Two centuries after Nightmare Moon, Equestria's nights are ruled by monsters, and only the hunters stand to oppose them. This is the story of the greatest hunter of all time.
In the centuries after the defeat of Nightmare Moon, Equestria was not the peaceful land we know today. It was a land where the night was ruled by monsters, and the streets ran red with the blood of their victims. In this time, it was the duty of Equestria's hunters to purge and purify in the name of Celestia, and to hold back the monsters until the dawn.
The howling of wolves pierced the night, a sound so chilling that it could freeze a pony on the spot. For the mare galloping down the streets, however, it only made her move faster. Her heart was pounding, and sweat poured from her forehead. She raced down the cobblestone path, guided only by the baleful red glow of the blood moon and the dim gaslights of the street's homes and shopfronts. She was breathless by now, but still she kept running. Their baying drew ever closer, and soon the beasts would be upon her.
The mare turned a corner and tried to leap over a large puddle. She splashed in the middle of it instead, soaking her underside with freezing rainwater, but she continued on regardless. Behind her, the howls had turned to snarls, and she could even hear their paws on the cobblestones. With a panicked breath, she chanced a look back at her pursuers.
The three hengstwolves were each the size of a pony, and looked equine enough in general to make their beastly features that much more unsightly. Upon the bodies of ponies, their black noses, sharp teeth, clawed paws, and distinctly canine tails all looked so wrong. But the frightened mare was far more unnerved by their equine features, because even they were corrupted by beasthood. They had ears like a pony's, but hair grew from them. They had pony manes, but they were wild and unkempt. They even had cutie marks for Celestia's sake, but they were of horrid images like blood and bones.
The mare screamed and ran even faster, somehow finding new strength within herself, even while on the brink of exhaustion. Still the hengstwolves pursued her, almost nipping at her heels. Tears streamed down the mare's face as she ran for her life, and all the way, the wolves kept up their frenzied snarls.
Then a booming voice called out through the night.
"Oi!"
She looked ahead along the street. The voice's owner stood two levels above, on a tiled roof above a shop. Clad in a long red overcoat and cravat, an equine figure lifted a crossbow swathed in emerald-green magic, and angled it into the streets below. The mare's heart soared, and she dared a hopeful smile. In dress like that, with weapons like those, he could only be a hunter.
"To the side, luv!" the hunter called, his voice tinged with the accent of a Trottingham commoner.
Without question, she threw herself sidewards to clear a line of sight for the hunter. Moments later, a silver crossbow bolt sailed through the air with a harsh whistle, ripping through the eye of a hengstwolf. She looked back as the beast hit the ground in a tangle of limbs and fur. Its packmates left it behind with nary a thought.
The mare turned her eyes forward again, wishing now that she hadn't seen that. She looked up at the shop as she rapidly approached, and watched the glow of the hunter's magic as he readied his next shot. It was an extremely quick motion for something as cumbersome as loading a crossbow. She credited it to his unicorn magic, but still marveled at the skill that must have been involved.
The street split two ways at the shop where the hunter perched, so the mare turned right as soon as she reached it. He fired another bolt straight down at the wolves as soon as she passed. The mare didn't look back this time, but she winced at the howl of pain and meaty thud that followed.
One more remained, four sets of claws and one set of razor-sharp teeth still chasing her. Her breaths were coming in gasps by now. Her lungs burned. She was so caught in the moment, it was only by luck that she glanced aside and glimpsed the hunter running along the rooftops beside her. In his teeth, he clutched a long, silver sword, which caught the red-tinted moonlight on its blade. She wondered for half a second why he held it in his mouth rather than by magic.
Then he leapt from the roof.
He aimed ahead of her, so the mare dodged sidewards again. The hengstwolf raced ahead thoughtlessly, and the hunter cleaved its head off in a single strike as he landed. The beast's body skidded past, splattering the hunter with blood from its neck stump, before crumpling to the ground. The blood and his overcoat were both red, so the stains almost seemed to blend into him.
With the danger now passed, the mare collapsed against the wall of a nearby building, tears still stinging her eyes. She breathed deeply and rapidly to relieve the sharp pain in her lungs, staring at the headless hengstwolf all the while. The hunter stood up, replacing his silver sword in its scabbard beneath his coat.
"Blegh," he said, wrinkling his nose and spitting on the road.
He pulled a ragged facemask across his muzzle. Seeing him up close, and not in the heat of a chase, the mare could now tell that her saviour was a crimson unicorn with a black crop of a mane, his coat only a few shades darker than his outfit. She stumbled over to him, still gasping for breath.
"Thank you, kind hunter!" she wheezed.
"Aye, not a problem," said the hunter, his booming voice muffled slightly by the facemask. "But this ain't no hour to be roamin', luv. There're more horrors than just hengstwolves on these streets."
"I know! I was a fool!" The mare sat down in the street, clutching her stomach. "I was late getting back. I should've stayed at an inn on the road and waited 'til the morn to return to the city. My husband, he wouldn't have minded... To think, I almost left him a widower..."
The hunter stared at her for a moment. Then he sighed and rolled his eyes.
"...Yeh should get somewhere safe, quick as possible. If ya home's close, make a run that way. Otherwise, I'd suggest St. Glorious's Chapel. That's where all the lost travelers go on the night o' the hunt."
The mare looked at the ground, while the hunter returned his attention to the dead hengstwolf, leaning down next to the corpse and removing a small knife from a concealed sheath.
"Wait!" said the mare, sitting up suddenly.
The hunter stopped and gave her a quizzical look.
"Aye?"
"I... I left my cart in the square. I had to abandon it to escape the beasts. You've got to help me get it back and bring it home!"
With another roll of his eyes, the hunter put his knife away and stood up.
"Lemme be clear, luv," he said, taking a step towards her. "I'm a hunter, not a bodyguard, y'see? I'm paid to patrol these streets, slaughter beasts, and collect proof o' the kills to hoof over to the Church. My work keeps ponies safe, but in an indirect sense, aye? Yeh just got lucky this time. I can't be expected to save every lost soul I find. That's a constable's job."
"Please, sir, you must!" said the mare, getting on her knees and grabbing the hunter's leg. "That cart's got a week's worth of produce in it! The street urchins will have it by sunrise if I leave it there, and without it, my husband will have nothing to sell at the market! We have children, good hunter! They'll starve if I don't bring it back!"
The hunter stared at the mare as her tears flowed freely. She went quiet, waiting for his answer. Tilting his head back and closing his eyes, he let out another long sigh.
"...Fine. But if I'm to escort ya with yer cart all across the city, we'll need help. I can kill a pack of beasts just fine by meself, but savin' you's another matter. If ya've got a big heavy cart and can't outrun them, two other wolves will probably savage ya while I'm still busy with the first."
The mare stood up, drying her eyes and taking a deep breath.
"So what are we going to do?"
The hunter looked over his shoulder.
"If we head down that way, there's a tavern that's open late to serve hunters. Me brother'll be there. He'll help us."
He didn't turn back in time to stop the mare from grabbing him and pulling him into an embrace, now wearing a bright smile.
"Oh, thank you! Thank you so much, kind hunter!"
The hunter grunted, making her pull away.
"Oh, sorry..."
She then realised that she'd gotten some of the blood from his overcoat on herself. The mare blanched, while the hunter chuckled and returned to the dead hengstwolf's side. Looking at him from behind, she noticed a tiny black spiral on the back of his neck, like a tattoo or birthmark.
"Just lemme claim proof for the bounty first," the hunter said, leaning down and positioning his knife over the wolf's paw. "Ya may wanna avert yer gaze."
He began cutting away at it, while the mare wiped off as much blood as she could.
"By the way, what do I call you?" she asked.
"Hellfire," the hunter answered.
A knock at the door prompted a small window to slide open, behind which were a pair of beady grey eyes. They darted from Hellfire to the mare, and then narrowed.
"The password?" said the doorkeeper in a hoarse, raspy voice.
"'Shrouded by night, but with steady stride,'" Hellfire recited. "'Coloured by blood, but always clear o' mind.'"
The sliding window closed. The sound of locks turning and bolts sliding filled up a good ten seconds, before the door opened wide. On the other side, a haggard old stallion with a full grey beard held the door against his body with both forehooves, as if he were a spider trying to climb onto it. Hellfire pushed him and the door aside and walked in, the mare following after.
"Welcome to the Blood-Drunk Hunter," he said, gesturing about the room.
The interior was brightly lit and smelled of incense, with an old wooden floor and painted yellow walls. Directly ahead was a bar, where a more youthful-looking stallion was polishing glasses. The walls were adorned with the mounted heads of hengstwolves and other beasts, as well as paintings and monochrome photographs. All of them were of hunters – ponies and griffons in fashionable overcoats and facemasks much like Hellfire's. Some were alone, while others posed in groups.
Elsewhere around the room, hunters dressed in the exact same style sat at circular tables, eating, drinking, talking, and laughing together. Most wore darker colours than Hellfire did, and some had odder accessories such as top hats or armoured gauntlets. One griffon even more a monocle. Without exception, everybody present was just as well-armed as he was, carrying at least one visible weapon on their person. Swords and daggers, bows and crossbows, and even plain work implements like axes or sawheads were all in evidence.
Hellfire navigated the tables, the mare following close behind, until they reached one in the corner of the room where two unicorns were sitting.
One was a stallion in black hunter's garb, with a dark red coat underneath near Hellfire's shade, and a light brown mane that was cropped just as short as his. He was just about to lift a spoonful of pea soup to his mouth when he noticed Hellfire's presence and lowered it, but Hellfire didn't say anything. Instead, he turned his attention to the other pony at the table, a blank-flanked colt with a stark white coat and a mane as black as Hellfire's, but many times longer. More specifically, he looked at the colt's hooves, which grasped a pewter mug.
"Helsing, are yeh drinkin'?" Hellfire asked with a stern inflection.
"Uncle True said I could," Helsing answered, speaking in a more proper diction than his father.
Hellfire turned his wrathful gaze back onto his brother, who shrunk slightly under his glare.
"He's thirteen," said True Shot, his voice much softer than Hellfire's own. "Come on, you an' I were drinkin' younger than that!"
"Aye, but our father was a blasphemous drunkard. The Church're clear on this, True. Givin' drink to a child is leadin' an innocent mind to discord. Chaos is sin, o brother o' mine."
True Shot rolled his eyes. "Whatever happened to 'Celestia forgives'? It's fine, 'Fire. Okay? The boy can handle his drink. Give him some credit."
Hellfire sighed.
"I s'pose there's little I can do 'bout it now." He looked to Helsing. "At least tell me yer having a stallion's drink, and not that warm piss that True likes."
True Shot snorted and resumed eating his soup, while Helsing held up his mug to show his father.
"It's ale," he said.
Hellfire looked at the dark contents of the mug for a second, before shrugging.
"Good enough."
"So what did ya want, 'Fire?" asked True Shot between spoonfuls of soup. "Yer back a little early, aren't ya?"
Hellfire gestured to the mare by his side, who had kept silent so far.
"I found this one wanderin' about. Nearly got herself eaten by hengstwolves. She wants me help gettin' her cart back and escortin' her home, otherwise her kids are gonna starve or somesuch."
True Shot frowned.
"At this hour?" He turned to the mare. "Ya do know it's the night o' the hunt, right?"
The mare opened her mouth to speak.
"Aye, she knows," Hellfire said first. "Bad decisions were made all around. All's I'm saying is that I need a second hunter to help me out on this one. Who knows what we'll have to fight through on the way? I can't protect her from everythin'."
"...Alright." True Shot dropped his spoon in the bowl and stood up. "I owe ya one for the dropbear anyway."
He adjusted his coat and lifted a tricorn hat from below the table, which he placed over his head. Helsing, still sitting, looked to each of them.
"What about me?" he asked.
"Y'can stay here," said Hellfire. "We'll be back in half an hour. Old Grisly can watch ya for us until then. Can't ya, Grisly?"
From across the room, the old bearded pony by the door looked their way and nodded.
Hellfire turned to the mare and gestured towards the door. "Shall we?"
As the three went to leave, Helsing suddenly ran out in front of them, holding up a hoof to block their way.
"No! I wanna come with you!"
"No, boy!" Hellfire growled. "It's the night o' the hunt; there're beasts in those streets! Yer mother'd kill me if I put ya in danger."
"But, that's why you both have to go, isn't it? To make sure that there's no danger? She's not a hunter either, and you're taking her!"
"She knows what she's gettin' into, Helsing," said True Shot.
"So do I!" Helsing stomped a hoof on the tavern floor. "I've been training to be a hunter forever! I know what beasts can do, and when to fight, and when to get out of the way! If I can drink already, why can't I hunt, or at least come to see one?"
Hellfire found it striking, how much the colt looked like his mother. His wife had given him that same glare with those same piercing blue eyes so many times before, and he always wilted to them in the end.
"...Fine," he said, tiredly rubbing his forehead. "If ya insist. But there won't be no fighting. If we're attacked, ya hide or ya run. And always do exactly what I say. Got it?"
"Aye. Got it."
Hellfire gave his son a scrutinising look, but relented when he saw no further signs of defiance. He turned back and nodded to Grisly, who opened the door for them. Together, the four ponies walked back out into the cold night air of the Trottingham streets.
As they left, Hellfire took one last withering gaze back at the Blood-Drunk Hunter, its old sign creaking as it swayed in the wind. Behind it, the blood moon hung low in the sky.
Hellfire shivered.
The four of them kept a tight formation while they walked the streets. Helsing stayed at the back, while the mare whose name he didn't know led the way. His father and uncle kept pace either side of the group, watching the side streets for any signs of danger. Helsing observed them closely, and every once in a while, the mare would glance back at him.
"So..." she said. "This is a family business, is it?"
"Nay," said True Shot, not taking his eyes off the side streets. "Our father was yer regular kind of mercenary, and our mother was a gentle soul. Huntin' just appealed to us."
"I'm gonna be a hunter one day," said Helsing. "I'm gonna be the best hunter there ever was."
Hellfire chuckled.
"Ah, the arrogance o' youth."
"Miss it, don'tcha?" said True Shot, shooting his brother a grin.
"Aye. Every night..."
The group soon emerged into a city square, the cobblestone roads around the outside enclosing a large green area, at the centre of which was an imposing clock tower. On the edge of the green, parked by a public bench, was the cart that they were looking for, produce overflowing onto the road. Cabbages formed the bulk of it, but there were also carrots, tomatoes, cauliflowers, and apples.
"Good stock ya have here," said True Shot.
"Aye," Hellfire added, picking up an apple with his magic to examine it. "Where'd ya get these? They're real fresh."
"Brittlesworth," the mare replied, taking his apple away and throwing it into the cart.
Hellfire shrugged and looked outward across the square, keeping a guarded stance while Helsing and True Shot helped pile everything back into the cart.
"Alright, that's everythin'," said True Shot. "C'mon. Let's get outta here."
The mare hitched herself onto the cart and began pulling. She'd scarcely taken five steps when a howl rang out through the streets, making her freeze. True Shot tore a crossbow from a concealed holder at his side, and loaded a bolt into it with the kind of speed that only expertly-applied unicorn magic could allow.
"Go!" Hellfire shouted to the mare, and she started running without hesitation. "And you, boy! Into the cart!"
Before Helsing could protest, his father picked him up with his magic and tossed him into the back of the mare's moving cart, where he landed on top of the carrots. He quickly righted himself and sat up again, and found that both his father and uncle were keeping a steady pace alongside the cart. Hellfire, already floating his silver sword beside him, passed a small dagger to Helsing.
"They're just hengstwolves, so we should be fine," he said hurriedly. "But worst comes to the worst, that's a treated holy blade. Should be good against anythin' we face. If ya lose us, use it sparin'ly, and try to get this filly home safe. But think of yerself first, okay? If she's being an idiot, and they're all on her, run for it and head for the chapel!"
The mare twisted her head, shooting Hellfire a wide-eyed look. Helsing just nodded.
The howls in the distance grew louder.
"Ah, damn!" said True Shot. "They're on us, 'Fire!"
Five hengstwolves barreled into the streets behind them, bounding forward an unsettling speed. True Shot fired off a bolt and struck one of them in the face, sending it sprawling with a pained whimper. But as quick as he was, the other four had still made frightful progress by the time he'd loaded his next shot.
He fired again.
"Back to the Abyss with ya!" he shouted, striking a second between the eyes.
The wolves had almost caught up. Hellfire used his magic to hold his sword at distance, and swung at one of them hard enough to decapitate it.
"Rot in Hell, ya sun-forsaken beasts!" he said, joining his brother's curses.
Helsing watched in rapt attention as True Shot fired again, killing a fourth wolf, just in time for Hellfire to cut the throat of the last one as it leapt towards him. Both brothers had managed to get blood-splattered during the fight, but neither seemed immediately concerned. Instead, they both looked back longingly at the corpses in the road behind them.
"That's two hundred and fifty bits we're leavin' behind," True Shot muttered.
"We can come back for it later," said Hellfire.
"Assumin' that we even—"
The conversation was interrupted as the cart came off its wheels, flinging Helsing off. He yelped as he flew and landed on the road, skidding along on the cobblestones and grazing his skin. The flipped cart rained produce over the road, and landed on its side next to him in a thunderous crash. He heard Hellfire and True Shot cursing, while the mare screamed for a brief moment, only to be quickly silenced. Helsing seethed at the stinging pain of his cuts, and edged back around the cart to see what was going on.
The mare was shoved up against the wall of a nearby building, pinned by a shale-grey earth pony with gleaming yellow eyes, his mouth closed around her neck. She moaned deliriously, as all the colour seemed to drain from her face. All the while, her attacker kept eye contact with Hellfire and True Shot, who stood a short distance away, aiming weapons at him.
Soon, the mare lost consciousness. As a final cruelty, the vampire ripped her throat out with his pointed fangs, spilling what little blood she had left over the road. He tossed her body aside, wiped his mouth with a hoof, and slowly advanced on them.
"Well, well, what do we have here then?" he purred. "A pair of hunters out on nightly stroll... So good of you to be out here, ridding us of those dreadful beasts... They do make it difficult for me to find my prey on a night like this."
The vampire moved closer and closer, until True Shot pulled a wooden sun symbol from under his coat, and brandished it in the vampire's direction.
"Back, hellspawn!"
The vampire scowled and hissed, recoiling. Hellfire, a sweat on his brow, glanced aside at the upturned cart, and a look of relief crossed his face when he saw Helsing. But that's when the vampire noticed him, too, and Helsing felt a deep sense of dread as he looked his way.
"Oh," the vampire said, grinning. "A little one."
Before he could make a move or insinuate anything more, a silver crossbow bolt pierced the vampire's skull, and he clutched his head and howled in agony.
"Take him and go!" True Shot yelled. "I've got this!"
Hellfire dashed behind the cart, grabbing Helsing with his magic and throwing him onto his back. In an instant, he was galloping away from the scene, Helsing's hooves clinging around his neck.
"Ya see why I didn't want ya out here?" Hellfire shouted.
"I'm sorry!" Helsing cried. "I didn't know!"
"This is all my fault, listenin' to that stupid mare! I never should've agreed! This always happens when ya indulge in sentiment, Helsing! We just had to get her cart, too! She couldn't just be happy that she weren't torn to pieces! I should've just told her to go home, and sod her starvin' kids!"
"Is Uncle True gonna be alright?"
"I damn well hope so!"
There was a sound of hooves on stone behind them. They didn't look back in time before the vampire caught up with them. He galloped alongside Hellfire, grinning widely, his face unblemished where the crossbow bolt had struck him.
Then for just a moment, the vampire looked directly at Helsing again.
He couldn't stop himself. The reaction was pure instinct. Helsing leapt from his father's back and tackled the vampire, grabbing him by the neck. Both stallions stopped galloping, the vampire shouting in surprise and trying to shake Helsing loose. Before he could, Helsing drew the dagger his father had given him, and plunged it straight into the vampire's eye. He twisted his head away as blood sprayed from the socket.
The vampire shrieked in pain, his thrashing finally managing to throw Helsing off. The knife was still embedded in his eye, so Helsing reached out with his magic and used what little of it he had to hold the knife in. He gave it a twist while he was at it. The vampire's screams became louder, and he started clawing at his own face in an attempt to grab it. Eventually, he got a grip and wrenched it free, and immediately threw it halfway down the street. Blood poured from his wounded eye, while he glared at Helsing with his good one.
"You've done it now, kid..."
Hellfire slammed into him from behind, knocking him into a wall and winding him. Then he threw the vampire to the ground and smashed a forehoof into his jaw, knocking several teeth loose.
"Ya dare threaten me son?" he thundered. "I'll send ya back to the depths where ya belong, heretic!"
Helsing scrambled back. The vampire was already visibly healing from the first punch, so this time Hellfire brought down both hooves on his head with all the force he could muster, breaking several bones with an audible crack. His hooves were staining red, as blood flowed from the vampire's eyes, nose, and mouth.
Hellfire hit him relentlessly, again and again. The vampire kept healing everywhere except his wounded eye, but Hellfire repeatedly broke his bones and made him bleed, causing new damage as quickly as the old could be fixed. He struck the vampire with the sort of violent rage that only a protective parent could muster, and with every blow, more and more blood splattered over him, covering his face, his hooves, and his overcoat.
"Die, monster! Die!"
The vampire threw a punch of his own, sending Hellfire reeling. He reached up and grabbed Hellfire by his cravat, pulling him down to the ground with him and flipping them both over. Now the vampire was the one pinning Hellfire.
"No!" Helsing cried.
The vampire grabbed Hellfire's head with both hooves and forced him up to look him in the eye.
"Nice try, hunter, but not enough."
He slammed Hellfire's head into the ground, making him scream. Then he did it again, harder this time, and then a third time. By the fourth, Hellfire was crying, his eyes squeezed shut as he flittered at the edge of consciousness. Helsing was crying too. The vampire opened his mouth, his fangs shining in the moonlight.
"Hunters always taste the sweetest..." he said, laughing.
Then from out of the dark, a silver bolt struck him in his remaining eye.
Once more, the vampire howled in agony, collapsing to the ground and allowing Hellfire to attempt to crawl away. Bewildered, Helsing looked down the street, in the direction that they'd been running from, and saw his wounded uncle stumbling into view. True Shot clutched his side with a hoof, nursing an injury that was bleeding through his overcoat, while with his magic he aimed his crossbow at the vampire.
He finished reloading it just as he reached the vampire's side, and pressed down with his free hoof to hold him in place while he pointed it at his chest.
"These ones're treated with holy sunlight magic," he said, coldly. "Good luck healin' from this, ya scum-suckin' heathen dog."
True Shot unloaded his last bolt directly into the vampire's heart. He cried out one last time, blindly reaching up towards the red-tinted image of the Mare in the Moon, before falling limp and silent.
Helsing looked around at the carnage. The walls and the road were painted red with the vampire's blood, and with some of his father's, too. It looked like the scene of a grisly murder. In a way, it was. Helsing stopped to reflect on that. He had witnessed seven deaths tonight.
"Urgh..." Hellfire grunted.
"You okay, brother?" asked True Shot, extending a hoof.
"Aye, aye, I'm fine..." Hellfire took his hoof and tried to stand. "I'm just feelin' a little... a little..."
His eyelids fluttered as he climbed to his hooves and stumbled.
"A little... somethin'..."
He looked down at his own hooves, still soaked with the vampire's blood. True Shot gave his brother a wary look, and took a step backwards.
"'Fire, did ya get any of it in yer mouth?" he asked.
"M-My... mouth..."
Hellfire opened his mouth, and True Shot took a sharp breath as his brother's tongue ran over a new pair of fangs. The two stared at each other, wide-eyed and fearful. True Shot tried to blink away tears, while Hellfire just remained grave and sullen.
"I'm so sorry," said True Shot, shaking his head.
"N-No, it's m-my fault... I should've b-been more careful..."
Hellfire held a hoof over his mouth and sank back to the ground. Helsing rushed over to his father's side.
"...What is it, dad?" he asked, his heart racing. "What did you do?"
Hellfire closed his eyes and sighed. "I've infected meself, Helsing. The vampire's blood got in me. And there ain't no cure for vampirism 'cept killing yer maker. But True already killed him..."
Helsing's eyes widened, reflecting his uncle's expression.
"But there must be something else you can do!"
"No... I'm sorry, son."
Helsing started crying again.
"You can't, though! You can't let it get you! Father Sunflower says that vampires can't go to Paradise!"
"Urgh... I don't think I was ever going to Paradise in the first place..."
Hellfire chuckled grimly to himself, but his weak laughter soon became pained crying. He ripped open his overcoat to expose a necklace and wooden sun pendant underneath, just like True Shot's. It was burning his coat and skin, searing him with a Celestian sun brand. Still, Hellfire didn't take it off, only gritting his teeth and leaning his head back.
"Arghhh... this hurts... Owwww... Please... no more... End it now... I need peace... I need... to be put to rest... before I lose meself..."
His breathing had become deep and rapid. Hellfire sat up slightly and began stripping off his hunter attire and weapons, leaving everything except the necklace and pendant.
"Helsing... Helsing, listen to me..."
Helsing obeyed, moving closer to his father.
"...I'm givin' you me coat, and me weapons... When ya get into the business too... use 'em well... Don't be scared off by how it ended for me, if it's what ya really wanna do... This is hunter's work... We die a hunter's death..."
Hellfire's head lulled to the side, and he looked up at his brother as he loaded another bolt into his crossbow.
"True... look after him... Teach him everythin' that I won't be there to..." True Shot nodded, and Hellfire turned to his son again. "And you... look after yer mother... and yer little brother and sister... Yer the stallion of the house now... Ya protect them... no matter what... okay...?"
Helsing nodded.
With a slight hoof gesture, Hellfire bade his son to back away. Helsing obeyed, and True Shot stepped over.
