Ponyville was a spider's web.
I was happy Lyra was out of town. Now I had the space to finally set my mind to cracking Vinyl's secrets. Ponies were hurt because of her: it was no longer about her and the damage she did to herself, or our relationship, or me. She had made it about more than just her safety, but about that of all the ponies I knew, and that I couldn't allow.
But why hadn't I wanted to stop her before?
I had known Vinyl was hurting herself long before this, even back when I had thought we were strong together. Or had I? No I...I don't think I did. I ignored the obvious to protect my own comfort, just like I had when our relationship had floundered. And then, when all hope was lost, I jumped ship and left her to her own devices, stewing in angst I should have spent all my energy curing.
I could not allow that to happen again. But unfortunately, the two events were one and the same. When Vinyl and I drifted apart, is was not our careers, stress, or even Vinyl's hidden violence, but my own apathy that was to blame. When I had struggled, she had raised me up. When she had burnt out, I had watched her fizzling. And then I'd snuffed her out by walking away. If all that was left of Vinyl was in that basement, with its whirring machines with their teeth and unknown purpose, then I would expose her. But if there was any chance, any at all, of my Vinyl being there somewhere...
...I would bring her back.
*****
"So...So what do we do, Octavia?"
Carrot Top looked a little pale, but her eyes were hard. I had told her everything I knew, everything I’d seen or could be sure of. I'd even told her almost everything about my ordeal in Vinyl's house, the not-dream that had wounded me. Almost everything...
It’s your song.
Some things I could not speak of. I looked at Carrot Top across the table of one of Ponyville's cafes. I didn't know which, save that it was probably the most public place in town. Eyes were our safety now, and so I said, "We need to stick together. A moment apart and we risk being caught off guard, but even a unicorn would think twice trying to take on two strong Earth Ponies. Other than that, we need to figure out what Vinyl is doing. Put the puzzle together, so to speak."
Carrot Top nodded. “Okay. So far, we know that Vinyl is targeting-”
“We don’t know that for sure yet...” I mumbled.
Carrot Top shot me a glance but continued nonetheless, “-is targeting ponies either connected to you, or anypony investigating her. I don’t know how she does it without being seen, but maybe she’s learnt a teleportation or cloaking spell?”
I shook my head, “No, Vinyl’s skill-level is very directed. Other than standard levitation, her magic is limited to sound manipulation and shield spells.”
“But you said yourself that her magic has gotten stronger.” Carrot Top pointed out, “ That Mute Spell that hurt you the first time?”
That was true. I thought about it for a second, before saying, “Yes, her magic seems stronger, but it’s still her magic. It was still her old spell, not a new one. I don’t think magic is the answer here; too many unicorns would have been able to trace it.”
She conceded to my reasoning. “That makes sense. I don’t know many unicorns, so I’ll trust you on that. All we have to go on then is what we’ve seen of Vinyl herself or the ponies injured so far.”
“And the music itself,” I thought out loud, “but if we go on ponies injured, we have to count Vinyl as well: nopony has suffered more than her.” Carrot Top did not look convinced. I continued, “So that makes, her, then Lyra, then me, then Noteworthy. But why Noteworthy?”
“He was snooping around town yesterday after he read the paper. Seemed like he had one of his journalist moments, but he didn’t say anything. I only noticed cuz he didn’t buy his usual carrots.” The orange mare said. She stirred her cup of tea joylessly, and I realized that our cups must be stone cold.
“Lyra wasn’t snooping about,” I said, “She came home drunk one night and woke up hurt. But...she did say she and Berry Punch got lost. Maybe they went to Vinyl’s accidentally? I’ve known Berry to knock on our- Vinyl’s door on especially ‘fun’ nights.”
Carrot Top’s brow beetled in thought. “Um...well there was that other pegasus who was hurt...wait, have you seen Berry lately? I don’t think I’ve seen her in days.”
“...Neither have I.” This was worrying. What if Vinyl was taking ponies and...doing things to them, hidden in her basement. That could not be allowed. I looked at Carrot Top. “I think we should go make a housecall.”
*****
“Octy, this seems a bit soon...”
I looked at Carrot Top behind me. “I know. That’s the idea: nopony will be expecting me to come knocking. Nopony thinks I’ve got it in me. Especially not Vinyl. I haven’t seen her outside in days.”
Carrot Top looked at the house ahead of us with wide eyes. “I-I still think there’s something we’re missing, though.”
I gulped too; I didn’t want to do this, but I wanted to confront Vinyl. Face to face. Even just to see her again, to see her eyes. I hoped they would be their usual magenta; her eyes dipped in scarlet brought terror to my heart. All I was going to do...was knock. Once. And if nothing happened, I would leave. Carrot Top would be right behind me, across the street, ready to back me up.
Not that I expected anything to happen of course. All I had to do was knock and wait. Move along, Octavia, I thought, Time waits for no mare. I took a step towards Vinyl’s door, then froze.
This was my cowardice: I could not actually touch that door, nor go near that house. I had it in my head that I had to, that this was the only course of action, that I had to prise it open and see Vinyl, but there was no way my legs would carry me there. So I settled for the yellow option. I threw a cobble.
It struck the door and bounced off.
