Secret of the Sunken Church Part Seven: Anomalous Investigations
The morning edition of the Ponyville Chronicle was slapped down onto Daring Do’s desk. She blinked politely up at the vandal.
“Explain,” Dean Blotting Paper simply stated, looking very much like a mother with a young child who just came home to find the living room in tatters.
Daring looked back down at the newspaper. The headline was splashed across the front in bold print: Sunken Church Discovered! Secret Tombs Revealed by Archaeology Professor and Private Detective! Beneath was a photo of the Church of the Seven Pillars, two police cruisers and an ambulance parked out front, with officers, paramedics, and congregants milling outside. Beneath was an inset of two ponies, a golden pegasus and a brown earth pony, walking away down the street with their hats pulled low over their faces.
She didn’t bother to read the article. She’d already perused it that morning over breakfast. Most of the article was a review of the history of the Temple of Precious Enlightenment and speculation on what bizarre rituals went on inside the catacombs, and the reasons behind a daredevil professor of archaeology teaming up with a local snoop to uncover a mythical tomb.
“Well, it’s not my fault they didn’t get my good side,” Daring commented with what she hoped was a winning smile, tapping the smaller photo of herself. She winced slightly and clutched her chest as pain radiated through her still-healing ribs.
“Are you–?” Dean Paper started to ask.
“I’ll live,” Daring interrupted her, raising a hoof. “I’ve had worse.”
Blotting Paper closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, taking in a deep breath. “I told Family Tree that she was wasting her time chasing after a rumor, and then you go and–”
“Find the bastard who killed her,” Daring interrupted, turning the paper around and slapping it back down. There was a second, smaller headline underneath the first, crammed into the bottom of the page.
Body of Missing Professor Found in Reservoir.
“Family Tree died because of this,” Daring said. “She put her life into this, and you pushed her aside and ignored her. She died because she wanted one last chance to see her husband again.”
“How dare you?” the Dean sputtered. “I will–”
“Señora Paper, if I may?” Doctor Caballeron cut in, entering. “With all due respect, you focus too much on the negative. There is a great positive to this situation.”
“Do tell, Doctor,” the jenny scowled.
“Think of it this way, Dean Paper,” Doctor Caballeron said. “A fresh, upcoming professor discovers a true legend right in our own backyard and also helps solve a murder. It’ll be good publicity for us. And once the police are done with their investigation, we’ll have the tombs open for us to explore. Just think of what could be waiting for us down there! The secrets of an entire cult, waiting for us!”
Blotting Paper bit her lip, scowling in thought for several seconds, then sighed.
“Fine. But don’t think that I won’t be keeping an eye on you, Daring Do,” she said, pointing to Daring.
“I’d be surprised if you weren’t,” Daring beamed, batting her eyelashes at the Dean. The older jenny just rolled her eyes as she exited.
Once her hoofsteps had faded down the hall, Caballeron turned to face Daring. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, hurt clearly showing in his frown.
Daring Do sighed, thinking through her limited options. “It…it was an ongoing investigation,” she finally said. “And if I had been wrong, I wouldn’t want that to reflect on you.”
Caballeron frowned at her for several long seconds, suspicion and hurt and a bit of envy flickering through his chartreuse eyes. Daring lowered her eyes, trying not to squirm in her seat like a first-year student who had turned in a late paper. “I’m really sorry, Dorado. I shouldn’t have lied to you like that,” she admitted.
Finally, her colleague let out a small sigh. “I see. I…will not pretend that I am not hurt, but I understand why.”
“How about this? Next time I start digging into a living legend, I’ll tell you about it beforehoof,” Daring offered with a small smile.
Caballeron let out a small laugh and smiled back. “Entiendo,” he said, offering his hoof to bump.
“Bien,” Daring smiled back, sighing in relief as she bumped Caballeron’s hoof.
A rapping at the door caught both of their attention. “Professor Daring Do?” the unicorn mare at the door asked.
