Love Parasite

“Absolutely not!” I said through clenched teeth.

Listen, jackass. Around twenty hours after I switch bodies, that's it. I won't be able to leave you without killing you.

My heart sank. I couldn't think of a response.

This all started maybe around four in the morning. That leaves us until midnight for me to find someone else. And let me be honest; I'm already sick of you, Lilt.

I let her words sink into me before replying. “There must be another way. I can't do this to somepony else. There must be a unicorn in Canterlot that knows something about this.”

You couldn't get a simple collar off, yet you think you can find someone to deal with two souls in one body?

“This is too much,” I said, taking in a shuddering breath. “I can't handle this.”

Relax, will you? I've already done the work. I had another mark lined up in case you didn't work out.

I shook my head in disbelief. “You must be joking.”

Nope. She'll be a piece of cake, too. She's an old friend. Real gullible. I know just how to handle her. She'll be all ours. Or, mine, I guess.

“You're going to victimize one of your own friends?!”

Well, the ones that trust you are the easiest targets. Right? Besides, she'll probably want me inside her anyway.

I cocked my head for a moment trying to digest just what she had said, then begrudgingly turned toward Canterlot.

'Atta boy. You'll see. I've got a good angle we can work.

Lyra fell largely silent during my flight back to the city, only offering scant words to point me in the right direction. As I flew, my mind wandered. At first, I was consumed by frustration; if I passed Lyra off on somepony else, I'd be no worse than her. I wouldn't do this to another pony . . .

However, I hoped her friend could at least explain what's going on. Lyra's suggestion couldn't be our only option. All I had to do was play along and learn what I could.

As I settled on this plan, my insides stirred with anxiety; no matter what I did or where I went, Lyra would be watching. Hearing. Feeling. There were no secrets, save those in my own thoughts.

My rumination was interrupted by Lyra's stern voice. Left. Go left. Yeah, right into this plaza.

No, no. Yes, that one. Down this street.

Third building on the left.

I landed right in front of a delicatessen. Bright, sunny skies brought several ponies outside to eat; most tables were full. “Your friend lives in a sandwich shop. Really?”

No, stupid. You're here to eat.

“We have less than a day, and you want to have a snack?!” I yelled. I suddenly cowered; a few discerning unicorns turned their heads at my strange outburst.

Relax, guy. Look. When was the last time you ate?

The last twenty-four hours flashed through my mind in reverse. The building fire, Lyra's messed up spell, a couple drinks at the bar, a hasty delivery to Iris Circle, a long flight across the ocean to Equestria . . .

It had been over a day. Why didn't I feel that hungry?

Do yourself—and me—a favor. Take a couple minutes and down some lunch or something. You won't have the strength to keep this up all day otherwise.

I frowned but slowly stepped up to a table and sat down. It didn't take long for a waiter to notice.

“Hello, sir—”

“Daffodil sandwich, please. Nothing else.” I wasted no time.

The waiter flinched. He eyed my collar chain before responding with measured words. “Very well. One moment, sir.”

As he went inside, Lyra sighed. Only in Canterlot.

“Pardon?”

This place. All upscale and fancy, but all they do is stuff some flowers between bread.

“You have a problem with flower sandwiches?” I asked.

And did you see the way he looked at you? Arrogant unicorns . . .

“I have a heavy chain hanging off my neck. I'm surprised I'm getting service.” Leaning back in my chair, I tried to peer into the building. “Heck, he's probably calling the police, for all I know.”

Lyra didn't respond. During her silence, I realized I wasn't particularly interested in a flower sandwich either; I had simply ordered it out of habit. In fact, at that moment, the idea was downright unappetizing. Instead, I had an odd craving for a warm, hot meal.

The waiter returned quickly but ceremoniously, an ornate tray suspended by magic as he trotted up to my table. “Your lunch, sir,” he kindly spoke as he set the tray down. He inspected me once more before adding, “Please enjoy.”

