//------------------------------// // 1. Welcome to the Hellmouth // Story: Bon-Bon the Demon Slayer // by ObabScribbler //------------------------------// TROTTINGHAM FOAL ABDUCTOR FOUND An investigative report by Hotspur Quillplume January 25th 1000 AS The story of how Farrier Clumper managed to abduct ten foals before being caught seems incredible. Trottingham Police finally apprehended the stallion on Saturday, after weeks of careful enquiry and the offer of a reward for anypony with relevant information. Clumper, who owns a local shoe shop, denies the charges. Parents of the victims, however, disagree and are calling for more strenuous investigation methods to be used to close the case. “He was always such a quiet one,” one of Clumper’s neighbours told the Trottingham Tribune. “Kept to himself a lot, which is odd, now I come to think about it. Why would a shop sales-pony be so quiet? Surely after working on his patter with customers all day he’d be up for conversation of an evening, right? But he always blanked me when I tried to talk to him about my petunias. Rude chap.” “I never would’ve guessed it was him,” another told us. “He seemed so nice. Never made no fuss, never bothered nopony, always put his rubbish out on the right day and didn’t leave it in those awful black plastic bags at the side of the road. I always thought he was the perfect neighbour. It just goes to show you, eh? He wasn’t as nice as he seemed.” ‘Nice’ is certainly not the description on the lips of those ponies whose offspring are still missing. Despite eyewitness reports that place him with three of the missing foals, none of whom have any personal connection to him, Clumper has not told authorities their location. Neither has he confirmed whether any are still alive. No evidence of the foals was found at his home, leading police to believe that he may have taken them to a different location after snatching them from outside schools, playgrounds and even out of their own front gardens. The arrest is bittersweet for those still awaiting news of their loved ones. Marigold Crownpiece, mother of missing filly Petal Crownpiece, could barely stop crying when she spoke to the press today. “It ain’t right. They should make him tell us where our little one is. They should use magic and all that. They could do it. We know they could make him spill his guts about what he’s done with them all. They could dig it right out of his head with their fancy magic if they wanted to.” Invasive mental spells are prohibited under current laws regarding the use of magic in criminal investigations. Police and victim groups have long campaigned against this legislation but the Equestrian Statute of Pony Rights remains unchanged. “It’s a case of personal privacy,” explained Ergot Furlong, a representative of the Statute Protection Commission. “Spells that touch the mind are dangerous if not administered with perfect accuracy – and I mean one hundred percent perfect. They can cause anything from partial amnesia to early onset dementia and Alzheimer’s. Memory, in particular, is a thorny issue because the mind is not linear. We don’t store memories in chronological order in our minds, therefore any attempt to access a specific memory involves tampering with the very fabric of a pony’s brain patterns and doing untold damage in the process. Mind-magic is largely experimental and has a high failure rate. We cannot, in good conscience, allow it to be used on ponies, especially if they are only suspects in an on-going investigation. The cost to personal freedom and health would far outweigh any gain, not to mention the cumulative effect if we suddenly start allowing this sort of thing. If we allow the use of mind magic today, what’s to stop us from allowing magic that removes other personal freedoms tomorrow? It’s a slipperly slope and one the Statute of Pony Rights was specifically created to stop from happening. Every Equestrian has the basic right to privacy within their own head and it is not for you, me, nor anypony else to remove that right.” Marigold Crownpiece might have agreed with that before her daughter disappeared while playing in front of their home last week. Marigold, a single mother who works as a stylist at a local manedresser, has been a fixture at press conferences since Petal’s disappearance and is now working with other affected families to seek justice. “It was him. We all know it was him. He’s just not telling us where they are because he’s sick!” she claimed today. “It’s one of those fetish thingies, you know? Him being an earth pony and all those poor fillies and colts being unicorns. It ain’t right that he gets his pony rights while they didn’t get theirs!” Evidence against Clumper includes (according to one internal source who must remain unnamed) a psychometry reading of him holding hooves with Dewberry Galloway, the first foal to go missing. He was removed from the playground three weeks ago. Friends said they saw a stallion matching Clumper’s description leading the colt away from the scene, which has now been corroborated by the reading. Psychometry is not yet admissible as evidence in court, since only the psychometrist is able to see what occurred in an area when they touch it, but it is this reporter’s opinion that, admissible or not, this only further supports Clumper’s guilt. Clumper, on the other hoof, tells a very different story. He has refused to speak to journalists except for one statement released the day after his arrest: “I didn’t do it. I don’t care what nopony says. I don’t care what no witnesses claim they saw. I never took them foals. It was somepony else what looked like me, I swear. I’ve never hurt no-one in my life. I promise you, I didn’t do it. You’ve got to believe me. I’m being stitched up.” An emphatic denial but, ultimately, one that withers in the face of the evidence against him – even if it may not all be admissible in court. “He might have the right to privacy but we have the right to know what he’s done to our little ones and where they are now!” Marigold Crownpiece’s words would touch any pony’s heart. This reporter, however, would amend that phrasing: what has the foalnapper done with the missing foals and, after three weeks, where are their bodies now? Anypony with information relating to this case should contact the Trottingham Police immediately using the details below. “You are to go to Ponyville.” “Ponyville?” “I have prepared some information regarding the town for you. It includes a map. Brutus, if you would bring forward the pack I gave you.” “Hmm … wait, this little place? It’s in the middle of nowhere!” “Yes.” “Why would you want me to go to a tiny place like that? Does Ponyville have an especially big unicorn population or something?” “No. In actual fact, the ratio is weighted towards earth ponies rather than unicorns or pegasi.” “So why would you want me go there?” “There is someone I need you to look after.” “I’m not a babysitter.” “No, but you are a protector.” “Sort of. My line of work runs more to destroying the bad monsters than being a bodyguard. Couldn’t you bring that someone you mentioned here to Canterlot?” “No, it needs to be Ponyville.” “Why?” “Everything