But we had to go home eventually. Another day and my mother was going to send the police after us and, well, I’ve had more than enough of them to last a lifetime. That and Belle wanted to fetch something out from one of the nineteen or so suitcases she’d brought along. I swear… some of those are large enough to hide a body.
Good grief, I cannot get that out of my mind. Every time I close my eyes I am presented with her face or – worse yet – that of Shamrock’s or Sugarcoat’s. Truly, this fear, not guilt mind you but fear, is not helping at all.
I sat up in bed, turning around and swinging my legs over the edge of it, drawing the sheets up over my bare chest to muffle my heart’s pounding. A warm breeze fluttered in from the penthouse suite’s open windows but it felt horribly cold against my back. Beside me, Belle lay, twirling a half-drunk flute of champagne between her fingers. She tapped a hand impatiently against the nightstand.
We were in a hotel – a good one, five stars, named The Canterhorn Palace if you, me, are ever in the area again. It was about noon, judging from the light beaming through the curtains and the hustle and bustle in the streets below. Antlike people rushed down sidewalks in search of lunch while beetle cars hummed and growled in the traffic jams beside them. Belle had awoken me with a bottle of Perrier, a smattering of kisses, and an altogether disturbing amount of cheer for somebody who was supposed to be my counterpart.
I am not a morning person. As pleasant an awakening as oral sex and sparkling wine is, I cannot say it exactly improved my disposition. My lover on the other hand seemed almost electrified with joy.
And said joy quickly faded into impatience. “Whatever is the matter, Rarity? Do you not like champagne?” she asked me.
“It isn’t that, Darling.” I didn’t turn to face her. “I’m just not a morning person, you see. As much fun as you are, I do very prefer said fun once the sun is past the yardarm.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, Darling, but it is half past two now. Quite past the yardarm indeed. I had considered ordering breakfast but, well, that would cool by the time we… finished each-other off.”
“Oh,” I sighed, “Well then. Perhaps today just isn’t my day. We did get awfully tipsy last night. I fear it may have come back to bite me.”
“I suppose,” said Belle – I heard the clink of empty glass against brushed steel and polished oak, followed by the rustling of bedcovers. She laid a hand on my neck. That too was cold. Undead, almost. Running it down my spine elicited a shiver out of me.
“Ah!” I gasped – she nipped my ear.
“There we are, Darling. You’re melting in my hands again, wonderful. And I am sure you are well aware; beauty is a rarity in this world. There’s not better cure than beauty, no matter,” another nip, another gasp, “what the condition.”
I brushed her hand away. My stomach lurched. Did Sunset’s magic do something to me? This isn’t Harmony’s curse, is it? Come to think of it, that I really ought to check. After all, I haven’t ever felt this foul before – not after only one bottle, anyhow. I should go home. I should check to see if that geode of mine still functions. Perhaps its constructs can be morphed into something… sharper than mere shields? Something murderous maybe?
“We really ought to go home,” I said to Belle.
She pouted; oh my, was my face cute. “Must we, Darling? Our parents are positively insufferable. Surely one more day out couldn’t hurt?”
“They’ll call the police. I did technically steal their car.”
“Very well then,” Belle sighed, hopping off the bed and stretching. “I suppose I might as well collect the rest of my things too. No sense in letting my luggage go to waste mouldering in that dreadful house.”
“Precisely,” I said, “then, once we’ve consolidated everything and lied our way out of whatever punishment my mother has no doubt planned, then we can go back to savouring life, ah?”
“That sounds smashing. Positively murderously wonderful. And quite naughty to boot. You really are me.” Belle smiled, lecherously.
“I could say the same,” I sat up to meet her in a kiss. “It is ever so pleasant to finally have an equal.”
“To meet your match.”
“To find your other half.”
Another kiss. Hands travelled to the most luscious of places. A nip here and… down there. A moan or two. Belle tried to push my back down to the bed. I resisted and, just for a second before she gave up, I felt an off-putting amount of strength put into the gesture.
“Afterwards, Belle,” I insisted, “or I’ll be worrying about what I, what we, have to do the whole time. And we wouldn’t want that, would we?”
Belle licked her lips. She blinked, those deep azure eyes of ours shut in thought for a second or two. “Correct,” she nodded, “let us sort out the small matter of family first before progressing this little friendship of ours any further, ah?”
