Three repetitions of nails on chalkboard forced open Sunset’s eyes. She groped blindly for her phone, shivering as the noise came again. A swipe left turned it off and revealed the time: Two o’clock in the Celestia-damned morning.
The noise came courtesy of an app from Twilight Sparkle, and had in fact been chosen deliberately. Grating enough to jolt her awake, soft enough to not be heard beyond her door. All tied in to the home security software Twilight wired into their doors and windows, keyed to sense the supernatural as best as science could manage.
Sunset and her family had never actually suffered a home invasion before, despite their profession as monster hunters. But there was always the threat, the worry. Enough so that when Twilight offered her experimental evil-magic detectors as a housewarming gift no one even considered saying ‘no.’
Silently, quickly, Sunset rolled out of her blankets. She pulled her lock box from beneath the bed and removed her precious pistol.
Her hands trembled as she loaded, just a little. Really, they were going to be fine. Everyone in the house could take care of themselves.
Everyone… except one.
A silent text from Luna. ‘Plan, go.’
They formed a game-plan for this long ago. Torch and Sunset would confront the intruder, Luna and Ember would creep outside and ambush any watchers or second wave, Celestia… well, her move was obvious: protect the most precious thing in the house.
In slippers and her red night-robe, Sunset crept out of her room. Theirs was a new house, with a humming air conditioner and minimal creaks. With luck she’d get the jump on their assailant. Especially since Torch’s heavy trod came out from the opposite side, where the master bedroom laid. Unintentionally, it was a perfect combination: the big lug created the obvious threat, while Sunset sneaked up from behind.
She held her phone in one hand. Twilight’s sensors said the blip came in through the dining room, right down the hall from Sunset.
She entered with weapon raised. A light breeze shuffled the curtains, with darkness and streetlights beyond. No idea how the window opened – that question could wait. Sunset glanced nervously outside, then focused. Aunt Luna could handle out there. She had her own job.
Dark curtains rustled in the living room, too. She could see them from the open doorway, black with only dim moonlight filtering from the outside.
...Right in the middle of the room. Not curtains at all, but some cross between a robe and black coat Sunset recalled from her history lessons on China. A round rimmed hat sat atop the head, pinned with a parchment scrap with odd symbols drawn upon it. The figure was very tall and thin, standing perfectly erect with the thick clothes draped around it like a coat rack.
The back was to her. Coarse black hair seemed in the moonlight to merge with its clothes.
Sunset leveled the pistol… then paused.
Maybe it was friendly, or a mundane thief. Both felt laughable, but Celestia had drilled discipline into her over and over. Don’t shoot until you know – you don’t want to be a murderer.
Besides, she had the drop. “Hands up, buddy. Don’t try and turn.”
It glanced back, though obediently remained facing forwards. The face was white, knotted, and ugly. It took Sunset an extra second to realize the color came from some fungus covering its skin.
Sunset aimed, but the shoulders shrugged. The voice emerged calmly, with a thick accent Sunset could not place. “My arms do not raise. Rigor mortis has frozen them in place.”
“I’ve got him, Torch!” Sunset called out, then added, “Watch out for any more!”
“I am quite alone,” the stranger replied. “And I have no quarrel with you. My name is Colonel Cheng, humble soldier of the Qing Dynasty, although I am not here in that role.”
“Qing Dynasty?” Human history was not Sunset’s strong suit, but she’d gotten better. “I thought they were wiped out.”
“You are the expert, of course.”
Sunset growled, pocketing the phone to brace her pistol. “Fair, but shut up. You’re telling me what you’re doing in my house right now or I’m spending the next hour scrubbing your blood out of our hardwood floors.”
“It is simple,” Cheng said. With her eyes adjusting to the dark, Sunset could see he stood on tip-toes in soft white shoes. “I am the one who turned Abacus Cinch into a vampire. In our tradition, she is my daughter.”