you need to know is in that pack. You leave tomorrow.” “Tomorrow? But Princess–” “There’s no time to waste. Your new Watcher is already there waiting for you. I’m sure she is anxious to meet you before you work together and I’m sure you would like acclimatise yourself to the town before the pony I am sending arrives.” “I … I’m getting a new Watcher?” “You are.” “But I don’t want–” “You have been too long without one. It is dangerous for you to operate alone. I am sorry; I know your grief still feels fresh, but you know I speak the truth. You need a Watcher.” “Do I know this new one? Have I met her when we went travelling before? We met a lot of potential Watchers on the road.” “No, you have not met this one before.” “I’m fine on my own, Princess. Honestly. I don’t want somepony to –” “This is not up for discussion. You have indeed done well operating alone, but the fact of the matter is that your new Watcher already knows Ponyville and the surrounding area. She has been living there for several months now. I asked her to wait while you grieved. She has done that and now you must go there to her.” “Do I get a say in any of this?” “Please understand; I would not ask you to do this if it was not important.” “… I know, Princess. It’s just … I just …” “Just what?” “Nothing. Never mind. So, Ponyville. It looks like a quiet place, all surrounded by countryside.” “You would think so, wouldn’t you?” Bon-Bon took a blow to the back of the head that had her on her face. Luckily, she got her front hooves braced under her and the demon that had struck her took both back hooves to the chest when it tried to pounce from behind. The momentum of the kick carried her into a front somersault. She landed heavily on her hind legs, teeth jarring, forelegs held out for balance. It wasn’t the steadiest position but it allowed her to spin and face the thing before it got in another hit. “Just once,” she told it, “I’d like to land on something soft. A nice feather pillow, perhaps, or a bale of freshly cut hay; but no, it’s always concrete or earth so hard-packed it might as well be concrete.” Her knees ached and her head hurt worse. Her vision was fine but that wasn’t saying much. Her attacker was ugly; dark green and equine in shape but burdened by a whip-like tail with a jagged end that arced, scorpion style, towards her whenever she got too close. Its mouth was stuffed with fangs pointing every which way, as if they had grown suddenly and all at once, shoving each other aside as they lengthened. It couldn’t pass for pony in a crowd but might be ignored running down a dark alley. Bon-Bon squinted. An extremely dark alley. “Not one for conversation, are you?” The thing hissed. Demons were generally quiet things anyhow, but all those teeth probably made even opening its mouth difficult. Since witty repartee was out of the question it came at her in a savage charge, clearly aiming for a head-butt. She mentally crossed a few more points off its IQ, side-stepped and brought her bunched forehooves down on its back. Or at least she would have if it had still been there. Her hooves met empty space but her exposed midsection felt the full impact of the creature’s skull. It had sidestepped too. Air whooshed from her lungs. If she had been able to focus, she would have thought how lucky it was this one didn’t have horns or other spiky things growing out of its head as well as its tail. Instead, she was entirely preoccupied by the sudden gap between her and the ground. She hit the wall upside down, slid and landed in a graceless heap. The creature kept coming. She scrabbled to get upright before it reached her – she wasn’t acquitting herself well right now but she was a good fighter when she was on her game. However, even bad fighters knew the first rule was to never lose your feet. Losing your feet was the difference between ‘bad’ and ‘dead’. “I don’t … think so …” she wheezed. Bon-Bon launched herself into the air, her bruised belly protesting at the stretch. She sailed over the creature’s head, much higher than an ordinary earth pony could manage from a standing start. She landed on her front hooves and, without allowing them to also touch down, swung her hind legs into a powerful buck – the kind that would have done not a scrap of good at Sweet Apple Acres, since it would have knocked down a tree instead of just the apples. She connected solidly with the demon’s rump, aiding its forward motion. It crashed headfirst into the bricks and collapsed, head bent under it at an awkward angle. “And stay down!” Bon-Bon panted. She sat down. It was inopportune but her head spun and she had used up her quota of adrenaline-fuelled-concentration. For the next minute or so she had to focus inward or she was going to fall over. No way could she perform the banishing ritual on the body if she was flat on her face. Eventually, when she had her breath back, she got up and walked stiffly over to the dead demon. “A nice soft pillow,” she muttered. “It’s not too much to ask for, is it? Or some nice freshly cut hay. There are enough farms around Ponyville. Why don’t you guys ever think of that, huh?” It was a stupid question – and not just because the thing couldn’t answer. The pony she was here to protect didn’t live on a farm; ergo the forces of darkness didn’t go to farms unless they were passing through on their way into town. No, it was all concrete, cobble stones and dirt with the durability of metal for Bon-Bon. Joy. She swept back her cloak to reveal a line of pouches on a belt around her waist. She unhooked the flap one and pulled out a tiny glass vial filled with pale blue powder. After sprinkling it in a circle around the demon, she replaced it in the pouch and muttered the incantation she could recite better than her own name and address. “Spirit, soul, mind and heart, By these four you now depart. Mind and heart, spirit, soul, Mare to filly and to foal. Spirit, heart, soul and mind, I protect all ponykind; You are banished, dark doomsayer, By this hoof: so says the Slayer.” There was a flash of blue fire as the powder ignited. The shade was lighter or darker depending on the power of the creature. This one was so light it was almost white, indicating an extremely tiny amount of magic. It had not fed recently. She thanked her lucky stars she had gotten rid of it before it had time to feed off anypony. Nonetheless, the flames leaped high, engulfing the body. Bon-Bon took an involuntary step back. She must have hit her head harder than she thought. She never usually got too close. A hoof that ended in a half-formed claw shot out, heedless of the licking tongues of flame. Crossing the boundary of the circle was supposed to be impossible, yet it fastened onto the front of her cloak and dragged her closer, slashing her chest with its razor edges. Bon-Bon was so shocked it was a half-second before she started struggling. A half-second was all the time the creature needed. “You’re toooo laaaate,” it hissed, lips already curling up and back, flaking into ash even as its pupilless eyes met hers. It held her gaze steadily, like it wasn’t incinerating in a magical fire. “You can’t sssstop iiiit.” It elongated odd