“Indeed,” I stood up, collecting my dressing gown from where it lay crumpled on the hardwood floor. Having forgotten my last one at Sunny’s house, this one was also crimson – albeit of a far higher quality. Donning it, I felt like I was wearing the sunrise’s dawn rays themselves, almost like nothing it all. And my counterpart is permitted to walk around nude back home at all times? Truly, her world is a wonderous place. She must be capable of manipulating minds like bread dough with all of herself on display like that.
“Although, frankly, I nearly hesitate to think how it could progress any further after involving that table lamp last night. Nearly, anyhow. I’m confident you’ll come up with something,” Belle said with a wink.
“A lady is nothing if not resourceful,” I replied.
And that was that. After one particularly hot and steamy shower, we had packed our respective bags and. donned our respective outfits. For myself that was a black halter dress – replacing the one I’d sacrificed in murdering Shamrock – complete with matching Manolo Blahnik pumps and a complementary smattering of silver. Belle wore a charcoal grey suit – Saville Row if my memory serves correct – beneath a distressed leather coats. Completing the ensemble with a pair of riding boots raised gooseflesh on my skin. Oh my did she make the more masculine half of the wardrobe work beautifully; she did mention, alas, that it was merely a brief vacation between dresses though...
After that all – and a glass or two of champagne and complementary box of chocolates – we said farewell to our suite and had clambered back into my father’s car which, to my relief, had not been surrounded by officers of the law in the dozen or so hours it had spent in the Canterhorn’s parking lot. We drove home. To deal with my nerves – alas, it seemed that not even dalliances could remove them entirely – I flicked on the radio.
Immediately, I swapped it off its current station and turned back on the HMÜ mixtape. And to think, in one month I’d be performing with them on stage. Now that was something, was it not? From a rightly undersubscribed YouTube page and disintegrating pop group to crowds of adoring fans – no less than I deserved, I suppose. After all, beauty is not limited to simply visuals…
“Good grief, Darling! Is this radio of yours malfunctioning?” Belle said, nearly screaming as we drove.
I cast a glance at it. It looked fine to me. “Not that I can tell, no.”
“Well, do turn change the station then. Do you not have classical music in this plane of existence?”
“… I thought you might appreciate the genre. It’s called symphonic. Its rather popular in certain parts of the world, Rome for instance.”
“When in Roam then, Darling. But oh please, not here. That dreadful racket’s going burst my eardrums apart.”
Suddenly I feel less foul about having to kill her. I shut off the radio. We drove the rest of the way, across town, in silence.
We arrived to the most pleasant of sights. Well, as pleasant as a flamingo-strewn lawn can ever be. However, there were no vehicles in the driveway. That meant the family was out – no doubt my parents were trying to appease my sister with some dreadful trip to an arcade or amusement park. However, that also meant I needn’t have that confrontation with them right now. I parked the car in its space and climbed out and set about unlocking the house.
“I do wonder where they put Spike though,” Belle muttered, “Perhaps they left him the garage like a spare chariot?”
“It would be a possibility. You’d need to clear out all the junk my father stores in there first though. He’s got memorabilia that room that’s older than I am. And, before you ask, a great deal less expensive,” I explained, still fiddling with the front door – had the lock been replaced or something?
“Not unsurprising. My own father also hoards the most useless of junk. He had gotten into buckball the last time I cared to hear from him. Of course, he was overjoyed to discover I personally knew Pinkie and Fluttershy. They’re stars of the sport in my universe, for whatever reason. I designed their uniforms as a matter of fact, as well as those for the cheerleaders. Quite the commission indeed I got from that. It financed a private concert from the Canterlot Philharmonic Orchestra. Truly remarkable stuff. Trenderhoof was overjoyed when I took him. I was overjoyed at what he produced afterwards, in a manner of speaking,” Belle rambled.
“Wonderful indeed,” I said, giving the jammed door a light kick open. No doubt my father’s own DIY attempt at fixing it only further damaged the frame. “There we go.”
“Thank you, Darling. Ladies first,” she said, extending a hand.
“Why? Aren’t you a lady all of a sudden?”
Belle put her hand to her chin, looking up towards the sky as she thought of what to say – really, did my teeth sparkle like that? I should hope so.
“You are the lady of the house,” she decided. “Its only fair, unless you were planning to carry me across the threshold of the house.”