Daring shaped up her visitor. The snow-white unicorn was a few years older than her, dressed in a charcoal gray trench coat that did not completely hide the bulge of her shoulder harness. Her left eye was curtained by her long, deep blue mane; the right eye was the same shade as her mane, staring at her with a frosty detachment. The coat did not cover her cutie mark: a manila folder with a snowflake embossed on it.
“Can I help you?” Daring asked.
The mare pulled a wallet out of her pocket and flipped it open to reveal a golden badge crowned with a phoenix, its wings spread. Embossed on the badge were three letters: RBI.
“Supervisory Special Agent Cold Case,” the mare introduced herself, prompting Caballeron’s eyebrows to shoot up into his mane. “I’m with the RBI’s Anomalous Investigations Unit. We’d like to bring you down to the station to ask you some questions.”
“Am I under arrest, agent?” Daring asked calmly, trying to ignore her heart suddenly pattering against the walls of her throat.
“No,” Cold Case answered. “We’re looking into Family Tree’s murder and the Temple of Precious Enlightenment and we wished to hear your story yourself. Detective Finder is already at the office.”
Daring considered for a few moments. “I do have some classes this afternoon…”
“I can cover them, amiga,” Caballeron offered.
“Well, if you’re sure,” Daring shrugged, standing.
“Thank you, Professor. I’m parked out front,” Cold Case nodded, turning and heading crisply out the door.
With a grateful nod to Caballeron, Daring got up with a small wince as her ribs and wings flared again and followed her outside. As they headed down the hall, Daring paused at another door, staring at the name etched onto the window.
Professor Family Tree.
Daring sighed and ran a hoof against the frosted glass, shaking her head. Dammit, Family, why didn’t you just ask for help? Did you think that no one else would believe you? I know you loved Cumulus, but was it really worth doing all this?
“Professor?”
“Yeah, I’m coming,” Daring said, pulling away from the door and wiping at her face with a foreleg. She followed the RBI agent towards the exit, trying to ignore the stares and silence that was following in her wake.
As she turned a corner, Luster Dawn appeared before her like magic, her eyes wide. “Professor…” the junior stammered, then swallowed, looking down at the floor. “I, um, was looking through that book you got…the one with Professor Tree’s notes and interviews…and it had these in them.”
She passed over a small collection of black and white photographs, which Daring examined. Some of the photographs depicted a large stone square in the desert. The walls were marred with chisel marks, erasing any symbols that had once been carved into the tomb’s walls. And on the wall was a coiled black serpent with wings, glaring down at the camera lens.
“Cartographer’s pictures of the Nameless Pharaoh's tomb,” Daring said quietly, a flicker of excitement dancing in her chest.
“Where did you get that book, anyway?” Luster asked, raising her eyes.
“I borrowed it from…a friend of Tree’s that she was working with,” Daring Do replied. “It helped us find the tomb.”
In actuality, she’d found it sitting wrapped in brown paper outside her door when she stepped out that morning, with a note in red flowing cursive written on the wrapping: I have a feeling you’ll be quite interested in this. Love, Scarlet Letter. Bile burned her throat at the lie, but she tamped down the taste by reminding herself that she didn’t want to risk her student getting ensnared in the Order’s nets.
“Okay,” Luster nodded, lowering her gaze to the floor. “I’m still working through it; Twilight’s helping me transcribe it.” She swayed in place like a tree in a breeze.
“Luster, what’s wrong?” Daring asked.
Luster sniffled. “I was right,” she whimpered quietly, tears starting to fall from her eyes and staining the carpet. “I was right..and it got Professor Tree killed…”
“Luster, no, no,” Daring soothed, pulling the unicorn into a hug, wrapping a wing around her shivering body. “This isn’t your fault, okay? Professor Tree made her own decisions; she just couldn’t deal with her grief after Silver died.”
“Why did that guy have to kill her?” Luster asked, looking up with tearful eyes.
Daring sighed. “I don’t know. It must have made sense to him.” She shook her head sadly, plucking a hoofkerchief from her pocket and passing it to Luster. She wiped her eyes and face before handing it back with a grateful nod.
“Look, I appreciate you volunteering, but if you don’t want to go through that book–” Daring started to say.