sounds, as if aware of the concept of speech but not how to fit words past its own fangs. Everything came out mangled and barely discernible. Bon-Bon was shocked it was still alive and even more shocked it could talk at all. Few could, especially the weak ones. Her mental default ran: mindless eating machines, don’t let them bite you, watch out for the sharp bits. Zecora had told her a multitude of names they had been given across the centuries: soul-stealers, spirit-thieves, aura vampires and dark doomsayers, to name but a few. Bon-Bon just went with plain old ‘demons’ for expediency. Whatever their name, however, all the legends and texts maintained one thing: the creatures’ unending hunger. Demons ate. And ate. And ate. Only rarely did they use their mouth for talking too. “Heeee’s … already … !” this one laughed. Its voice sounded like dry bones clacking together on a gamekeeper’s gibbet. “Already …” It choked on the end of the sentence. “Who’s he?” Bon-Bon demanded, even as she tried to pry its grip off her. “Who’s he?” “Hiiim! Heeee iiiis!” “Who? Who is ‘he’?” The creature let out a howl: part pain, part manic laugh. “Yoooouuur dooooom, Slaaaayeeeer!” It continued to laugh as the flames flared up, finishing their job. Its grip convulsed and released, allowing her to jump back. The brief wall of blue fire shielded her from seeing what became of the creature, though she already knew. She had seen it enough times since she was saddled with this job. The banishing powder transported bodies out of Equestria, somewhere where ponies could be safe from discovering them. When the flames died down a few seconds later all that was left was a smoking pile of ash. Bon-Bon blew a lock of hair from her eyes. It flopped back wetly, her own sweat sticking it to her forehead. She so needed a shower after this. And hairspray. She definitely needed to buy more hairspray when she went for groceries. Focussing on this mundane prospect pulled her thoughts back from the precipice on which they were balanced. Demons and blue flames and groceries – the incongruity was a great leveller. Her chest hurt. When she inspected it she found a half-moon cut where the thing had grabbed her. Pressing her cloak to the cut to stanch it, she tossed her head at the ashes. “My doom? Look who’s talking.” Mayor Mare wasn’t exactly Bon-Bon’s first choice in a crisis but her house was closer than trekking into the Everfree. She knocked the back door and waited, drawing her cloak tighter about herself. When it opened only a sliver of her face was visible from inside and even that must have been smutty from getting too close to the banishing fire. “Oh!” Mayor Mare exclaimed when she realised who it was under the dirt. She knew, of course. She knew who and what Bon-Bon was and why she was in Ponyville. She had known since the beginning, which had led Bon-Bon to believe Princess Celestia had sent word ahead of her arrival. Maybe somepony from the network had brought the message. Ponyville wasn’t exactly a tourist trap but it did get a degree of visitors – admittedly more now than then. Housing the Elements of Harmony, who had saved all Equestria and the Crystal Empire from destruction multiple times, tended to generate a smidge of outside interest. Bon-Bon wondered how Mayor Mare had taken the news. She was a timid pony and didn’t always say the right thing at the right time, yet since Bon-Bon came to live in Ponyville she had done everything she promised and never breathed a word of anything she wasn’t supposed to. Now, without asking any awkward questions, Mayor Mare simply opened her door wider and stood aside. “You’d better come in.” “Thanks.” Bon-Bon slipped past and stood in the hallway. She could have headed straight for the living room or kitchen but manners dictated she wait to be shown in. She might be the Slayer now but she had been raised to know her manners. “This way.” Mayor Mare wrung her hooves as she pattered through to the living room and gestured at the sofa. Bon-Bon flopped gratefully onto it, leaning back on the worn fabric. Mayor Mare was far too fond of chintz and crocheted doilies but her sofa was divine after a tough night patrolling. “Are you, uh, hurt? Can I get you, ah, any medical … things?” Bon-Bon squinted up at her. “A bandage would be useful.” She gestured to her chest, where she was still holding her cloak. The dark fabric made it harder to see blood but the cut had begun to throb. Her accelerated healing was not as impressive as the title made it sound, especially when she was running low of fuel herself. “And some antiseptic, if you have any. Other than this, I only have couple of bruised ribs and a bump on the head; nothing too major.” She neglected to mention the multitude of smaller cuts and abrasions. She couldn’t do anything as dramatic as regrow a limb or rise from the dead but the healing thing came in useful for magicking away minor injuries overnight, so long as she loaded herself up with as many calories as she could stomach. Larger injuries took longer but she could sustain much more damage than most ponies and had formidable physical strength to go along with it. Mayor Mare was nervous enough without Bon-Bon adding needlessly to her stress levels. Mayor Mare headed for the door to the kitchen. “Do you want an ice-pack for your head?” “Actually, that would be nice.” “And, uh …” She gestured vaguely. “I don’t have much food in the house but …” “Anything you could spare would be welcome.” Mayor Mare scurried away and returned a few minutes later with a bumpily bulging tea-towel, a bottle with a cross on the front a roll of gauze. She passed the makeshift icepack to Bon-Bon, who pressed it to the back of her head with a sigh of relief. A higher pain tolerance didn’t mean a headache wasn’t a … well, pain. Mayor Mare made as if to return to the kitchen but paused. “Would you like me to dress your, uh, wound?” she had trouble saying the word, as if she expected Bon-Bon to start leaking blood all over her flowery couch without supervision. “No thanks, I can do it.” Bon-Bon accepted the gauze, tied a knot in the tea-towel to keep the ice-cubes from escaping, and set about cleaning and dressing the cut. She sucked in a breath at the touch of the antiseptic, which brought tears to her eyes where the original wound had not. Several minutes later Mayor Mare reappeared once again with a large stack of cheese sandwiches on a plate. The bread was a little stale and the cheese was a little hard but Bon-Bon inhaled the food. Her body welcome the intake with a fizzy feeling, like electricity roaring into her ears. Mayor Mare backed up until she reached the armchair and sat in it. On the coffee table was a half-finished jigsaw puzzle. The box said it was two-thousand pieces and would eventually look like Canterlot Castle. Bon-Bon didn’t have much use for jigsaws. She hated the idea of spending so much time making something only to destroy it and put the pieces back in their box afterwards. It was uncomfortably close to her own life when each assignment was over: break up the pieces and move on to the next picture. “What was it tonight?” Mayor Mare asked, breaking the silence and dragging Bon-Bon