“Perhaps next week,” I lied, as I started inside. “And then, only if you plan on staying.”
“Oh, but I do, Darling,” Belle said, shutting the door behind her. And what a relief that was; if she was planning on making a new life here, co-opting said life would be a trifle, honestly. Is she seriously intending for me to kill her or something of the like?
I had made it just into the living room when I caught sight of myself in the television’s reflection. Of course, I stopped to take a look. This may very well be the last day I need spend in this house, if everything goes to plan – one last check-up couldn’t hurt. And yes, my hair was perfect. Perfectly lustrous, it positively sparkled in the lamplight and shimmered next to my earrings – today those were a pair of silver obelisks inset with jade. Except, in the reflection, turning my head slightly to see if the hickey I’d acquired earlier was actually worth warranting a scarf, there were three obelisks – three lengths of glinting white metal instead of two.
Wait one single second…
That is not an earring!
I ducked just in time for the machete to swing past my skull and bury itself in the flatscreen. I spun around to face my attacker – none other than myself: Belle.
“Well now,” she said, grinning lecherously, “you’re almost as smart as I look, Darling. No matter though, no matter at all. I am still smarter.”
She ripped the machete out from the ruined slab of destroyed electronics, twirling and flicking it like she would not do doubt to get my blood off of it – if I had intention of letting her.
I took a step back as she did so, scanning the room for anything useful. My handbag I’d left in the car, along with the rest of my purchases so clonking her with that was right out. Besides, I’m not exactly sure how effective that’d be. My counterpart looks disturbingly eager to injure me.
“You have two choices here,” Belle began, stalking forwards, “Either submit to your death and oh… well I shan’t make it quick, no you’re too pretty for that, but I do promise I’ll make it fun. For me, anyhow.”
“And the other choice?” I asked.
“I’ll flay you alive and wear your skin as a coat!” she screamed, lunging forward.
I tried to sidestep her. I almost succeeded, until the blade tore into my arm with the sound of tearing flesh. Pain burst into the cut a second later – I screamed, clasping the wound and stumbling back away from the madwoman.
True to psychopathic form, Belle licked the blood off. “Oh my, I do taste delicious… let that be a lesson to you for refusing me.”
I spotted an umbrella sitting in its stand and started inching towards it as my counterpart gloated. “You’re doing this because… what? I put off having sex for a few hours so we could deal with some very important familial issues? You’re insane!”
Belle approached, the knife glowing in her hand. “Yes and no, Darling. Yes, I plan to slice you apart over a collection of relatively minor grudges but no, I’ll be perfectly lucid while doing it. Now be a good victim and pick a side.”
“What?” Only a few steps to the umbrella now.
“A side. Left or right? I’ll take those fingers off you last.”
“Not a snowball’s chance of that, Darling!” I spat at her.
“Left it is!” she cheered, swinging the machete down. I whipped the umbrella from its stand and parried. The blade crunched into it, nearly splitting the wooden shaft in twain and sending a bolt of pain through my arm – good grief, I hope that doesn’t leave a scar!
“What is your problem?” I screamed.
“You!” went the reply, “You having the audacity to ruin my escape plan, Darling. Through that little stunt of yours earlier, there’s no bloody point in me seeking haven in this world now. No matter which one I am in, it seems I’m still a murderer.”
We struggled then; her for her knife, myself to keep it from her. Back and forth was tugged the umbrella, cracks appearing and slivers splintering off it as we fought for control.
“Can we not figure something out here?” I asked.
“Oh, we can,” Belle sneered, “However, it involves me dragging your corpse through the portal as proof that I’ve apprehended Diamond’s murderer. I cannot possibly think of a single reason to keep you around and intact.”
Oddly enough, that was just about exactly my plan to deal with my own murders as well. Still, Diamond Tiara? Here she’s a genuinely likeable person – a proper lady in training and whatnot; somebody to keep my idiot sister in line – certainly not worth the effort to murder. Like myself, really. But less cute.
I released the umbrella, letting it and the knife fly back into my attacker’s face. If only the latter was pointing in the opposite direction though, then I might have won there and then. Never mind; opportunity still knocked. And Rarity Belle, fashionista extraordinaire, answered. It would be dreadfully unfashionable not to.