“No, no, it’s okay,” Luster shook her head. “It’s…kinda hard, but it’s also fascinating.” She smiled softly. “A little piece of Professor Tree she left behind for us. A bit of history herself.”
“Okay. Let me know if you want to talk or anything.” Daring patted her student on the back with a rather forced smile before turning back to her escort
Cold Case, who’d been watching silently from the door to the History Department, gave her a look of quiet sympathy before continuing on, winding through the halls of the building before exiting out front. The agent led Daring over to a light blue Chevroneigh and gestured her into the passenger seat before climbing into the driver’s seat.
“It’s not far,” Cold said as she turned the ignition. “We won’t take any more of your time than we need.”
“Considerate of you,” Daring said as the engine turned over. The car pulled out of the lot and into the street, heading west into the city proper.
The local RBI field office was located in the center of the city, not far from City Hall. The utilitarian concrete and glass edifice was crunched in between two other buildings of a similar shape. The glass door had the circular RBI logo embossed on it: a set of balance scales set atop seven stone doric pillars: orange for strength, red for loyalty, blue for kindness, white for generosity, green for hope, yellow for empathy, and purple for magic.
Cold Case parked at an adjacent lot and led Daring through the front door of the offices, where a Netitus security gate and a set of security guards in suits were waiting.
“Agent,” one of the guards nodded in greeting, allowing Cold through the gate. The gate turned red and buzzed loudly, but no one paid any mind.
Daring Do deposited her keys, bag of bits, and watch into a box and stepped through the Netitus gate, wincing at the tingling through her wings as the gate’s matrix of detecting spells passed over her, but the gate’s lights remained green and the buzzer silent.
One of the guards had her sign in on a visitor’s log and passed her a blue visitor’s badge. “Come. Our offices are in the basement,” Cold said.
As Daring followed Cold down a hallway, she heard one of the guards behind her snickering and whispering something about “Bighoof” to a comrade. Cold Case took a deep breath through her nostrils and let it out in a brief, irritated snort, nodding towards a set of stairs.
They proceeded down a set of stairs and ended in a narrow, white brick hallway. A few feet to the left was a door with a sign declaring Anomalous Investigations Unit crookedly placed upon it. Cold Case opened up the door and nodded Daring inside.
The offices were small and tight; Daring suspected that these rooms were actually originally intended for storage. A few desks and filing cabinets had been shoved into the main floor space; bulletin boards lined the walls, with posters overlapping one another. The smell of fresh tea hung in the room, instantly soothing.
Phillip was standing comfortably in the center of the room, nursing a cup of tea; he looked up and nodded as the two mares entered. There were a few other creatures in the office, most of them gathered around one table, all of them wearing white dress shirts and ties. An orange pegasus with electric blue hair and eyes looked up as they approached, snapping up to attention.
“How many times, Sentry?” Cold Case rolled her eyes. “You’re not in the Army anymore.”
“Sorry, ma’am,” Sentry sheepishly said, relaxing.
“Welcome to the unit, Professor,” Cold Case said, taking off her coat and placing it on a coat rack. “You’ve met Agent Flash Sentry.”
“Professor,” Flash Sentry said, striding forward with a hoof to shake. Daring accepted the gesture, taking stock of the kid.
“This is Senior Special Agent Prowl–” A gray thestral with wavy blond hair and yellow eyes nodded. “Special Agent Bumblebee–” A bright yellow changeling with black setae and green eyes smiled and waved enthusiastically. “Special Agent Wheellock–” A yellow hippogriff mare with aquamarine hair wearing a revolver at each hip waved shyly from near the back of the room. “Senior Special Agent Trace Evidence–” A gray unicorn leaning against the back wall gave her a salute, blinking tiredly between his blond bangs. “Special Agent Red Herring–” A bright red griffon with brown eyes grunted sourly. “And Special Agent Tealove.”
“Top o’ the morning to ya,” a green unicorn mare with a flowing blue mane greeted Daring in a Hockney accent, approaching with a warm cup of tea. “Assam with lemon, mate?”