back to the present. “Two aura-thieves,” Bon-Bon sighed. She never used the word ‘demon’ around Mayor Mare. Zecora’s history lessons were useful for sugaring that pill, at least. “They weren’t stalking her, just loitering around town. Not one of them seemed like they had much purpose being here, which was odd. Usually they make a beeline for her when they’ve plucked up enough courage to risk coming here.” She didn’t add ‘when they’ve decided the risk of meeting me is worth it’. She didn’t need to. Her presence kept a lot of bad things away. Demons recognised her when they got close enough, her weak magical aura marking her out even among earth ponies. She was like a shadow in a sea of light, and if they spotted her they mostly skedaddled. She wasn’t naïve enough to think what Princess Celestia hadn’t been hoping for that. She needed a safe training ground, after all. Just after Bon-Bon first arrived in Ponyville it had been fights practically every night as every big bad in spitting distance of was drawn there by the other new, much more powerful magical aura. Then it spread that she was protecting this place and things tailed off until, finally, Bon-Bon’s patrols became – dare she even think it? – boring. Boring was good. Boring meant not having to explain away injuries the next morning. Boring meant not having to replenish her energy with mighty meals at three in the morning, which Bon-Bon was totally okay with. Boring also meant not being slapped with magic that made her life even more difficult than it had to be. Even minor demons had some really nasty abilities that, while not fatal, certainly made the next day unpleasant. She stifled a wince at the memory of tiny demons, no bigger than parasprites, which had hidden around Ponyville for months while she rounded them up. Their small size and wings had made catching them difficult, especially since they could zip away and hide faster than she could grab them. She was able to sense where they were but actually getting at them was another matter when they could just move on before she got there. More aggravating had been the effect their poison had on her voice after one clawed at her throat. She hadn’t wanted to talk for ages, not knowing what would come out of her or how embarrassing it would be. Wearing a scarf and then claiming laryngitis only went so far. She had actually been grateful for her Manehattan twang when it came back. “Two?” Mayor Mare’s eyes widened and her hooves wrung faster. “In one night? Oh my. That’s seven this month alone!” “Eight.” Bon-Bon winced at the mayor’s expression. “But I got them all, so don’t worry.” “Why have they suddenly started coming in such high numbers?” “They don’t function in groups, they’re too possessive and jealous to work together, so it has to be something else.” She considered the idea of demons working en masse and shuddered. Scary thought! It had never happened before, however, so she took comfort from the fact the creatures would be more likely to rip each other to pieces of the rights to feeding grounds than combine their strength to achieve any goal. “She’s pulling them here,” Mayor Mare said softly. “That’s the only explanation.” Her eyes skittered to the window and the skyline of the town beyond her chintzy curtains. For the first time, Bon-Bon wondered why the mayor had been awake and doing a jigsaw puzzle in the wee hours. She had expected to have to apologise for getting her out of bed. “Unless you have a better suggestion?” “Uh … I’ll get back to you on that one.” Bon-Bon offered her a smile. It fell flatter than a shadow on hot pavement. “Zecora will probably know. I’ll ask her. It’s probably just coincidence or something.” Mayor Mare levelled a startlingly serious look at her. “Coincidence would be just two of those … things turning up in the same month. Eight isn’t a coincidence; it’s an omen.” “An omen?” Bon-Bon fought to keep the scepticism off her face. She left magical mumbo-jumbo to Zecora and unicorns. As long as she had banishing powder and a good right hook, she was content to leave magic alone and stick to earth pony ways. Super strong, extra tough, secretive earth pony ways, but still. Demons ate magic. They didn’t eat kicks and punches. Such was the Slayer way. Mayor Mare, however, was not so content to leave magic alone. She visited a tarot reader once a week and frequently had her fortune told via other means. She had even been to Pinkie Pie to ask for advice from her Pinkie-sense! Bon-Bon avoided talking to her whenever possible. Pinkie Pie was incisive in a deeply unsettling way, as if she knew things nopony should be able to know and found their daily struggles tantamount to slipping on a cosmic banana peel. Bon-Bon had too many skeletons in her closet to unsettle herself that way: her past, her powers, her real reason for being in Ponyville, her nightly activities, the secrets she kept and the secrets she kept making – everything had to stay off limits from perceptive pink ponies with messy hair. Mayor Mare was good at her job and trustworthy – otherwise Celestia would never have told her about Bon-Bon before or after she came to stay in Ponyville. It was her personal life that left her anxious. She was not a brave pony and was terrified by the idea that things sometimes roamed the streets of her town after dark that belonged, if not far away in a different land, at least in the Everfree Forest with the other monsters. She locked her door and had installed a peephole so she could see out at whatever lurked on her doorstep after the sun slipped below the horizon. “Yes, an omen,” she said, nodding. “A portent of what?” Bon-Bon asked. “I don’t know, but nothing good, I’ll bet. Omens never mean anything good. You think eight aura-thieves mean anything good?” “No,” Bon-Bon admitted. “My point exactly. How big were they?” “Not too big.” “Big enough to hurt a stallion?” “Probably not. Just a bit smaller than me.” Bon-Bon skipped the part about the fangs and razor tail. “Don’t worry, Mayor Mare, you know I’m all over this. This is my field of expertise.” “I know you’ll do your best, but however strong or special you are, Bon-Bon, you’re still just one pony. You may be able to fight these things but you can’t be everywhere at once. If these creatures are coming in droves, you could be fighting one on one side of town while another is causing havoc on the other side.” “They’re not coming in droves.” “Eight so far this month –” “They still arrived one by one. These things don’t work in groups, ma’am. They can’t. They hate each other. Whatever the reason behind so many, it isn’t because they’re working together. Each one has arrived separately and alone. Trust me; I can handle this. You know as well as I do that they come to Ponyville for one reason.” Mayor Mare narrowed her eyes behind her glasses. “But you just said they haven’t been –” “I probably just caught them before they had a chance to go there. They aren’t clever, they’re just sneaky. Once they lose the element of surprise it’s simple to get rid of them.” “For you.” “Well, yes, but since I’m supposed to be the one fighting them, that’s fine.” While it was possible for other ponies to do damage to