"I'm sorry, 'Fire," he said, pointing the crossbow at his brother's heart.
"Don't... blame yerself... Just put me outta my misery... and we'll... call it even for the dropbear..."
Even through the tears, True Shot smiled.
"Forget about Paradise anyway. Who needs it? You and me, we're hunters. And we'll meet again in Hunter's Dream."
Hellfire smiled back, closing his eyes. "...I'll see ya there."
True Shot's last silver bolt fired. Hellfire let out a quiet whimper as it pierced his heart, but kept his eyes closed. He slumped back against the wall, crumpling to the ground, and True Shot waited and held his breath. When Hellfire's cutie mark disappeared, he let out a long sigh and collapsed onto his knees.
"Ohhhhh... Celestia, forgive me..."
Helsing didn't say anything. He sat down in front of his father, in the same place he'd been when they'd exchanged their final words, and stared blankly at his corpse. True Shot watched him silently with an uneasy look. He scowled up at the moon, doubtless silently cursing its mistress for what she had wrought.
There was a flash of light, and an odd noise by Helsing's side. True Shot looked back down, and his jaw dropped when he looked at him. On Helsing's flank was a brand new cutie mark. It was of a red blood splatter with a metallic sun symbol in the centre of it, a wooden stake and hammer lying either side.
But Helsing barely gave it more than a passing glance. In his world, there was nothing in that street but the bodies and the blood.
Equestria in the winter had a kind of empty beauty to it. For miles around, all that Helsing could see below was white. The blanket of snow covered the hills and the flatlands alike. It smothered the forests, leaving only bare wood in its wake. Only the roads were clear of snow, looking like thin black pencil lines cutting across a canvas from this high up.
Snow crunched under Helsing's hooves as he trudged up the mountain path, and his breath misted in front of his face in the winter air. The chill winds made his scarf flutter in the breeze, and he carried nothing else on him to protect from the cold save a pair of saddlebags, but still he smiled and continued on. And by his side, a constant companion clung to him.
"Is it much further now, my good sir?" she asked.
Like Helsing himself, her coat was as white as the snow they walked through, but her smile was considerably warmer. She wore a scarf of her own that was entwined with his, blue, like the colour of her mane. Helsing looked sideways at her.
"Canterlot is still some ways, I fear," he said, not unkindly. "But I shan't worry; we'll both make it there in time for Hearth's Warming."
"I very much shan't, being in such good company. To think, I'd have had to walk all this way by myself if you hadn't arrived."
"'Tis only the decent thing to do. Couldn't leave a young mare such as yourself to brave the cold alone, could I?"
"You are most generous." The mare bowed her head, a slight blush working into her cheeks. "I'm terribly sorry. I realise now that we've been walking all this way, and I've not even asked your name! Mine is Morning Dew."
"Van Helsing."
Morning Dew gave him a curious look.
"I've never heard a name like that before. What's it mean?"
"Van means 'of' or 'from' in some of the old chimeric tongues, which my father once had cause to learn on his travels. So I suppose my name means singing that comes from Hell."
Morning Dew's smile wavered slightly, but it held. "That is unusual. It doesn't seem like it suits you."
"Well, maybe not. But then again, looks can be deceiving." Helsing leaned in and whispered into Morning Dew's ear. "You'd know a thing or two about that, wouldn't you?"
Suddenly, Helsing slammed sideways into his companion and threw her against the mountainside, her body striking the rock with a sickening crunch. Morning Dew cried out, and collapsed into the snow, maintaining her form for only a moment, before it flickered away in a flash of fiery green magic.
A black, insectoid pony now lay where Morning Dew had been, with a curved horn, translucent wings, and empty blue eyes. The changeling groaned, moving a hoof to her side where a pony's ribs would be. Green fluid dripped from a crack in her chitinous shell, staining the snow. She rolled onto her back, and Helsing stepped over her, staring down dispassionately.
"Hello, changeling. Didn't get enough of your fill when you sacked Timbucktu, did you?"
Morning Drew tried to get up and scramble away, keeping one forehoof on her injury and using the other to force herself to stand.
"I swear to you, I'm not part of the swarm! I wasn't even at Timbucktu! I'm just trying to get away from all that!"
"Likely story," said Helsing, opening his saddlebags. "However, it doesn't matter to me either way. You were sloppy, and you were spotted changing back in Briskmeyer. They told the appropriate authorities that you were coming this way, and here I am."
Helsing removed a small bell and rang it gently. On the quiet stillness of the mountain, its chime echoed clearly.
"Oh please no..." Morning Dew whispered. "What are you? Royal Guard? Constabulary? What do you want with me?"
Groaning wood sounded from behind them, further down the winding mountain path, distant at first, but growing louder. A grey earth stallion pulling a carriage emerged from behind the cliff. Helsing turned to Morning Dew, who watched his approach with a bewildered expression.
"Hunters Guild. And you're worth a pretty penny to me."
Helsing hadn't known that changelings could go pale, but Morning Dew certainly did. She opened her gossamer wings and tried to buzz away, but before she could get off the ground, Helsing swung a hoof and crushed a wing against the cliff. Morning Dew cried out again, and Helsing let her go just as the carriage came to a stop behind them.
The grey stallion uncoupled himself from the carriage and opened a door on its side. From behind a bushy brown moustache, he looked down at Morning Dew with the same dispassionate look that Helsing had given her, his wrinkled old face showing not the slightest hint of emotion. He almost looked bored as Helsing floated the changeling into the carriage.
"Good hunting, sir?" the stallion asked, his voice pompous and formal.
"By this land's standards at least, Service," said Helsing, climbing into the carriage himself. "One vampire and a pair of hengstwolves, plus this one. It's terrible. The Heartland is so peaceful. I scarcely even know where to find the monsters out here."
Service held the door open while Helsing sat back on a cushioned seat, his changeling captive sprawled on the floor in front of him.
"Perhaps why your uncle had to change careers, sir."
"Among other reasons. But Heartland hunters must make their money somehow." Helsing flicked a hoof in Service's direction. "Anyway, enough talk. Let us be off to Canterlot before I freeze here."
Service closed the door. There was a moment of quiet from outside while he hitched himself back in, and then the carriage began moving again, rumbling across the unpaved road beneath the snow. Helsing let himself smile, and opened a small compartment next to his seat. He withdrew a bottle of whiskey, along with a glass, and poured himself a drink.
Lying on the floor, Morning Dew made a changeling's best approximation of a scowl.
"If you were always going to do this, why lead me on all that way?" she said with a huff.
"Sport." Helsing smiled at her. "I find it fun."
Morning Dew sighed and sat up. "So you're a hunter? You can't be more than sixteen."
"I'm seventeen," said Helsing. "And my age is of no concern. If hunters believed that age trumps skill and discipline, then we may as well all give up and go home. Look at where you are, and tell me that all your age and wisdom helped you against me."
He gestured to the carriage interior and let out a hearty laugh, leaning back in his seat.
"So unless you feel like changing back to your previous form and giving me a show, I'd settle in for the journey."
Morning Dew scoffed. "Unbelievable..."
"I'll take that as a no." Helsing took a drink of his whiskey and grinned.
The carriage pulled to a stop outside of Canterlot proper, where a great iron portcullis blocked the only entrance into the city. A stone wall loomed overhead, and by the side of the road, a small building with an open window jutted out from the wall. A Royal Guardspony in gleaming golden armour stood in the window, unshaken by the cold. When Service stopped next to him, the guard dutifully unrolled a piece of parchment and picked up a quill with his hoof.
"Name and reason for your visit?" he asked.
"Loyal Service of Trottingham, transporting my master to a family gathering," Service answered, eyes centered on the portcullis ahead of him rather than the guard.
The guard scratched away at the parchment with his quill. "Names of your master, and any other passengers?"
"My master is Van Helsing of House Songbird. We have one other passenger, a captive whose true name is not known to us."
The guard stopped writing and looked up at Service, raising an eyebrow.
"...Which leads rather conveniently into my final question.... Have you anything to declare?"
Service slowly turned his head towards the guard. Wordlessly, he unhitched from the carriage and walked over to the door, knocking on it twice. The door opened, and Helsing poked his head out.
"Yes?"
Service tilted his head towards the guardspony, who exited the station and approached the carriage.
"Ah," said Helsing.
He disappeared from view for a second, retreating back inside. When he returned, he was holding a bound and gagged changeling by her neck with his magic. Helsing threw the changeling outside and onto the ground, and the guard recoiled as she landed at his hooves, wriggling in the snow. He stared at the changeling, open-mouthed, then looked up to Helsing.
"I believe the bounty on this one was three hundred?" said Helsing.
"Um..." The guard shook his head and regained his composure. "I'm afraid that I wouldn't know anything about that, sir. I'm just the gate guard. If this is a monster you want to collect for, you should head for Bright Cathedral in the middle of town..."
"No," Helsing said firmly. "I am indeed a hunter, but changelings are, inexplicably, considered people, not monsters. That means I'm looking to collect from local law enforcement, which would be the Royal Guard, right?"
"Uh, well... in a manner of speaking, that is our functional role outside the palace, but Canterlot has a constabulary just like any other large city. They're the only ones besides the Church who would be paying any bounties."
Helsing rolled his eyes and climbed out of the carriage, grabbing the changeling and physically throwing her back inside.
"So where might I find them?"
"They have a few stations around the city. The closest one is on Platinum Street."
Helsing looked over to Service. "Think you can find it?"
Service simply nodded.
"Very well," said Helsing.
He turned towards the guard and bowed briefly, bringing up one foreleg across his chest. The half-bow got another raised eyebrow out of the guard, before Helsing climbed back into the carriage and closed the door behind him. Clearing his throat, the guard returned to his station and shouted something through a hole in the wall.
The portcullis lifted. Attaching himself to the carriage again, Service proceeded into Canterlot.
On the way to the police station on Platinum Street, Helsing took the time to get dressed, getting rid of the scarf he had shared with Morning Dew earlier, and replacing it with an outfit he removed from another small compartment in the carriage. When they stopped, Helsing stepped outside clad in his hunter garb – a long crimson overcoat and cravat which hid his cutie mark, but left exposed the small spiral mark on the back of his neck. Between the many pockets and sheaths inside it, the coat had ample space for him to conceal weapons, although he did not bother arming himself for a simple walk into a police station.
Morning Dew resisted Helsing all the way, struggling impotently as he floated her in ahead of him. The two entered a very spartan-looking room, almost completely featureless aside from a front desk, a notice board full of wanted posters, and a few doors. Seeing as nopony was around, Helsing casually dumped Morning Dew on the floor and strolled over to the desk, where a small bell waited for him. He rang it repeatedly until a young, bespectacled mare arrived to answer him.
"Good afternoon! How may I help?" she said with a smile, which disappeared when she noticed Morning Dew on the floor.
"Bounty collection," said Helsing, smiling back. "This is the changeling that was seen back in Briskmeyer. Reward of three hundred bits, if I'm not mistaken."
"Oh my..." The mare leaned over her desk to stare at the changeling. "I... will see to this immediately, sir."
"Good. Thank you."
The mare retreated through a door behind the desk. After several minutes of waiting, a pony in a dark uniform with a silver badge emerged from that same door to collect Morning Dew and haul her away, her muffled protests fading as she disappeared from view. Helsing didn't remark, and merely began rhythmically tapping a hoof on the desk.
While he waited, Helsing's eyes wandered over the station's front room. He found his attention drawn to the wanted posters, the only items of note there. Most of them were for ponies, featuring sketches of their faces and cutie marks, descriptions of their colours, and listing their crimes and the sum for their live capture. No mention of a reward for killing them, though; criminals could act like animals all they wanted, but they were still people according to the law. It seemed so bizarre. Nopony ever expected a hunter to take vampires alive, and it was easier for all involved that way.
What caught Helsing's eye the most, however, was one particular poster which didn't describe its subject at all. There were no sketches of either face or cutie mark, no colour descriptions, and not even a name. The poster simply read "MYSTERY KILLER," and listed that they were wanted for six counts of murder. Helsing couldn't help but stare a while at that one.
The law seems surprisingly inept in the capital, he thought.
His pondering was interrupted as the mare returned, this time carrying a bulging straw sack. The coins inside jingled as she dumped it on the desk in front of Helsing.
"Three hundred, as listed. Feel free to count it."
"No need," said Helsing, picking it up and stuffing it into a side pocket. "I trust that it's all there. Thank you."
"Thank you, sir, for your service to Equestria! And a happy Hearth's Warming!"
As he left the station, he noticed that the sky had been obscured by clouds sometime in the past several minutes. Up above, a number of pegasi were busily preparing for a heavy bout of snow. The sight made Helsing roll his eyes as he returned to the carriage.
"Something wrong, sir?" asked Service.
"Not at all. I just hate snow in the cities."
"It is traditional to decorate for Hearth's Warming, sir."
"I know. I just think that making it snow indiscriminately all over the place and then having to spend hours clearing it from the roads again is moronic."
"Of course, sir," Service drawled.
Helsing was quiet, looking at Service with a slight frown.
"...Come then," he eventually said. "Let us be off to my uncle's house."
The road where Helsing's uncle lived was a lot more austere than he had been expecting. He knew coming here that the city wasn't made entirely of upper class types, and that there had to be some space where normal ponies lived, but it was still odd to see regular wooden houses in the midst of all the marble and finery. Sometimes, all of Canterlot felt like it was just one big extension of Celestia's palace.
Of course, even here there were examples of luxury and opulence. Canterlot had no real slums. It only had houses that were less fancy than others. Even the most humble of Canterlot dwellings looked regal by the standards of Helsing's hometown. The homes of Starshine Lane were no exception, all detached buildings with fiercely maintained hedges, large windows, and multiple chimneys. Garden gnomes and alicorn statues and frozen fountains were among the many setpieces that decorated the snow-covered lawns.
Helsing watched the length of the road pass him by from the window of his carriage, until finally they came to a stop outside number sixty-seven, one of the larger homes on the street. Loyal Service opened the door for him, and Helsing stepped out and proceeded to the house, where a large iron knocker invited him to announce himself.
The door was answered by a young earth pony colt, with a chocolate brown coat and a creamy white mane and tail. The colt looked at Helsing oddly, ignoring Loyal Service as he came up to join his master.
"Cousin Helsing?" the colt murmured.
A slight smile came to Helsing's face.
"Soft Spoken. I haven't seen you since you were six."
The smile grew as he crossed the threshold and ruffled his cousin's mane, mussing it up and drawing weak protests and laughter from the colt. Loyal Service regarded the scene quietly, and moved on through down the hall without comment.
Helsing took in the sight of the front hall himself. The walls, floor, and staircase were all mahogany. The shiny varnish reflected the glow from a grand stone fireplace halfway down the hall, which crackled away behind an iron grate as ashes built around its base. A dozen torches lined the wall, unlit for now, and between them, the occasional fine landscape painting or mounted beast head added to the decour. It all very much reminded Helsing of home. Of course, Songbird Manor had many more trophies than this hall did; Uncle True hadn't been a hunter for many years now.
"Mother!" Soft Spoken called out in a voice that was barely louder his normal one. "Cousin Helsing is here!"
Two mares emerged from a room at the far end of the hall. The first, a white pegasus with a yellow, frayed mane tied back in a bun, peered at him over a pair of half-moon spectacles. At first she was stoic, but then her expression shifted into a subtle smile. The second was a portly earth mare wearing an apron, with a long, straight mane that was the colour of fresh-fallen snow, and a coat of brown several shades lighter than her son's. She trotted down the hall towards them, sporting a cheery grin, and the other mare followed after her.
"You're here!" she said, sweetly. "Little Helsing! Haven't you grown?"
"Hello, Auntie Cotton. Good to see you again." Helsing then turned to the other mare. "Mother."
Helsing's mother nodded genially.
"So polite, as well." Cotton beamed at him. "Come and sit down! The three of us were just about to have some tea."
They were directed to the sitting room halfway down the hall, a cosy room with red-painted walls and not a severed head in sight. Comfy chairs and sofas lined with feathered cushions formed a semicircle around a small table and another roaring hearth. Helsing took a seat opposite his mother, and Soft Spoken moved over to the fire to pile on more logs while Cotton left the room again.
"You're doing well, I trust?" Helsing's mother asked, adjusting her spectacles.
Soft Spoken finished stoking the fire, and climbed up onto one of the nearby chairs. He didn't say anything. He merely watched and listened.
"As well as can be," Helsing answered. "The Heartland is... quiet. I've participated in the night of the hunt here a few times, but there are too many other hunters and not enough monsters. Business is slow compared to the Isles."
"Hmm... The Guard keeps the peace well in the Heartland."
Helsing thought back to all the wanted posters he saw in the station, and mentally scoffed at the idea. The Royal Guard, the EUP Guard, and the constabulary alike couldn't even deal with common killers. He doubted that they were responsible for the Heartland's dearth of vampires and hengstwolves. It was still hunters that were keeping this land in check.
"What of Service?" she continued. "I hope you have not overworked him. His age is advancing."
"I ask nothing of Service that he is not capable of," Helsing replied. "He performs his duties with competence, if not enthusiasm. I dare say he's been a valuable asset to my work."
A slight frown appeared on the older mare's face, but it disappeared when both Cotton and Loyal Service returned to the room. The latter carried a tray with him, holding a teapot, sugar, milk, several mugs, and a fresh newspaper, the Canterlot Herald. He set it down on the table in front of the fire, and began pouring out everypony's tea as Cotton sat down beside Soft Spoken. Helsing muttered his thanks as Service passed him his mug first, and snatched up the Herald.
MYSTERY KILLER STRIKES AGAIN: BODY FOUND DUMPED IN PARK.
Helsing opened the paper and started reading, while Loyal Service took a seat next to him. The mares seemed to have noticed the headline.
"Tsk..." said Cotton. "Tragedy, isn't it, Choir?"
Helsing's mother shook her head. "A demented mind is a sad thing."
"Aye, that it is," Helsing muttered.
His grim fascination compelled him to read on. This was just the latest in a long string of murders, according to the paper. The body in the park was the sixth they had found so far, identified as a local prostitute, yet the authorities were loath to reveal any real details about the investigation, so the facts were scarce. Nothing really stuck out.
"I don't understand what makes them do it," said Cotton. "What compels a pony to do such horrid things? How can they enjoy killing?"
Helsing eyed his aunt for a moment, and then looked back down at the newspaper.
"Aye..."
It was still morning when Helsing and Service had arrived in Canterlot, and it didn't take long for boredom to set in. Soft Spoken had little to say, and seemed content to sit around and listen to the ramblings of old mares, while Loyal Service wasn't great conversation even at the best of times. Helsing hoped, at least, that things would liven up once his siblings arrived, but Sacred and Angel were spending the day up at the palace with Uncle True Shot, and there was little to do around the house in the interim.
With precious few other options, Helsing eventually decided to head into town. The shops were still open, and he only had to kill a few hours, so it seemed like a good time to take care of gifts. The payment he received for the changeling would cover his expenses nicely. And so he left the house and made his way into the city, leaving Loyal Service behind to get some well-deserved rest.
Canterlot in the winter was a fascinating place. Although the snow was inconvenient and the air was unpleasantly cold, the city still looked beautiful to Helsing. Not only that, but the citizens themselves seemed brighter. The holiday had a kind of effect on ponies. The rich felt more charitable, the poor complained less, and the foals played in the street in that carefree way that foals do. Their frolicking wrung a sense of nostalgic longing out of Helsing, as he recalled a time just on the edge of his memories, back before his father died.
All along his journey through the high street, Helsing only had to look up at the sky to see the holidays represented in burning pink. The heart-shaped bonfire floated above the city, one of many manifestations of the Fire of Friendship throughout the nation. Every passing day, it burned a little brighter, growing in strength from the ponies around it as they came together in the spirit of peace and friendship, as well as their mutual fear of being frozen to death by eldritch creatures. This close to Hearth's Warming Eve, one could stand beneath it and catch falling embers. It was no coincidence that the bonfire hung so high in the sky. Any closer to the ground and all the winter snow would melt instantly.
Helsing reflected on Hearth's Warming as he walked, thinking of all its myriad traditions that were on display around him. The shops and street lamps were all adorned by holly and tinsel and colourful signage, and on the pavements, the foals had made snow effigies of ponies, which Helsing occasionally had to step around.
And then there were the carollers. Their music was pleasant, but Helsing still cringed slightly, remembering all the times his mother had taken him and his siblings carolling around Hoofgate. He had always been terrible at it, as had his brother. House Songbird boasted a long line of ponies with talents for music and singing, his mother and younger sister among them, but neither of the boys had inherited it. They were their father's sons through and through.
Helsing shook his head and cleared his thoughts of songs, focusing instead on finding a place to buy gifts. Guided by the vague notion that his mother was a mare and that mares like shiny things, he drifted towards a big store named Empire Jewellers. Its windows were full of gold and silver, arranged in glimmering display cases and cabinets. With a shrug, he trotted inside, over to the nearest case, and began examining the contents.
"Hmm..."
The glass cases all contained a variety of rings, bracelets, necklaces, chains, lockets, watches and various other jewellery, but nothing really stood out to Helsing in the first he looked at, so he moved to the next one over. Again, nothing caught his interest. The same with the third. He began to consider that, as a stallion who couldn't possibly care less about fashion, maybe he wasn't cut out for this.
"Can I help you, sir?"
Helsing looked up from the display case to see an old pegasus with a monocle standing on the other side, smiling genially at him.
"I'm late getting a gift for my mother," he answered. "I'm looking for something she'd like."
"Well, if you'd allow me to make a suggestion, sir..."
So began the vicious cycle that trapped the two in an eternal stalemate. The jeweller took him from case to case, droning on about all the possible choices, listing the situations each would be appropriate for, and doing his best to sell Helsing on their quality. With each suggestion, Helsing would give either a "maybe" or "pass," and they'd move onto the next case. Each time, they'd examine a new piece, and Helsing would hear some more trivia.
"...This is Zebrican sapphire in the centre of the pendant, cut by our own craftsponies. This one is heart-shaped, like the Hearth's Warming bonfire, but we have other varieties which may suit..."
This dragged on for what felt like hours, though Helsing wasn't sure how long it really was. For the most part, he would just nod along to show he was following, and continue giving his noncommittal responses. The jeweller had the patience of a saint, not even flinching as Helsing rejected his suggestions again, and again, and again, until they reached one particular case.
"Here we have white gold necklaces. Our most popular in this line are the sun symbols. They make good gifts for the particularly devout, and for the patriotic."
Helsing raised an eyebrow, and looked more closely at the symbols in the case.
"Are these ready-blessed?" he asked, leaning over it and gazing at them.
"I beg your pardon?" the jeweller responded.
"Have the sun symbols already been blessed by a Celestian priest through the traditional rites? Cleansing flame, maybe? Possibly a prayer of deference? Even submersion in holy water would be acceptable."
"Oh..." The jeweller seemed caught off guard by the question. "I... don't believe so. They're made, and then they're sent to us, really."
Helsing sighed and waved a hoof. "Never mind, then. Carry on."
"Right. Well..."
Shopping really did take forever. The adventure in Empire Jewellers alone took up at least an hour before Helsing eventually settled on a pair of earrings and left. Nice ones. Not really gigantic or obvious. Just a little pair made of diamonds. Subtle, classy, and affordable with what he had. However, it wasn't the only store he spent far longer than necessary in.
It was late now, and Helsing trotted through an empty street in the town centre. Just about every store he passed was already closed, or at least beginning to close. Other stray shoppers were a rare sight. It seemed that not everypony took as long as he did to choose their presents, though Helsing was still struck by how dead the whole place felt. His home village was livelier at this time of night. This was the capital of the nation in early evening during one of the busiest times of year.
At least it was well-lit and open. No real risk of running into trouble out here, not that Helsing was especially worried about anything he might come across. Walking alone in Trottingham was liable to get one savaged and eaten, even on the night of the hunt when there were hunters around to help. Compared to that, Canterlot had nothing to fear, serial killers or not.
Helsing ruminated on his day as he walked. It had been just as difficult to buy for his sister as it was for his mother, especially since she wasn't one for jewellery. The answer there ended up being clothes, but choosing the specific clothes had been difficult. After much deliberating, he had gone with a fluffy winter coat from a popular boutique. The red overcoat that he wore now, given to him by their father, had served him well so far through the winter, so he reasoned that his sister would appreciate a coat of her own. And if not, he could always give her the receipt.
Helsing's other relatives were all much easier to buy for. His uncle was fond of history books. His aunt liked chocolate. Soft Spoken had a thing for model ships. And for his brother, Sacred, he got some pocket-sized adult books that he hid inside a massive dictionary. Helsing made especially sure to get the dictionary bound in string afterwards, in case Sacred decided to open the book and his actual gift fell out in front of mother.
The things I do to be a good brother...
It was a lot to carry. All the day's shopping was held in one relatively small, straw-weaved sack, which was almost bursting at the seams. He floated it next to him, keeping a close eye on it, sure that it would explode everywhere if he didn't watch it constantly. In fact, he was watching it so closely that he almost didn't notice the approaching griffon.
She flew in from above and landed directly in front of Helsing, stopping him in his tracks. The griffon was of the brown-and-white variety, and was lightly armoured. Iron plates covered most of her chest and legs, and she had a helmet that protected everything but her face, strangely. By her side, Helsing noted a set of wing-blades.
"Well, well. What do we have here?" She gave him a twisted smile. "What are you doing out here this time of night, pony?"
That smile and those particular words set Helsing on edge immediately.
Griffon. Wing-blade user. Lightly-armoured for mobility. Standard rules of pegasus combat apply. Keep distance. Rely on projectile and magical attacks. Strike under the wing to ground or disable. Remove whole wing to disarm. Aim for gaps in the armour.