Springing forward, I punched Belle in the teeth. Something cracked. Hopefully it was her fangs and not my knuckles. She stumbled back further; hand pressed to her lips to wipe away the blood. We both panted for a second or two, staring each-other down. Then we spotted the machete.
Another knock – I dove for it. She… didn’t?
My fingers had just wrapped themselves around its handle when her boot crashed into my jaw. I was wrenched backwards and it turns out that having your head punted like a football really fucking hurt. I saw stars. In fact, I saw planets, asteroids, moons and the whole bloody solar system by the time I landed back down on the floor with a crunch.
It felt like somebody lit off a firework in my skull. Lights flickered. Blood pooled in my mouth. Coughing, I spat out a tooth. And then another. I gasped in agony, trying to scramble back to my feet.
Knife in hand and a demonic smile plastered across her angelic face, Belle sauntered over and, before I could react, she stabbed a heel on my chest. And she wore stilettos.
“Well played, Darling. Honestly, for some reject baboon copy of yours truly, you put up an excellent fight. If it weren’t for your Celestia-damned awful taste in music, I’d almost hesitate murdering you,” she said, pressing the knife heel of her boot further into my chest.
I grit my teeth – I was not going to give her the satisfaction of hearing me scream. Not after last night anyhow. Surely there was a way I could get out of this?
“But you know what we say, us ladies, do you not?” Belle gloated, kneeling down – still half on top of me – to trace the machete’s tip across my throat, “Beauty is a rarity in this world.”
“Then… why are you trying to kill me?” I spat back.
“Because it is a Rarity. And there can only be one of her, Darling. And that one is me! Face it, I am stronger than you, I am smarter than you, and I am a great deal sexier as well. You lose.” With that, she began pressing the steel edge into neck, bit by bit, inch by inch, breath by breath.
Looking into her eyes, those massive sparkling sapphire stars, I realized something: she was right. As much as I had wanted to lie to Sunset two days ago, it seemed that I couldn’t – and I was going to die for my efforts. If doing so wouldn’t have let the point break my skin, I would’ve broken into tears.
But ladies do not cry. Not when the mask is off anyhow and there’s nobody around to save them except themselves. No, ladies snatch Victory from the jaws of Defeat and then slam said jaws shut as to lop of Defeat’s tongue as punishment for wasting her valuable time.
Her other foot was planted firmly on my hand but that still meant I had an arm spare. A wounded arm, yes, and bile swirled up my throat as I spotted a pinkish-white glint of bone in the cut, but an arm nonetheless. And, subsequently, the fist attached to it. Aiming for her head, I threw it up at her.
She caught it inches away from her eye and broke a second later into laughter. “Ha! Honestly, aren’t you just the cutest? You’re like a cat, Rarity, one who doesn’t know how outclassed they truly are by the lioness atop them. Now squirm like one.”
My arm slick with blood, she had no trouble sliding her hand down it and digging her nails into the cut. When they clawed into raw nerve, I screamed. I didn’t know that anything could hurt that much. And the worst part was that I could barely struggle against it. She had me trapped; a wrong move and my throat will be cut!
Eventually, after what felt like hours, she slid her hand out of my flesh. My arm crumpled to the ground. Tears streamed down my face, mixing into wine with the blood seeping from my cracked teeth. I was going to die. And I was going to die a mess as well.
I’d always thought I’d be marching to the gallows with my head held high, not lying on the ground, about to be cut to pieces by my own evil twin – and I thought I was the evil one!
“Only one question remains, Darling? Exactly how much can deface your pretty little body before it becomes unrecognizable. Before my excuse of self-defence becomes unbelievable? I doubt they’ll miss a few fingers and toes; we have hooves back there anyhow,” Belle sneered, tracing her bloodsoaked hand over my cheek.
I coughed. “At least allow me the courtesy of some last words, Darling. Please. The rules of etiquette entitle me to that much.”
She was unmoving – but not unspeaking. “Oh, if you must. Say whatever tripe you intend to and have solace in knowing that I’ll probably forget it come the next bottle of cognac I drink.”
Well, I’d bought myself another second at least. Only… what the fuck could I say that was going to get me out of here? There wasn’t any person around to save me now.