demons, the banishing fire that actually got rid of them only worked for her. The ancestral power of the Slayer channelled through the focus of the words into the magical compounds within the powder and eradicated demons from this plane of existence. Bon-Bon wasn’t sure what would happen if an ordinary pony tried to do the same without the Slayer power behind them. Probably the powder would stay powder and the poor pony would just end up with a demon body to get rid of some other way. Mayor Mare sat back in her chair, tapping the flats of her forehooves together in thought. “I have a bad feeling about this.” Bon-Bon adjusted the ice-pack. “Don’t worry about it, ma’am.” “Worry is all I can do.” Mayor Mare’s voice became soft and pensive. “I know the princess told me your activities are to be kept secret … and I know you’ve saved countless ponies since you moved here, but … but sometimes I just wish …” She stopped and shook her head slightly, refusing to finish the sentence. She didn’t need to. Bon-Bon heard the rest perfectly in her head: “I just wish you and she had never come here in the first place.” Bon-Bon felt a twisted hoof grab her cloak and pictured tonight’s demon right before the flames took it. She had her own bad feeling, which she definitely could not tell Mayor Mare about. Instead, she gave the older pony a reassuring smile and hoped it looked more convincing than it felt. “Cheer up, ma’am. Whatever happens, I’ll take care of it. It’s what I do.” Newly bandaged and fed, Bon-Bon went back out on patrol. It was still dark, though dawn was not far away. Nevertheless, while night reigned things that went bump were still bumping and it was up to her to make sure Ponyville remained demon-free. She travelled mainly through alleys towards her destination. Darkness attracts darkness and over the past months she had found more than a few creatures between Ponyville’s tightly packed buildings. Thankfully there were no more tonight. She shimmied up a drainpipe onto a roof and surveyed her destination: Ponyville Library. The literal tree-house stood tall and proud, a bastion against modernised architecture that would have made the fancy city-planners in Canterlot spit out their tea in shock and disgust. Bon-Bon liked the look of the place but what she knew about architecture could fit in one of those planner’s teacups. She backed up a little and took a running leap, launching herself into empty space. Her powerful legs gave her extra lift and she covered the distance between the library and its neighbouring buildings in a few seconds. Her landing was practised and graceful, making as little noise as possible. The branch she hooked onto barely juddered. She slid down it towards the main trunk but stopped halfway. Hunkering low for balance, she peered through the window to reassure herself that everyone inside was okay. Sure enough, the bed contained a sleeping purple unicorn and, sprawled in the basket at the end, a tiny dragon. Spike had thrown out his arms so they hung over the edge in a way that was sure to cause pins and needles when he woke up. In contrast, Twilight Sparkle slept curled into a ball beneath her covers, hugging all her legs to her. She shivered slightly, face twitching. Evidently she was having a bad dream. Bon-Bon could commiserate. Ever since becoming Slayer her sleep patterns had been all out of whack anyhow, yet whenever she did finally catch some zees she was either so exhausted she was comatose or wracked by nightmares of things she had seen and done. Nothing could get into a home unless it was invited. That was one of the first things Bon-Bon had learned when she was Chosen and taken away to be trained: no invite, no entry. While Twilight and Spike were asleep they couldn’t go inviting anything inside. However, given Twilight’s frequent insomnia when she was working on a project, plus their combined habit of getting mixed up in more trouble than you could shake a stick at, Bon-Bon couldn’t ever assume that they were safely tucked up like this, so she had to check on them several times a night. Bon-Bon paused to regard Twilight for longer than intended. Twilight looked small and younger than her actual age when she was asleep. Even with her face creased up in a bad dream her features had lost some of the strain that perpetually outlined her eyes. Twilight took everything so seriously; the friends she had made here had worked hard to teach her things no book ever could. It had taken a long time for her to let go and realise life was for living, not just existing, and that enacting that particular lesson was a lot harder than reading it off a page – as well as a lot more rewarding. Bon-Bon snorted at the irony. Twilight was the reason she was here. Twilight was the reason the demons were here. Ponyville had not been an active spot for demonic activity before. Some might say this was extra odd because the Everfree Forest gave nasties a place to hole up by day but Bon-Bon was more inclined to think the Everfree was what had kept Ponyville safe until now. There were things in there that made the smaller demons that habitually preyed on ponies look like mosquitos – and could squash them just as easily. Animals like manticores, cyclops and fresh-water-serpents weren’t inherently magical in nature, so they had little in their auras for demons to drain and it was a lot of trouble to drain it. As for the creatures that did possess their own magic, foolish was the demon that tried to drain a hydra or succubus, which also came equipped with non-magical claws and teeth. The whole reason demons hunted at all was because they were hungry and therefore weak. If they were strong enough to take on a hydra it meant they had already fed and that defeated the point. Ponies made much better, much easier meals than what the Everfree had to offer. There could be a lot of magic in a single pony with a strong aura. “If you only knew …” Bon-Bon murmured to the closed window. It was ridiculous, of course. If Twilight were to know of the demons she would undoubtedly return to Canterlot. She wouldn’t want to put her friends, or anypony else, in danger simply because the tremendous amount of magic in her drew demons to Ponyville like stray dogs to a meaty bone. However, Celestia had been insistent that she stay. She had also insisted her student remain ignorant of the danger she was in away from the capital, where guards and wards and other protective things could keep her safe. In Ponyville Twilight was alone against the forces of darkness that would strip her entire aura given half a chance. There was something Celestia wanted Twilight to learn here and apparently the princess thought the risks were worth it. It had taken Bon-Bon just as long as Twilight herself to learn what Celestia intended. Friendship was a complex, capricious thing, like trying to grab smoke or hold water in a sieve. You had to work hard to get it and harder to keep it; you couldn’t predict it, nor could you recapture it if you missed out. If you managed to make friends, however, and if they were the true kind, it opened previously closed doors – and some you didn’t even realised were there in the first place. If