I half-heartedly smiled, waiting for him to leave, then gingerly bit into my sandwich. It tasted better than I had anticipated, and I picked up the pace.

Well, I guess it's not bad, really.

“So, what,” I said between swallows, “you prefer hay? Or did you live on cupcakes or something?”

We all have our preferences.

It didn't take much longer to finish. Moments after sitting back, satisfied, I screwed my face up in panic and patted my bare back several times.

“My saddlebags!” I harshly whispered. “I don't have any bits!”

Lyra burst into laughter. Lilty, Lilty. Your stuff's long gone.

“But how will I pay the bill?”

Oh, grow some figs, will you? I think the technical term is ‘chew and screw.’ Just fly outta here.

I hunkered down, trying not to arouse suspicion or draw attention. “I can't do that,” I whispered. “I'm not that kind of pony.”

Today's a day of firsts for you, Lilt.

I couldn't understand. I delivered packages professionally—my saddlebags were my livelihood. I incessantly checked them every few minutes; how could I have gone half a day without sparing them a thought?

Whatever excuse you're cooking up, get ready to serve.

The waiter approached, gently placing the check on the table. “Whenever you're ready, sir,” he said, but he didn't budge.

“Ah, I'm afraid I've . . . forgotten something,” I began. The waiter narrowed his eyes at me until I followed up with, “Another sandwich. Please. Quite famished, I am.” I shot him a wide, toothy grin.

Bahahaha! What a lame excuse!

The waiter looked down at me, pursing his lips. After some hesitation, I heard a calm “Very well.” He withdrew the check and trotted back into the building. As soon as he was out of sight, I fired into the air, soaring into the clouds as fast as I could.

See? Easy cakes. Maybe we should stick together after all; we make a pretty good team.

I swung back down and landed in a secluded alleyway, catching my breath. Flight was noticeably more difficult with a chain weighing me down from the neck. “No,” I managed between hurried breaths, “that wasn't right. But I can't worry about this now. Let's just get this done.”

Oh, now I'm slighted, Lilt. I'm a good influence, you know. You'd do well to keep me around.

“Please, spare me. Just introduce me to your friend.”

Thankfully, she was happy to oblige. Directing me back into the skies, she led me toward the other end of the city.

It's not too far, now. Flying's pretty fun, you know. I like it. You keep nice and level.

Okay. No, not this street. The next one, just past Lily Way. Yep, Iris. Turn right.

It's on the right somewhere here. Yeah, that building there.

And there it was. The same building I had delivered to last evening. I cleared my throat. “Why is her home in the industrial district?”

Rent's cheap, I guess. What do you care?

I didn't respond, gliding silently to the door and giving it a gentle knock. After a moment, I heard hoofsteps from within. “Your business?” called a familiar listless voice.

Well? Go on, goaded Lyra. I gave an exaggerated shrug and shook my head. Right, okay. Ask for Octavia. That's her name.

“Uh, hi. Yes. Is there an Octavia I can speak with?”

The voice maintained its droll, monotonic hum. “Concerning?”

Tell her it's about me. That'll get you inside.

“I'm here to talk about Lyra.”

A short pause, and then, “I'm sorry. I don't play the lyre.”

I took a step closer, talking right into the door. “No, I mean the pony named Lyra.”

“You have me confused with someone else.”

Oh, for the love of . . . just tell her I'm dead, already.

I frowned. “Lyra has . . . look, Lyra needs your help. She's in trouble. You two are friends, right?”

That's a diplomatic way of putting it.

“. . . who are you?” she asked.

You're being a real champ about this so far, Lilt. Now just tell her you're studying my case and need her help.

All of a sudden, I felt as if I was in over my head. I wondered how much this Octavia knew about her. “I just want to ask you a couple questions about her case. Please. I don't have much time.”

No response. Ten seconds passed in silence. Fuck it. Break the door down—

But the door slowly creaked open. Standing a few steps back was a charcoal gray earth pony, her jet-black mane hardly visible in the darkness within. She wore a deadpan expression; I supposed her half-lidded eyes belied her concern. Before I thought of anything to say, she tossed her head back, nodding me inside.