"Shopping," Helsing replied, curtly. "That isn't a crime now, is it?"
From behind Helsing, another voice answered. This one was male.
"I don't know, but it is mighty suspicious."
Two similarly armoured griffons came into view, a male and another female. The male stood to Helsing's left, while the third griffon, the other female, went to his right. Now surrounded, Helsing dropped his bag to the ground next to him, just slightly out of their reach.
"Suspicious how?"
Outnumbered. Three visible. Possibly more unaccounted for. Back exposed. Strong enough light spell could temporarily blind and give time for a possible getaway. Avoid alleyways and side routes where likely to be boxed in. Head towards castle and try to draw Royal Guard assistance.
"Didn't you hear?" said the male griffon, smiling. "There's a killer on the loose. Everypony else in the city are scared out of their wits, and don't want to go outdoors this time of night."
"Indeed," the first female agreed. "What's suspicious is that you don't seem to be afraid of walking the streets at night. Notice how empty the rest of the place is?"
Helsing noticed an insignia of a silver talon on her armour by the right shoulder joint. The other two had the same symbol. This wasn't a gang of bandits. It was a mercenary company. The first female griffon seemed to be the one in charge, so Helsing decided to address all his answers to her.
"I'm not afraid because there's nothing to be afraid of. There are far worse monsters in this world than other ponies. A serial killer is nothing. Why should I cower in my home just because the rest of the city is?"
The lead griffon smiled at him.
"Good answer," she said. "What's your name, kid?"
Helsing wrinkled his nose at the slight. He wasn't sure how old the griffon was exactly, but she was definitely not old enough to call him "kid" and be taken seriously.
"Van Helsing."
"Helsing," she repeated, tasting the name on her tongue. "Odd name for a pony. Tell me, Helsing. Would you object if we did a quick test? Nothing serious. Just want to see how you react to something, and then we'll let you go."
"Depends what it is."
The male reached into a bag and produced a clove of garlic, which he showed to him.
"Garlic? What are you testing for? Trying to see if I'm allergic?"
"Are you?" asked the leader.
"No."
"Well then, do you mind if we just see?"
Helsing looked her up and down.
"...Who are you again?"
"Les Griffes D'argent Bénis," she replied. "We're not dangerous. Not to you at least. Let us test you real quick, and we don't ever have to speak again if you don't want to."
He sighed. "Fine. Whatever you want. Bunch of weirdos..."
The male griffon smiled again. He began waving the garlic around in front of Helsing's face and lightly running it over his horn. It was obnoxious, and the garlic smelled, but Helsing had no extreme reaction to it. The other female then brandished a small metal ornament of the sun, and pressed it against Helsing's neck. Again, nothing happened. With disappointed looks, both of them pulled back and put their things away.
"...And what the hell was that for?" Helsing asked.
"Nothing," the female responded.
"Right, well, if it's all the same to you freaks, I really need to get home."
"Of course," said the leader. "Don't let us keep you. Happy Hearth's Warming."
"Aye, happy Hearth's Warming."
The three of them spread their wings and took off, soon leaving Helsing alone in the streets again. Once he was sure they were no longer around, he picked up his bag and resumed his journey. But the shopping was now the last thing on his mind. He grinned to himself as he trotted in the direction of Starshine Lane.
Les Griffes D'argent Bénis. The Blessed Silver Claws.
Perhaps they thought he couldn't speak French Griffonian, or that he wouldn't recognise the methods of identifying a vampire. Details like that were far from common knowledge outside of academic and monster-hunting circles. Policy in the Heartland and other areas of low monster activity was usually to pretend that vampires were rare and no real threat anymore. Common folk didn't think that much about them in these parts, because whenever they did show up, they would be very quickly dealt with by the hunters.
That was probably what he had just encountered. Not a mercenary group, but a Heartland hunter clan. "Blessed Silver Claws" certainly sounded like a good name for a company of civilian hunters, especially griffons, even if "talons" would have been more accurate.
And they talked about that serial killer...
Now there was an interesting thought. What if Canterlot's mystery killer was a vampire? It would make sense for the authorities to cover up such a thing. They'd keep the public from panicking too much by downplaying it as a normal crime, the Royal Guard would put up a front of investigating it themselves, and meanwhile, groups like Apollo Division and Les Griffes D'argent Bénis would be doing the real work from the shadows.
Helsing didn't know the first thing about this serial killer. Not really. Anything in the news that he'd read could be inaccurate if there really was a cover-up going on, not that the authorities had made much information public in the first place. Though, there was one thing that Helsing really did know for sure.
He wanted in on this.
It was Helsing's uncle that answered the door when he eventually returned to 67 Starshine Lane. The dark red stallion, mane greying with age, gave his nephew a grin and pulled him into an embrace once he saw him. Helsing just stood there awkwardly and let it happen, but eventually thought to return the gesture by weakly placing one hoof around his uncle's neck.
"How're ya doing?" True Shot asked as he pulled away, leading Helsing inside.
"Good, thank you," said Helsing, wiping his hooves on the doormat.
"Aye. Glad to hear it." True Shot locked the door behind them. "C'mon. Yer brother and sister are here."
That made Helsing perk up. He put down his shopping bags and followed his uncle to the sitting room, where Cotton and his mother were still chatting away. Service and Soft Spoken were both nowhere to be seen this time. Instead, it was Helsing's little sister that sat with them, daintily sipping from a teacup. With her white coat, golden mane, and feathery wings, she was a dead ringer for their mother, and her cutie mark of a winged musical note and halo indicated that she had her voice as well. It was her eyes that set her apart. They were green, like their father's had been, rather than the deep blue of Helsing's and Choir's.
The mares all stopped and looked over to them. Angel rose from her seat with a bright smile and came over.
"I've missed you so much, big brother," she said, embracing him. "I didn't know anypony in New Manesterdam, and there were such big crowds there."
Helsing returned her hug more easily than he did his uncle's.
"To be sure. You, uh... did well, though, I hope?"
Angel pulled away and nodded.
"Yes. They cheered very loudly at the end. But it wasn't just for me! There was a whole cast there, and they were all very good singers as well. Oh, you should've heard them, Helsing!"
"Aye, maybe I will someday..." Helsing looked about. "Is Sacred around?"
Angel smiled knowingly. Helsing turned around, and found his younger brother standing there beside Soft Spoken.
Sacred Fire was smaller and shorter than Helsing, being two years younger, but had a muscular build for a unicorn. Like their mother and sister, his mane was yellow, but his coat was a vibrant orange, giving him the fiery look that was his namesake. His cutie mark also reflected this, a slanted image of a burning brazier, like the ones found in Celestian churches. Many took it to mean he had talent for holy pyromancies and sunlight magic, which he could certainly perform competently, though it was also often joked that his cutie mark was actually a falling brazier, representing a talent for arson.
"It's been a long time since last I saw all three o' yeh together," said True Shot, smiling. "In fact, I think the last time was... well, last Hearth's Warmin'."
"Time flies, uncle," said Helsing.
"Aye. It does indeed... Are yeh all moved in here?"
"I moved my things into the guest room after I arrived this morning."
"Good, good..."
True Shot went to sit down with the rest of the family, but Helsing instead took his shopping bags and went upstairs. Sacred and Angel both followed.
"How was the palace?" Helsing asked as they climbed.
"It was the most beautiful place I've ever seen," Angel said wistfully. "You should see it too! Uncle True showed us the throne room, and we even got to see the Princess! She's just as splendid as they all say!"
They passed by the guest room where the three of them had been housed, but instead of going in, Helsing just dropped his bags outside the door and proceeded down the hall.
"That's wonderful, Angel," he said. "Maybe I will go see it."
His siblings followed quietly behind, plainly confused, until they came to a door left ajar at the end of the hall. The three of them entered their uncle's study.
Every wall of the room was covered in bookshelves, but many were full of strange trinkets instead of books. Curios and relics, like odd-looking keyrings or highly detailed snowglobes, filled nearly half the shelves. A display cabinet in the corner of the room was full of foreign coins, and in another corner were several cardboard boxes, packed with new books still in their brown wrapping. Just across the room, flames crackled away in a small hearth beside a comfy green chair and a writing desk, piled with bottles of colourful liquids. A rusty halberd, propped against the desk, leaned precariously over the chair.
Helsing started rifling through the clutter on the desk.
"Um, brother?" said Angel.
"Helsing, what are you doing?" asked Sacred.
"Have you heard about this mysterious serial killer in Canterlot?"
"The one who killed that prostitute? Aye, I've heard of him. Why?"
Pushing the chair aside, Helsing ducked below the desk and pulled out a small wooden chest with an iron lock that still had the key in it.
"I think it's a vampire."
"Woah..." said Sacred, eyes wide. "You're not thinking of going after it, are you?"
Helsing opened the chest and frowned, pulling out an old crossbow made of sturdy iron. Twenty-six notches were scratched into the handle, along with the insignia of the Hunters Guild – a beast crucified upon a burning cross. After a brief inspection, he put it back, closed the chest, and shoved it back under the desk.
"I was. Tonight, in fact. But first I need to do some investigating. Supposedly, the Royal Guard are in charge of the case, or at least that's what the Herald says. It may just be a front while the local hunters work on it, but either way, the Royal Guard would probably have case files, and I need to see them if I'm going to beat them to it."
Sacred whistled.
"Tall order. You want to find a monster that both hunters and law enforcement have already been searching for, and do it first? Don't get me wrong, brother, I have faith in you, but you may be setting your sights a little high."
Finally, Helsing found what he was looking for in one of the desk drawers. He grinned as he floated out an iron keyring.
"Maybe so," he said, jangling them in the air. "But with Uncle True's keys, I think the first phase of the plan at least will go smoothly."
Sacred grinned in response, but Angel just stared agape at her brothers.
"I can't believe you two!" she snapped. "It's Hearth's Warming, and you're both thinking about hunting down vampires and serial killers! What's wrong with you?"
Both the stallions turned on her.
"Us? What's wrong with us?" asked Helsing. "How about what's wrong with you? Do you see either of us giving you a hard time for pursuing your interests?"
Angel glared at him. "It's not the same, Helsing! I'm not interested in horrid things like you are! Why do you have to be like this?"
"Like what?" said Helsing, glaring back. "Like a hunter? Like our father, Angel? Look, it's a dirty job, but somepony's gotta do it. We'd all be drowning in blood and beasts if it weren't for ponies like us. You could show a little gratitude every once in a while."
Angel scoffed, tossing her head. The swishing of her mane afforded a brief glimpse of the spiral mark on the back of her neck, and reminded Helsing that for all their differences, he and Angel were still very much alike, in all the ways he wished they weren't.
"Fine. Whatever." She trotted over to the door. "I won't tell mom or Uncle True, but you two better not get yourselves caught!"
She slammed the door shut behind her, leaving the two alone in the study.
Helsing looked to Sacred. "So, how about it? Want to help me?"
Sacred raised an eyebrow.
"Let us be clear. You want me to help you break into Canterlot Castle to access the Royal Guard's private case files, an act that technically counts as treason, I remind you, and probably some kind of heresy too, so that we can go chasing down a vampire, which you want to find and murder before the authorities beat you to it?"
"Aye," Helsing said with a straight face.
Sacred smiled.
"Do you even have to ask, brother?"
Fifteen minutes later, Helsing was wrapped up in his long red overcoat again and trotting down the darkened streets of Canterlot, his brother dutifully following at his side. Sacred Fire had only a scarf and a woolen hat to keep him warm, not being a professional hunter himself yet, but Helsing shared his equipment with him. Sacred carried a set of saddlebags containing Helsing's spare stakes, a hammer, some bottles of holy water, and a silver dagger. A golden sun symbol hung around his neck, and he floated their uncle's old crossbow at his side.
"How's your aim?" asked Helsing.
"Better than it was last summer," Sacred answered.
"Good. The crossbow is a hunter's most useful tool. Don't get in a monster's range if you don't have to."
"I know, brother. I may not be a hunter yet, but I've trained just like you have."
"Aye, I know. Just that I worry. I had dad and Uncle True to learn from. You've only ever had Grisly."
"And you."
"And me, aye."
They continued talking for most of the way as they trekked across Canterlot, discussing hunting, and family, and how eager they both were to get back to the Griffish Isles where work wasn't so quiet. They complained together about the dullness of the Heartland, and joked about Angel's overreaction, Choir's sternness, and Cotton Wool's doting. It all served to take their mind off the cold, as the Canterlot snows made them both shiver the whole way there, Sacred most of all.
The light of the heart-shaped bonfire illuminated their way, bathing the streets in flickering pink light. It was a longer walk than Helsing had been anticipating, so the relief was almost palpable when the castle's gates finally came into view.
Canterlot Castle towered over the rest of the city. Its spires rose higher than any other, eclipsed only by the mountain itself. Surrounding it on all sides were vast swathes of snow-covered land, dotted with statue gardens, animal habitats, mazes, and other, smaller buildings. A low castle wall enclosed the grounds, not enough to provide any real military defence, but enough to ensure that unicorns and earth ponies couldn't just walk onto the grounds as they pleased.
Helsing and Sacred turned right when they reached the end of the street, avoiding the guards and the front gate. They instead circled around the outskirts of the grounds, following another street that ran alongside the outer wall so that Helsing could inspect it. Low as it was, the wall was topped by battlements, where white-coated Royal Guards in golden armour marched back and forth on patrol. Here and there, Helsing could also see the occasional cannon, relics of wars fought long ago. Though they were just decorative now, he wondered whether they could still fire.
"Well... how do we get in?" asked Sacred.
Helsing stroked his chin, looking up and down the length of the wall. There were plenty of gates and other openings to slip through, including the one they'd just swerved to avoid, but they were all guarded, and the ponies would probably never leave their stations unattended.
"Hmm... I'm not sure. I had no time to stake out the place. What would you suggest? You've been in there."
"Seriously, Helsing? You don't have a plan?"
"I improvise my plans. If you don't go in with a plan, your plan can't be foiled by circumstances."
Sacred grumbled. "Well, it looks pretty airtight to me... Could we go over the wall with a rope?"
"If we time it right to avoid the patrols, then maybe... I'd need to get a rope, first. Alternatively, I suppose we could try to sneak through the front gate. But we'd need a distraction..."
Suddenly, a thundering boom echoed through the night from further down the wall, and a crashing noise and a sound of distant screaming came from the castle grounds. The guards on the wall abandoned their patrols immediately and galloped in the direction of the noise, while the guards on the gate ran back into the grounds towards the cries of terror and agony.
Helsing blinked.
"...Will that make a good distraction?" asked Sacred.
"Aye. That'll do nicely." Helsing opened his coat and drew his crossbow, before slamming a bolt into it. "Come on!"
The brothers ran towards the now unguarded gate, and went through into the castle grounds. As soon as they were past, they turned right and ran out across the snow-covered grounds, towards where the Royal Guards were running. Another blast sounded, and this time Helsing and Sacred could see what was happening.
Across the grounds, beyond the maze and the statue garden, a stone fortress stood apart from Canterlot Castle. It was small compared to the main palace, but still three floors high and built of sturdy grey stone. Yet now, its defences had been smashed. After two blasts, most of the ground floor's front wall had collapsed entirely, and the outside was strewn with rubble. Royal Guards were buried underneath it, both Day Guards in their shining golden armour, and Night Guards with their deep purple armour and grey coats.
Helsing and Sacred ran most of the way over, but stopped to hide behind a bush halfway there. A third booming noise came from the wall to their right. Looking over, Helsing saw that it was one of the cannons firing, turned back on the castle rather than outwards at the city. There was a battle going on atop the wall between the Royal Guard and a small band of about a dozen griffons, which the Royal Guard was losing badly.
Corpses piled up beneath the wall as the griffons killed the castle's defenders, and the cannon fired a fourth blast at the fortress, shattering the thick oaken doors on its lower level. The gate guards and several other ponies from across the grounds ran out between the fortress and the wall. They opened fire on the griffons with spells and crossbows, but the griffons fired back with crossbows of their own.
The guards were shot down one by one, while the griffons seemed to shrug off everything that was thrown at them. They were definitely being struck, but whenever one of them got an arrow or a bolt in their neck, they would just casually rip it out and resume their assault. The griffon who had commandeered the cannon fired a fifth time, and took out a large number of Royal Guards with the impact of the cannonball. In less than two minutes, the defenders were finished, and the griffons swooped down and across the grounds, converging on the ruined fortress.
Helsing got a closer look at the griffons as they made for the fortress, counting thirteen of them. All were completely clad in black, and had a bulky look to them, as if they were wearing armour beneath their disguises. Although it was hard to make out in the dark, the glint of moonlight off the metal also revealed that at least a few of them were sporting wing-blades as well as crossbows.
One pony of the Night Guard was still alive outside the fortress, half-buried under the rubble and struggling to stand. As soon as he was on his hooves, a crossbow bolt struck him in the throat, and he collapsed. With the resistance wiped out, the griffons flew into the fortress through the hole, completely unopposed.
"...Shit," said Sacred. "We have to go, Helsing. This is out of our league."
Just as he turned away, Helsing grabbed his brother by the scruff of his neck and yanked him back.
"We are not going anywhere. This is the opportunity we were waiting for. Do you know what that fortress is, little brother?"
Sacred gulped. "The Royal Guard's central command."
"Aye," said Helsing, pulling up a facemask to cover his snout. "Whoever these griffons are, I'd bet good money that they're going for the same target we are. We have to get there first."
The inside of the fortress was dark, illuminated only by the occasional oil lamp rather than torches or magical lights, and they didn't do much to fight back the chill drifting in from outside. Helsing and Sacred walked down a stone corridor, passing bloody smears on the walls, the latter now using his scarf as a makeshift facemask. Corpses on the ground stared up at them with glassy eyes, their faces twisted into expressions of horror. Not one of their swords or spears or halberds were bloodied – none them had even gotten a hit in on their attackers. The screams of still-living guards echoed from further into the fortress, but the dark corridor turned at the end, so the brothers couldn't see anything.
Helsing and Sacred passed below murder-holes in the ceiling and arrowslits in the walls, none of which appeared to have done any good against the invaders. In various side-rooms along the corridors, they found more corpses and fresh blood. In some areas, the griffons had even snuffed out the light by smashing the oil lamps, so Sacred lit their way with his talent spell, producing a flame as bright as sunlight.
Deeper into the fortress, the chill became less noticeable, but the situation only got worse. The distant screams never stopped, and the bodies and gore and discarded weapons only became more numerous. At one point, they came across a pile of no less than six guards, all missing different combinations of limbs, with a sword thrust through all of them like a giant fork. Here there was more evidence of resistance, including a broken wing-blade and scraps of black cloth amongst all the blood, but their efforts were still inadequate.
"Eugh," said Sacred, wrinkling his nose under the scarf. "Is this what it's like on the night of the hunt?"
"Worse, some nights," said Helsing. "When the blood moon's in the sky, everybody goes a little crazy, beasts and ponies both. Civilians caught outside tend to end up like this, and even some hunters don't make it through. But this kind of massacre is usually the work of blood-crazed beasts. I've never seen people do something like this, especially under a grey moon."
"Do you think these are people?"
"Good question. I doubt it; this reeks of vampire. But no evidence of them eating their victims yet. You can always tell a vampire attack from your standard bandit raid by the cannibalism."
Around the next corner, they could hear the sounds of an ongoing battle. This wasn't distant. They were close to this one.
A dying pony cried out. There was a thump, and then a visceral tearing.
"Be ready," Helsing whispered.
They crept forward, and prepared to turn the corner. But before they knew what was happening, the blood-soaked griffon leapt out into view and lunged at them at them with a hiss. In the split-second he had to react, Helsing drew a silver dagger and floated it around his attacker's side.
He stabbed it in the lower hind leg. The masked griffon screeched like an eagle and staggered back, staring at the wound with wide eyes full of shock and fury. That had been a gamble. Helsing was sure that the griffon was wearing some kind of armour underneath the black clothing, but if it was light enough to fly in, it couldn't have been full-plate. He'd just had to guess at which areas would be most unprotected, and he'd guessed right.
Helsing smiled darkly under his mask.
"Wondering why you're not regenerating, heathen?" he said, twirling the dagger. "You attacked Celestia's castle. You should've expected sunlight."
The griffon snarled and lunged again. This time Helsing went for the eyes, ramming his silver dagger straight through. Vampire blood sprayed over his coat as the griffon collapsed, writhing in agony. Helsing didn't stop, instead forcing the dagger further into the griffon's eye and twisting it in its socket, drawing pained screams from it.
Sacred watched with fascination as Helsing ripped off the griffon's mask and breastplate with his magic, exposing her brown and white feathers and a pair of very tiny fangs inside her beak. Griffons didn't even have teeth, but there they were.
Helsing removed a wooden stake and hammer from his coat, positioned them over the vampire's heart, and drove the stake through with a single blow. She screamed louder, and kept writhing for another second or two, before finally falling limp and silent. Helsing turned to Sacred.
"You see, little brother? This is the process by which we kill a vampire. No matter how much we damage the brain, a vampire can regenerate it through its blood. Therefore, we want to stop the heart, so that it no longer pumps this evil blood up to the head and keeps the vampire living. Even cutting the head off completely will do little if you don't stop the heart; it'll just grow a new one."
He placed the hammer back in its holder inside his coat.
"Would you like to try the next one?"
"Me?" said Sacred, taken aback. "Kill a vampire? You think I'm ready?"
Helsing shrugged. "I killed my first at fourteen. You're a year older than I was. I think you're more than ready. If you're truly willing to endure the Nightmare, that is."
Sacred looked down. "Well... if you think so, I'll give it a go!"
Helsing patted his brother on the back.
"Come on. Let's get going."
Helsing pondered on the vampires as he and Sacred crept through the fortress. He thought back to his encounter with Les Griffes D'argent Bénis, and wondered what connection they had to the group he and his brother were currently fighting. It couldn't be coincidence. Les Griffes D'argent Bénis had obviously been hunters, probably from Griffonstone, since they didn't recognise his garb as the common style of Trottingham's hunters. And now they were here in Canterlot at the same time a group of vampire griffons were attacking the castle. There was some relationship here. He just didn't know what.
They climbed a set of stairs, and paused at the top when they spotted another vampiric griffon further down the hall. He was bent over a corpse, noisily and messily devouring it.
The two sneaked up behind the vampire, whose disguise was now torn and ragged from dozens of cuts. Helsing again readied his dagger. The light blue glow of his magic alerted the vampire, who turned to look back at them, but wasn't fast enough to react in time. Helsing's magic grabbed it by the neck, and his dagger floated around and slashed its throat, spilling fresh crimson blood. The vampire tried to scream, but only gargled instead.
Helsing threw the vampire to the floor, away from the guard it had been eating, and stabbed it several more times in the neck and face. It flailed about, choking up blood, and was finally silenced when Helsing opened his coat and drew a steel longsword, which he quickly used to decapitate the vampire. Its headless body went still.
"Come on now," said Helsing. "Give it a try."
"Um... that sword is blessed, isn't it? Won't decapitating a vampire with a blessed weapon prevent it from healing?"
"No. The blessing left by a strike from a holy weapon is temporary, Sacred. Vampire regeneration can overcome it with time if the heart still beats. It is always necessary to ensure that the heart is destroyed beyond recovery."
Sacred brought out a stake and hammer from his bags, and positioned them over the headless corpse's heart. He hesitated, and glanced back to his brother. Helsing gave an approving nod, and Sacred lifted the hammer, took a deep breath, and struck.
The body twitched violently for a second, and then fell still.
"Good," said Helsing. "Now let's try fighting one next. I want to see how you handle a weapon. Blade or crossbow, it's your choice."
Sacred drew their uncle's crossbow, readied a silver bolt, and nodded to Helsing. They moved down the corridor together, checking the side-rooms one by one. All of them were dead and bloody, so they moved on quickly, until Sacred stumbled across a dead unicorn with a sword.
"Hey, look," said Sacred, lifting the sword with his magic and turning it over in the air. "Unicorn sword. I trained with these under Grisly."
"Aye. They're good weapons if you have to get in close. But that one won't do you much good without a sunlight enchantment."
Sacred floated the sword over to Helsing.
"Think you could help me out with that, brother?"
Helsing gave him a flat look.
"I can't use sunlight magic, Sacred. That's kind of your thing."
"So? I'll do the magic. I just need you to say the right words."
Helsing sighed. "Fine."
Sacred closed his eyes, his horn glowing a golden hue as he channeled magic into the guardspony's sword. Helsing removed the sun symbol around his neck and held it against the blade of the floating sword, shutting his eyes as well as he muttered a prayer.
"'Blessed is the sun, and may she hear our call,'" he recited. "'May Celestia watch over us in the darkest of nights, and let us carry sunlight with us. Give strength to this hunter's sword, by hoof and by magic, that it may be used to slay the servants of evil. For the light we fight, and for the light may we die. Umbasa."
Helsing opened his eyes and tossed the sword carelessly over to Sacred, who caught it just before it struck him.
"Sorry that I can't do better. I'm no priest, so that'll have to do."
"It'll hurt vampires, though?"
"About as well as my dagger will."
Sacred swished the sword in the air.
"How long does it take them to regenerate from your longsword?"
"A few minutes, but this one was dad's. It's a professionally-treated hunter's sword, blessed by the Bishop of Trottingham herself. Yours is an amateur's work, so don't rely on it. If you're going to kill a vampire, do it quickly."
It wasn't long before they came across another vampire. This one was hiding away in one of the side rooms, but the sounds of tearing flesh and animalistic chewing gave him away. Helsing and Sacred edged over to the door, and silently signalled to each other their readiness. On the count of three, they both rushed into the room, where the vampire was startled from his feast.