Daring blinked, instinctively accepting the cup. “That’s what my mother always gave me,” she admitted.
“Had ye pegged as an upper-class Griffish type soon as ye came in,” Tealove smiled, tending to a steaming teapot on the counter of a small kitchenette near the back. “‘Course, the cutie mark probably had something to do with it,” she added, glancing at the teacup decorated with a heart on her flanks. “Yer friend prefers black tea with a bit o’honey. Probably not as good as from down under, but I try.”
“Appreciated,” Phillip said, sipping his tea.
Daring took a small draught of her own tea, the taste bringing an involuntary smile to her face at the memory of racing around the grounds of her parents’ chateau, days whiled away in their massive library, stargazing with her father, exploring the moors with Uncle Ad–
Her throat clenched at the memory and her smile vanished in a moment.
“What’s wrong? Ye don’t like it?” Tealove asked, looking a little put-out.
“No, no, it’s great,” Daring reassured her, taking another sip. “Just…my mind went somewhere else.”
Red Herring coughed. “As much as I love tea parties, we do have a job to do,” he grunted, his Fillydelphia accent biting into every syllable.
“Right,” Cold Case said, gesturing Daring and Phillip to a pair of chairs. She sat down opposite them, with the other agents gathering around them.
“I want to hear the full story of how you found the Sunken Church,” Cold Case said, levitating over a notepad and a pen. “From the beginning.”
Phillip took a breath. “Started with a call at my office…”
“Seems like a lot of our cases around here start that way,” Trace Evidence commented quietly, drawing snickers from a few of the surrounding agents.
“Trace,” Cold cut him off. “Go on.”
For the next half hour, Phillip and Daring narrated the full events of their investigation. Cold and the other RBI agents listened intently, occasionally interjecting with a question.
“You actually met the lodge mistress?” Bumblebee asked when they reached the meeting at the Sacred Order’s headquarters.
“Yeah,” Daring nodded. “Scarlet Letter.”
“Really?” Prowl asked. “That trashy romance novelist?”
“Hey, I like her books,” Bumblebee protested. “They’re good for a quick, cheap snack; they’re like literary junk food.”
“That’s a very glowing recommendation, Bee,” Prowl snickered.
“And she actually agreed to meet you herself?” Trace Evidence asked, writing Scarlet Letter on an index card and placing it on a bulletin board covered with photographs, index cards, and string.
“Too right,” Phillip nodded. “Helped a lot.”
Trace Evidence let out an admiring whistle. “She must like you. Lodge masters aren’t easy to get to.”
Cold Case blinked impassively, but Daring Do could see the gears turning behind her blue eyes as she scribbled away at her notepad. “Continue.”
They proceeded through the story, describing Daring’s method for uncovering the secret door. Daring’s narration of the catacombs and finding the Prism of Darkness cast a silence over the room, the agents surrounding them craning closer like foals around a campfire listening to a good ghost story. When Daring got to describing the pony in the suit with the shadowed face, Cold leaned in closer, her brow furrowing. She glanced over at Trace and Prowl, who both nodded.
“The Emissary,” Prowl said.
“Guessing you know him?” Daring asked.
Cold lit up her horn and levitated over a manila folder, which she opened on the table before Daring and Phillip. “These are security crystal stills taken from a museum robbery in Baltimare last year,” she stated, passing over some black and white security stills.
None of the four images showed the burglar in full; the most that could be seen was a blurry glimpse through an exterior window, but there was no mistaking the pristine gray suit and fedora. The shadows obscured the figure’s face.
“What did he steal?” Daring asked.
“Paintings by a Prench impressionist known as Le Artiste Fou,” Prowl stated.
Cold Case flipped back in the file a few more pages. “This is the last-known photograph of a famous historian named Dark Chronicle, taken in Vanhoover before he disappeared in 1876,” she said, tapping a sepia photograph.
Frowning in puzzlement, Daring examined the photo of the mustachioed stallion in the waistcoat and monocle standing in the street outside a library, his face impassive but his posture tall and proud, surrounded by a few other creatures.
