“Any idea what this is about?”
“Of course not.” Harshwhinny snapped back to Luna as they strode down the empty school hall. “I got the same text as you: ‘New vampire, meet in the break room.’”
“I hate coming back to school.” Luna matched the older woman’s brisk pace, leaving Sunset and Whooves scurrying in their wake. “It’s like, we left, we should be done for the day. It always takes weeks to track the bastards down anyway.”
Harshwhinny raised her nose. “Miss Luna, just because you are Miss Celestia’s sister does not mean your opinion is valued.”
“Yeah, I know,” Luna snarled. “But hers is, and didn’t she have some strong words about you loosening up?”
“I have ‘loosened up,’” Miss Harshwhinny announced primly.
Luna shook her head. “Bullshit. You just gave Flash Sentry detention for saying ‘pacifically,’”
“It’s ‘specifically.’” Now Harshwhinny snarled, though her uptight demeanor immediately returned. “And now he has cause to remember the difference.”
“Whatever.” Luna accelerated, jerking the door open as she reached the faculty lounge. She paused a second, then held the door and stood to the side with a mean smirk. “Age before beauty.”
“Pearls before swine.” Harshwhinny strode past her without a glance. Seething, Luna followed and slammed the door on the way in.
Sunset paused outside next to Whooves, letting a shiver run down her back. “Yeowch. That was scary.”
Whooves shrugged. “That was Friday.”
“I don’t want to go in.”
“Me neither,” Whooves sighed. He opened the door and entered, followed a step behind by Sunset.
Much like the teachers, the staff lounge gave no outwards sign of its real business. Sunset had been inside twice before now, and could still scarcely describe it with any word other than ‘brown.’ A light, clay-like brown for the walls, a useful blackish brown for the carpeting that hid generations of coffee stains, and a deep brown for the couches and chairs. Even the lights seemed more bronzed than white, illuminating the room from old, cloudy fixtures. The only alien colors seemed to come from the teachers themselves.
And Trixie. The blue-skinned girl fumed under Iron Will’s arm as he carried her past Sunset.
“Hi, Mister Will.”
“Hi, Sunset.” Iron Will’s bored voice emerged as Trixie began gnawing on his arm. “If your mom comes in, tell her I’ll be right back, okay?"
“Sure thing.” Sunset held the door for them, then closed it behind.
There was no assigned seating, but long habit had created an informal one. Sunset’s was a deep, low recliner in the corner. Cranky Doodle occupied a plain wooden chair at one end of the rectangular table, cleaning a pistol while they waited. Whooves straddled a chair arm and tapped on his phone. Redheart and Cheerilee shared an old leather sofa, the former fidgeting with a lighter, the latter intently studying her laptop screen. The rest of the hunters remained standing – Luna leaned against a wall by her sister’s chair, Miss Harshwhinny hovered over the table, and Iron Will, on his return, resumed his energetic pacing and flexing.
A few minutes after Sunset, Celestia entered. Despite her urgent text, she was as she appeared any time on the job. With flowing hair that somehow seemed both ordered and free, tan blazer, pressed purple slacks, and soft pink hands clasped gently over her navel. Only the telltale bulge of a chest holster spoke of her hidden life, and even that was half-lost behind her kindly smile.
“Hello, everyone.” The little gossip the room had fell quiet as she came to her seat by the table. “I thought we should cover this tonight, rather than wait until Monday. Thank you all for coming back. I’m very sorry for interrupting your big Friday night plans.”
None of the eccentric group had plans, but none were keen to admit it. A round of coughs and embarrassed offers of forgiveness followed, then Celestia gestured to Cheerilee. The teacher reached up to the blinds behind the couch – brown, of course – and twisted them, shielding the meeting from Trixie’s new position in the bushes.
Celestia rested her hands on the table, still smiling peaceably. “This won’t take long, but let’s go through the usual points of order. Redheart, please extinguish your lighter.”
A white finger flicked the lighter closed.
Celestia’s smile remained unchanged as she went down the list. “Cheerilee, put away your pictures of Macintosh Apple.”