Sacred knocked him away from the dead guard and slammed him up against the wall with his body. The vampire shrieked at him, but Sacred raised his sword and plunged it into the creature's side before he had a chance to strike him. Blood spilled out and soaked both the vampire's clothing and Sacred's coat. Some of it got on his scarf as well, but fortunately it was woven too thick to soak all the way through. Just to be safe, Helsing quietly cast a spell of his own on Sacred, to afford him some extra protection. The vampire collapsed to the floor, screaming, but Sacred ignored his cries, and carefully removed the vampire's plate armour so that he could drive a stake into his heart. When the vampire finally fell still, Sacred backed away, breathing heavily.
"...Okay," said Helsing. "Not exactly the cleanest kill, but solid. You stabbed it before it could get a hit in on you, so that's good. But don't get so close, next time. Vampire blood is dangerous stuff, and you want to keep away from it when possible. Never stab when you can shoot, and never use hooves when you can use magic. Covering the mouth helps, but you never know when your mask might slip or get torn in a fight."
Sacred's head drooped. "Sorry. I'll do better next time."
Helsing paused, pursing his lips and wondering whether to say anything, but he came up with nothing. Instead, they just proceeded on.
Three down, ten to go.
Suits of armour lined the walls of the fortress's top floor, silent sentinels dispassionately watching over the carnage. The corpses of the Royal Guards piled at their hooves, their blood pooling beneath them and dripping down the steps. Helsing and Sacred fouled their hooves in it as they ascended, the air around them tinged with a metallic stench that didn't make the grisly scene any more pleasant.
Helsing stopped at the top of the stairs, and held a hoof out to stop his brother too. His eyes narrowed on the far end of the hallway, where moonlight shone through an open door leading to the outside. Thinking back, Helsing recalled seeing battlements atop the fortress, though there hadn't been any guards patrolling on them. Had the vampires escaped and flown away already?
With a silencing gesture to Sacred, Helsing crept along the hall, making note of the doors between the suits of armor. These led to offices, whereas the side rooms on the lower floors had typically been barracks and storerooms. Light poured out from some, where hearthfires still crackled inside and oil lanterns stood on desks, but even the rooms that were still bright were splashed with streaks of red.
Helsing's ears twitched as a feminine voice drifted down the hall from one of the far rooms.
"...Gone too far this time! You know I can't allow—"
"Can't allow what?" said a second female voice. "Can't allow me to live? Are you that tightly bound to your oath, that you'd raise your blade against your own blood?"
Helsing looked back to Sacred and flicked his head in the direction of the voices. Sacred nodded, and readied his sword. Together, the two of them crept along corridor, hugging the wall.
"This isn't about family or oaths. You're a murderer. That's enough for me."
"As if you have room to talk, sister. You've broken the law for your little group just as much as I have for mine."
"Of the two of us, you're the only one eating people, Gertrude."
The voices were coming from a room on the right side of the corridor, a dim light spilling out from a wide open set of double doors. Helsing and Sacred came to a stop beside the doors, crouching just outside the room. Though they couldn't see inside from their angle, the shadows of the room's occupants flickered slightly on the opposite wall. Only two were speaking, but it looked as if there were at least four griffons inside.
"What business is it of yours, anyway?" asked Gertrude, her voice sounding clearer now. "You never wanted anything to do with me before."
"It's my business because I'm a hunter. I kill monsters, sister. Why did you become one, if this was something you wanted to avoid?"
"Tsk, tsk. Whatever will you tell mother, Geraldine?"
"The truth. That you died screaming, as I burned you."
The shadows moved. Glass shattered, and there was a flash of light from within the room, and shouting. Helsing could only guess that the one called Geraldine had thrown some sort of firebomb, but it didn't sound like she'd hit her mark. There was a clashing, steel on steel, and the griffons in the room grunted as their shadows on the wall grappled with one another.
Helsing rose to his hooves, but before he could make a move, an armoured griffon came sailing back out of the room and slammed into the wall. Already unconscious, she slumped forward and collapsed on the stone floor with a clatter. Helsing's eyes ran over her body, and locked onto her silver talon sigil. It was the one who'd accosted him. The young one pretending to be older.
A vampiric griffon stepped out into the corridor as well, her black mask removed to reveal a white face with a wide, sinister grin. She stood over the unconscious Geraldine and chuckled darkly.
"Ah, sister... Whenever will you learn?"
Helsing and Sacred moved as one, the elder brother loosing a bolt into her neck while the younger ran up and drove his sword through her back. Gertrude hissed, but it turned into a scream as Sacred twisted the blade before tearing it out of her. She stumbled and fell against the wall, next to her sister. Reaching up to her neck, she grabbed Helsing's bolt with a claw and ripped it out, seething. Helsing readied a second bolt, while Sacred backed away and waved his sword in a vaguely threatening motion.
"So..." she growled, clutching her wounds. "Les Griffes D'argent Bénis are hiring ponies now, are they? Sister, your standards are dropping all the time..."
Helsing lifted his crossbow again. "Shut up."
He fired his second bolt directly into her eye socket. Gertrude jolted, and dropped to the floor unceremoniously, blood pooling beneath her. Helsing reloaded as he and his brother charged through the doors beside them to join the other fight.
The room was another office. Bookshelves lined its edges, with a desk full of papers and a lantern at the back. A big red rug sat in the middle of the room, where one of Geraldine's hunters and a vampire were duelling. There were corpses belonging to Royal Guards piled up in the corners of the room, and the body of a second hunter lay on the rug between the two duelists, bleeding into it. Actually, upon closer inspection, Helsing saw that rug wasn't red after all. Easy mistake.
Their entrance was a fatal distraction. The griffon hunter, being the one facing the doors, saw Helsing and Sacred enter. Immediately his eyes widened in recognition.
"You!"
The hunter's momentary surprise cost him his life. The vampire brought up a wing-blade and sliced into the side of his neck, catching him between where the plates of his armour met. The hunter staggered, blood pouring down his front. Just for good measure, the vampire lunged forward and tore out the hunter's eye with his beak.
The griffon collapsed, and the rug became even redder.
Helsing didn't stop to comment. Instead, he fired another crossbow bolt into the vampire's back. It screeched and tried to reach back to pull it out. In that brief moment of struggle, Sacred rushed forward and swung his sword. His technique was sloppy, but forceful, and the blade cut through the vampire's neck with relative ease. Blood sprayed all over the office, and Helsing and Sacred both stepped back to avoid it.
"Damn, that's nasty," said Helsing.
"Am... I alright?" Sacred stammered. "Did any of it get in my eyes?"
"You're fine so long as you kill it. You can't be infected by a vampire you've killed. It's me you should be worried about. Watch out for bystanders when you get messy like that."
"But it's..." Sacred gestured to the decapitated vampire. "It isn't actually dead yet, is it?"
"Correct. Remember the procedure."
Sacred drew his borrowed stake and hammer again. Just as before, he was uncertain at first, and looked to his brother for reassurance. Helsing nodded his approval, but turned away before Sacred finished the staking. Back in the corridor, Gertrude was pulling herself up.
She leaned against the wall, the silver bolt still lodged in her eye. Her wounds were finally healing, but it was a slower process than it should've been for a vampire. Whimpering, Gertrude wrapped her claws around the bolt, and prepared to pull it out. But before she could, a faint blue aura appeared around it, and she screeched like a banshee as Helsing ripped it out in one quick motion.
He dashed across the room while she was disoriented and slammed into her. Gertrude crumpled to the floor again, and this time found the bolt at her throat. Sacred soon appeared at Helsing's side, vampire blood dripping from his coat. Gertrude gave them a wary look, swallowing.
"Alright, heretic, here's how this is going to work," said Helsing, sounding almost disinterested. "I will ask you a question. You will give me an answer. If you fail to answer, or I think you're lying, I cut off a body part. We'll keep going like that until I'm satisfied, and at the end, we can discuss whether you'll live or die. Clear?"
The vampire nodded.
"Good. Start by identifying yourself."
"...C-Captain Gertrude," she answered. "Head of the Blackfeathers Company."
That was her name, according to the conversation he'd overheard, so she wasn't lying yet. Helsing looked sideways at his brother, and gestured in the direction of Geraldine. Sacred went over to the unconscious griffon and shook her body.
"Why are you here, Gertrude? Were you hired?"
She hesitated. The wait was a second too long for Helsing, who took the bolt and thrust it through one of her lion paws. She screamed, and Helsing leaned in.
"Answer me, heathen."
"Yes! Yes, we were hired!"
"By who?"
"I can't tell you that!"
Helsing didn't cut off a limb. Instead, he drove the bolt upwards into the paw, until it disappeared into her leg. She thrashed, howling in agony as the holy enchantment burned her from the inside. Helsing remained as cold and impassive as ever.
"Have you ever been scared, monster? I haven't. At least, if I ever was, it was too long ago for me to remember. Tell me, what's it like? To feel fear? To know that I'm going to kill you slowly and painfully if you don't answer my damn questions?"
"Aghhhhh! It was a pony! A vampire! New in town! He wanted us to destroy the Royal Guard's evidence on him!"
"Is he the serial killer? The one behind the recent murders?"
"Yes! Aghhh! Please, make it stop!"
"I'll make it stop when I'm done asking. The pain is keeping you honest. What's his name?"
"Ripper!" she screamed. "His name was Ripper! He's got a room at the Sun and Stars Inn on Mane Street, okay?! By Boreas, please stop it!"
"One more question. How long have the Blackfeathers Company been vampires? Was your new client your maker, or was it somebody else?"
"It was him! He made us like this, as payment! One big, high-risk job in exchange for immortality!"
Helsing snorted. "That was stupid of you. Enslaving yourself to a monster's will and forsaking the sunlight, all for a false promise. Only Celestia is immortal, heathen."
Tears ran down Gertrude's face, the captain of the Blackfeathers reduced to a whimpering wreck by the silver bolt in her leg. Helsing sneered as he stood back up, drawing his stake and hammer. In the moments before he struck, she seemed to recognise that she was about to die, but Helsing drove the stake through her before she even had time to protest.
He looked over to his brother, now cradling Geraldine's body. Sacred stared at Gertrude's corpse, and then returned Helsing's gaze.
"She's not waking, brother," he murmured.
Helsing casually kicked Gertrude's body aside. "Shame. We'll have to leave her then."
Sacred stood, setting Geraldine down.
"Leave her?"
"Aye. We have what we came for. Our job here's done." Helsing walked back off towards the stairs. "If we leave now, we might even have time to stop by the Sun and Stars on our way home."
"What about the rest of the Blackfeathers?" Sacred shouted. "There's only five accounted for out of a dozen! The remaining Royal Guard are going to get slaughtered without us!"
"Not our problem, brother."
"I think it is."
Helsing stopped in his tracks, looking back over his shoulder at Sacred.
"Don't be naive, Sacred. This is Canterlot Castle. Apollo Division are probably on their way as we speak. Celestia's own hunters are more than capable of dealing with this rabble. And speaking purely for myself, I would really rather not be here when they arrive."
Sacred opened his mouth to argue, but Geraldine stirred.
"Urghhh..." she moaned. "Sister..."
"Helsing," Sacred hissed. "We have to at least rescue her. She's a fellow hunter."
"She's an amateur, is what she is."
Just then, the sound of hooves on stone echoed from down the corridor, and distant voices made themselves heard.
"Check upstairs!" one called.
"They went this way!" said another.
Helsing's eyes went wide. "Shit, shit, shit!"
He grabbed Sacred by the collar and pushed him into the office, running inside after him. Sacred reached out with his magic and grabbed Geraldine, hauling her in after them just as Helsing threw the doors shut. Sacred, thinking quickly, moved the desk in front of the doors to form a barricade.
"Damn it!" Helsing slapped his forehead. "We're going to get found now! You couldn't leave well enough alone, you could, Sacred?"
"Me? You're the one who—"
Helsing shushed him as the guards approached their door. One of them tried to force it open, but the barricade held.
"I think it's locked," said a muffled voice on the other side.
There was a knocking.
"Hey! Anypony alive in there?"
Helsing gave Sacred a wary look.
"Um... who is it?" he answered, faking a Heartland accent.
"Sergeant Hailstone, Day Guard fifth company. Are you injured, soldier?"
"...Horseshit. How do I know you're not one of them?"
"Uh..."
Sacred stared at Helsing.
"What the hell are you doing?" he mouthed.
Right. He remembered now. Heartlanders weren't so big on harsh language.
"I... I'm not opening this door until you can prove it to me!" Helsing shouted.
"Well... how do we know you're not a vampire?"
This is the stupidest situation I've ever gotten myself into, Helsing thought.
"I suppose you don't! I suppose I'll have to... stay behind this door. Until all the vampires are—"
"Sergeant!" called another guardspony.
There was a snarl.
"Oh, sweet Celestia!"
From beyond the door came screams of terror and agony, accompanied by a chorus of wailing, crying, and the sound of tearing flesh.
"Please no! I don't want to di— Aghhhhhh! Oh, Celestia, please!"
The guard's voice became a wet gurgle, and the sounds of slaughter continued outside. Helsing had no idea how to react to this.
"...We're screwed," Sacred said simply.
There was a groan from the corner of the room, and Geraldine's eyes fluttered open.
"What...? Gertrude?" she mumbled.
"Oh, wonderful," said Helsing, rolling his eyes. "I think we've already died. This is Hell."
Geraldine quickly stood up, panicking, but seemed to lose her balance. Sacred rushed in to support her.
"Who are you ponies?" she demanded, pulling away from Sacred. "What happened to my comrades?"
A quick look at the rug answered her question, and she balked at the sight. Then she noticed the cacophony on the other side of the door, and cringed at the sound.
"You're pretty squeamish for a hunter," said Helsing.
"Hey, back off! I usually kill the damned things before they have a chance to do anything like... Hey, wait a minute! I know you!"
"Took you long enough."
"You're that kid we stopped earlier! What was your name? Van Helsing, was it?"
He looked at her curiously.
"How old are you?" he asked.
"Twenty-seven. Not that it's any of your business."
Liar.
"A decade older than me, and still an amateur," Helsing gave her an oily smile. "It's a wonder you made it this far. How are you even still alive?"
Geraldine tried to say something, but was cut off by another loud squelching sound from the other side of the door. With that, silence settled. The battle was over.
Something slammed into the door again, making Geraldine recoil.
"I heard ponies. Gilles, get the others. We need some muscle."
"The Blackfeathers..." she whispered. "But... where's my sister?"
Helsing slowly turned his head toward her.
"I killed her."
Geraldine stared blankly at him. For a second, Helsing thought that she was about to cry, but they were interrupted again by something loud slamming into the door.
"They're in there! Come help us break this down!"
A number of voices gave their assent. Helsing estimated anywhere between five and seven. He readied his crossbow and dagger as he moved closer to the door, while Sacred assumed a stance with his sword. Geraldine hesitantly drew her own crossbow and readied her wing-blades.
Helsing looked back at them. "When they come through, no mercy. Hit them with everything."
The doors partially opened, and a huge, blood-soaked monster of a griffon stuck his head through the crack, grinning at them. Two silver bolts struck him in the face. He howled as he fell back, but his fellow vampires pushed forward. The doors burst down, knocking the desk aside haphazardly, and five more maniacs rushed in, all without their masks.
Helsing abandoned his crossbow, unable to reload in time, and instead paired his sword and dagger to slash at the two vampires coming for him. They cried out, not expecting the sting of his blessed weapons. Even weak vampires could normally shrug off wounds like the ones he'd dealt, but only because they usually healed right away, which these wouldn't. Even over the course of just one night, their regenerative powers had made the Blackfeathers sloppier. Helsing pressed his advantage, even as the other three vampires rushed past him towards Sacred and Geraldine.
He focused on the one on his left first, aiming both his sword and his dagger at the vulnerable wings and talons, before going for the face. He stabbed the vampire through the beak, blade bursting out of the back of his head, and grinned. Then he whirled around to face the second. Stunned by the sudden death of his comrade, the other vampire tried to back away. Too late. Helsing was already upon him.
A cut across the chest. One up under the throat. One in the side. A stab right in the wing. And for the final touch, a strong cut right through the neck. Helsing laughed maniacally as the vampire's head separated from his neck and sailed through the air, blood trailing behind it.
Before the head even hit the ground, the stakes were out. Helsing didn't even use his hammer this time. With the force of his magic alone, he tore the armour off the griffon's chest and drove the stake through its heart, all while its headless body was still standing. Then he turned around and did the same to the other, still bleeding on the floor. Two vampires down in less than half a minute.
Helsing looked behind, to Sacred and Geraldine. Two of the six who'd tried to break down the door were still standing. Sacred was engaging one in a swordfight, and losing badly despite the inherent combat advantages of being a unicorn. Geraldine was holding back the other, using her wing-blades to keep him at bay. Another lay on the floor between them, gasping for breath, a wooden stake buried in his neck.
From across the room, Helsing tore that stake out with his magic, and put it in its proper place, killing the injured vampire. Then he moved over to Sacred's opponent and drove a sword through his back. The vampire screeched and turned to face Helsing, only for Sacred to then stab him through the back as well. Helsing finished him with a stake.
Out in the corridor, the big vampire was on his feet again, and came bounding back in. The bolts were no longer in his face, but the wounds persisted. He screamed an incoherent warcry, but Helsing and Sacred both cut him down and staked him almost without effort. Finally, Helsing casually dispatched the vampire Geraldine was fighting, driving his final stake through its back just as it finally staggered her and looked about to get a hit in.
Geraldine was panting by the time the fight was over. She dropped her weapons and held a claw over her heart. Sacred was similarly exhausted, sweat running down his forehead as he surveyed the damage. Seven dead vampires now littered the floor of the office, not including Gertrude just out in the corridor. It was a bloodbath.
Helsing smiled.
"You know, Sacred, you were right. I'm glad we stayed to fight the rest of them. I feel like this was a more complete ending to things."
More voices drifted down the corridor. Helsing's smile vanished, and he quickly grabbed his crossbow and sheathed his blades.
"Come on, quickly," he hissed.
The three of them stormed out of the office together, but Geraldine stopped in her tracks as the brothers passed Gertrude's corpse. Her eyes widened, and she held her heart again. Helsing didn't break stride as he made for the open door at the end, but Sacred stopped halfway.
"Hey, you coming?" he called.
Geraldine didn't respond.
"Helsing, she's—"
"For Celestia's sake, Sacred! Leave her!"
Sacred hesitated, but ran off to catch up with his brother. They were nearly to the end of the corridor, and approaching the door onto the battlements, when a trio of Night Guards swooped in on batlike wings.
"Shit!" Helsing drew his sword, and the Night Guards raised their spears in response. "Other way!"
He unleashed a spell in their direction, blinding the guards with a flash of light, before turning and galloping away. He quickly caught up with Sacred, and the two of them rushed past Geraldine, heading towards the stairs they came from. She gave them a bewildered look as they passed, before belatedly noticing the approaching guards, and running to join their escape.
Helsing and Sacred reached the top of the stairs, only to run straight into another five Night Guards. They turned and ran the other way yet again.
"Damn it!" Helsing roared.
The other three were still coming their way. Caught between two groups of guards, Sacred and Geraldine followed Helsing back into the office. But now they were truly trapped. The office was a dead end.
"Same exit as before?" Sacred gasped, still sweating.
"Are you insane?" said Helsing. "We can't harm Celestia's own Royal Guard. That would be tantamount to heresy."
"And illegal besides," Geraldine muttered.
The guards came to the open doors and poured into the office, moving around the outsides of the room until they had the three surrounded. Several more stayed in the doorway, blocking their only exit. Helsing and company drew crossbows and aimed them at the guards, and some pointed crossbows of their own back. The hunters were outnumbered, but somehow they'd come to a stalemate.
There was a tense silence as the two sides went completely still. The guards remained in their positions, eyes locked on the group. Helsing, Sacred, and Geraldine stood their ground in the centre of the office, switching their aim to a different guard every few seconds.
The silence was broken by a set of hoofsteps. The guards in the doorway moved aside as another pony in distinctive armour entered the office. He was like them, a grey stallion with leathery wings like those of a bat, and yellow, draconic eyes with slit pupils, but his unique armour clearly marked him as somepony of authority. It was a much lighter purple than the colour of the Night Guard's armour, and was trimmed with gold instead of silver. On its front, it bore a symbol of two crossed spears over a disembodied heart, likely his cutie mark.
Helsing couldn't remember any other Royal Guard with armour like that. Even his uncle, a lieutenant, dressed no differently than his subordinates. This stallion could only be the Captain of the Royal Guard himself.
The Captain removed his helmet, letting a long blue mane cascade over his back. He paced slowly around the outside of the office, smiling slyly as he looked over the carnage.
"Well... this is certainly an impressive display," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I love what you kids have done with my office. Very avant-garde."
He turned to the three of them, grinning just widely enough to reveal a tiny set of fangs.
Helsing scowled. Although prejudice was a sin, it was hard for him to not resent this stallion's kind. The thestrals, as they were called, were chimeras formed of a bat and a pony, and they were far too close to vampires for his liking. Many of them were vampires, in fact. And though there were some who served Celestia loyally in her Night Guard, it was hard to forget that a great many of them had sided with the Traitor two hundred years ago.
"Sorry about the mess," Helsing said dryly.
"Oh, don't be," the Captain replied. "It's all too easy in Canterlot to forget the debt we owe to the Hunters Guild, but I will always remember it. These monsters probably had no idea what hit them. You have my thanks tonight for the lives you've saved."
"...Thank you as well," said Geraldine, blinking.
"Unfortunately, you're also all under arrest."
Without warning, Helsing ran up behind Geraldine and wrapped his hooves around her neck. He pulled her backwards and floated his crossbow right next to her head.
"Back off or she dies!"
"Oh, you absolute fucking bastard!" Geraldine shouted.
"Sweet Celestia, what do you think you're doing?" Sacred screamed.
"Not going to prison," Helsing answered, ignoring Geraldine's strange turn of phrase. "That's what."
The guards tensed. Those with ranged weapons all aimed for Helsing, forgetting Sacred completely, and any sense of mirth that the Captain had been feeling was replaced by a stern look.
"Put the weapon down, son," he said, fiercely. "You do not want to make this situation any worse for yourself."
"I'll put it down when you move aside and let us leave."
"I'm saying this once. Drop the weapon right now, and I'll forgive your momentary stupidity. Resist me more, and I will send you to a dungeon so deep that you'll forget what light is."
Helsing's eyes darted over to Sacred, who remained completely still.
"Duly noted. Now get out of my way."
The Captain glared at him for a while, but eventually conceded. With a flick of his wing, he ordered the rest of his guards back, clearing the doorway. Helsing, dragging Geraldine along with him, backed out through the door. Sacred, swallowing, followed after him, still pointing his crossbow at the guards on Helsing's sides.
"Just to be clear," Sacred said to the Captain, "none of this was my idea."
The Night Guards still tried to surround Helsing as he went back along the corridor, but he warded them off with his dagger as he edged past them. The Captain came out of the office, keeping his eyes on them.
"You're making a mistake, you two."
"Are we?" said Helsing. "Time to make a bigger one, then."
He shoved Geraldine forward into the guardsponies. She squawked and flapped her wings, and the scene devolved into chaos as the crowd of guards all knocked each other over like a line of dominos.
"Run!"
Helsing and Sacred rushed off down the corridor, making a beeline for the door leading to the battlements. It wasn't long before they burst out into the cold night air, their view suddenly lit by the distant glow of the Fire of Friendship. Given no other obvious route down, Helsing leapt over the side of the battlements, landing on the snowy ground below with a pained grunt. Sacred soon followed him, and they galloped off over the palace grounds.
"You idiot!" Sacred shouted. "What have you done? We are in so much trouble!"
"Please, shut up. I know the circumstances aren't ideal, but I'm working on a plan."
"What plan? What can you do? I don't have an overcoat like yours, Helsing! They saw my cutie mark! Even if we escape them now, they'll find us! And when Uncle True finds out, we're dead! It's over!"
"I said shut up!" Helsing thundered. "I'll work something out!"
They heard the beating of wings behind them before they saw him. The black-clad griffon swooped down and landed in front of them, his eyes afire.
"You killed them!" he snarled, lunging at Helsing and knocking him down. "All of them! I'm going to tear out your bastard heart!"
He clawed at Helsing with his talons, ripping open his overcoat, but the vampire recoiled at the sting of the blessed dagger as it cut across his throat. Blood spilled over Helsing, and he grunted in exasperation as he drew a stake from his pocket and shoved it into his attacker's chest. The vampire fell limp, and Sacred grabbed him and threw his lifeless body aside. He gave Helsing his hoof and helped him up.
"Damn it," Helsing muttered. "Forgot there were more of them."
As soon as he was back on his hooves, Helsing was tackled from behind. It wasn't vampires this time. The Night Guards, having finally caught up, swooped down on the two of them. Sacred was quickly overwhelmed and pinned as well. Helsing tried to resist, both with magic and with his hooves, but the guardspony on top of him beat him until he stopped.
Battered, bloody, and reeling from the pain, Helsing couldn't do much as they hauled him up and fitted a ring around his horn.
"Urgh... that all you got?"
One of them spat in his face. The others laughed. Helsing endured it, saying nothing as the guards waited for their captain. He soon appeared, smiling with a smugness that made Helsing's blood boil.
"That was a stupid move, boy. You have only yourself to blame for this. Why couldn't you have been a good colt, and saved us all this drama?"
Helsing remained silent.
"Hmph." The Captain waved a wing dismissively. "Have it your way, then. Lock him up in the bottom level. The orange one can go in with the griffon."
"Wait," said Helsing, just as the guards started to move. "I want to make a deal."
The guards went still, waiting for the Captain's orders. He came closer to Helsing, standing face to face with him, grinning in that insufferable way.
"What kind of deal?"
"A trade. Me and my brother's freedom, for the identity of that serial killer you seem to be having such trouble with."