His filmy eyes blinked once. “I am merely here to settle the debt. Please excuse me.”
Torch stomped into view, shotgun raised. Sunset’s eyes glanced to him.
Faster than she could blink or pull the trigger, Cheng’s leg wheeled back in a spinning kick, knocking her weapon to the ground.
Torch aimed, but Cheng danced to the side, ruining the shot, then sprang forwards all without bending his legs. Cheng’s frail form hit Torch like a sledgehammer, though the huge man took it with a grunt. Torch swung a meaty fist inwards, catching Cheng’s face with silver-ringed knuckles. The vampire bounced back with the blow, taking only a thick burn.
With legs and arms still straight, Cheng hopped side to side once, twice, then lunged. Torch punched again, but this time he wasn’t the target – Cheng nimbly dodged and sped past him to the other hall.
Torch gave chase with a furious, almost draconic roar. Sunset fumbled for her gun and shouted at the top of her lungs. “Mom, watch out!”
Cheng glanced into the master bedroom but never slowed, quickly hopping onward. He could smell his true objective all the way through the house. The delectable, pure blood… of a very small child.
Two doors, and one hung loose to reveal a bathroom. He swung open the other and forced his rigid mouth into a smirk. Pictures of rainbows and suns with happy faces adorned the walls, surrounding a low crib. The noise had woken the child, but strangely not panicked it – she stood in her bed, leaning against the crib bars for balance. Green eyes peered from their creamy orange face with curiosity instead of fear.
Another three seconds – the fools would be too late. Seize the child, then out the window. Celestia had slain Cheng’s daughter, so it was only right that she furnish the replacement.
Cheng hopped forward, arms outstretched, focused on speed alone.
A last mistake. Someone sprung from the side as he reached the room’s center, colliding just as he left the ground. Off-balance, Cheng was shoved to the wall. He turned, seeing pink skin and flowing green and blue hair.
Normally it was suicide to grapple a vampire, but Celestia had fought his type before. Unable to bend arms or legs, he could not wrestle with her hand around his throat. He hissed as Celestia rammed a wooden stake into his gut, then turned it up and pushed to find the heart. And Colonel Cheng was no more.
Torch got to work cleaning the blood, doggedly telling the others to “Go to bed, I got this.” Luna started helping with the walls, grumbling that she wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight anyway and reminding everyone that it was she who killed Cinch, not Celestia. Stupid vampires. The kids tried to help, were shooed away, and eventually compromised on a well-armed stroll around the grounds to search for anything more.
Celestia wasn’t even allowed to do that. She washed the blood from her arm, changed pajamas, and then had a bigger job.
She knelt down before little Sunny Starscout, meeting the green eyes. “Are you okay, sweetie?”
Sunny stared to her, saying nothing. Of course, a two-year old child would have a hard time answering the question anyway. Celestia picked her up and took her to bed, shushing needlessly and declaring it a ‘Mommy Sleepover’ night. They cuddled together, the bed still warm from Torch’s body, and it was strangely Celestia who fell asleep first. Sunny remained staring, concentrating on her mother with strange focus before resting her head on Mommy’s strong arm.
In the days that followed, everyone was relieved little Sunny proved no worse for her encounter with the undead. She remained as bubbly, hyperactive, affectionate, and talkative as any young toddler should be, slowly forming her identity in a very unconventional, but loving family.
That this night would play a special moment in that formation was something they would never learn.
No one thought much when Sunny started drawing the next day, working happily with her crayons. It was rare for her to sit still for so long, but the sleep-deprived adults in her life could only sigh in relief and enjoy the break. Like all her drawings it was a mess of colors without any clear shape, and nor could she yet describe it.
But she saw it clearly in her very young mind: The green and blue of Mommy’s hair, and pink for her face. Orange for Sunny Starscout herself. Both smiling, surrounded by black-crayon bad guys with sticks inside of them.
And lots and lots of red.