Her home was grimly lit. Windows were shut and shrouded; only a few burning candles strewn about kept me from walking into anything. I could only make out shadows where I supposed furniture would be. She led me down a hallway and into her study.

Aside from a generous set of bookcases lining the walls, the room was sparsely decorated. A small couch stood in front of a clean, empty fireplace. On the other side of the room was a stately, well-maintained desk of mahogany, a matching Victorian chair neatly tucked in. No candles were lit here; a single window in the corner provided light. Octavia waved toward the couch. “Please, sit. It's good that you came.”

My body issued a subtle tremble; I wasn't used to pulling stunts like this. I hoped she did not notice and settled into the couch.

Well, it's your show now. I vote for lulling her into a false sense of security, then bucking her face in. I'll handle the rest when the time comes.

I bit my lip at her comment, restraining the urge to roll my eyes. Octavia gingerly sat on the other end of the couch. She gave me a plain look. “You have a shackle around your neck.”

A nervous chuckle escaped my lips. “Well, that's kinda why I'm here.”

“E-Excuse me?” A slight blush graced Octavia's cheeks.

“No, no! Not like that. Look, it has to do with Lyra.”

After a long sigh, she gave a listless nod. “I see. Is she all right?”

“Well, it's not easy to explain. I was hoping you'd be able to tell me about her.”

“There's not much to tell from my end.” Octavia's eyes darted about the room, finally settling on the fireplace mantle. She stared at the pictures atop the mantle while she spoke. “Lyra was one of my best friends. The three of us used to hang out all the time.”

“Three of you?”

I heard a quiet giggle from Lyra.

“Yes. Lyra, Bon Bon, and I. We were quite close until a few months ago.”

“What happened?”

Octavia stood up and walked over to the desk. She pulled open a drawer and retrieved a small leaflet. “This.” She passed it over to me. “Do you recognize it?”

The large, bold text along the top caught my eye. I read it aloud. “Come discover a new way of life.” Underneath was an ornately drawn sketch of two unicorns facing each other in perfect symmetry, a magical beam of light connecting their horns. The text continued below. “Learn the spell that will reveal your true self.”

Octavia looked down. “Bon Bon tried to convince Lyra and me to try this. A magical seminar.”

I studied the leaflet more carefully. “Seminar? There's no time or place listed here.”

“Right. It was by invitation only.” Octavia glanced at the leaflet and shivered. “You understand what that means.”

I shook my head.

“Forbidden magic.” She pointed at the unicorn sketch. “Lyra joined her to perform that spell. The two of them went to that seminar.”

I waited, but she did not continue. “Then what?”

Octavia's voice fell somber. “Then . . . that's it. Bon Bon went missing after that day, and Lyra started avoiding me, keeping to herself. That was months ago.”

“I don't understand,” I said, standing up. “You just left it at that?”

She grimaced. “Of course not. I looked into all this stuff privately. It was some kind of cult. The little information I found talked about bodies and souls. Dark rituals and the like. Everything they did was behind closed doors.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “It was unnatural.”

I paced to the fireplace, holding my head low and thinking carefully. “So it was this Bon Bon unicorn that pulled her into this, wasn't it?” I posed the question carefully, hoping either Lyra or Octavia would answer.

A gentle hoof touched my shoulder. I turned around; Octavia wore a tired, confused face. “That's the mystery,” she continued. “Bon Bon was an earth pony. Why she would be interested in magic, and so suddenly, is beyond me.” She pointed toward a picture on the fireplace mantle.

I glanced at her image—a cream-colored mare with a curled mane and tail of light lavender and blue. “Was?” I asked.

“Like I said, she's been missing for a long time. No one has any evidence, and this cult is impossible to find. I'm not even sure it truly exists.”