The Captain's grin widened.
"Go on..."
They took them to the dungeons anyway, but only temporarily, shoving Helsing and Sacred into a cell opposite Geraldine. Torches still burned along the walls, and a thestral Night Guard patrolled outside, occasionally passing them by. The Captain had left them with a promise.
"I'd be stupid not to verify your information first. But don't worry. As soon as I return with Mister Ripper, I'll let you go, as agreed."
Until then, they were left to stew in their cell. They had their agreement in writing, so Helsing wasn't afraid of staying here, but the wait was agonising. They'd taken his overcoat and all his hunter tools, and he felt exposed without them. Minutes seemed like hours as he paced back and forth, while Sacred just sat in the corner with his head in his hooves. Opposite their cell, Geraldine glowered at them from hers.
"So then," she said venomously. "Helsing, is it? Do you mind explaining yourself?"
"Not particularly."
"I heard you coming in here, talking about some kind of deal with that stallion. What is it? What do you have?"
"An agreement to see to our release. Not that it's particularly relevant to you."
Her eyes widened.
"Seriously? After all this, you get to go free?"
"Me and my brother, aye. We had the name of that mystery killer you were hunting to trade. I squeezed it out of that bitch sister of yours before I ended her."
Geraldine shook her head. "You are one cold bastard, Van Helsing."
"So I'm told."
"And what about me?"
Helsing stopped pacing, and arched an eyebrow at Geraldine. "What about you?"
"You're just done with me, are you? You kill my family, let my comrades die, put a crossbow to my head, and then just... leave me to rot here in your place?"
Helsing shrugged. "Pretty much."
Geraldine slammed against the bars of her cell.
"Cut me in on your deal! You owe me after everything you've done!"
Helsing smirked, walking up to the bars of his own cell.
"And why, pray tell, would I ever do that? I'm not seeing any incentive here for me."
"Because it's the right thing to do."
"Ha! Try again."
Geraldine smoldered. "Because I'm a hunter, like you, and I'm in need."
"I don't work with amateurs."
She growled in frustration.
"Are you really this selfish, or do you just have a problem with me in particular?"
"I don't give a single iota of a shit about you. It's as simple as that. You aren't kin, so why should I care? I learned a long time ago that pointless sentiment gets you nowhere in life. Stick your neck out for others, and you get your head chopped off. If you want to convince me to take that risk for your sake, you need to offer me something better."
"What, then? Money?"
"I have money."
"A job with my company?"
"Your comrades dropped like flies back there. No thank you."
"I'd owe you a favour!"
"Unless it's sexual favours, I'm not interested."
Geraldine groaned. "Well what else do you want from me?"
"I don't know, really. I'm not even certain about the sexual favours anymore, now that I've thought on it for a second. The idea of that beak near my sensitive areas inspires far more fear in me than your skills as a hunter ever could."
"Wow," said Sacred, looking up from the floor at last. "Thank you for that mental image."
"Okay, screw you too, pony! Don't help me then! But you'd better hope we never see each other again after this, because you'll be sorry if we do!"
Geraldine returned to the corner of her cell and sulked. Sacred gave Helsing a slightly disapproving look.
"Come on, brother. There's no risk in just asking."
Helsing chewed his lip, looking back to Geraldine with a casual disinterest. A hopeful light flashed in her eyes as he considered her.
"Eh... okay," Helsing said at last. "Fine. I'll settle for the favour thing. Not that I can think of any particular use for you, but if I ever do, I'll expect your compliance."
Geraldine smiled weakly. "You won't regret it."
It was hours until Helsing and Sacred were finally let out of their cells. Although they couldn't convince their escort to release Geraldine too, Sacred shouted to her as they left that they would talk with the Captain.
The guard brought them up to the office where they'd killed all the vampires before. It was looking much neater now that all the bodies were gone. The blood-soaked rug had been removed, and the whole office had apparently been given a thorough scrubbing. The Captain smiled at them as he sat behind his desk, now back in its proper place. Meanwhile, standing at the back of the room just behind him, red in the face and eyes fixed on them with a furious intensity, was Uncle True Shot.
"Ah, damn it," Helsing muttered.
"Oh come now," said the Captain. "You must've expected this from the moment you told me your names. I've been hearing all day about Lieutenant True Shot's nephew. Sacred Fire, I dare say you should've known that you would be recognised, even if we didn't catch you. And you, young Helsing... Did you expect to get away with all this just because your uncle's a guard?"
"Shut up," Helsing growled.
"Don't talk to ya elders like that!" True Shot thundered. "I don't care if yer grown! I've half a mind to cane yer hides for this! 'Specially you, Helsing."
Helsing looked away from his uncle.
The Captain cleared his throat. "Be that as it may... your nephews still effectively dispatched the vampire threat, and helped us solve a major case in the process. You two should know, it seems like Ripper is our stallion after all. Body parts matching the mystery killer's victims were found in his room, and he attacked the Apollo agents sent to arrest him. He has since been... dealt with accordingly. For your part in ending his reign of terror, I am willing to overlook the night's excitement... provided that neither of you show your faces in this castle again."
The Captain and True Shot gave Helsing an expectant look.
He sighed. "Fair enough."
"Um..." Sacred stammered. "Th-The griffon hunter downstairs... Geraldine. We want her released too."
The Captain smirked, leaning back in his chair.
"That wasn't part of the agreement we signed."
"W-Well yes, sir, but—"
"Helsing?" said the Captain. "Do you wish to make this amendment? After all, it was you who signed."
"...Sure."
He leaned forward again. "Oh, what the hay? Why not? Her charges aren't nearly as serious, in any case."
"Th-Thank you," said Sacred.
"Can I take these two home now, sir?" asked True Shot.
"Very well," the Captain replied, waving dismissively. "I'll see you again after the holidays, lieutenant."
True Shot walked over and grabbed Helsing and Sacred both by the scruffs of their necks, before throwing them towards the door.
"Get goin'."
"Oh, one last thing," the Captain called from his desk.
They stopped in the door. Helsing looked back at him.
"That cutie mark of yours... It's rather curious." He gestured to Helsing's flank, and his mark of the stake, hammer, and sun symbol in a blood splotch. "I was wondering what it represents."
"Is that so? A cutie mark in hunting vampires... I've never heard of such a thing."
Helsing shrugged.
"Wouldn't be a special talent if it wasn't unique."
"...How old were you when you got it?"
"Thirteen. Why?"
The Captain's smile seemed sadder somehow.
"That'll be all."
Snow fell as they walked down Mane Street, coating the roads and the sidewalks. Helsing, clad in his red overcoat once more, didn't pay it any mind. He held his head high, even as Uncle True berated them the whole way. Sacred was the opposite, keeping his head low to the ground and shivering in the cold.
"Stupid boy!" True Shot shouted. "What were ya thinkin'? It's bad enough yeh were there at all! But then ya jump straight to takin' hostages! That ain't right, Helsing."
"I was trapped in a bad situation, and did what I could to get out of it," Helsing replied in as even a tone as he could manage. "I was thinking on my hooves."
"You were thinkin' like a damn fool. That stunt coulda gotten yeh killed. Why didn't ya just surrender and make that deal of yers right away?"
"Because I was the one who found out Ripper's identity!" Helsing snarled. "He should have been my kill!"
True Shot stopped walking and turned around to poke Helsing in the chest with a hoof.
"That ain't a good reason, and yeh know it. What ya did tonight was crazy beyond reason. If the Cap'n hadn'ta thought yeh were just some stupid kid in over his head, those guards would've shot ya dead and not thought twice about it! Ya wanna know why yer gettin' outta this at all? It's 'cause yer such a fool that they pity ya for it!"
Helsing snorted.
"I did what I had to do. And that's what you always told me to do as well."
"Aye, do what ya have to. But ya didn't have to do that."
"Look, I got off free, didn't I? Leave me alone!"
His uncle's glare right then would've killed a lesser stallion.
"Ya disgraced yerself tonight. Both as a hunter, and as Hellfire's son. Don't ever let me hear of ya doin' anything like this again. If I do, I swear, I'll bury ya myself."
"...Fine."
Later that night, there was stern talking all around. From downstairs, Helsing could still hear the muffled sounds of conversation. The "adults" of the family were all deeply concerned about what had happened. Loyal Service wasn't involved, but even he had been ordered to stop serving Helsing for the night. It was deeply humiliating. He felt like a foal again, sent to his room without supper. Although, in this case, he and Sacred had voluntarily confined themselves to avoid all the drama.
The brothers lay back on their respective beds, Helsing on the top bunk and Sacred underneath. Angel stood by the doorway, leaning against the frame while she watched them.
"To be fair, you kinda deserved it," she said.
"Thank you, Angel," said Sacred. "We know."
"I mean, what did you expect? Bad enough you were actually going out to hunt vampires on Hearth's Warming, but then you try and mess with the Royal Guard?"
"What else was I supposed to do?" Helsing shouted, sitting up. "They were going to arrest me!"
"Well, they arrested us anyway..."
"Not helping, Sacred!"
Angel walked to the centre of the room. "Don't try to blame him, Helsing! It's your fault for acting like a demented thug in front of the authorities! And you did all this, what, just because you wanted to?"
Helsing groaned and flopped back on the bed.
"I can't help it, Angel!" he shouted, "I. Get. Bored!"
"Oh, here we go again..." Sacred muttered.
"It's true, though! This place is boring! You're boring! Everypony is boring! I need a distraction! I need something to focus on! And vampires, they're like my drug. I don't encounter them nearly as often as I'd like. Even on the night of the hunt, I'm lucky if I come across more than two! And the Heartland is so bloody peaceful, I've only killed four in the entire time I've been here! But tonight... Twelve of them, Angel. We killed twelve. That's the most I've ever done in a single night! It was..."
He looked up at the ceiling, and sighed deeply.
"It was the best night of my life..."
Angel raised an eyebrow.
"Big brother, I think you need to see a therapist."
"Oh, shut up! Let me have my fun."
"No, I mean it. You really scare me, Helsing. I think something's wrong with you. You're sick. And that's not your fault, but you need to get better."
Helsing sat up.
"I'm not sick."
"Yes you are," Angel said firmly. "If this was just a job to you, that would be one thing. I could understand that. It's like you say, somepony has to do it. But dad wasn't like that, was he? He didn't enjoy the killing. Nor Uncle True, either. But you find this fun. That's not right, big brother."
Helsing scowled at her.
"I resent this idea that there must be something wrong with me just because I like my work. All ponies are passionate about their special talents, little sister. That's why we have them. Mine just so happens to be killing vampires, but it's not any different than how a chef enjoys cooking."
Angel gave him a sad look.
"It's not normal, Helsing. It's not healthy. I know you like to pretend it is, but I know it's not. And you know it as well. Why else would you always hide your cutie mark in public?"
Helsing blinked.
"I... That's not..."
"Just think about it, alright? Get some help. Talk to somepony. You'll feel better for it."
Angel opened the door and stepped out. "...Happy Hearth's Warming, big brother."
She shut it behind her, leaving both of her brothers alone. Sacred didn't say anything, and Helsing simply turned over on his bed and stared up at the ceiling again.
Hoofgate had always been a quiet village. The sleepy little town sat isolated in the middle of a forest, surrounded by meadows and fertile farmlands on all sides. A road ran from north to south through the middle, leading through the forest to other towns, while the Silver River cut across it from east to west. On a summer's morning, as the cool breeze rolled across the meadows and the townsfolk all made their way to mass, one could hardly find a more idyllic place.
At the edge of the treeline on the south side of town, surrounded by numerous graves, Hoofgate's old church rose tall. The bell tolled in the steeple, calling the town to Sunday service, and from the edge of the churchyard, Helsing could hear the sweet sounds of the organ playing and the choir singing. His brother and sister trailed behind him as he followed the line to the church, where Hoofgate's old unicorn priest stood by the doors, greeting his parishioners.
Father Sunflower was said to know all of his flock by name, but that wasn't so strange to think. He was so old that he'd been present for the births of most everypony in town. Age had wrinkled his kindly yellow face, and his allegedly once-brown mane had faded to white over the years, but still he smiled cheerfully to everypony who passed him.
"Good morning!" he would say to the families. "Celestia's grace be with you!"
"And with you, Father," they would answer as they shuffled past.
Yet, Father Sunflower knew some families better than others. When Helsing and his siblings approached, the old priest broke into an even brighter smile than usual.
"Ah, Songbirds!" he said. "Lovely morning. I trust your mother is keeping well?"
"Aye, as well as she can, Father," Helsing replied, coming to a stop. "She sends her regards."
"Glad to hear. All my best to her."
Helsing nodded to Sacred and Angel, who returned the gesture and continued into the church without him. With his siblings out of the way, Helsing sidled up to Father Sunflower and cleared his throat.
"I trust that the issue was, ah... resolved to your satisfaction?" he asked.
"It was," Sunflower replied as he waved to another passing family.
"Very good. I did not expect you to take issue with my methods, but as a pony of the cloth, I would understand if you did not condone—"
"Oh heavens, no. Think nothing of it, young Helsing. Violence is always regrettable, but vampires are hardly creatures worth shedding tears over. I understand as well as the next pony that mercy cannot be extended to those who would only use that kindness to hurt others."
"Aye. My clan has never shown mercy to heathens, Father. As always, I remain at your service, should I ever be needed to quell another disturbance."
Father Sunflower looked sideways at Helsing, his smile remaining firmly in place.
"I've no doubt. Thank you for your efforts, Helsing. I will be sure to arrange payment in due time."
Helsing followed the rest of the townsfolk inside. He quickly found Sacred and Angel in one of the middle pews, and sat down beside them. All around, places were filling as ponies and the occasional griffon came in their dozens. Above, just below the rafters, the fliers gathered in cloud pews, separate from the ones on the ground. It wasn't an intentional divide, but there was barely any room for the entire village if the cloud pews weren't used. House Songbird would've once sat up there. Until Helsing's mother had married a unicorn, that was.
While he sat waiting for the service to begin, Helsing looked around the room. Every wall had stained glass windows, most depicting Celestia in various states of repose. A few showed her banishing her heathen sister, or fighting alongside her against the Devil who once consumed the world in chaos. Many were of her raising the sun. All of them were works of great dedication, gestures of true love for Equestria's goddess. Helsing smiled.
That smile slipped off his face and became a scowl as a certain pony came striding over. With his amber coat and golden mane, he almost seemed to shimmer in the sunlight coming through the windows. He was a very handsome stallion, with a well-defined face and a toned body that seemed more suited to an earth stallion than a unicorn like him. But for all his good looks, that malevolent grin of his never ceased to raise Helsing's ire.
He stopped at their pew and leaned over, coming face to face with Helsing.
"I see you've returned to town, Helsing," he purred, speaking in a clean and proper dialect that set him apart from the rougher-sounding townsfolk.
"I see you haven't keeled over and died in my absence," Helsing said bluntly. "What do you want, Devious?"
"Only to say hello." Devious flashed one of his winning smiles at Angel, who melted into a blushing mess under his gaze.
"Well, you've said it. Now kindly piss off."
Devious leaned in further and reached out to run a hoof down Helsing's face.
"You're always so serious," he said in a half-mocking tone. "So intense. Careful, Helsing. It'll age you prematurely."
Helsing swatted his hoof away, but Devious only seemed amused by it.
"I try to be helpful." He shrugged. "What else can I do?"
"I told you. You can piss off."
"Tsk. How unfriendly. Not very harmonious of you, is it? Ruminate on your sins today, Van Helsing. I'll be seeing you."
Devious didn't so much walk away as swagger. He did that a lot. Angel stared after him as he left, eyes fixed on his hourglass cutie mark.
Helsing slumped in his seat.
"Just once, I wish that I could come back home and hear that he died horrifically in some horrible accident. Hint, hint, Sacred."
"I'm not murdering a pony for you, brother," Sacred said automatically.
"It would feel brilliant, though, wouldn't it?"
"Come on, Helsing. Devo has been like this since we were foals. You should know by now not to take his bait."
"I do know, but he keeps fishing regardless. It doesn't matter what I say or do. It's like he's a fact. A constant. A fixture of my life that will always be there to bring me down whenever I start feeling slightly happy."
Sacred leaned back. "Melodramatic much, brother?"
Helsing ignored him and glanced at Angel, who was staring out across the church.
"Ahem," he said, waving a hoof in front of her face. "Angel, you want to weigh in on this?"
"Um." She blinked rapidly, as if snapping out of a daze. "Yeah, what Sacred said."
Helsing snorted and followed her line of sight to Devious. He was sitting at the very front of the church, closest to the pulpit. Light cascaded through the windows and shined down upon him, as if Celestia herself had marked him with her grace. As the last of the congregation shuffled in, Father Sunflower came up the aisle in his flowing white robes. The old stallion nodded to Devious as he climbed to take his place in the pulpit.
"How in Equestria did a priest's grandson ever turn out like him?" Helsing grumbled.
By the time the organ finished playing, the room was full to bursting. Father Sunflower smiled warmly as he opened his bible and addressed the ponies gathered before him.
"Good morning, everypony."
"And you too, Father," the church replied.
"As always, we begin with our prayer for daylight..."
Firelight crackled in the hearth of Helsing's study, its glow shining off the varnished mahogany that made up the walls of Songbird Manor. He sat back in his chair and pressed a hoof to his cheek, letting the heat wash over him. Once upon a time, the study had belonged his grandfather, but Helsing had never met the stallion and knew little of him. Barely anything of his era remained now, save for the old brass carriage clock that ticked away on the mantelpiece.
The rest of the room, Helsing had made his own, filling the bookshelves with academic texts on language and biology, and displaying various hunter's tools and weapons in glass display cabinets. The stuffed heads of vampires and hengstwolves hung upon the walls, along with oil paintings Helsing had purchased in Trottingham. They showed dark streets and silent forests, the places where beasts prowled, as well as hunters doing their divine work.
One prominent painting, hanging above the fireplace, contrasted Helsing's heroes. On the left, silvery old Sir Wooden Stakes stood proud in his black hunter's attire, floating his blessed scythe under a moonlit sky. On the right, golden Sir Apollo Sunwrath knelt in prayer as sunbeams shone upon him, reflecting off his equally golden plate armour and wing-blades. Together, the two of them had been the first hunters, each leaving a long legacy. Sir Wooden Stakes had been the first of the Church's Sanctioned Executioners, while Sir Apollo Sunwrath had founded the Royal Order of Celestian Knights, now better known as Apollo Division. All hunters owed each of them a debt.
Helsing stared at that painting as he sat in his chair, his mind drifting to the stories of the ancient past. He imagined sometimes how it must've been to hunt alongside their like, fighting on the front lines in the War of the Night, slaying monsters and heretics by the score. There had been glory to earn in those days. Those were the times when legends were born. Hunters today were little more than pest control compared to them, trying to exterminate the last few vermin that the old hunters had missed.
I was born in the wrong generation, Helsing thought.
He was so absorbed by the painting, it took him a moment to remember that he was not alone in the study. Snapping himself out of his daze, Helsing turned his attention to the stallion sitting in the corner of the room.
It was so easy to forget that he was there, sometimes. His navy-blue coat almost blended into the background of the study, as did the black half of his two-tone mane. Its other streak of white was the only thing that made him visible. The stallion peered at Helsing over a pair of round spectacles, waiting for him to speak.
"Sorry, doctor..." said Helsing, sitting up. "I was just... thinking."
"Hmm." The doctor was perfectly serene, betraying no hint of emotion. "What were you thinking about?"
"Hunting."
The doctor adjusted his spectacles. "Hmm, yes... This week was the night of the hunt, wasn't it? Was your trip to Trottingham productive?"
"Aye, seventeen kills. Two vampires and fifteen beasts, including twelve hengstwolves. But there were more when I got home. A vampire was prowling in the woods near the church, so Father Sunflower sent me to deal with it."
"Hmm. So how did it go? Any relapses?"
Helsing shook his head. "I don't torture things anymore, doctor. You know I don't."
"Hmm. That's good. Especially for a night of the hunt. I remember, you've spoken before about how the blood moon affects you."
"As it affects every hunter," Helsing grumbled.
"My apologies. Hmm, still, you've made great progress over the past year, and I'm glad to see you sticking to it."
"...I still enjoyed it," Helsing said quietly.
The doctor removed his spectacles and leaned in.
"Helsing, listen to me. Your special talent is... unusual, I'm sure we can agree. You had a very traumatic experience in your formative years, so it's no wonder that you grew into the pony you did. However, I think you focus too greatly on this darkness that clouds you, and not enough on the bright side. Do you have any idea how many hunters seek counselling because of trauma they've experienced on the hunt? Many of them see and do things that they find themselves unable to cope with in later years. Yet, you're the first hunter I've ever heard of to seek help because you enjoy the hunt too much."
Helsing sighed and held his head.
"So what are you saying?" Helsing asked. "That I should be happy for this darkness? After all this time I've spent with you, trying to move past it?"
"Hmm, not exactly." The doctor placed his spectacles back on the bridge of his muzzle. "Rather, I think it's important to keep perspective. This darkness of yours, as you first described it to me, was a problem because it isolated you socially. Your friends and family found your proclivities distasteful, and you felt judged and excluded as a result. Now, since you learned to control your more excessive behaviours, do you still feel that way?"
"Well... perhaps slightly less..." Helsing mumbled. "But maybe that's just because they haven't seen me on a hunt. It's not like I actually tell any of them about what I do, aside from Sacred. There's sort of an unspoken rule to not discuss it."
"But you feel accepted in their day-to-day lives?"
"...Aye. I suppose so."
The doctor smiled. "Hmm. Then we are seeing results, yes? And this is the bright side I spoke of. Even if you still have these dark feelings, your self-control has already made a positive difference in your social life. You have moved past your destructive behaviour, and what you struggle with now is, in my opinion, a problem of self-acceptance instead. There's no shame in feeling a sense of fulfillment from your work. A cutie mark is more than what one is good at. It's a calling. It's the destiny Celestia has set for us. And following your destiny is the most natural thing in the world."
"I used to think so too," said Helsing, leaning back in his chair and looking at the ceiling. "In fact, that's almost exactly what I would say to Angel whenever I did something that disgusted her. I kept telling myself that what I did was normal, because it was my cutie mark that drew me to it... But, really, I think I was just making excuses."
"Hmm. But the key thing to remember is that there is a difference between what you did then, and what you do now. Even if the instinct to do wrong is still there, you don't give into it. That's how we make it through life. We accept that our dark sides are there, and we learn how to ignore them."
Still leaning back, Helsing looked aside at the doctor and smiled wanly.
"And what about you, doc?" he said. "Do you have a dark side?"
The corner of the doctor's mouth twitched.
"...Don't we all?"
Helsing looked at the floor, saying nothing. The doctor went silent as well, simply crossing his forelegs and waiting patiently. A quiet settled over the study, with the crackling of the hearthfire providing the only background noise, and Helsing went back to staring at his paintings.
Abruptly, the spell was broken by a sharp rapping at the door, making Helsing sit up in his chair.
"Come in," he called
The door opened just enough for Loyal Service to stick his head inside.
"My apologies for interrupting your session, sir," he drawled. "But there is a gentlecolt here to see you. Your sister let him in. He's waiting in the foyer."
"Who is it?" Helsing asked.
"I do not know him, sir. He claims you met in Canterlot. Thestral. Mark of two crossed spears over a heart."
Helsing's eyes widened.
The Captain of the Royal Guard? What's he doing all the way out here in Hoofgate?
"...Tell him I'll be right out."
Service nodded and slipped back through, closing the door behind him with a click. Helsing climbed out of his chair and turned to his therapist.
"I'm afraid we'll have to cut this week's session short. I don't know what my visitor wants, but I don't expect it to be resolved quickly."
"Hmm. Very well. I won't linger." The doctor stood as well. "Same time next week?"
"Aye. Do you need me to show you out?"
"I know the way, thank you," the doctor said, shaking Helsing's hoof. "I'll see you next week then, Van Helsing. Take care."
"You too, Doctor Jekyll."
Songbird Manor was the oldest and largest structure in Hoofgate aside from the church. It had once belonged to minor nobility, until the family fell from grace, and the wealthy House Songbird took over the estate. Sitting atop a hill to the north, the mansion overlooked Hoofgate, standing three floors tall and sporting no fewer than six chimneys. Though it had originally been built of the same rough-cut bricks as the church, inside the home, they had all been covered by smooth, varnished wood. On every wall were fine stitched tapestries, and every floor had rich red carpets that were gentle on the hooves.
Of all the decor in the manor, though, it was the heads that were the most out of place. Stuffed and mounted between sconces and above doorways, they looked out at Helsing as he walked the lower floor corridor. Some stared blankly. Others were made to look as if they were snarling. Most were beasts, hairy and wild-looking. A few were vampires, still eerily equine aside from their pointed fangs. His mother had always found them creepy, but she had ceded Helsing his study and the lower floor corridor to do with as he pleased, and he had made them his own.
At the end of the corridor, Helsing emerged into the main hall. It was a great open room, with a stairway large enough to pull a carriage up, leading from the ground floor to the first. A long balcony ran around the upper floor, leading to various corridors and side rooms. The tapestries and paintings here depicted more pleasant subjects than the ones in Helsing's study, like spring meadows and woodland creatures. There was even a statue just besides the stairway, a life-sized model of Celestia on a plinth, rearing on her hind legs and pointing her horn to the sky.
A familiar blue-maned thestral stood in the hall, seemingly admiring the statue. He was absent his fancy Royal Guard armour this time, and had his back to Helsing as he entered the hall, but when he turned around at the sound of his hoofsteps, there was no mistaking him.
"Ah, there you are," said the Captain, smiling slyly, just as he had when they'd first met. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself. When I'm bored, I wander, and being kept waiting is so terribly boring."