I sighed, my gaze floating past my counterpart’s manic stare and up over to the mantel. Beneath it, as per the house’s design, was the fireplace. Honestly, I should’ve gone for the poker instead of the umbrella. But it’s too late for that. If I had to die, in agony and utter humiliation, I was at least going to do that staring at something properly beautiful. My gaze settled on a framed drawing, one of my own; the one Belle had dismissed yesterday. It depicted a girl, vaguely intended to be an older and grander version of myself, wearing a glittering white ballgown beneath a magnificent fur coat. I’d intended it to be genuine fur, preferably courtesy of a genuine wolf; I’d even added its ears to the garment as epaulettes, as well as trimming the dresses hem with the hypothetical beast’s tail.
Yes, a beautiful dress. If there is an afterlife and I am permitted to attend it, I shall do so wearing that outfit. A lady deserves nothing less, after all, than the snappiest of attire. I mean, it even had a necklace of fangs – snapping!
“You have no last words, do you?” Belle asked, pressing her heel into my chest again and ramming another bolt of pain into me.
“Not really.” I coughed – there was blood in it. “Just be quick-”
Wait! A wolf. There’re no people around, granted, but there is a wolf in this house.
“Spike!” I screamed, “Spiiiiiike! Help!”
“Oh. Buck. I’d forgotten about that waste of good dragon hide,” Belle muttered, snapping her head up.
Counting the entrance hall leading to the front door, the living room had five doorways leading into it – the garage, the kitchen, the dining room, and one to upstairs. And, in a second or two, Spike would come bounding down one of them, barking up a terrifying storm, and would rip Belle to shreds. After all, we were basically identical twins. And she was trying to kill me. Well, I was trying to kill her too but she was, alas, a great deal more successful than I was in that regard.
Seconds passed. My heart pounded like a galley drum. Each breath felt like poured fire down my throat. My arm blazed with agony. Both Belle and I scanned the doorways, eyes trained on every shadow, muscles tightening at every creak and shudder the house produced.
But Spike did not arrive.
Belle turned back to me after a minute of trepidation, leering despite the trail of blood leaking down from her torn lips. I knew wearing rings today would come in hand. Alas, not handy enough.
“Are you prepared for the death you’ve earned, Darling?” Belle sneered.
“Take that hunk of metal away from my neck and my opinion shall be very different, Darling.” I spat out the last word. Just like Windhoek, it now tasted like poison. If I lived, I was going to need a new epithet. Hopefully Sunny wouldn’t be opposed to sharing hers…
Belle giggled in response. “Rarity Belle, if I really wanted your opinion, I would have given it to you.”
With that, she cut of my reply, staring again to cut my neck open. Still sat atop me, she sawed at my neck, one layer of skin at a time. It was agonizing – both the pain and the humiliation. I die, and I don’t even die with a with an insult on my lips. Only blood.
I almost hope she carves up my jugular soon, and just gets this done with…
Thwack! A door slammed open.
Stunned, her machete clattered to the ground. Belle then shot to her feet with a flurry of confused cursing. My hands shot to my throat. Tenderly probing the skin, I realized that I wasn’t going to die any time soon – not from exsanguination anyhow. I looked up; Spike hadn’t arrived. However Lightning Dust had.
And she was none too happy to see either of us, not to mention also armed with quite the nasty looking sawed-off shotgun.
“Sup, motherfuck… ers?” Lightning blinked. I doubt she’d expected to see two of us.
Belle raised her hands, putting on what was probably not an entirely insincere terrified grimace. “Je m’appelle Fleur di-” she began.
She only ever got that far, because Lightning proceeded to shoot her point-blank. Belle flew across the room and the hole the buckshot tore in her made her land in more than one single chunk of dead extradimensional fashionista when she hit the floorboards. Then Lightning shot her again, right in the chest. And there were so few perfect pairs of breasts in this world… Hopefully possessing a set doesn’t correlate to her poor choice of last words.
“Yeah. No. That’s what you get for icing my brother, you brother-murdering cunt,” Lightning swore.
I breathed a sigh of relief. She thought Belle was me!
“And now…” Lightning took her sunglasses off to rub her eyes, “the fuck are you supposed to be? And just, like a word of advice, if you’re also a Canadian, French or otherwise, you’re gonna die. Bob Williams, you know, from Calgary, he won the Indy 500. The race I was supposed to win. So yeah, I ain’t too fond of Canucks right now.”
I cleared my throat. Then I wiped the blood off of my face.