With an, “Eep!” the teacher reached up and slapped her laptop screen down.
“Cranky, no guns out in school.”
Grumbling, Cranky Doodle obeyed.
“Sunset, stop texting.”
“Right after this,” Sunset called. She tapped the phone a few more times, then slipped it into her pocket.
“Iron Will, stop lifting dumbells.”
The man huffed, waggling his nose ring. “Iron Will can pay perfectly good attention while pumping his body weight.”
“Yeah, but your B.O. goes to a hundred in like ten minutes.” Luna wrinkled her nose. “It even gets in the coffee.”
“Please,” Celestia added. Iron Will obeyed, and the principal went on.
“Redheart, extinguish that lighter, too.”
Redheart slapped shut her second lighter – much the same as her first, save for the six-inch flame.
With the meeting thus called to order, Celestia rose from her chair and patted her hips, entering what Luna called, ‘Speech-Mode.’ One hand rose slowly and pointed to the ceiling.
“Everyone, let it never be said that we don’t have a hard job.” Celestia’s hand fell, folding back into its twin. “We sacrifice our health, our money, and our precious vacation days to fight a war that we shall never be honored for. Our reasons for doing so are many. We protect our students and our city. We find meaning and fulfillment beyond what this ennui-filled modern world can give us. And yes, we have fun. We are the big darn heroes who ride in and save the day.”
Her expression turned grave. “But it is the nature of our work that we do not always know our enemy. And sometimes, that enemy proves to be a person we thought we knew. A life that has touched our own. And whether they touched us for the better or worse, never did we expect to meet them as a hunter meets the undead. Yet meet them we must, lest others die from our hesitation.”
Sunset’s hands were numb. Looking down, she saw them gripped hard enough for the nails to leave red grooves in the skin.
Her mind raced. She hadn’t signed up for something like this. Names and faces flashed through her mind, and she wondered who Celestia was speaking of. Who Sunset might be called upon to kill. Someone the whole faculty knew… a student? But who? Photo Finish? Soarin? Derpy? Trixie?
…Nah, it couldn’t be Trixie. But what about Fluttershy? Did Celestia learn her secret? Was a were-manatee really something they had to act on?
“Cinch.”
Sunset blinked. She and the rest of the faculty looked abruptly to the still-grave Celestia.
“Cadence called me near the end of the day. She was inconsolable. I couldn’t get anything out of her over the phone, so I went to her house. She said she peeked into Cinch’s office and saw her talking to Sombra of all things, summoned back by some magic in her hand. She offered revenge and conquest, and displayed very large fangs to him. Negotiations broke down, and, um, so did Sombra. I don’t think we’ll see him again, but this leaves us with strong evidence that Principal Cinch is a vampire with thoroughly hostile intentions.”
Silence greeted the announcement. Between the pulled blinds and setting sun, the office seemed more in darkness than light. Sunset fidgeted with her ring as her eyes went from teacher to teacher, seeing the same expression of frowning surprise in them all.
Her gaze fell to Miss Harshwhinny. The woman stood as erect as ever, with hard tan hands clasped firmly behind her back. But tears could be seen in Sunset’s sidelong view of her cheek.
Sunset was a do-gooder. Heedless of their history, she rose and set a hand on the stern teacher’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”
Miss Harshwhinny sniffed wetly and rubbed the ball of her hand over her eyes. “Ah, yes. Thank you, Miss Shimmer. I am a little overwhelmed. Just…”
She turned, gracing Sunset with a wide, cheerful smile. “…So happy.”
The breakroom exploded with laughs and whoops. Luna and Cranky exchanged a handshake that turned into a hug. Cheerilee whipped off her shirt and twirled it over her head, waving it dangerously close to the hand-sized flamethrower Redheart had ignited in celebration.
Sunset and Celestia stood side-by-side, unknowingly mimicking each other’s stance: closed eyes, pained smile, and thin bead of sweat as the noise of Iron Will’s chainsaw filled the air.