His smile showed off his fangs, and the very sight of them made Helsing's nose wrinkle slightly.
"I could have made you wait longer. I could have made you wait outside in the garden, too. You showed up here without warning, and interrupted me at a very important time."
"Is that so? My apologies, then."
The Captain's grin didn't look very apologetic.
Helsing sighed and ran a hoof down his face. "Please just tell me what the hell you're here for."
"Can we sit and talk somewhere?"
"No, I think we can stand. It'll encourage you to be brief."
The Captain's smile disappeared, and he tilted his head slightly. "You might want to consider showing a little respect, son. Do remember that I could've let you and your gang rot in a dungeon for what you did, but I let you all walk free."
Helsing snorted.
"Aye. And I could have kept my mouth shut about Ripper and let your lot keep chasing your own tails as the bodies piled up. I did you a favour, you did me a favour, we're square. I owe you nothing."
"Actually, I think you owe me substantially more," said the Captain, stepping closer to Helsing.
Helsing glared at him. "And why would that be?"
The Captain pulled away, and that infuriating smile slipped back onto his face.
"Recall for me, Van Helsing, how many vampires were there in the Blackfeathers Company?"
"Twelve," Helsing answered immediately.
"Wrong."
The Captain turned to reveal a saddlebag on his other side. With a leathery wing, he reached into the bag and pulled out a brown folder with yellow parchment sticking out of it. He threw it towards Helsing, and let it drop to the floor unceremoniously.
Helsing gave him a contemptuous look, and floated it up. Opening the folder, he found it full of Royal Guard documents. There were arrest reports for Helsing, Sacred, and that griffon girl, and a separate one for the attempted arrest of Ripper. There were casualty reports. Witness statements. Transcripts of a newspaper interview. Some sort of decree from Celestia. And a separate report from Apollo Division explaining vampires and enthrallment for the Royal Guard.
"...Okay. What am I meant to be looking at?"
"The witness statements. I underlined them in red, since I thought they might fly over your head."
Grumbling, Helsing glanced at the relevant sections. Many of the statements, surprisingly, were not from Royal Guards, or others who'd actually been present for the incident. Some were from outside parties, especially former clients of the Blackfeathers. Multiple times, the Captain had underlined statements testifying that the Blackfeathers were a company of thirteen griffons.
In the back of Helsing's mind, he recalled counting thirteen as they swooped down towards the fortress. They had killed twelve. One had gotten away. Had he really missed that?
"...So what, we didn't get all of them?" said Helsing, looking up from the documents. "Big deal. This is Apollo's problem, not mine."
"It might be your problem very soon." The Captain gave Helsing a grave look. "While you've been merrily hunting beasts over here these past two years, lucky number thirteen has been nursing a grudge. Apollo tried to track him down, but he escaped their clutches, and he's been on the run for most of this time. Until, two weeks ago, he broke into my home."
"Ha! Sounds more like your problem, Cappy!"
"Don't celebrate just yet. He was looking for information on you. I happened to return at the wrong moment, and he caught me by surprise. My life was threatened. I had no choice but to tell him everything I knew."
"You what?" Helsing shouted, rounding on the Captain.
"Don't worry, your uncle and his family are safe, and he didn't show any interest in them anyway. You, on the other hoof... Well, let's just say, if someone killed your lover, younger sister, and all your friends, you wouldn't be well-disposed towards them either."
Helsing threw his head back and groaned. "So now he's coming after me?"
"Indeed. And this is wholly the reason I'm still alive. And why I'm here in person, alone. The vampire, Godric, said he would kill me unless I came to you myself to deliver a message."
Helsing gave the Captain a wary look. Was it possible he had been turned? If this "Godric" had enthralled him, how would he be able to tell? Thestrals already looked so vampiric that there was no outward indication whether they were changed or not.
"...What message?"
The Captain cleared his throat.
"He said, and I quote, 'Tell that brat that I'm not going to kill him until I've destroyed all he loves. I will kill his family. I will eat his friends. I will skin his pets alive. If he has a marefriend, I'll rape her, and same for his mother. I'll dig up his father just to piss on him. I'll burn his house to the ground. His entire town will die screaming. And I'll make him watch all of it before I cut his eyes out and fuck him in the empty sockets.'"
Helsing snorted dismissively.
"Colourful character, isn't he? And an idiot. Generally speaking, a vampire shouldn't want a hunter to be ready for him."
"Listen to me, son," said the Captain, poking Helsing's chest. "You may think you know it all, but this vampire is no laughing matter. If you think he won't follow through on those threats, you're wrong. I saw it in his eyes. There's a malice in them unlike any I've ever seen."
"I think I know a little more about malice than you do," said Helsing, pushing his hoof away.
Before the Captain could say any more, he was interrupted by a loud knocking sound coming from the front door in the foyer.
Who could be knocking at this hour on a Sunday night? Helsing thought.
Normally, he would've left it for Service to answer. But presented with a curious question, and given the opportunity to snub the Captain, Helsing trotted into the foyer instead, leaving him behind in the main hall with barely a word.
Unfortunately, when he opened the doors, he found an even less welcome presence on the other side.
"Devious, get off my lawn," said Helsing.
The golden stallion grinned at him with his annoyingly perfect white teeth. He was wearing a suit for some reason, and had combed his hair.
"Now what way is that to treat your honoured guest, Helsing?"
"You aren't a guest. You're a parasite. Piss off back to whatever gold deposit you crawled out of, and stop sullying my garden with your presence."
"Helsing! Don't be rude!"
Angel came out of nowhere, pushing past Helsing and embracing Devious in the doorway. She wore a dress as white as her coat, and her mane and tail had been brushed and straightened. From the smell of her, she had bathed very recently, and... was she using perfume?
Helsing watched in open-mouthed horror as Devious took her hoof with his and kissed it. Angel closed her eyes and giggled, but Devious never broke eye contact with Helsing, whose initial look of horror quickly morphed into a furious glare.
Angel separated from Devious and smiled at her brother.
"Umm..." she said, blushing. "Devo asked me out after church today... We're going out for a starlit picnic in the meadow."
"Seriously, Angel? This guy? You're going on a date with this guy? You know he poisoned Mouse when you were nine, right?"
"I did no such thing!" Devious said indignantly, sneering at Helsing. "You just under-fed him and blamed me for your mistake. Even your father took my side."
Helsing pushed Angel out of the way and advanced on him.
"Because who would ever suspect a priest's grandson of doing something so foul? Nevermind that after he got his cutie mark, he willingly named himself Devious."
Angel grabbed Helsing and pulled him back.
"Brother, don't. This is our night, and I don't want you to ruin it! Devo's been a perfect gentlecolt to me, and you should show him some respect."
"Respect?"
Helsing looked ready to explode for a moment, until he caught himself, closing his eyes and letting out a long breath. Once calmed, he smiled back at Devious.
"Okay, here's some respect for you, Angel. Devious, I'm going to respect your intelligence. I'm going to assume that you know better than to try anything untoward tonight. Because I swear to Celestia on high, if you touch my sister, if you give me any kind of excuse, I will skin you living, I will make a suit out of your coat, and I will wear it the next time I fuck your mother."
Devious's smile briefly wavered. Angel thumped Helsing in the shoulder and shoved him back.
"You aren't my father!" she shouted. "Stop with the overprotective dad routine, and stop treating me like a filly!"
Helsing scowled at her.
"Fine. Make your mistakes. Let him hurt you. See if I care when you come crawling back." He turned to Devious again. "And as for you, my threat still applies, whether she wants it to or not."
Devious grinned. "Bring it on, Helsing. It'll end just like all our fights do."
Angel grabbed Devious and pulled him away, and the two trotted off down the garden path without another word. Hoofgate sprawled below, a collection of distant lamplights against the backdrop of a dark forest and a sea of stars. Helsing stood in the doorway a while, watching them go, until finally slamming it shut. When he turned around, he found Loyal Service and the Captain both standing in the foyer, the former with his usual subdued expression, and the latter with a wide grin.
"Well, that was entertaining," the Captain said. "Beautiful performance. I'd ask for an encore, but the rest of the cast left."
Helsing opened the door again and pointed a hoof outside.
"Thank you for the visit, Captain. It's been awful. Go away now."
"You're welcome. If you need me, I'm staying at the Riverside Inn, by the water mill. I'll be in town until this situation with Godric is resolved, one way or another. Good luck with that, by the by."
"I'll watch my back, you watch your own," said Helsing. "Try not to die, you flying rodent."
He held the door just long enough to see the grin wiped off the Captain's face, before slamming it closed on him. With all his guests gone, Helsing stomped off back to the main hall, barking out a tea order to Service without even stopping to look at him.
Dear Celestia, I need to kill something so badly right now...
A hunter's work was always done by moonlight, so Helsing was always at a loss for what to do with himself during the day. Some days he would just stay in bed. Others he spent reading his books. Today, he was in the mood for neither, and so he simply lay out in the front garden, feeling the fresh-cut grass on his back and the sun on his face. The pegasi hadn't ordered any rain today, so he was free to enjoy the summer and get some much needed rest.
Sometimes he slept in the day, but he never wanted to. His dreams were all nightmares, and his sleep was always fitful and restless. Whether it had been a good day or a bad one, the dream was always the same. He never remembered specifics, but he always remembered the river of blood. Every hunter did. From the moment they made their first kills, all hunters were haunted by that image. It was said that it was the price they paid for defying the Moon, but that in Paradise, Celestia would take their souls away to a peaceful Hunter's Dream, where they could rest at last.
Helsing hoped to see it one day. But until then, Celestia's own sun was comfort enough, as was the picturesque view of the village. From atop the hill, he could see all of Hoofgate. The simple wooden homesteads with their straw roofs, the allotments on the south side of town, the rushing Silver River that cut through the middle, and the distant church were all calming sights to Helsing. In their splendour, it was easy to miss the pony trudging up the hill along the gravel path.
He saw her trilby hat and the briefcase in her mouth before he really saw the mare herself, an older earth pony with a brown coat and dark grey mane. She glanced at him as she approached the edge of the estate, and stopped just next to Helsing.
The mare set her briefcase down and gave him a humourless smile.
"Van Helsing?"
Helsing frowned slightly and sat up. "Aye, that's me."
She stepped closer and held out a hoof.
"Litigation. We haven't met before, but I'm the family lawyer. I have a practice in Trottingham."
Helsing reluctantly stood and shook it. "That's a long way to come... We have a family lawyer?"
"Yes. My services haven't been required since your father's passing, but I've been on retainer to House Songbird for some time."
"Hmph... I wasn't made aware of this, but I generally stay out of the family's business dealings. My brother is the one who handles most of that nowadays. If this is about such a matter, I'm not the one to talk to."
Litigation cleared her throat.
"I received a letter from your mother some days ago requesting my presence. Is she here now?"
Helsing grimaced, already beginning to suspect what Litigation was here for.
"Aye, she's upstairs. She's... been confined to her bed recently."
"That's unfortunate," Litigation said quietly.
"Dare I ask... Did my mother's letter say what she needed from you?"
Litigation averted her gaze from Helsing.
"...Redrawing her will," she said.
Just as he thought. But it didn't make it any easier to hear.
Helsing stayed in the room until their business was finished. Choir Voice struggled through the meeting, periodically coughing up blood while Litigation read to her, and straining to read the papers through her half-moon spectacles. Loyal Service came in and out, bringing tea and fetching other documents as requested, but Helsing just sat in the corner and listened.
It was typical business. His mother had only wanted to confirm that all her affairs were in order. House Songbird's assets were to be split equally between her three children, with a generous retirement package set aside for Loyal Service. For the most part, Choir was satisfied, and no major changes were necessary, so the meeting was relatively brief. When their business together was concluded, the two mares bade each other goodbye, for what both expected would be the final time, and Loyal Service showed the lawyer out.
When they were alone, Helsing sat up from his chair and walked to the foot of his mother's bed.
"So, it's official then?" he said sardonically. "You've given up hope and you're just waiting to kick the bucket, and I have to find out through the family lawyer?"
Choir Voice scowled. "I was going to tell you all this afternoon. After my affairs were in order."
"Have you heard from the doctors?"
"The physician was here on Friday. He told me to prepare."
Helsing went to the window and stared outside.
"And you're just giving up? Just like that?"
"What choice do I have, Helsing? I've been in this bed for months, and I am not getting any better. Maybe it's just my time. Celestia doesn't want me to linger in this world, and I don't want to either. Not like this."
He bowed his head and squeezed his eyes shut. Tears threatened to escape, but he held them back and took a deep breath.
"So what now?" he said softly.
"What else? I will hang on a little longer, and then I will die. I have already taken care of the legal matters. Litigation is a good mare. You can trust her."
Helsing looked back at her. Despite his best efforts, the tears still fell.
"I meant what do I do now?" He turned around and stomped his hoof. "You expect to just... leave me? With all this?"
Choir's expression softened.
"Helsing..."
"What am I supposed to do? Just carry on like nothing's changed? Leave Sacred and Angel here alone while I go out on the hunt? What if they don't want to stay with me? Angel's already growing up so fast, and it seems like she wants nothing to do with me anymore. And if they're gone, what do I do with the house? I don't stay here all that often anymore. I always thought I'd move up to Trottingham one day, but..."
Choir sighed and lay back, sinking into her pillow.
"I was in a similar situation, once," she mused. "My mother and father, your grandparents, died in a shipwreck when I was very young. I was an only child, so all this fell to me. The money, the mansion, the family name... I lived here all alone until I was twenty-three, aside from Service to take care of me. But mostly, I was out travelling, seeing the sights, visiting distant lands... rather like you and all your trips. I met your father on one of those excursions. To Trottingham, as it happens, not to anywhere distant or exotic, but... it was one of my more eventful outings. Did I ever tell you how your father and I met?"
"I never asked," said Helsing, pulling up a chair and sitting beside his mother's bed. "How?"
She smiled, and looked to the ceiling.
"He saved me from a hengstwolf..." she said wistfully. "I was separated from Service, and found myself alone that night... outside one of those big cabaret clubs they have up there... It came after me, chased me through the streets... I was so scared, but then there he was, on the rooftop. My guardian angel. I still remember the fight... Celestia, it was awful, but... when he came to me afterwards, and offered me a dirty old rag to dry my tears... I had never felt so much admiration for a stallion before."
Choir closed her eyes and sighed again.
"He was rough around the edges, your father... not the sort of pony a rich mare from a great house usually marries. But I loved him, Helsing. And I miss him every day."
Helsing was quiet, waiting for her to continue, but before long his mother had drifted off to sleep. He stayed with her a while, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of her breaths, and letting all his tears out while nopony could see them. When Loyal Service finally came back, Helsing sent him away again. It wouldn't do to disturb her now.
Sleep well, mother.
The taverns of Hoofgate weren't usually busy on weekdays, but Helsing could reliably be found drinking at one of them almost every night, unless he was on the hunt. All the barkeeps and other regulars recognised him, even if he wasn't particularly social. He usually just sat up at the bar and drank in silence until he left, often to end up in the company of one of the local prostitutes.
Tonight, he wasn't alone for once. An orange hoof on his shoulder kept him steady as he downed another glass of whiskey. Slamming his hoof on the bar, Helsing struggled to make his voice heard over the usual din of the tavern, a dull roar of chattering voices and a bard's lute.
"Another!" he demanded.
The barkeep came over to refill his glass, but Helsing just shoved it away.
"Leave the bottle."
He set it down as told, and left to attend to the other customers. Helsing picked up the bottle and took a long swig of whiskey, before slumping over and resting his head on the bar.
"...Okay, brother, I think you've had enough," said Sacred.
Helsing snorted. "I will say when I've had enough."
Sitting up again, he refilled Sacred's glass for him, and then took another long drink.
"Helsing, this isn't a healthy way of dealing with your problems."
"You sound like Doctor Jekyll," Helsing grumbled, putting down the whiskey. "I always drink like this, Sacred. Ask any of these ponies. And I drink even more after a hunt. Some nights I black out completely. And you know what? I prefer it that way. When I'm drunk, I don't dream. Not dealing with my problems is just an added benefit."
"That just sounds like you have even more issues than I thought," said Sacred, taking a sip from his glass. "Do you and Jekyll ever talk about your drinking?"
"We talk about a lot of things. Mostly my violent tendencies. Not this, though. I don't consider my drinking habits a problem. I'm not hurting anypony."
"Still seems self-destructive. What was it that Father Sunflower always said? All forms of excess are a path to chaos?"
"I don't fear the Devil," Helsing muttered, staring down at the bar. "Nor the Moon. I fear reality. My actual life, that's the scary part."
"You mean life without Mom?"
Helsing sighed. "Aye... among other things... I've been dealing with a lot lately, Sacred. It's not been a good week. Well, you know that much..."
"Maybe you just need to talk to Doctor Jekyll. All this about Godric, and with Mom, that all came after your last session, didn't it? So you haven't had the chance to work through it all yet."
"Aye, that's true... Devious, as well."
Helsing drank again, while Sacred raised an eyebrow.
"What, him and Angel? That's still bothering you?"
"It's obviously not my number one concern right now, Sacred, but it doesn't help." Helsing wiped his mouth. "You know what a bastard he is. Do you really think he has any benevolent intentions for our sister?"
Sacred shrugged. "Probably not. But if she wants to be courted by a stallion who's just using her, then that's her mistake to make. She's a grown mare now."
"He's going to hurt her," Helsing muttered, staring at the bar again. "He always hurts people. But she just won't listen to me..."
Sacred put down his glass.
"She doesn't listen to you because you always let Devo push your buttons, brother. You explode at him and talk about skinning him and fucking his mother, while he just stands there and smiles. He comes off as a good guy, and you look like a crazy pony. That's why Dad didn't believe you about the dog. That's why you always got the blame whenever the two of you fought. Helsing, half of everything he does, he only does to get a rise out of you, because he knows he can. Hell, he's probably only courting Angel because he knows it'll piss you off. But you keep falling for it!"
Helsing groaned and held his head in both hooves.
"Sacred, I've been hearing that speech since I was six. The same advice every time, and it's always useless. Do you know why? Because it doesn't actually do anything about Devious. He's the problem, not me, so changing myself doesn't solve anything. My life is cyclical. Devo does something reprehensible and enrages me. I react, and usually come off the worse for it. He escapes punishment because he's good at faking sincerity. I get that speech you just gave. I attempt to ignore him, as told. And then he escalates by doing something utterly beyond the pale, like poisoning dogs, or desecrating graves, or trying to fuck our sister. Repeat from step one."
"He hurts me just as much as you!" said Sacred, throwing a hoof into the air. "You think I wasn't just as outraged when he did all that? The difference is, I control my anger, and you don't."
Helsing glared aside at Sacred.
"Aye, he hurts you too, but that's not the difference between you and I, Sacred. The real difference is, you're not the target of his efforts. You're just collateral damage. There's so much he's done that you weren't around for, or that I never even told you about. He's a monster. And he's had it out for me, personally, for as long as we've known each other. I didn't even do anything to him. He just saw my face one day and decided to ruin my life."
Helsing grabbed the bottle and gulped down enough whiskey to burn his throat, before slamming it down on the bar and letting out a loud belch.
"Every time I kill a vampire..." he slurred, "I always imagine it's him..."
A distant scream came from outside the bar. Sacred twisted his head to the source of the noise, but Helsing didn't even blink. He stared into space, swaying slightly on his barstool, even as the bard's lute-playing stopped and the tavern's patrons began to shuffle outside.
"Helsing," said Sacred, tugging his brother's shoulder.
"What?"
"Something's happening."
Helsing finally looked up and around, and noticed the ponies pouring out of the tavern. He snorted, took a gulp of whiskey, and then slipped off his barstool.
"C'mon then... Let's see what all the fuss is about..."
The two of them shuffled outside with the throng, Sacred having to put a foreleg around his brother to help him walk. They emerged into the cool night air of Hoofgate's town square. The streets were illuminated by moonlight, but all the oil lanterns that normally hung outside the tavern had been extinguished. In fact, all the lights in the square were out, conspicuous in their absence. A crowd of ponies gathered in the middle of the square, a thick wall of bodies forming a circle around something Helsing couldn't see, but even they were hard to make out in the darkness. They whispered and chattered amongst themselves, far more fervently than they had inside.
Some from the crowd came out again with tears in their eyes. One mare ran off to vomit over the road. The air was filled with loud crying, and more screams. As Helsing hobbled over, he noticed a few ponies looking at him. Their faces were uncertain, and perhaps a little fearful. Even in his drunken state, Helsing's hunter instincts brought all his senses into sharp relief, and he noticed a familiar coppery scent on the wind. One mare pointed him out to the crowd near the centre of the scene, and they all parted to make way for him. Helsing didn't like the looks on their faces as he and Sacred passed.
Finally, the brothers beheld the carnage, and stopped in their tracks.
In the middle of the square, somebody had stacked up a huge pile of torsos and severed heads. They sat in the middle of a puddle of blood that stopped just at the edge of where the crowd had gathered. Some of the heads were terrifyingly familiar. None of them friends, exactly, but plenty that Helsing knew by name. The blacksmith's apprentice. The baker's wife. A tavern owner's son. Even a choir singer his mother had known.
But the heads and torsos weren't the only body parts there. The limbs were laid out neatly before them, half submerged in the blood. Not all of them were legs. A few were wings, and some were griffon tails. There were a lot of them there, too many to even guess the number of bodies they had come from. It took Helsing a moment to spot them in the darkness, but when he did, he could clearly see that they had been positioned to spell out a word.
HELSING
Sacred stared at the scene in gaping shock, and even Helsing struggled to process it at first. He had seen plenty of gruesome sights on the hunt, many far worse than this one, but this time was different, somehow. Perhaps it was just the drink, but the familiar faces and his name on the ground were making his head swim. He nearly collapsed, until Sacred noticed his motions and caught him.
"...Seems somepony wants your attention, brother," Sacred mumbled, a haunted look upon his face.
Helsing felt a lump in his throat, and swallowed it.
"...Not somepony, Sacred. Someone... And they've got it."
The graveyard was busy in the midweek. Father Sunflower had conducted so many funerals, and the mourning families still came every day. Mothers, fathers, siblings, all struggling to process why this tragedy had occurred, sat beside numerous graves and cried amongst themselves. Helsing gave them space, wrapping himself in his red hunter's garb and steering well clear of them. They wouldn't want to see him right now. He was the reason their friends and loved ones were in the ground. And he was the reason their killer still ran free.
At the back of the churchyard, nearest to the forest, a wrought-iron fence separated one area from all the rest. Helsing passed through its open gate, and between rows of white marble tombs and mausoleums. They were patterned with gold, and styled with images of clouds, wings, and halos. Some outright had angel statues, anonymous alicorns in royal garb, with golden rings representing Celestia's sun at their backs. Prominently displayed on each grave was a cutie mark, usually of some kind of instrument, song note, or other allusion to House Songbird's traditional inclination for musical talents.
It was an odd place for him to be, really. Of all the ponies buried here, Hellfire was the one that did not belong. His grave was not a stately or impressive thing, and he wouldn't have wanted it that way. Hellfire's final resting place was little more than a black tombstone and a vase of flowers over a patch of gravel. His cutie mark, a fiery halo around a hunter's longsword, was out of place in the family cemetery. One day, Helsing reflected, his own might look amiss here, too.
"Hello, Dad," he said, sitting down next to the grave. "It's been a while."
He idly pulled out some weeds growing through the gravel, by hoof at first, and then by magic to better grab the roots.
"I've, uh..." Helsing cleared his throat. "I've been trying, Dad. I keep trying to protect the family, like you said to, but... I don't think I'm doing a very good job."
He looked over his shoulder. Through the bars of the fence, he could make out one of the other families in the churchyard, a mother and her two young colts, attending to a simple grave just like Hellfire's. The mother had her back to him, but he could see the colts crying. Helsing sighed and turned back to his father's grave.
"I've been searching for days now... I know Godric must be in town, but I just can't find him. It's not the first time I've had trouble tracking a vampire, but I can't let this one escape me, Dad. He threatened our home, our family... I'm already going to lose Mother. Just like I lost you. I can't let him hurt anypony else, but what do I do? How do I find him?"
Hellfire's grave gave no answers. The only voice in the graveyard was the whisper of a summer's breeze, fluttering through Helsing's cloak.
"He must be hiding somewhere, Dad... I'm going to find him. One way or another, I'm going to find him, and make him pay. I'll protect the family. I promise you."
Helsing stood and trotted back towards the gate, only to stop when he saw a familiar figure in the middle of the enclosed graveyard. Narrowing his eyes, Helsing approached.
"Captain," he said, venomously.
The thestral's usual slight smile was there at first, but quickly disappeared.
"I thought that the vampire might hide out here," he said softly, gesturing to the tombs. "Inside an old mausoleum, perhaps, given the threat he issued... I didn't mean to intrude."
"Well, you did," Helsing snapped. "This is the family plot. Just because that gate's open doesn't mean the public are welcome here."
"I apologise," said the Captain, and for once, he sounded sincere. "I shouldn't have assumed."
Helsing snorted and rolled his eyes.
"Leave, then."
"Of course." The Captain went to leave, but paused. "Although... Forgive me, but, is your father buried here?"
Helsing looked askance at him.
"...Aye, he is."
"Your uncle told me about him," the Captain said, not meeting Helsing's gaze. "Lieutenant True Shot was very deeply affected by... how he died. Blamed himself for it. He also told me that you got your cutie mark in that incident. Is that right?"
Helsing swallowed and grit his teeth.
"Aye."
"I'm very sorry for your loss. Whatever happens in the next few days with Godric, I hope you know that your family will be in my prayers."
Finally, the Captain turned and trotted away.
"...Wait."
He stopped at the gate, and looked back over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow.
"To search the mausoleums, you said?" asked Helsing. "How were you planning to fight Godric if you found him here?"