Twilight had not come to Ponyville and made friends here, Nightmare Moon would have risen, Discord would have dissolved all Equestria into chaos, the changeling army would have absorbed Canterlot and the Crystal Empire would have returned to its dictatorial status quo. The domino effect of Twilight making friends was almost beyond comprehension. Each time Bon-Bon wanted to give up and just tell her about the demons, something happened to make her understand how important it was for Twilight to stay and learn the lessons Celestia wanted her to learn, free from the worry that just being here endangered the town. Bon-Bon turned away from the window and was about to leave when a noise made her stop. “Hoooo!” She swivelled her head to find a small, plump owl nestled in the crook of the branch. It blinked at her, not at all afraid. “Hi, Owlowiscious,” she whispered. “Not hunting tonight?” The owl blinked at her again. “Good idea. Too much noise might wake them.” It was a good thing owls didn’t play poker. Owlowiscious continued to blink expressionlessly at her. “Has there been much activity around here tonight? Anything hanging around?” Just because they couldn’t get in didn’t mean demons couldn’t climb and tap at windows out of ravenous hunger. No-one ever said they were intelligent, just savage, dangerous, wily, vicious, daring, sly, violent … Owlowiscious shook his head the way only an owl could. He had seen no demons tonight. He had seen none the rest of the week, either, which made it doubly strange that Bon-Bon had dispatched so many lately. What were they here for, if not to prey on Twilight? Were they so stupid that they would risk coming into town and crossing the Slayer’s path but not hurry to try to outrun her to their prey? Bon-Bon pulled her cloak to conceal her pale body in the shadows of the tree. “Listen, can you make sure Twilight stays indoors for the next couple of nights?” If an owl could look reproving, Owlowiscious did. “What? Don’t look at me like that. You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.” He blinked at her. Slowly. “Well … just do your best then.” An edge of exasperation crept into her voice; the kind usually reserved for mint green unicorns. Bon-Bon shook her head to dislodge that thought and tried to match Owlowiscious’s stare. It was, of course, impossible. No-one can out-stare an owl. Bon-Bon looked away first with an irritated noise. “Hoooo,” Owlowiscious hooted softly. He would try. “Thank you,” Bon-Bon sighed. It wasn’t much but it was something. There were benefits to Twilight’s pet knowing who she was and what she was doing here. She would never forget the night Owlowiscious attacked her on this very branch, thinking she was trying to hurt his pony. There was more spirit in that bookish little bird than you would think to look at him. Once she had explained, however – she had to, otherwise she would never be able to check on Twilight again without fending off talons – Owlowiscious took it upon himself to help her keep an eye on things. If anything ever did happen while she wasn’t around, she felt certain he would fetch her to deal with it. “Hoooo.” Something stirred in the bedroom. Instinctively Bon-Bon dropped out of the tree like an overripe apple. By the time the window opened and Twilight sleepily poked her head out, Bon-Bon was concealed in the lower branches, wrapped in her cloak and using the oldest trick in the book to become invisible: remaining perfectly still. Twilight yawned. “Owlowiscious?” “Hoooo?” “Yes, you.” She yawned again. “You woke me up. Is everything okay?” “Hoooo.” She rubbed at her eyes. Her mane was tangled, her coat unbrushed and sticking up in odd tufts, yet as she tilted her head back to look up at the moon, Bon-Bon couldn’t help noticing how pretty she was. Twilight had an unassuming kind of beauty. She certainly didn’t work at it, the way some ponies did. Twilight saw no attraction in spa treatments, make-up or hours primping in front of a mirror. A quick brush of her mane and tail in the morning, a wash with plain soap and picking the odd burr from her coat were her only concessions to a beauty regime, much to Rarity’s dismay. Yet Twilight didn’t need all the trimmings Rarity saw as essential. Something about her shone through regardless; a kind of inner beauty, if that didn’t sound so trite and hackneyed. She could be covered in sludge from Froggy Bottom Bog, frazzled from too many late nights studying, or look like she had stuck her hoof in a plug socket when one of her spells had more blowback than anticipated; it didn’t matter. Twilight looked appealing no matter what. It was a trick not many ponies could pull off – and just like her magic, Twilight wasn’t even aware of how attractive it made her. Bon-Bon didn’t move. Inwardly, however, she was shaking her head. Observations were one thing but she was getting way too involved. Ponyville wasn’t her home, it was just a stopover until Princess Celestia decided Twilight had learned all she needed to know and recalled her to Canterlot. It helped to keep thinking of that. Or at least she told herself it helped. If she kept reminding herself that this wasn’t permanent, maybe she could also convince herself not to care so much about these ponies. Maybe she could distance herself in her head, the way she was supposed to. Maybe she could stop interacting with them entirely. Maybe. “The moon sure looks lovely tonight,” Twilight said. “I’m glad the pegasi didn’t have cloud cover scheduled.” “Hoooo,” Owlowiscious agreed. “Do you want to come inside?” “Hoooo.” He shook his head. “Are you sure? It’s warmer in here.” “Hoooo.” “All right then. Just tap the glass if you change your mind.” Twilight reached out to ruffle his feathers affectionately before retreating back to bed. She clicked the window shut, giving Bon-Bon a tiny bit more reassurance that nothing could touch her. She breathed out. Nodding once to Owlowiscious, she descended the last distance to the ground and slipped away into the waning night. Bon-Bon spent the remaining hours prowling the streets, on the lookout for anything resembling a threat. When none emerged and the sky began to grey, she stood in the mouth of an alleyway and stared at the cobblestones. Inwardly she wrestled with herself. She should just go straight to Zecora’s. that would be the sensible thing to do. By the time she reached the town limits it would be too light for any demon to be abroad and she could slip away without any early risers spotting her. Yes, she should get going to Zecora’s now. One snap decision later she was headed towards her own home. Instead of getting out the key to her own front door, however, she eschewed her little thatched house and slipped down the small gap between it and her neighbour’s. She had repaired the drainpipe there last month, so she knew it would bear her weight. Being careful not to upset the rain barrel, she climbed up it. There had been quite a bit of rain recently and the barrel was nearly full. Her tail dipped in as she climbed and the tip came away soaked. She expected to see a figure tucked up asleep. Instead, she quickly ducked out of sight when she realised the pony inside was