It took her a couple of seconds to spot the anomaly: a pony lurking in the background, half-hidden in the shadow of the library, dressed in a lightly colored frock coat, bow tie, and top hat, one hoof resting on the hook-shaped handle of the sword. Despite the fact that they were looking directly at the camera, shadows completely masked their features. “The hell…?”
“And this,” Cold continued, flipping to another photograph. “Is an etching based on witness testimony from a fire that destroyed the New Horseleans library in 1733.”
This time, it took Daring no time to spot the figure in the distance, fleeing from the blazing building in the background. They wore a pleated formal waistcoat and had a stack of books strapped against their side next to the sword. Beneath the tricorne hat, their face was once again obscured in shadow even as they looked back towards the fire.
“There are records of an individual in formal gray attire with a sword and shadows covering their face going back centuries,” Trace Evidence says. “Wherever they go, occult books, art, and artifacts disappear. Sometimes creatures. Some notes and legends here, a strange picture there. Some call them the Pony in the Gray Suit or the Shadow, but the most popular name is what Dark Chronicle called him in a note to a friend before he disappeared.”
He pulled a note from the file and read it aloud. “‘The Emissary comes for his due and I cannot pay what he is owed. Think fondly of me, my friend.’”
“So what are you saying?” Daring asked. “That he’s immortal or something?”
“No,” Cold answered. “We think that it’s an inherited position passed from pony to pony. And we think that whoever they are, they’re an enforcer for some unknown organization.” She frowned at the duo. “And I think you can guess what organization that is.”
“The Sacred Order of the Golden Sphinx,” Daring spat.
“We’ve had our eye on them for years,” Cold said. “They’re connected to a lot of disappearances, robberies, and strange deaths, but we can’t pin anything on them definitively.”
“You two are lucky, you know,” Trace said. “Not a lot of ponies have fought an Emissary and lived to tell the tale.”
“We might not have made it without Gossamer,” Phillip admitted.
“How’s he doing?” Daring asked.
“He’ll be apples,” Phillip said.
“Er…”
“Fine,” Phillip translated. “Fluttershy and Tree Hugger will take good care of him, it’s just a twisted wing and a minor concussion.”
“Good,” Daring said, feeling a small weight lifting off her at the reassurance.
“So then what happened?” Flash asked, eyes wide with excitement.
“After we got the…Emissary pinned down, he started chanting,” Daring narrated. “I took the Prism out of my pocket and it was glowing and casting these…weird shadows all over the walls.” She paused at the memory, a chill running down her spine. “He said…’It’s not a window, it’s a door,’ and kept chanting. There were more and more shadows all over the walls and they were going faster and faster and…”
She realized that she was gripping the cup of tea like a lifeline. She paused and gulped down a long draught of the black liquid, but her stomach still felt like it was filled with ice.
“I grabbed the Sword of Asocrac that he’d dropped and slashed the Prism in half. There was a huge light and a rush of wind that knocked us all over. The Emissary grabbed the sword and ran out before we could stop him.”
“Why’d you destroy the Prism?” Tealove asked. “Both you and ‘im went to a lot of Barney Rubble to get it.”
“I…” Daring rubbed the back of her head, trying to find a way to articulate the twisting dread that she had felt that night in the tombs into words, wincing as rational thought tittered and shook its head at her childish fears. “It was just…wrong. I felt like if I didn’t do anything to stop it, something really bad was going to happen.”
“Like something would come through the door?” Red grunted, his voice as dry as the Saddle Arabian desert.
“Maybe,” Daring cut back, turning to glare at him even as doubt naggingly whispered that she didn’t know that for sure.
“Don’t know that,” Phillip cut in. “All I saw were shadows and lights. For all we know, that’s all it could do.”
“You didn’t feel like it was all wrong?” Daring asked, turning back to him. “Like something was going to happen?”
“No,” Phillip replied flatly, but Daring saw his hoof twitch slightly. She frowned at him, accusing him silently with her eyes, but he turned away, face expressionless.
“What’s done is done,” Cold Case cut off the discussion. “What matters is that the Emissary wanted the Prism and now they don’t have it.”