“I’m Rarity too,” I said, “but before you think of shooting me, I am the Other Rarity. The one who didn’t kill your… brother?”
Lightning’s frown didn’t fade. However, she did nod, as she loaded another pair of shells into the break action. “Go on,” she ordered.
Not ladylike, I know, but neither was getting your head blown off.
“Okay, so… you know about the interdimensional portal right?”
“Shit. That things real? I thought Indy just popped a stale edible or something and tripped to Narnia and back.”
“Well, if it helps you conceptualize it, yes. Narnia. Well, more so Equestria but the general point remains. I am that world’s Rarity Belle, here on vacation,” I said, forcing myself to my feet. Swooning, and not because I was faking it, I leant against the mantelpiece for support.
“So… you’re like that one’s evil twin?” Lightning asked, gesturing at Belle’s corpse in a remarkable display of disregard for trigger discipline. But, then again, shooting her more couldn’t really hurt.
“Yes. Wait! No. She’s the evil twin! I am the good one.”
Lightning narrowed her eyes. “Prove it.”
Good grief, what the fuck was I supposed to say?
“Ah… um… you see… like, well, now… I was losing that fight.”
“That’s your proof? You’re like, not a psycho killer but you got your ass kicked by the prissiest girl this side of the Rockies?”
“Yes! I am the good twin, remember? Of course, I’d have less experience fighting to kill if I do not kill people. Ever.” I explained.
“You know, that actually sort of makes sense.”
“Yes, most things do when a lady says them.”
“So, like, you were innocent in that whole thing?”
Time to be nothing more than a pretty face. I played dumb, “Ah, maybe? What thing are you referring to?”
Lightning frowned harder. “The running-over-my-brother-thing. That thing. Also come to think of it, the killing-or-trying-to-kill-this-chick-Sugarcoat-thing. That too.”
“No idea what you are talking about, I’m afraid,” I lied, “I only arrived here last… last week. Yes, counting the days, last week. I haven’t the faintest what she did to your brother or this other girl. My condolences though, that really must be awful.”
“Yeah. It is. Anyway…” Lightning looked at the room’s carnage for a second or two, “yeah. Now what?”
I pointed to myself. “You’re asking me, Dar-Dearie?”
“Well… I mean, I got nothing,” Lightning shrugged, “Was planning just to turn up and blast Rarity’s skull open if nobody else was here. And like, if Uncle Hondo was here, say hi, then kidnap his daughter and blast her skull open. Dump her ass in the desert afterwards. Simple unless, well, shit like you happens.”
I chose to ignore the insult. “Ah. I see. Well, rest assured I don’t plan on telling anyone about… this whole mess,” I lied, “I do owe you that much for saving my life and all. Say, could I bother you for a lift actually? Being from a world of ponies I can’t say I ever learned to drive. And, given the amount of blood I’ve lost, I hesitate to say that would be a good idea even if I knew the gas pedal from the brake.”
Lighting pulled her phone from her pocket and checked it. “Sure thing, kid. I don’t got anywhere else to be for a few hours. Also, you want a bandage for the cut or something?”
“You know first aid? Oh, yes. Of course, you know first aid, the amount of scraps you get into.”
Lightning stopped. Her fingers slid back over the Winchester’s trigger. “What’s that mean? ‘Of course?’ We haven’t met before… unless,” her gaze wandered over to Belle, “she’s the Rarity from this Equestria place.”
Pardon the French and whatnot but motherfucking son of a whore! I nearly had it! But no, I just had to screw this up at the last second.
“Well? You been fucking with me, Rarity? Are you, like, actually the ‘you’ I think you are?”
“No,” I lied, clasping my arm, “I-it was a slip of the tongue. I know, well, I know your counterpart. She’s quite a contentious per-pony. I naturally assumed that, well, given the shotgun and all, you might share some of her traits.”
Lightning lowered the gun. “Oh. Okay. So I did shoot the right one?”
“Yes! And I would very much appreciate a good bandaging, do you know how much getting stabbed hurts?”
“Uh, yeah? I got stabbed by a raghead back while I was touring in Kabul. Mujahedeen fucker bayonetted me with a kitchen knife,” Lightning clapped her bare shoulder – where there was indeed a nasty scar – “so I shoved a flashbang down his gullet. Kaboom!”
“Alright then. Let me pretend I know what that means.”