not only awake, but out of bed. She paused for a moment, on the cusp of fleeing. Had she been spotted? When nopony threw open the window she eased upwards again, cursing herself for a fool with every millimetre. The room’s occupant was bent over a dresser that doubled as a desk. Given the messy state of the bedroom, it was no wonder furniture was expected to pull double duty. Flat surfaces were at a premium and the pony’s hooves competed for space with a hairbrush, scrunched up balls of paper, dozens of pencils in need of sharpening, a raggedy quill, a plush toy and several comic books. One look at the rapt concentration on her face, however, told Bon-Bon she was utterly unaware of her surroundings. Bon-Bon frowned. Either Lyra had risen incredibly early or she had pulled an all-nighter again. It would be more likely for Discord to reappear and take a job as an accountant than for Lyra Heartstrings to choose to get up early. Bon-Bon had lost count of the number of times she had been forced to rudely rouse her friend from bed so she wasn’t late for work. Bowls of cold water, tipped mattresses and blankets being tossed out of the window had featured more than once. On weekends it was typical for Lyra not to be seen before lunchtime. About the only thing that could make her relinquish sleep was if she was working on a new composition. Bon-Bon watched as Lyra scribbled fervently. Her horn glowed, the soft green light around it and the pencil reflecting off the mirror to give the room an unearthly glow. After only a couple of minutes Lyra paused, the pencil tapping her chin in thought. A yawn gripped her but she covered it and added a last flourish to her work, like a maestro finishing a masterful performance. She dropped the pencil and stretched upward, arching her back and hooves high above her head. Her whole body contorted before her hooves dropped bonelessly to her sides and sighed. She leaned back in her chair like someone who had run a marathon and was utterly spent, casting a long look at her bed. For a few seconds her gaze ping-ponged: paper and then bed; paper and then bed; paper and then bed. Finally she got up and trotted over to the rumpled bed. Don’t do it, Bon-Bon thought. You’ll be late for work. As if hearing her, Lyra fell to her knees and jammed one hoof under the mattress. Her tongue poked out of her mouth as she felt around blindly, finally withdrawing a battered ring-binder. She flipped it open and carefully clipped her new work into it. For a moment Lyra just stared at the page, eyes darting along the notes as if checking none of the notes had skittered away while she wasn’t looking. Then she replaced the ring-binder, gave the bed one more covetous look and left the room. Bon-Bon was left with the curious impression that she had witnessed she wasn’t meant to see. A kernel of guilt appeared in her stomach, sitting heavy like an indigestible piece of food. You didn’t hide things under your mattress if you wanted other ponies to know about them. Feeling like a bad friend for invading Lyra’s privacy, she slid silently down the drainpipe and paused at the bottom, caught by a ridiculous desire to go and apologise. She couldn’t do that! That would mean admitting she had been hanging around outside Lyra’s window – which would not only beg the question of why, but also how she had managed to get up there without Lyra hearing her. Bon-Bon always justified these incidents by telling herself she was looking out for Lyra’s safety. After all, Lyra was a unicorn. While demons could target anypony, the more magic they had, the tastier they looked. Now, however, the paucity of her justification came back to bite her on the rump. Demons couldn’t go inside a pony’s home unless they were specifically invited or summoned in a Summoning Circle. Since few ponies even believed demons existed, much less knew how to summon them, it was extremely unlikely Lyra would have done that. Which also begged the question of why Bon-Bon felt the need to check on her like this. Shaking her head, she cantered away before she could do anything stupid. She knew she should have gone straight to Zecora’s. Zecora’s house was a mishmash. It sat somewhere between heartening and disturbing – heartening for being a safe haven against the Everfree; disturbing that anyone would choose to live in the forest. That fact had poised the citizens against her when she first moved to Ponyville. As well as just being different to look at and from a culture they knew little about, nopony could understand how or why Zecora would want to live in such a dangerous place. Her choice curried distrust right from the beginning, especially since she couldn’t confess the real reason she had to live away from others. It would have been difficult to train a Slayer and wage a secret war against demons if you live in the centre of town. The Everfree provided good cover, since ponies rarely dropped in to see her unannounced. Or at least they hadn’t before Twilight made it her mission to befriend Zecora and bring her more into the welcoming embrace of the town. Ponyville still didn’t fully trust Zecora but Twilight had made inroads Zecora had made little effort to carve for herself. Bon-Bon knew that while Zecora appreciated the gesture and certainly found it easier to buy things these days, she worried that someday Twilight and her friends might come by unannounced and see something they shouldn’t. Bon-Bon knocked on the door and waited. A cloud of scent wafted out when Zecora opened it; something peppery but not altogether unpleasant. Zecora gave a small smile when she saw who it was. She wasn’t given to great shows of emotion and could fit as much emotion into a twitch of her lips as Pinkie Pie could into a light-up-the-room-grin. “Bon-Bon! Your patrol’s complete? Come inside and take a seat.” “Thanks, Zecora.” Bon-Bon entered, breathing in the scent, which was even stronger inside. “Mmm, something smells good.” Zecora trotted over to the fireplace where a pot of something bubbled against its closed lid. The metal was old and pockmarked, with black patches underneath where many fires had touched it over the years. So many things of Zecora’s were old and well-used. She seemed to have an aversion to newness and would much rather purchase a previously owned item when one of hers broke. She unhooked a mitt from above the pot, slipped it over her hoof and removed the lid so she could stir the mixture inside with a long wooden spoon. “Is that some kind of medicine? Or is it a magic potion?” “Neither medicine nor brew; I have made breakfast for you.” “You … did?” Bon-Bon was surprised. “But how did you know I was coming?” “With me you have often dined, though my food is not refined. But if you are disinclined, just tell me what’s on your mind.” Bon-Bon must have looked startled, for Zecora gave a throaty chuckle as she stirred in strong, even circles. “Quickly to my house you’ve hurried, plus you look extremely worried. A genius I may not be but, Bon-Bon, do not lie to me. I think your qualms are overdue; share with me what worries you.” Bon-Bon’s stomach chose that precise moment to rumble loudly. “Well now, firstly I decree, you SHALL