Carrot Top gave me a deadpan stare. “Seriously? Octavia, I thought you were - wha’?”
I looked from Carrot Top to the door again, to see it swing slightly open.
My breath caught. I stared at the door as it opened fractionally, letting the shadows within seep out. I cowered.
“Well?!” Carrot Top stood, staring at the door, daring it to reveal something, anything, after our day’s build-up. It was just after midday, and the ponies that were usually in the streets were either working, out playing, or at home. I saw only two ponies distant, up the lane. Even so, Carrot Top stepped forward. I hissed for her to stop, but she didn’t hear me over her own voice; “Everything I’ve heard, seen? And this is it?!”
She trotted across the street to the doorway, slowing to a shuffle as she poked her snout at the wood. The door creaked open more. Carrot Top looked around inside the darkness. Then she swore.
She spun to face me. “Octavia, there’s nothing in here!”
I blinked. “What? Nothing? Nothing at all?” I stood and made a tentative step towards her.
“Well,” Carrot Top turned around and stuck her nose back into the building, “Its a bit dark, but nope, there’s nothing-”
And she was gone.
I saw her tail disappear through the door, and in the blink it took for me to process what was going on, the door began slowly closing.
“No!” I leapt across the street as fast as my legs could throw me. I reached the door as it gained momentum and shoved my hoof into the jam as it shut. I barely felt the pain, though. I shouldered the door, mindless, blasted it open, and surrounded myself with shadow. The light behind me forced the darkness to retreat, but it relinquished it’s prisoner sluggishly, and not unharmed. Carrot Top lay on her knees, her head low, choking on more than the blackness. I skidded to a stop just behind her and grabbed her tail. Sobbing through the orange hair, I pulled her backwards out of the shadow, only to hear a burningly familiar whirring noise.
And suddenly, the building was filled with music. Resounding in summer chords and morbid harmonica notes, the breath of fear blowing reeds of confusion, hidden beneath the chords that bespoke strength in the face of all odds, resistance.
Meanwhile, Carrot Top choked on her own blood.
I felt something pulling back against me, trying to keep Carrot Top inside. With each tug, the music spiked, in time with Carrot Top’s gasps. I stopped pulling to step forward, and stood against the darkness. There it was: A cable snaking across the floor, leading to Carrot Top, and there, clutched in her hooves and buried in her soft throat, was a toothed monstrosity, eating into her skin. And above it all, all the blood, all the pain, were her eyes. They did not beg, nor cringe in fear. The darkness would have to fight to take this mare.
I leaned down and looked at the miniature metal demon biting into Carrot Top, and the cable that connected it to the nothingness in the house. Without a second thought, I bit it. The writhing black cable severed, leaving the biting metal head sawed into my friend's throat. The music died with the whirring of the teeth, and Carrot Top collapsed. I skidded back to Carrot Top’s tail and dragged her to the doorstep, my eyes never leaving the darkness.
But the darkness was not alone.
A pair of magenta eyes stared sadly out at me. I stared back as I hauled Carrot Top out of the house of nightmares, even as the tattered book slid across the floorboards and landed against Carrot Tops’ foreleg. She shifted, but I couldn't see why, aside from her grasping the book loosely and letting it be pulled with her.
I watched as the eyes flashed scarlet and the door slammed shut.
Vinyl...
The blast of music had not reached the street: a mute spell well-cast had preserved the peace of the town, but not my peace of mind. I scrambled across the street to the safety of my own home. I knocked the door open, sending a letter on the ground flying, and dragged the injured mare to my bed, her blood melting into the sheets as I bundled her up.
I watched her eyes close as I flailed in panic. I bit the evil metal contraption sunk into her skin and twisted. The teeth buried in her throat pulled loose, and I felt her try to gasp in air, but as she was, blood blocked her lungs. I had precious few moments. I needed to clear her airway. I looked about for anything I could use.
Pipe. I needed piping. The first aid kit! Lyra had one in her room, I recalled. I raced upstairs and grabbed the kit. rushing back downstairs, I broke the case open in my rush and scattered it’s contents everywhere. I fumbled with a piece of surgical tubing, pushing it into Carrot Top’s wounded neck. I held it there, forcing it in, hoping for one rise of her chest to indicate the success of my rushed tracheotomy. None came.
In desperation, I grabbed the other end of the pipe in my mouth and sobbed a breath of my own, blowing through the pipe and straight into Carrot Top’s lungs.
Her chest rose and fell. And did so again. And again, without my prompting. She was alive.
I collapsed beside her, crying out and sobbing into the pillow. I looked at her, making sure my mind was not playing tricks with me, and I saw her one eye open. She did not move more than that, aside from her hoof, which let a certain book fall to the floor.
I looked at it. Blood did not obscure the name scratched into the cover: Octavia.
There was nothing I wanted more than to burn it. I stepped out into the entrance hall and kicked the book out, away from me. It landed open, displaying rows of neat horn-writing. But I didn’t notice that. What I saw was yet another piece of writing: the letter I had failed to see. And now, it’s title hit me like a ram’s head. It too, read ‘Octavia’, and it too, was in neat, concise horn-writing. but scrawled across the the bottom, almost painfully in bad hoof or mouth-writing:
If you ever want to see them alive, go away and never come back.