“It means I forced him to eat a stun grenade for attacking me with, y’know, the knife strapped-”
“Never mind,” I interrupted. “Let me just fetch the kit from the bathroom now, before I faint.”
I rushed off before Lightning could regale me with any more of her exploits. Finding myself in the kitchen, I happened to nearly tread on Spike – who happened to be lying beside a pool of brown-tinted vomit on the tiles. The remains of Sweetie Belle’s birthday cake were splattered across his muzzle. Ah, yes. That’s right; dogs are allergic to coffee and chocolate. Naturally being a dragon, I doubt he realized that before helping himself to a slice.
Gingerly, I stepped over him. Best to let sleeping dogs lie in this case, if he isn’t dead already, that is. He certainly did not appear to be breathing at all.
The first aid kit was where I left it – underneath the bathroom sink. That I collected and, on my way back to the living room, I stole a bottle of Port from the bar. It was a gift from my uncle and it was good stuff too, or so I was told – he intended for it to be opened the day I graduated high school. But, seeing as I am technically a fugitive now, this is as close as I’ll ever get. Kit under my bad arm, I helped myself to a few swigs of the dessert wine before tossing the bottle aside. It hit the tiles with a crunch, splashing blood-crimson alcohol across the floor.
Apparently, it wasn’t as good as I thought for the past decade of my life – being both tiresomely sour and disappointingly bland. Although I could say the same for most things. Not even my Other Self lived up to expectations.
Lightning proved a remarkably competent medic and also, by warrant of her IQ being roughly equivalent to that of raw toast, an excellent way of practicing my cover story.
“So, you’re ruled by, like, a unicorn with wings back there?” she asked for the third time, as tied and pinned the bandage on my arm in place.
“Indeed. Twilight’s been our dictator for… oh… a good year now?”
“Huh. And here she’s some loser friend of my sister’s.”
“Well, I’d still keep an eye on her if I were you. That girl has quite the mean streak, you know. She mistook me for my counterpart and put me through the third degree over some… arbitrary allegation. Apparently, she,” I said, pointing with my free hand to Belle, “stole some officer’s car.”
“Yeah… She torched it too. I saw it myself. I mean, that’s pretty cool I am not gonna lie,” Lightning said, after peering nervously over her shoulder for the fifth time in as many minutes.
“Ah, Dearie, what are you looking at?” I asked.
“Trying to figure out if Hondo’ll be back soon,” she explained.
The pang of realization hit me like a freight train. I gulped down more than just the lump forming in my throat.
“You know, we really should get going,” I said.
Lightning nodded. “Yeah. It would really sick if he turned up now. I mean, he’s a cool dude. I don’t want to have to shoot him. He wouldn’t be making any more of his newspaper columns if I did that. Unless, like… I just kneecapped him?”
I brushed her hand aside and stood up from the couch, where we were sitting. “Let me just get my things, Dar-Dearie. I had a bit of luggage and, well, if I must make myself scarce, I’d rather not have to do it wearing,” I pointed down to the torn mess of my outfit, “this.”
“A’ight. Have fun. Say, do you play that though?” she asked, pointing to the harp lying lengthways atop the stack of Belle’s luggage – it had all been shoved into an alcove in the hall, beside the hat stand and coat rack. “Because, like, there’s this rock band, HMU? They got a harp player in them. Some chick with a weird name? Larry, Lena, Laura... Awesome music anyway.”
I was just about to chide the gun-toting vigilante for babbling when the penny dropped. And it left quite the impact crater indeed. I allowed myself a grin – after all, was Lyra not utterly enthralled by the Other Rarity? So much so that she’d fuck her in a public bathroom mere minutes after she’d made her acquaintance? Yes. Yes, she was.
“I know her actually. Come to think of it, I had even promised her a visit,” I tossed Lightning the car keys, “Be a dear and load that all into my car and I am positive I can arrange a meeting between you and her.”
It was Lightning’s turn to smile. “You got it, kid. And thanks for the getaway vehicle too. That thing looks way better than a taxi.”
“My pleasure, Miss Dust. Now don’t go and leave while I’m powdering my nose,” I said, heading off again.
