertained the town from time to time, when the road took them in this part of world. It can’t be that hard, right?

I’m sorry, but it is necessary.

Rarity touched the large gash with the poker and scrunched her nose when the smell of burned flesh reached it. Soon, the flesh and coat around the wound were burned to crisp, but no more blood appeared from it. She did the same to all the remaining wounds, the stallion tossing about a little every time the hot iron touched him. She put her ear to his chest again, and listened to the heart beat. It was faint and hard to hear, but it was there. Then the best part came – cleaning the blood. She allowed the Voice to do it, so that at least one of her promises was fulfilled, but when her tongue licked off the blood from the stallion’s cutie mark, her heart skipped a beat.

The cutie mark depicted a stallion behind bars of a prison cell, which meant that the special talent of this pony was getting arrested! In front of her lied a professional criminal, probably wounded during one of his heists! Was it right to help somepony like this? What if he is the one behind it all? It would explain why he didn’t want to go to a doctor. However, if she wanted to get some information out of him, then she couldn’t turn him in.

The stallion’s body was enveloped by Rarity’s near-black aura and levitated to her bedroom. Here she tied him to her bed and gave him a gag, so that he couldn’t alert any of his possible accomplices. She then locked the door and went downstairs to sleep on her divan.

Maybe he’ll survive, maybe he won’t. If he pulls through, then I’ll question him and then turn him in, if he dies, good riddance. We’ll see.