“After that, I accused Screw Driver of the murder,” Phillip continued. “He confessed. Rest is history. Saw that the police dragged the reservoir for the car and found her body and the wrench in it in the paper,” Phillip said, leaning back in the chair. “Order sent me the check for my work this morning.”
“And a happy ending for all,” Red said.
Cold Case nodded and looked down at her notepad, pulling off the three pages of notes that she had completely filled. “Thank you, Professor, Detective.”
“So what happens now?” Daring asked.
“Now we stay in touch,” Cold Case said, rising and passing over a business card. “Scarlet Letter has taken an interest in you. If she contacts you again, I hope that you will let us know.”
“Definitely,” Daring nodded.
“Hey, Phil,” Flash asked as the stallion rose, the younger pegasus rubbing the back of his mane sheepishly. “Do you think–?”
“Will be busking at Sweetcream’s tomorrow night. Can talk about the case more then,” Phillip smiled, ruffling the pegasus’ mane.
“Oh, okay, great!” Flash beamed, trying to suppress his happiness despite the fact that he was practically glowing.
“Thanks for the tea,” Daring said, finishing off her drink.
“No problem, love,” Tealove beamed. “Drop by anytime. Always up for a Rosy Lee.”
“Yeah, call us if you see Bighoof or something,” Red grumbled as Phillip and Daring exited.
“Your friends are interesting,” Daring said to Phillip as they headed up the hallway.
“Used to work in the AIU,” Phillip said.
“Really?” Daring asked.
“Joined RBI in ‘41,” Phillip said. “Transferred to AIU in ‘46 with Cold; we wore out our welcome in our old unit. Worked with them until ‘51 when I became a PI.”
“Why’d you leave?”
“Work better on my own: fewer feathers to ruffle, fewer rules to follow,” Phillip explained. “Being a private investigator means I can look into cases that are beneath the police and RBI’s attention. It’s how I get a lot of my work.”
Daring glanced at him. “So you get a lot of calls from ponies who think that they’ve seen UFOs and things like that?”
He snorted. “I’ve always preferred cases that are a bit out in the bush. AIU gets lots of those.”
“I see,” Daring commented as they proceeded past the security station, Phil pausing to retrieve his pistol from a security guard. “You know, we work well together, too.”
This time, a small but genuine smile actually stretched across his face. “Too right,” he agreed.
“Next time you get a case that involves some ancient legend or treasure, you’d better keep me in mind,” Daring said as they exited the RBI office, breathing deep the late morning air. “So long as you don’t hit me with your boomerang again.”
He let out a grunt that approximated a laugh. “Wilco.”
Daring extended her hoof. Phillip turned and shook it, smiling at her. “Til next time, Professor Do.”
“Til next time, Detective Finder.”
Daring spread her wings and took off, heading back to the university with a grin on her face. Beneath her, she heard the rumbling of a Scout’s engine purring to life.
But as she flapped her wings to catch a zephyr, a shadow passed over her face. Her smile vanished as she recalled the ringing noise echoing through the bone-decorated walls. The specter of the thing in the stone looked back at her in mind’s eye.
Maybe it was just my imagination…and maybe it wasn’t.
She flew on, trying to force her mind back to mundane thoughts of her classes and papers that needed grading, forcing herself to listen to the rational voice that lectured her for being foolish, but the shadows still followed her, hissing in her ears.
I need to know, Uncle Ad. I need to know.
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Yes. Yes I am!
I know you have set him up as an antagonist, but I cannot help but hear Frank Readick's ominous laughter and iconic "Who knows what evil lurks in the heart of ponies?"
I am really curious and excited to see where you will take this. The story so far really scratches a Lovecraftian + pulp adventure itch in quite a satisfying manner
As others have said, this has been a fantastic lovecraftian pulp adventure and I very much as looking forward to more!
So, is Equestria at 50's level tech, or are they more advanced due to magic?
Also: is the AIU based on the UIU?
11664708
The aesthetic is 1950s, but there's some tech that's more advanced.
And yes, the UIU was a big inspiration for the Anomalous Investigations Unit--heck, it's only one word off.