"I brought garlic and stakes," the Captain said, gesturing to his saddlebag with a wing.
Helsing gave a slight smile and shook his head.
"Garlic... You really are hopeless, Captain."
The Captain smiled back and shrugged, walking over to Helsing. "What would you have me use?"
"Oh, I don't know. Blessed silver? Holy water? I have a few other tricks that I favour, but those are rather my own brand... The stakes were a good choice, at least. But of all the vampire's weaknesses, garlic is among the most useless."
"How so?"
"A sunlight blessing is anathema to a vampire. It burns on contact, and inhibits healing. Garlic is... more like a species-wide allergy. It's only truly useful for exposing undercover vampires. Poison to put in food, rather than to smear on a blade."
"Hmm, looks like I have much to learn from you." The Captain drew a wing over his chest. "You must forgive me, Van Helsing. I'm new to this."
Helsing was amused by that. After a moment's consideration, he gestured over to the nearest mausoleum.
"Since you put the idea in my head... would you like to help me search, Captain?"
"If you would have me, then certainly."
As Helsing checked the mausoleum's door, and found it still locked tight, the Captain stood back and cleared his throat.
"By the way... My name is... Nightshade. Captain Nightshade Leatherwing."
Helsing snickered.
"Seriously?"
Nightshade sighed. "Yes, I know..."
The Mare in the Moon looked down over Hoofgate that night, rising behind Songbird Manor on the hill. Light poured from the mansion's windows, as bright as the braziers that burned in the church by night. No doubt it was the work of Sacred Fire's talent spell; his pyromancies were all unusually bright, just like Sunflower's whenever he performed blessings. That light meant that Sacred, at least, was probably home tonight.
Devious hoped that the other siblings were as well.
He climbed the hill in silence, avoiding the gravel path and trotting across the grass instead. When he came nearer to the manor, he began to circle around it instead of going for the front door. It would not do to be seen.
Once he was around the back of the manor, and reasonably sure that nopony was watching from the windows, Devious darted across the grounds. He could have covered the distance quicker with his talent spell, but he refrained for now; the flash of his hornlight could still attract attention.
Devious reached the mansion and climbed the walls, jumping up and grabbing onto a ledge just above the back door. He struggled to make the climb, and so dared to use a little telekinesis to push underneath his hooves and provide lift. He rose to the upper floor, and clung to the narrow ledge that ran along it. There was still a distance to go, so he moved carefully around the building, inching along the ledge and using only the bare minimum of magic he needed to keep from falling.
Finally, he came to a balcony, and climbed onto it. Light poured out from the connected room, but Devious couldn't see inside. The curtains were drawn, and the door was locked, but he knew whose room this was, and neither would pose any obstacle to him.
Devious reached out and tapped a hoof lightly on the window.
There was a stirring inside, and the curtains drew apart, revealing Angel Voice's tear-stained face. She opened her mouth in shock, and rapidly fiddled with the lock until she could open the door. As soon as the barrier between them was gone, Devious leaned in and kissed her hungrily.
The demure white pegasus broke away and pulled him into an embrace, leaning her head over his shoulder. Devious still trailed kisses down the back of her neck.
"I'm so glad you're here," she whispered, wrapping her wings around him. "I haven't stopped thinking about it for days... All those poor ponies..."
Devious separated from her, and leaned his head against hers.
"You don't need to think about it anymore," he said in a husky voice. "Let me take your mind off it, just like that night under the stars."
Angel smiled and closed her eyes, while Devious took her lips with his once again. Running his hooves over delicate wings, he lifted her body with his magic, and carried her off to her bed.
Another night, another failed attempt at finding Godric. Helsing hung his head as he marched back up the moonlit hill. Despite finding a new ally in Captain Nightshade, he had yet to make any progress on the hunt, and that bastard vampire was still out there. Now that the sun was down, he was no doubt moving once again. By morning, there could well be another massacre just like the one outside the tavern.
He wanted to patrol the town, as if it were the night of the hunt in Hoofgate. By day, Godric would be vulnerable, but also hidden from him. At night, Helsing would at least have a chance of catching him on the street. But he couldn't. Not with his family still vulnerable. He had set all manner of traps for Godric in and around Songbird Manor, and Sacred had spent all his days and nights at home since the incident to protect Angel and their mother, but Sacred was still a novice hunter, and traps weren't always effective. Helsing needed to be there himself if Godric attacked. No matter what else happened to the villagers, protecting the family was paramount. At least this time, he could rely on Nightshade to guard the town for him while he was at home.
Loyal Service answered the door before Helsing could even draw his key.
"Any luck, sir?" he asked gravely.
"Not tonight, Service," Helsing grunted. "But I'm getting closer all the time..."
He took off his hunter's garb and passed it to the earth stallion, who folded it for him and carried it on his back.
"Anything here?" said Helsing.
"Not to my knowledge. Master Sacred and I have kept up our patrols, as you requested, but I have yet to see or hear anything suspicious."
Helsing trotted out of the foyer, Service following him.
"Godric must come here at some point," Helsing said as they climbed the stairway of the main hall. "The entire reason he's here is for revenge on me, and he specifically threatened the family. I don't know how he thinks he's going to get to us, but if he wants to carry out that threat, he can't just terrorise unrelated villagers forever."
They turned into a corridor at the top of the stairs, and Helsing touched each door they passed with his magic, feeling the sunlight enchantments that Sacred had placed on them.
"Perhaps the idea is to sow fear, sir," said Service. "By leaving the one gruesome message, and then not acting for days, he has made us react to him. We are on the defensive. That is not characteristic of most vampire hunts, is it?"
"We have more to lose than he does, Service. He can afford to play with us. But one slip-up on my part..."
Helsing shook his head. It didn't bear thinking about, what would happen if he failed.
Suddenly, he stopped in the middle of the corridor, halting Loyal Service as well. There was a noise. A kind of distant, repetitive thumping. Any thoughts of checking enchantments deserted him, as Helsing's brow creased into a frown.
"Do you hear that, Service?"
The older stallion strained his ears.
"...I believe so, sir, though I can't identify it..."
Helsing took back his overcoat and donned it, preparing his sword and crossbow for a fight.
"Go fetch Sacred," he said, loading a bolt. "I'll go investigate."
Service nodded and cantered off back towards the main hall, as fast as he could move in his old age. Grimacing, Helsing looked ahead, and followed the source of the noise down the corridor.
To his concern, it seemed to be coming from Angel's room. He checked the door from a distance before he came near, and found the sunlight enchantment still in place, with no sign of discharge. Angel's room had a balcony, he remembered, but Sacred had enchanted that door as well. The room should've been safe.
As he neared, however, the noises gained clarity, and Helsing's eyes widened. He could clearly hear the sound of creaking springs coming from within Angel's room, as well as two sets of audible sighs.
She couldn't be...
Whatever was happening in there, he had to know.
Helsing blasted the door open with a wave of telekinetic force and crossed the threshold, his crossbow floating ahead of him. Angel screamed in terror, and Helsing recoiled at the sight of Devious on top of her. The two of them lay on the bed, a sweaty tangle of limbs. Angel tried to grab the bedsheets and cover herself, but they were pinned beneath Devious's hoof.
"Brother! Get out!" Angel shrieked, grabbing a brooch from her bedside table and throwing it at him.
Helsing ducked under the projectile, but didn't move from the doorframe. Instead, he locked eyes with Devious, face red with fury, as the stallion grinned back at him menacingly.
"You!" Helsing shouted, pointing an accusing hoof at the stallion.
"Lovely evening, Helsing!" Devious laughed. "Care to join us?"
Angel twisted suddenly to look back at him, utterly mortified.
"Get the hell off of her right now, or I'll shoot you straight in the mouth!" Helsing shouted, raising his crossbow.
"Oh, please do!"
Looking Helsing right in the eye, Devious resumed thrusting. Angel covered her face with her forelegs and both wings, and screamed into her mattress.
Helsing fired.
There was a flicker of light from Devious's horn, and in an instant, he was gone. The crossbow bolt sailed through empty air and struck the wall behind Angel's bed. Instantly, Devious appeared on the other side of the room, lying on his side on the carpet as if he had just fallen off the bed. It wasn't like teleportation. There was no flash of light when he reappeared. It was truly like he had been there one second and then somewhere else the next.
Helsing had seen it all before. He had expected it. That didn't make it any less infuriating.
"What's wrong, Helsing?" said Devious, laughing as he climbed to his hooves. "Angry that I had her before you could?"
Helsing roared and sent a blast of force magic at Devious, who vanished again and appeared back on Angel's bed. He grabbed her and pulled her up, propping his chin on her shoulder. Tears streaked down Angel's face as Devious ran a hoof through her mane.
"I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself," he purred. "She was just craving the gold experience, and I had to give it to her."
Helsing lunged. Before he could reach him, Devious was gone again, and something struck Helsing in the muzzle. He cried out and stumbled back, blood now dripping from his nose. Angel screamed and covered her eyes.
Devious cackled and grabbed Helsing in his magic, tossing him across the room and into a wall.
"Come on, you know this is pointless, Helsing!" he crowed. "Every fight we've ever had, I've always won, because your magic is weak!"
With laboured breath, Helsing rushed forward and reared up, swinging a hoof at Devious, who disappeared and then reappeared right behind him. Helsing turned around to face him, only to get bucked into Angel's wardrobe. The wood cracked from the impact, and Helsing grunted from the sharp pain he felt along his spine.
"My talent spell, JUDAS PRIEST, is the strongest ever cast!"
Devious flashed forward a few steps and reappeared in a combative stance, but Helsing felt the impact of two hooves punching his chest and face without ever actually seeing it. He choked and gasped, blood pouring down his muzzle, and sank to the floor.
"And what do you have, Helsing? Nothing! Telekinesis and your hooves! Talk about a useless cutie mark!"
Grinning madly, Devious reached down and grabbed Helsing by the throat to pull him back up. They stood close enough to feel each other's breath, and Devious leaned in even further, touching his horn to Helsing's.
"This is your rightful place, you know. Angry, bloody, falling to your knees before me... It always ends this way, doesn't it, Helsing?"
Helsing growled and shoved forward, headbutting Devious. For the first time in the fight, he hit him, drawing blood. Devious grunted in surprise and stumbled back, his own nose now bloody as well. He went to cast his talent spell, but before he could fire it off, Helsing lunged at him again and struck his horn with a well-timed swing.
Devious howled, head reeling to the side. Helsing shoved him to the floor and slammed another hoof down onto his horn, interrupting yet another casting. While Devious tried to throw him off, Helsing reached into his coat and drew a stake-hammer. For a moment, Devious's eyes widened in primal terror, and he desperately tried to cast Judas Priest one last time.
Helsing beat him to it, bringing down the hammer and smashing his horn into tiny shards, showering the two of them in blood and bone.
Devious screamed in agony, clutching the shattered remnants of his horn as tears streamed down his face. He finally kicked Helsing off and rolled over, blood spurting from his forehead. Angel peeked out from behind her wings and screamed even louder at the sight. Sacred and Service appeared in the doorway, and both recoiled upon seeing the room. Sacred's eyes locked onto Devious, and he tried to run in, but Service reached out and held him back. He gave the younger stallion a stern look, and shook his head.
Helsing stood and spat out a mouthful of blood.
"You know what your problem is, Devo?" he said contemptuously. "It's that you're arrogant."
He stepped over to Devious and drove a hoof into his stomach, knocking all the wind out of him.
"Most unicorns keep their talent spells hidden!" Helsing hissed, picking up Devious with his magic and throwing him into Angel's bedside cabinet. "They don't parade them around like you do! But you were just so proud of yourself, so sure that you were invincible, you couldn't help showing it off to everypony!"
Devious groaned and tried to stand, but Helsing picked him up and slammed him into the wall behind.
"Couldn't help bullying me with it for years! Couldn't help bragging at every opportunity that your talent spell could stop time!"
Helsing reared up on his hind legs and punched Devious with both forehooves, striking him in the face and stomach multiple times each.
"Never once thinking that somepony might one day learn your weaknesses and exploit them!"
He finished up by floating Devious into the air, turning him around, and smashing his face into the wall hard enough to leave a bloody imprint. Helsing stepped back, and Devious collapsed, a twitching, bloody mess.
Helsing drew himself up, wiped the blood from his nose, and looked back to his sister. She huddled with Sacred on her bed in the corner of the room, as he embraced her tightly. When Helsing met her gaze, she looked away from him. In the doorway, Loyal Service was still aghast, eyes running over all the bloodstains on the walls and carpet.
Miraculously, when Helsing looked back to Devious, he was attempting to stand, panting hard and glaring at Helsing with a white-hot intensity.
"Impossible," Devious gasped, blood still running down his face. "How could you possibly best me?"
Helsing picked up his crossbow and loaded a bolt.
"How dare you strike me? I'll make you regret that, Helsing, you filthy cur!"
"Bring it on, Devo!" Helsing shouted, aiming the crossbow. "Just give me the excuse!"
"Both of you, stop it!" Angel screamed. "Stop it now!"
Both stallions paused. Angel didn't say any more, just looking at them both with tearful eyes. Devious didn't relent, glaring at Helsing through tears of his own, but Helsing lowered the crossbow and stepped aside.
"Service, show this golden piece of shit to the exit," he said.
Loyal Service stepped into the room and tried to grab Devious by the scruff of his neck. The bloodied unicorn threw his hooves off, but didn't resist any further, simply following him out of the room with his head hung low.
"Come back again, and I'll feed you your testicles!" Helsing shouted after him.
An uncomfortable silence filled the room after they departed, as the three siblings were left alone together. Angel still cried into Sacred's shoulder, while Helsing dripped with blood in the middle of room. He looked to the two of them, but struggled to find words, his face twisting and unable to settle on an emotion. Angel's was flushed and wet with tears, but she said nothing.
Without a word exchanged, Helsing stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him.
Mass took a somber tone that week. Father Sunflower gave a sermon on tragedy, and talked to his congregation about grief, loss, and the comfort of Celestia's light. Helsing tried his best to pay attention to it, but he kept catching ponies staring at him throughout the service. Whether it was because of his role in the recent incident, the absence of his brother and sister, or the visible bruises on his face, he couldn't say. The one saving grace was that Devious was also absent, for the first time in as long as Helsing could remember.
When the service came to an end, Sunflower stepped down from his pulpit, and went to the altar to offer blessings to those who wished for them. There were more takers than usual this week, so he was there a while. At the back of the church, the wardens and choir singers made tea and coffee, as they always did. Some of the congregation always stayed behind with them to drink and socialise, but Helsing declined an offer of tea, and instead waited for Father Sunflower to finish the blessings.
As soon as he was done, and the priest was alone, Helsing approached the altar.
"Father, I need to speak with you," he said, his voice a low murmur.
Sunflower gave him a blank look, devoid of any of his usual cheer. "If the matter concerns you and my grandson, I am not the stallion to see, young Helsing."
Helsing cleared his throat. "Actually, I'm here to ask you a favour. For my mother."
"...Oh." Sunflower's face fell. "Is she...?"
"She's dying, Father. She's given up completely, and... I don't know how long she has left. I was hoping you could..."
He sighed. "You want me there for her last moments."
"...Aye," said Helsing.
"I had hoped I wouldn't have to see another go so soon after this week's events..." Sunflower grimaced. "Can I also presume you wish for me to use my talent spell to allow a final goodbye?"
Helsing nodded.
"Hmm, very well." Sunflower drew himself up. "Anything for Choir. I shall visit later tonight, and keep the final vigil. Whatever else may have occurred lately, your mother has always been very dear to me; I shall see her safely into Celestia's embrace."
"Thank you, Father."
Helsing bowed his head and went to leave, but Sunflower called out to him.
"I say again, though, young Helsing, you have ponies other than me to speak to."
Helsing stopped in the middle of the aisle, facing away from Sunflower.
"No, Father, I really don't."
"This feud you have with my grandson has gone beyond any mere boyhood grudge," Sunflower continued, unabated. "It is disharmony of the highest magnitude, and your actions have had serious consequences. I do not bear you ill will for that, Helsing, nor shall I be the one to judge you for it, but neither can I offer you Celestia's absolution unless you are willing to repent and make amends."
"...You never say his name, Father," Helsing said coldly, still not looking at him. "Always 'my grandson' or 'the boy.' His name is Devious."
"And he is crippled for life."
"Good. I wish I'd done it sooner."
Helsing left without another word, the gazes of the remaining churchgoers following him all the way out.
Once, at the widest part of the Silver River, a griffon lord had built a gated crossing, intended to keep the flightless peasants in the village away from his manor on the hill. That crossing, a wooden bridge passing through a portcullis between two stone towers, had given Hoofgate its name. It had been centuries since that gate was last closed, but the towers still cast long shadows over the river at sunset.
Those shadows chilled Helsing, even through his overcoat, as orange hues broke across the sky. He sat on a log by the river, the sounds of rushing water and chirping crickets filling the air, and absently stared up at the towers. Not for the first time, he wondered why that griffon lord had ever bothered with the gate. It hadn't stopped the pegasi. It hadn't saved his life, or protected his home and family. In the end, it had been for nothing, and now there was no lord on the hill. Only House Songbird.
Minutes passed by, and the sun continued to lower. Helsing waited, wondering what was keeping his new hunting partner. The night would soon be upon them, and Godric with it, yet Captain Nightshade was nowhere to be seen.
With a sigh, Helsing rose from his seat and marched off down the river, leaving the crossing behind him.
Further down, he came to an old water mill with a slow, creaking wheel. Nestled away behind it was the Riverside Inn, a dingy little building, but an inconspicuous one. It didn't even look open, but this was where the Captain said he was staying, so Helsing pushed through the front doors and emerged into a silent bar.
The Riverside Inn was tiny, only a single musty-smelling room with half a dozen tables and a bar, dimly lit by a lone oil lamp. Only a door behind the bar and a rickety staircase at the back of the room suggested there was anything more to the place. At first, the inn appeared empty. Then Helsing noticed the yellow stallion with the bandage around his head, slumped over the bar and drowning his sorrows in a mug of something cheap and foul.
Devious stirred at the sound of Helsing's hoofsteps, and turned around slowly, narrowing his eyes when he saw him.
"You," he said, voice dripping with malice.
"Me," Helsing agreed, his face hardening into a scowl.
"What are you doing here? This was supposed to be one of the establishments you don't frequent."
"I'm here to hunt a vampire, Devious. Have you already forgotten that this town has bigger problems than you right now?"
Devious shot him a glare.
"I will always be your biggest problem, Van Helsing. This I swear to you."
"That'll be a neat trick without your talent spell, stumpy." Helsing smirked. "But by all means, give me your best shot. The law says I'm free to kill you if it's in self-defence."
Helsing expected that to make him angry. Yet Devious just smiled, not with any of his usual confidence or malice, but rather with a kind of tired amusement.
"Hmph. I'd love to give you the chance someday, Helsing..."
Helsing arched an eyebrow.
"The hell is that supposed to mean?"
Devious grinned at him. After its brief absence, that wicked gleam in his eye had returned.
"Exactly what it sounds like, my old friend. This game we play never ends. The way I lost to you, all that I suffered at your hooves, it angered me at first... But I see now that it was the work of fate, and thus my own fault for not seeing earlier. Only you could ever have bested me, Helsing. Only you could ever be allowed to."
"...You are one seriously delusional shithead," said Helsing.
"Heh. Believe what you want, Helsing," he said, lifting his mug and turning back to the bar. "We are bound by fate. You'll see, in time."
"Go fall in the river, Devo."
Helsing left abruptly, climbing the stairs before Devious could say any more.
He ascended into the upper floor of the Riverside Inn, a short corridor with two doors on each side and one at the end. Given the size of the building, Helsing wouldn't have been surprised if they were all storage closets, but each of them had an iron sign bearing a room number. Not knowing which one was the Captain's, Helsing banged on the nearest door to his left, room number one.
"...Nightshade?" he called. "You around here?"
When no response came, he knocked on the door again.
"Nightshade!"
Still nothing. Helsing tried the handle, and found the door locked. Not surprising. He knocked on the door to his right next, and shouted again, also to no response. Once more, he tried to open it, only this time, it was unlocked. Helsing blinked, and pushed the door open.
He recoiled as the sight and smell of the room hit him all at once.
Everything was red. The walls, the ceiling, the floor, the mattress, and the room's single chair and desk. On the bed, the sheets and blanket had been tied up in a ball, and were soaked through with fresh blood. Whatever had been done here, it couldn't have happened more than an hour ago by Helsing's reckoning.
He brought up his facemask, and drew his longsword and crossbow. Cursing under his breath, Helsing quickly looked around the corridor again, before using his magic to lift the mattress and desk from outside the room. Once satisfied that nobody was hiding in there, he unwrapped the ball of bloody bedsheets. A dismembered pony fell out in twelve pieces, a pink mare around his mother's age. Helsing checked a severed limb, and found that it wasn't even cold yet.
At least it's not him, he thought, grimly.
Helsing turned back to room number one and threw his body against the door, breaking it down easily. He raised his crossbow, but a quick glance around the room yielded nothing. The bedsheets were ratty, and insects skittered away beneath Helsing's hooves, but there was no murder scene. He moved on to check the next room down.
Rooms three and four were similarly empty, and didn't appear to even have anypony staying in them. Room five at the end of the corridor, however, was already slightly ajar when Helsing approached, something he hadn't noticed before. With a sharp intake of breath, he slid up to the door, and gently pushed it open.
It was dark inside. The curtains had been drawn, and there were no lamps lit, so Helsing used his hornlight to illuminate the room.
"...Nightshade?" he whispered from the doorway. "Are you in here?"
There was no stench of blood. But there was something on the bed. Something roughly the size of a body, covered in a tangle of sheets. Looking closely, Helsing could see that it was moving.
He took a deep breath, reached out with his magic, and tore the sheets away from a respectable distance. The body underneath thrashed and spasmed in protest, and leapt towards the doorway at Helsing. He raised his sword to fight, but the thing tackled him to the floor anyway and went to bite his neck, making him drop both his sword and crossbow.
Helsing grappled with the vampire, holding him back, and his eyes went wide as they met the Captain's.
"Nightshade! What are you doing? Snap out of it!"
"Helsing!" Nightshade hissed back, almost furiously. "I can't stop it! I need to kill you!"
The two of them rolled over. Helsing, now on top, slammed Nightshade's head against the floor.
"You don't need to do anything, Captain! He can't control you unless you let him! Fight back!"
Nightshade shoved Helsing hard, knocking him back into the wall. He tried to scramble up and lunge for him again, but Helsing reacted quickly and punched him in the face, knocking him down.
"I... I can't..." Nightshade gasped, crawling on the floor. "It's in my head... A voice, saying..."
An aura of blue encased him, rendering him immobile. Nightshade tried to push against it, but Helsing threw him into the opposite wall.
"I know what it's saying," Helsing snarled. "Ignore it! Submitting to a vampire's will is just as grave a sin as becoming one voluntarily!"
The telekinetic field cracked slightly as Nightshade struggled against it. He closed his eyes as tears streamed down his face.
"I'm trying," he said breathlessly. "Celestia in Heaven, I am trying."
"Try harder! We might still be able to save you, Captain, but you have to resist him!"
The telekinetic field broke. Nightshade, free of Helsing's grasp, staggered forward, only for him to find a dagger shoved into his stomach.
"Aghhhhhhhhhhh!"
"I'm sorry," said Helsing.
Nightshade sank to his knees, wrapping a hoof and a wing around the knife still sticking out of him. Helsing kept his magical grip on it, and forced it further in. The wound sizzled as the blessed silver dug into vampiric flesh.
"Argghhh, you bastard!" Nightshade screamed. "Pull it out, Helsing!"
"Not until you stop hearing his voice! Focus on the pain, Nightshade! Let it hurt!"
The dagger twisted, and Nightshade howled, collapsing as he desperately tried to pull it loose. Helsing stood over him, sweat pouring from his brow. He was so focused on Nightshade, it took him a second to notice Devious standing by the top of the stairs, staring at the two of them.
For a moment, Devious had a look about him, as if he realised the gravity of what he was witnessing. Then it was gone, replaced by that familiar, nauseating smirk. He looked about to say something, but that was when Helsing saw the figure coming up behind him.
"Devo, look out!" he shouted, grabbing his crossbow off the floor.
Devious glanced over his shoulder and saw the figure. With an uncharacteristic yelp, he leapt away from the stairs and pedalled backwards, while the griffon silently stepped onto the landing. For the first time in as long as Helsing could remember, Devious actually looked afraid. Even Nightshade went still when he saw the vampire, despite the blood still pouring from his stomach.
He stood between the three of them and the only way out. A suit of chainmail covered his midsection, protecting his heart, but he made no efforts to conceal his identity like the other Blackfeathers had two years ago; his dusty grey feathers and unnatural fanged beak were plain to see, and the wing-blades at his side proudly displayed their fresh coat of blood.
"Godric, right?" said Helsing, pointing his crossbow at him.
"In the flesh." The griffon laughed at his own joke. "Nice to finally meet you, Van Helsing."
"I can't say I feel the same, monster. So is this the hole you've been hiding in all this time?"
"Not all of it." Godric casually scratched under his chin. "I kept on the move to avoid your daylight searches. But this was meant to be between us, and the Captain was in the way, so I thought I'd teach him a little lesson about sticking his nose in where he shouldn't."
"And the dead mare?" said Helsing, gesturing with his crossbow towards room two.
"So, what do you think of my handiwork?" Godric nodded towards Nightshade, who shrank under his gaze. "Brilliant, right?"
"Hardly," said Helsing. "Playing puppeteer with your progeny is page one in the book of vampire degeneracy, right alongside eating people and cowering in the shadows. Bogstandard stuff. Boring, really. But maybe you're just easily impressed because you're a mangy flying housecat with no concept of what magic is capable of."