A minute or two later I was in my room. After freshening up a little – washing the blood off of my face, redoing my makeup to hide the bruises, putting my hair back in order, and changing out of the second dress I’d had ruined in two weeks – I realized that there wasn’t really that much I wanted to take; everything seemed so dull now, so common, so mundane. One bag I filled with everything of actual value I possessed, mostly jewellery and designer clothing, and it was still half empty by the time I was done. I packed a few necessities as well, nicking my geode and my father’s pistol out of the safe, and that was that. Rather disappointing – seventeen years and all I had to show for it was a kitbag of nice, but not that nice, things.
Sighing, I nodded goodbye to the place. I was just about to get sentimental when I spotted my mother’s car drawing down the street. I sprinted downstairs, out the door, and found that Lightning had just finished loading the harp into the car’s trunk. Immediately, I hopped into car and told her to follow.
“They’re coming,” I hissed.
“Got it, kid. This ain’t my first rodeo,” she replied, buckling herself into the driver’s seat and starting the car. Two seconds later and we were speeding down the road. Twenty and we had blitzed right passed my family. I made an obscene gesture.
Good riddance, you loathsome people!
Only Sweetie Belle noticed me. They didn’t follow. A second passed and they were out of my life forever. A weight lifted from my soul.
“So, like, where are we going exactly?” Lightning asked.
I gave her Lyra’s address.
It was raining by the time we reached her estate – a deep and choking blanket of icy grey rain, drowning away the world’s dust and sunlight both. I only had to smile at the guard for him to open the gate; he’d been expecting me, apparently. Lightning pulled the car into the garage and we both stepped out, but it did it a great deal more carefully than her. After all, it had been one of those days; nothing in my stomach but chocolate and hard liquor and nothing on my conscience at all despite the corpse I’d left behind. Despite the life I was going to leave behind.
I knocked on the door to the antebellum-style mansion. Of course, the knocker was horse’s head. Really, this girl. Utterly mad. But better to have the mad on my side than that of the law’s, anyhow.
A minute passed. My heart behind to pound. Lightning stood to one side, under the porch, arms crossed and foot tapping furiously, a cigarette drooping from her lips. The storm thundered on.
Eventually, the doors swung open to reveal Lyra herself. Her smile was beaming hard enough to turn the day’s clock back to a sunny noontime and she seemed to be struggling not to jump with joy.
“Hi Rarity!” she managed.
“Good evening, Dearie,” I said, giving her a hug, “I hope this isn’t inconvenient, but I am in dire need of a bit of charity right now. You see, see my human counterpart and I had a bit of a disagreement and, well, since you were ever so polite earlier, I thought I might as well seek sanctuary at your abode.”
Lightning rolled her eyes. “Understatement of the century.”
Lyra stared blankly at us both.
“I’m a pony. I’ve to stay a while!” I explained.
“Awesome!” Lyra cheered, “Come on in, please. You’ve gotta be soaked out there, Rarity. And, uh… you too, Miss?”
“Dust. Lightning Dust,” she said, pointing to herself, “You know, the Formula One driver? Son of three-time Grand Prix winner Red Tailspin and Air Force Commander Spitfire? That Lighting Dust.”
Lyra extended a hand. “I’m Lyra,” she smiled, “Lyra Heartstrings. I like horses.”
“No shit,” Lightning muttered, casting glances over to the track and stables in the estate grounds, the horsehead knocker, and then down to Lyra’s riding boots.
Well, if one only has one personality trait...
“Yeah. I also play the harp.”
“I know. Can I get an autograph for that one?” Lightning asked.
“Like, sure! Let’s do that inside? It’s about teatime anyway.” Lyra said, starting back in. We both followed her and found ourselves in a living room far grander and less blood-soaked than my own. Well, that which had been my own.
Tea followed, as did small talk. As I presume all egoists do, Lightning steadily grew more and more frustrated that Lyra was paying attention to me and not to her. Eventually it led to the point in which she stood up and marched out the house; fortunately, she took the stolen and now-emptied car with her, kidnly tying up that loose end.
Once she was gone, Lyra turned back to me, placing a hand a little higher on my thigh than I expected anyone to at six pm. “Wanna pick up where we left off?” she asked.
“Of course, Dearie. Shall we head upstairs?” I said, taking her hand.
Lyra’s smile nearly shattered her face. “Yes!”
“Music to my ears, Dearie. That harp’s yours, by the way. Consider it payment for service about to be…” I grinned, “… rendered.”