The conversation entered a lull. For once, I hoped Lyra would interject and confirm her story, but she kept quiet. Octavia trudged over to the desk, her eyes forlorn and downcast. At last, she spoke once more. “I'm sorry. I'm being too forward with all this. I don't mean to burden you with so much at once.” She looked up. “I just finished brewing tea. Would you like some?”

I had no room to refuse. “Yes, please.”

She offered a curt nod and left the room. As I patiently waited, I was drawn to the row of pictures on the mantle. Their frames were dusty, but each pane of glass had been partially wiped clean somewhat recently. I checked each photograph.

Octavia running across a grassy field as a laughing Lyra gives chase, both little fillies.

Young Lyra and Bon Bon giggling over a comic book, with Octavia reading peacefully alone in the background.

A teenaged Octavia wearing a robe, a flattened cap, and a rare smile at some sort of graduation ceremony.

Lyra and Bon Bon flashing cute poses at the beach.

Octavia and Bon Bon playing chess, the former holding a confident stance.

Octavia, embraced by two older ponies, standing before an eerily familiar fireplace.

A bright-faced Lyra beaming, both Octavia and Bon Bon at her sides.

As I studied each one, a strange mix of emotions welled up inside me. I sensed a vibrant warmth from each picture, but my perception was tainted by a bitter revelation; one of these ponies was inside me. I lifted the last picture and stared at its image. A cheery, innocent Lyra stared back.

Not half bad, huh? I keep forgetting how cute I am. Or was.

Checking behind me to make sure I was still alone, I whispered softly to myself. “You three used to be close friends.”

Used to be.

“You're not Lyra. Don't pretend any more. Who are you?”

Lyra's voice happily answered, her tone marked by sinful glee. Not telling!

“You're this other pony. Bon Bon.” I pointed at her picture. “You pulled Lyra into this to take over her body. You needed her magic to do it. Then, you tried doing it to me.”

Hmm. Maybe.

“Except you have Lyra's voice.”

I learn the voices of the bodies I inhabit. Now I want Octavia. And you're going to help me.

“I thought you were fine in my body.”

She knows too much. I see that now. I need to clean up my mess.

I vigorously shook my head. “No way. Not a chance. You're trapped in my body; I'm holding you here until I find a way to get rid of you without passing you on.”

Lyra's voice went low. Listen to me, asshole. Either you help me into Octavia's body by tomorrow morning, or I'm going to make your life a living hell until the day you die.

I grit my teeth. “Then we'll go to hell together—”

The clopping of hoofsteps near the doorway interrupted us. “Excuse me?”

There was Octavia. “Sorry,” I said, “just talking to myself. I should get going.” I walked toward the door.

“Do you have enough for your investigation?”

I paused. “What investigation?”

“I thought you were a detective.” Octavia shrunk low and took a wary step backward. “You . . . you are a detective, right? Isn't that why you're here?”

I was unsure how to answer. Was she expecting somepony else today? “No, I'm not. I'm a victim. One of her victims.” I unconsciously pawed at the chain around my neck.

Octavia's face twisted in confusion and fear. She opened her mouth slowly. “That chain . . .”

I took a few steps forward. “Don't worry. When I have this all figured out, I'll—”

I stopped mid-sentence. My body suddenly took a few steps back on its own.

You're not going anywhere. You're staying right here and we're gonna do this right now. I want her body.

“N-No,” I spoke softly. I struggled to take another few steps forward, but for every step I took, my body retreated two more. Octavia watched me carefully, bewildered by the sight.

Last chance, Lilty. Just do what I tell you and you'll be a free pony. Or don't, and I'll be forced to do this the hard way.

I struggled with all the effort I could muster. No matter how badly I wanted to resist, it felt as if my body was simply refusing to respond. Or, perhaps, it felt as if it wasn't my body at that moment.

The hard way it is. Let me show you what happens when you don't listen.

I squeezed my eyes shut as I took a firm stance, my legs spread as if preparing for some invisible force to tackle me. But, instead of a forceful push, a wave of tranquility washed over me, and the world felt like a dream.