have breakfast with me.” Zecora pointed to a shelf on the far wall. “Bon-Bon, grant this tiny wish; please pass me that shallow dish. Two plates, also, I require while I just turn down this fire.” She poked at the flaming wood with a metal prong, shifting aside the biggest pieces so clouds of sparks and grey ash flittered out. Bon-Bon dutifully complied and soon she found herself sitting on the opposite side of a rush-mat to the zebra, a plate of steaming white mush. It smelled delicious but looked less than appetising. “What is it?” she asked. “Uji is a simple meal, hot and filling and, I feel, a tasty way to start your day, whether working or at play. Millet flour and corn flour too, mixed with water – quick to chew. You may sweeten if you please. Now tell me of your clear unease.” Zecora pushed a small bowl of raisins and an even smaller bowl of rust-brown powder towards her. Bon-Bon’s nose told her the powder was cinnamon, so she took only a hoof of raisins and scattered them in her mush. “Well,” she said as she blew on a spoonful, “it’s about the number of demon sighting in Ponyville recently.” She stuck her tongue out to test the temperature. It was still hot but not scalding and tasted like a dream. Bon-Bon shovelled another spoonful in quickly and swallowed. Uji really was quick to chew. “Wow, Zecora, this stuff is great!” “When I came across the sea I brought more than just masks with me,” Zecora said softly. Bon-Bon paused. Zecora rarely talked about her life before coming to Equestria. She still wasn’t entirely sure whether the zebra had journeyed here specifically to become a Watcher or had adopted the role once she arrived. She had tried to ask once or twice, before she realised that talking about that time made Zecora slightly more than uncomfortable. Bon-Bon had stopped asking but not stopped wondering, especially at the moments of rare vulnerability that sometimes filtered through Zecora’s confident veneer. There had to be a reason Zecora had never been back, or even left Ponyville since Bon-Bon had met her. Bon-Bon had been summoned back to Canterlot a few times but Zecora had never gone with her. “Bon-Bon, do not be distracted, or your news won’t be extracted.” “Uh, right, right,” Bon-Bon said, taking another mouthful of uji and swallowing. “Like I said, it’s about the number of demons that have come to Ponyville lately …” She explained about her misgivings, the demons’ odd behaviour in not heading straight for the library and the strange words of the last one she had banished earlier that night. “Hmm, I think I do agree. The question is: who is this ‘he’?” Zecora polished off the last of her uji and set the bowl down before her. She rested her forehooves on her haunches as she thought. “That was the only thing it said? And this is what filled you with dread” “Filled with dread might be pushing it.” Bon-Bon put down her bowl. “Edgy would be a better word. It made me edgy. I know it’s not much to go on and the thing might have just been yanking my tail but … it just didn’t feel like it, y’know?” Zecora nodded. “You are correct; it’s not a lot, but I’ll research, so worry not.” She gestured to the shelves, which were crammed with old scrolls and books. She had hung a cloth over some sections to distract from their titles. Probably since Twilight started visiting her she was worried a unicorn with magical training would know what the ‘Grimwing Grimoire’ actually was. “Demons are, at best, erratic, though their ways remain traumatic. They don’t think the way we do, so we often misconstrue all the nasty things they do. All, except, for attack you.” “Yeah.” Bon-Bon looked hard at her empty dish. “Demons don’t look alike, sound alike, smell alike or act alike, but they all hate the Slayer. Lucky me. I’m a constant in the fight against them.” “Though you jest, you are quite right. Yours is power of what’s right. Never lose this from your sight: Bon-Bon, agent of the light.” Zecora’s tone was soft, her cadence almost musical. Not for the first time, Bon-Bon wondered why her Watcher spoke entirely in rhyme. Just like her homeland and reasons for being in Equestria, Zecora kept tight-lipped on the matter. “Do you need any help with the research?” Bon-bon covered a yawn. “Sleep, I think, you do require. Go home and to bed retire.” “I’m fine. I can –” “I understand your agitation, but we’ve had this conversation. Go home and get some shut-eye. I shall answer this new ‘why’.” “And who,” Bon-Bon added, covering another yawn. Zecora nodded. Her smile, small as it was, faded entirely. “Bon-Bon, I’ll be straight with you; in return please tell me true: as a Slayer you are good but are you acting as you should? I feel some strange and nameless fear, so I may not be quite clear. When you fight, as is your call, do you take silly risks at all?” “Silly risks? Bon-Bon repeated. “No more than usual.” “Bon-Bon, do not be so glib. Are you telling me a fib?” “No. Why would I? I’m doing the same patrols I have been since I arrived in Ponyville.” Bon-Bon frowned in thought. “Wait a minute, do you mean silly risks with the demons, or with other ponies?” “To the fiends I was referring, since more of them are occurring.” “Oh. Right. Well, no, I haven’t taken any unnecessary risks. Like I said, the demons that have appeared lately are all small and pretty weak, which is why it’s so weird they haven’t been going for Twilight the way I expected.” She dropped her gaze to her hooves, which had started nervously toying with the edge of her cloak. For a moment she had thought Zecora was asking whether she given away her secret to somepony who shouldn’t know it. There was only one pony Bon-Bon had ever been tempted to tell. Was she really that obvious? “You are right, of course you are. Born under a lucky star. You knew right from wrong since birth; pony who knows not her worth.” Bon-Bon’s head snapped up. “What did you just say?” Zecora blinked right back, nonplussed. “I agreed that you are right about the events of your night.” “No, no, the other stuff. What did you say about stars?” “Were you paying true attention? Stars are things I did not mention.” Bon-Bon shook her head, not in disagreement, but in an effort to shake loose the words that had lodged there. “I must be more tired than I thought. I think I’m hearing things.” She got up and started to pick up her dish and spoon until Zecora waved her away. “Go home and get lots of rest. Come back when you’re at your best. Answers I’ll try to acquire from the notes of Watchers prior.” “I’ll come back for training this afternoon?” Bon-Bon asked as she trotted to the door, feeling better for having unburdened her worries but newly discomfited by what she thought she had heard. For a moment there Zecora had sounded like Windwhistler. Thinking of Windwhistler made her heart convulse in a different way that when she thought of mint green unicorns and telling secrets she wasn’t supposed to tell anypony. “Training shall commence at two,” Zecora called after her. “Perhaps I’ll have news for you.” “That’d be great,” Bon-Bon said over her shoulder. “See you later, Zecora.” She didn’t see the worried look that passed over the zebra’s face as she hurried out.