That wiped the smile off Godric's face.
"Pissing me off isn't a good idea, hunter."
"No?" Helsing lowered his crossbow. "How about we talk about your whore of a girlfriend and your pig-ugly sister then? Which one of them was Gertrude? Because I'd love to tell you about how she died."
"Neither," Godric said acidly, slowly advancing on Helsing. "My sister was called Genevieve, and my boyfriend's name was Gilles. You should know. You murdered them both."
Devious began backing away, but Helsing stood his ground.
"Oh right, I do know Gilles," he said breezily. "Forced his name out of him before he died. He went out real slow. Screamed like a bitch the whole time, too. His blood went everywhere. I'm afraid I don't know which one Genevieve was, but I bet she was the one I cut open down the middle and then strangled with her own intestines, because she looked a bit like you. Not a shred of dignity, that one. Kept begging for her life. You should know, if that was Genevieve, she had a final message for you. Her last words were, 'Tell my brother I love him. In a sexual way.'"
Godric gave a leonine roar and rushed in, wing-blades slashing wildly. Devious rolled out of the way and into one of the side rooms, while Helsing met the attacks head-on, swinging back with his longsword and matching every strike blow-for-blow. Steel rang with each clash, and Godric's wing-blades repeatedly missed their marks.
"I was a mercenary for fifteen years, boy!" Godric shouted between strikes. "I'm gonna cut you to pieces!"
Helsing laughed. "Aye, but if you spent all those years in the Blackfeathers, then I doubt they did you any good!"
Godric reared up and furiously slashed at Helsing with his talons, even as he kept up the assault with his wing-blades. The air in front of Godric became a hurricane of death, but Helsing dodged between each attack, swerving, jerking, and ducking erratically, springing off the walls of the narrow corridor, and still finding time to hit back with his sword and deflect a blow or two. His blood rushed through his veins, the old familiar fire burning in his heart. After a week of fear and doubt, this one fight had brought it all back for him.
"What's wrong, vampire?" he said, grinning beneath his mask. "Can't keep up?"
In the corner of his eye, Helsing noticed Nightshade struggle onto his hooves. With a pained grunt, the Captain gripped the dagger in his chest and ripped it out, before cupping a hoof over his still burning wound and staggering over to the fight. Helsing prepared to battle the two of them, but before Nightshade could get near, Devious emerged from his room and grabbed the Captain with both forelegs.
"Shhhhhh," he said to Nightshade as he yanked him back. "Let the artist paint."
Sweat trickled down Godric's forehead now, and his aggressive energy appeared to be waning in favour of a look of dawning panic. For as confident as he had seemed a minute ago, he was faltering. Helsing swerved between his strikes with ease, his long red coat swishing with every motion. To Godric, this may have been a fight, but to Helsing, it was more like a dance.
"Come on, monster! No wonder you've spent all this time hiding if this is your best!"
Helsing lunged forward, and his sword sliced upwards and chopped off a talon. Godric screamed as it flew away from him, and his foreleg spurted a fountain of blood, while Helsing laughed psychotically. With another cut, he lopped off one of Godric's wings, drawing more screams from him before he had even recovered from the first strike. Godric rapidly flapped his other wing in an attempt to maintain balance, but Helsing knocked him back into the wall with a wave of magic, and then pinned him to it by stabbing through his remaining wing. The frenzied screeching Godric released could've made a pony's ears bleed.
"Not so tough when you aren't butchering defenceless villagers, now are you?" said Helsing.
Blood poured from Godric's wounds, which sizzled slightly from the sunlight magic. He thrashed and kicked madly, trying to pull himself loose, only for Helsing to kick him in the beak and break his fangs. New ones started growing immediately, but none of the rest of his injuries were healing. He looked up at Helsing through watery eyes and ragged breath.
"Pathetic," said Helsing with a pitiless sneer. "Word of advice, heathen. When people say that vampires can live for centuries, they're talking about the cautious ones, not the ones that go out preying on ponies and picking fights with hunters. Those ones don't tend to last very long."
Godric made a noise that started as a low rumble, but quickly built into an angry growl.
"You took everything from me!" he shouted, spittle flying from his mouth.
Helsing crouched next to Godric.
"I don't care, monster. Do you know why? Because your loved ones were all filth, and they deserved to die. They were a stinking blight on this world. Parasites that dug into the earth and hid from the sun, because their hearts were so black that the light hurt them. That's what all your kind are. Vermin, every last one of you. And it's a hunter's duty to rid the world of vermin."
He stood back up.
"You should thank me for killing them all."
Godric tried to stand and claw at him with his remaining talon, but before he could even rise, Helsing shoved a crossbow in his face and shot him in the mouth. Whatever else Godric may have wanted to say devolved into bloody gargling, as the griffon choked on the silver bolt piercing the back of his throat. Helsing immediately enveloped him in his magic, and started pulling his chainmail loose.
Nightshade, still in Devious's grip, looked on in pure bewilderment, but he started to settle as Godric struggled.
"Nightshade..." Helsing said as he finished removing the armour. "There's only one way to cure vampirism."
He floated his bloody dagger off the floor and over to Nightshade.
"You have to be the one to kill him. Destroy your maker, while you have the chance, and you'll be rid of this curse for good."
Nightshade stared at the dagger, uncertainly at first, before leaning forward and gripping a wing around it. He winced as it burned him, but he didn't drop it. Devious let go, and Nightshade stood and took a lumbering step towards Godric.
Helsing held out a hoof and stopped him.
"Wait," he said with a stern look. "Let the curse heal you before you rid yourself of it. That wound of yours will be debilitating otherwise."
The Captain looked down at his bleeding stomach, and then glared at Helsing, but he did as he was told. It took several minutes for the dagger's holy magic to wear off, but as soon as it did, the wound immediately started healing. The raw flesh rapidly scabbed over, and the scab then seemed to melt into skin. Thin hairs grew over the new flesh, and soon, Nightshade's coat appeared unblemished, as if nothing had happened.
With a long breath, Nightshade approached Godric, still pinned against the wall and struggling with the bolt in his mouth. The griffon looked aside at him, and their eyes met. Nightshade froze in place, trembling.
"...Helsing," he grunted.
Helsing responded by loading another bolt into his crossbow and levelling it at Godric's crotch.
"We don't have time for this, monster," he said, tiredly. "Let him kill you, or the next bolt goes directly up your urethra."
Godric's eyes widened, and Nightshade's trembling immediately ceased. The Captain gave a contented sigh, as if a great weight had been lifted from him. Then he whipped his wing around and drove the dagger into Godric's heart. The vampire shuddered, letting out one final gurgling scream, before falling limp.
For a second, the corridor was silent but for the three stallions' breathing, until Nightshade let out an ear-splitting shriek and collapsed onto the floor.
Helsing rushed to his side and cradled his head. Nightshade's eyes glowed white, and his head thrashed violently from side to side. His screams of agony climaxed with a thick cloud of smoke bursting from his mouth.
Devious jumped away, backing up against the wall, but Helsing merely turned his head away from it and closed his eyes. The smoke streamed from Nightshade, coalescing near the ceiling into a black cloud. When the last of it finally escaped, Nightshade went limp, the glow leaving his eyes just before they fell closed. Helsing lay him down gently on the wooden floor, and then stood to face the cloud.
It was formless at first, constantly shifting, twisting, and swirling, but soon it settled into a distinct shape. Within the cloud, three motes of pinkish-red light glowed faintly, one of which stretched into a long, thin line. They formed into crude caricatures of a mouth and eyes, and the resulting face seemed to scowl at Helsing.
He took a step away from the shadowy mass, and reached into his coat.
"Begone, demon!" said Helsing, suddenly brandishing a Celestian symbol on it. "Back to the nightmare from whence you came!"
The shadow made an inequine chittering noise, and then seemed to pull itself inside out, turning formless again and shrinking before it finally disappeared into thin air. As soon as it was gone, the corridor fell eerily silent again, as if the creature had never been there at all.
"What was that?" Devious whispered, his voice full of awe.
"A monster from beyond our world," Helsing answered, putting his sun symbol away. "Not the vampiric curse itself, but... a carrier of it. A hanger-on, perhaps... We really have no earthly clue what they are."
Helsing collected his weapons and scooped up Nightshade in his magic, while Devious stared transfixed at the ceiling where that thing had been. As Helsing carried the Captain to the stairs, he stopped to glance back at him, trying to find some appropriate parting remark.
But in the end, he really had nothing to say.
In his deepest dreams, sometimes Devious imagined what Helsing was like on the hunt, but he had always pictured it through the lens of their own conflicts. He imagined Helsing bloody and broken, but with that familiar fire in his deep blue eyes, fighting through an army of beasts that tested him to his very limits. At the end of those dreams, he would see Helsing stand victorious over a mountain of corpses, hurt and exhausted, but having truly earned the morning sun shining upon his face.
The real fight had been nothing like that. On this very spot where he now stood, Devious had witnessed beauty, but also weakness, and disappointment. The great hunter Van Helsing had clashed with a vengeful vampire right before his eyes, but what should've been a battle for the ages was over in a matter of minutes. Helsing had been magnificent, just as Devious had always imagined, but Godric... Godric hadn't stood a chance.
Devious turned away from the ceiling, and regarded Godric's corpse with a sour look.
Pathetic, he thought. My sentiments exactly, Helsing.
Godric had not been worthy of Helsing. He had come to Hoofgate with intentions of revenge, fancying himself his archenemy, but in the end, he was all theatrics and no fight. Helsing had trounced him easily, and suddenly Godric's body count ceased to be impressive. He was no archenemy. He was barely any different than the nameless vampires that Helsing supposedly slaughtered every other week.
Devious spat on the body.
Is this what a vampire is worth? I kept Helsing under my hoof for over a decade with my magic, and you couldn't even give him a decent fight with that thing inside you... Where's the justice?
He recalled his grandfather telling him about vampires once. They were supposed to be terrifying creatures, with an insatiable bloodlust and inequine abilities, but Godric had squandered his powers. With a vampire's regeneration, Godric should have been impossible to kill, but he stupidly attacked when Helsing had the tools to impede his healing. And with the power to enslave others to his will, Godric could have had an army, but instead he enthralled only a single pony, who had resisted him all the way.
Devious wouldn't have made such amateur mistakes. If he were a vampire, he'd be invincible. In fact, vampiric regeneration would be a perfect complement to Judas Priest, now that he thought about it. His talent spell was already formidable, but Helsing had finally found a way to beat it by breaking his horn. With regenerative abilities, even that weakness would be eliminated. And the one counter to vampiric regeneration was holy sunlight magic, like the kind in Helsing's blessed weapons, but all those weapons would be useless against Devious if he had his horn back.
And he did so dearly miss his horn...
As he stared at the corpse, Devious chewed his lip, debating the choice ahead of him. What he was contemplating was one of the most profane acts imaginable. His grandfather would have called it the most dire of heresies. In the eyes of the law, he would not even be seen as a person with rights and liberties anymore, but as a dangerous animal that should be hunted down and destroyed. Yet, it would almost all be worth it to let him challenge Helsing again.
Fate, acting through Van Helsing, had bested him once before. If he was to defy fate, as was his purpose, then Devious had to defeat him.
He made up his mind. Rushing downstairs, he grabbed his mug from the bar, tossed the remaining contents over the floor, and ran back to Godric's corpse with the now-empty cup in hoof. With his heart thumping in his chest, Devious held out the mug, and collected the blood still dripping from the stump on Godric's foreleg.
When his cup was filled, Devious raised it to his lips, pausing only momentarily before gulping it all down. The taste was enough to make him gag, and he immediately spat most of it back out.
There was a sick feeling in his stomach, and Devious struggled to keep himself from heaving. He had never even tasted meat in his life, let alone fresh blood. It was the foulest thing he had ever sullied his mouth with. And yet, now that he had done it, he was already feeling the urge to do so again. He licked his lips, tasting the blood around his mouth again, and this time it was different. Sweet and sour all at once, it momentarily overwhelmed his senses, filling him with a pleasant tingling warmth that was all too brief.
It was then, as he ran his tongue over his teeth, that he noticed his sharpened canines.
"Well..." he said aloud to himself. "That feels different..."
Nightshade's unconscious form floated behind Helsing all the way back home, completely still and unmoving aside from the slight rise and fall of his chest. Though the Captain looked almost dead, Helsing didn't outwardly show anything other than his usual grim resolve, ignoring the looks of the few villagers still out in the last hour of daylight. He simply kept carrying Nightshade all the way out of the village and up the hill to Songbird Manor.
He was still trotting across the garden when Loyal Service opened the front door, and Sacred came bounding out to meet him.
"Brother!" he said, staring wide-eyed at Nightshade. "What happened? Was it Godric?"
"It's okay, Sacred." Helsing smiled slightly for his brother's benefit. "Godric is no more."
Sacred went still.
"Truly?" he said, his voice a whisper.
"Truly."
Helsing kept on walking, and Sacred followed. Service held the door open until they passed into the foyer, and then locked it behind them.
"Did I hear rightly, sir?" asked Service, trotting after them. "You slew Godric?"
"Captain Nightshade landed the killing blow. I merely enabled him to."
Service frowned slightly. "Is the Captain alright, sir?"
"He'll be fine," said Helsing. "He just needs some rest. Please, if you will, prepare a guest room."
"At once, sir."
They entered the main hall together, but Service ascended the stairway alone, while Helsing and Sacred stopped to lay Nightshade down next to the rearing statue of Celestia.
"Godric enthralled him, didn't he?" asked Sacred.
"Aye," said Helsing, holding the Captain's head. "But it doesn't matter now. Nightshade resisted and rid himself of the curse, and Godric is dead. The people of Hoofgate have their justice."
"Small consolation," Sacred muttered. "Those families will never be whole again."
Helsing looked aside at him.
"We're hunters, brother. It's the best we can do."
Sacred nodded in silence, and turned away from the statue. "By the way, you should know that Father Sunflower arrived earlier. He's been at Mom's bedside all evening."
Helsing breathed a small sigh.
"Good. I'll go see her in a moment."
As soon as Service returned and the Captain was abed in the guest room, he did. Helsing and Sacred entered their mother's room to find Father Sunflower sitting next to her bed, holding her hoof as he floated a prayer book with an off-green glow.
"Evening, Father," Helsing said curtly.
Sunflower nodded politely, while Choir strained to turn and look at her sons.
"My boys," she said, smiling. "Did you find him?"
Helsing sat down the other side of her bed, and took her free hoof with his own.
"He's dead, Mother. He won't threaten you or Angel ever again."
Choir sank into her pillow, letting out a long sigh. "That's good, Helsing... That's very good."
Father Sunflower cleared his throat.
"You've done this town a great service, Helsing," he said. "Godric was... a monster, unlike any I've seen. Celestia's church thanks you."
Helsing said nothing, turning back to his mother instead.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
"Same as this morning," Choir replied, coughing. "But the company makes it better."
Helsing tried to smile, but it died as quickly as it came. Choir Voice coughed again several times, choking up blood onto her bedsheets.
"Oooh..." she gasped. "Not much longer, I should imagine... A week, maybe two..."
"Don't say that," said Sacred, standing back by the doorway. "Not yet."
"Has to happen sometime..." Choir sighed. "I feel ready for it. But... I won't go without saying goodbye. Sunflower's here for me."
Father Sunflower nodded solemnly.
"I shall employ my talent spell the moment it is time."
Helsing took a deep breath.
"How long can you use it for, Father?" he asked.
"...As long as is appropriate," Sunflower said, carefully. "Bear in mind, young Helsing, my talent spell was never meant to be used for extensive periods of time. To force a soul to stay within a body that has expired is... unpleasant for it."
An uncomfortable silence took the room, as Helsing let go of his mother's hoof and bowed his head. Choir had another coughing fit, while Father Sunflower idly flipped through the pages of his prayer book. A knocking at the door distracted everypony from their concerns for a moment, as Loyal Service poked his head inside.
"Sir," he said, quietly. "Not to disturb you, but Doctor Jekyll has arrived for your weekly session."
"...Oh, of course," said Helsing.
In all the chaos of the past week, he had forgotten to cancel his usual appointment. He'd been expecting to be too busy for therapy tonight.
"...Shall I send him away, sir?" asked Service.
"No, thank you. Show him to the study and tell him I'll be along soon."
"Certainly, sir."
Helsing rose, and gave his mother an apologetic smile.
"I'll be back soon," he said, grasping her hoof again. "Get some rest."
"I will, dear," Choir muttered, closing her eyes.
Devious stumbled into the town square with the taste of blood still on his tongue, and red staining his coat from where he'd feasted. The ecstasy of it was still overwhelming his senses. He felt drunk, more so now than he did when actually drunk, and he must've looked it, too. He struggled to keep his footing as gravel transitioned into cobblestone beneath his hooves, and a group of teenagers hanging round outside the local tavern stopped and stared at him. He gave them a wave, and laughed as they retreated back inside.
That wouldn't save them. Grinning, Devious trotted over and stepped through the open doors after them, emerging into the centre of what passed for Hoofgate's nightlife.
He slipped through the crowd easily. It was early enough yet that there was still room to move in the tavern, and most ponies were too busy talking in their own little groups to notice him. Some who he shoved past gave him a second look and momentarily stared when they saw the blood, but he was gone too quickly to engage with them. The rest were all too distracted, whether by the alcohol, by the sound of the lute in the air, or by the conversation.
Devious was distracted as well, his attention locked on the back corner of the tavern, where two stallions and a trio of mares sat around a table on cushioned seats. The older of the two stallions leaned back against the wall with a couple of the mares on his lap, cooing and nuzzling the crook of his neck, while the younger stallion and the third mare were furtively whispering and giggling to each other on their own side of the table. All of them looked up at Devious as he came over, and one of the older stallion's mares, a copper-coloured pegasus, gave him a concerned frown.
She cleared her throat. "Devo, honey, now's not the time. Momma's working."
"Oh, I know," said Devious, rolling his hoof. "Just thought I'd stop and say hello. See if you noticed anything different?"
The mare's frown deepened.
"Did you...?" she muttered. "Your horn..."
"Brandywine, kick him out of here," the older stallion growled. "He's killin' my mood."
Any semblance of a smile vanished from his face completely, and Devious magically gripped the stallion by the throat.
"I'll kill more than your mood, you loathsome creature," he hissed. "Know your place!"
The older stallion choked, and the others at the table screamed and ran away, except for Devious's mother. The sound of the lute abruptly cut off, as the tavern's patrons turned their attention to the disturbance in the corner.
"Devo!" Brandywine shouted. "What's gotten into you?"
"You be silent as well!"
Her eyes went wide as Devious's golden aura gripped around her own neck, too. She gasped and pawed at where her son was choking her, and fluttered her wings in an attempt to escape, but she had no way to counter him without magic of her own.
Devious gave her an intense glare.
"Of all the mares in this sad, backward dungheap of town, it's always mystified me that my father ever would've chosen to sleep with a filth-encrusted whore like yourself. I'd thank you for my existence, but I can't help but feel like fate dealt me a bad hoof, letting you survive and not him. I doubt he would've ignored me for weeks on end, leaving me with a senile old windbag while going off to please special friends. Including Van Helsing."
Tears ran down Brandywine's cheeks. Devious looked aside, and finally noticed that the whole bar had gone silent and were watching him. He ignored them, and turned back to his mother, shoving her up against the wall.
"Tell me, Mother, what was he like? Helsing. How did he feel all those times when he fucked you to get back at me? Was he rough? Dominant? Or... did he maybe prefer you be in charge?"
"That's enough!"
A burly green earth pony stepped out of the crowd, glaring at Devious in a way that he probably thought was intimidating.
"You let her go right now, sonny! This doesn't have to escalate this any further. Too much blood's already been shed in this town."
Devious didn't break eye contact with his mother as the stallion spoke, but slowly looked aside at him once he was finished. The earth stallion held his poise for a second, but withered slightly under Devious's gaze.
"Do you presume to challenge me, speck?" Devious said disdainfully. "I have become more than you can possibly imagine."
The earth pony gulped, but kept his voice firm.
"I'll say again. Let her go, and nopony gets hurt."
Devious closed his eyes and chuckled.
"Useless," he whispered.
In a flash, his horn burst with golden light, as he fired off Judas Priest for the first time since his fight with Helsing. A shockwave of magic, perceptible only to Devious himself, radiated outward and across the tavern, freezing everypony in place. For a matter of seconds from his relative point of view, the world was completely still. This moment in time was his.
With the speed and grace befitting of him, Devious leapt away from the table where he held his mother, rushed at the green earth stallion, and sank his teeth into his neck. He bit down as hard as possible, savouring the taste of the blood, and tore the stallion's throat free. Two seconds had passed, and already he felt the beginnings of the usual strain on his muscles that came with stopped time. It didn't matter. It was a light enough pain to ignore. He never gave any outward inkling of it.
Time resumed. Blood showered from the stallion's throat and covered Devious, and the tavern immediately erupted into screams.
"Useless, useless, useless!" Devious roared, blood dripping from his muzzle.
The tavern's patrons all tried to flee out the same door. Devious paid them no mind, and turned his attention back to his mother and the older stallion she'd been with. Now free of Devious's magic, the stallion was trying to crawl away unnoticed, while Brandywine simply looked on in shock and horror, hooves covering her mouth. Devious wrenched her hooves away with his magic and stepped closer.
"No! Please, no!" she screamed.
Biting down into his own hoof, Devious held it over her, and held her mouth open as he made her drink the blood. She gagged and tried to spit it out, but he didn't let her, forcing it down her throat until the wound on his hoof simply closed.
Devious let go, and Brandywine doubled over, spitting on the tavern floor. Already, he felt a great connection to her, a bond far deeper than simple family ties. Her very soul was laid bare before him. He could sense her fear, her confusion, and even the tiniest hint of regret from that deeply buried part of her that acknowledged that this was all her fault. He smiled, and bade her to rise, not with his voice, but simply by willing it so. She obeyed, and climbed to her hooves, giving Devious a fearful and uncertain look.
He ignored it, and simply admired her new fangs.
"Mhmm." Devious laughed. "Very good. Go take care of your client, Mother."
She clearly didn't understand. She was still silently pleading with Devious as she galloped over to the other side of the bar. She radiated confusion and panic, and her will struggled against his, but came up woefully short. The older stallion had almost made it to the exit. Brandywine ensured that he didn't, grabbing a nearby wine bottle with her wings, smashing it over the bar, and shoving it into the stallion's gut. He screamed and struggled against her, but she kept stabbing him until he stopped, and then leaned over to start tearing his innards out with her teeth, even as every part of her screamed against it.
Devious laughed and stomped his hooves in applause.
This promised to be a very eventful night.
As expected, Jekyll was waiting for Helsing in his study, a warm fire having already been built in the hearth. Less expected was Angel's presence. She chatted quietly with the good doctor, both seated at opposite ends of a spacious sofa where Helsing himself stretched out during longer sessions. Their conversation halted abruptly when he entered. Angel gazed up at him, uncertain. Jekyll merely offered a clinical, impassive stare.
Helsing almost backed out, before the absurdity of being chased from his own study by his younger sister struck him. Instead, he stepped around the sofa, and gave his sister a cold look.
"You are aware that Doctor Jekyll is here to see me today, right?"
Angel cast her gaze at the carpet. "You were with Mom. Doctor Jekyll had a few minutes. We got to talking..."
"Is that so?" A paranoid feeling prickled along the length of Helsing's neck. "And what have you been telling him? I should like to know—"
"I'm afraid that won't be possible," Jekyll said with an even tone. "Unless Miss Angel chooses to disclose that information herself. For my part... hmm, well, I'm sure I don't need to remind you that I am bound to an oath of patient confidentiality."
Helsing's ear flicked uncertainly. "Patient...?"
Angel's reddened, puffy eyes met Helsing's.
"Not everything is about you, brother."
Helsing's mouth hung open. He could think of nothing to say to that.
Jekyll broke the silence when he rose from the sofa and took a deep breath. "Hmm. Perhaps I should give the two of you a moment. I will be outside. Let me know when you're ready to begin, Helsing. And Angel?"
"I'll see you on Wednesday, doctor," Angel said, with a touch of her old warmth.
Bowing his head, and nodding to Helsing, Jekyll exited the study. Now alone, the two siblings stood (and sat) in awkward silence, looking anywhere but at one another.
Helsing spoke first. "Is it because of what happened with—"
"Don't say his name."
Helsing took a hesitant step toward the sofa. "Angel..."
"Please. I don't want to talk about it." Angel curled her limbs against her body. "Not with you."
"I was only going to say, if you were to speak with anypony, I'm glad it's Doctor Jekyll." Helsing pulled himself onto the sofa, sitting on the cushion beside his sister. "He's quite good at what he does."
"...Well, of course he's good," Angel said hesitantly, glancing at Helsing from the corner of her eye. "He worked wonders for you. A year or so ago, you were an entirely different pony. I could barely stand you."
Helsing grunted. "Looking at our relationship now, it seems like you still can't. Has anything really changed?"
"This past week aside, you're not nearly as intolerable as you used to be." There was a hint of a smirk on Angel's lips. "Why, I remember back when there wasn't a day that went by without us shouting at each other. And look at us now, holding civil conversations and everything. Almost like normal siblings."
They shared a quiet chuckle, and Helsing felt the weight of the week's troubles easing off his shoulders somewhat. He couldn't remember the last time he and his sister just sat together, sharing a quiet moment, let alone laughed together. The last few days may have dragged a number of things out into the open, but things between them had been tense for years before.
"What happened to us?" Angel whispered, looking at Helsing. "We didn't used to quarrel so much when we were foals, did we?"
Helsing shrugged. "Never had the chance to. We always ran in different circles. You had your friends, and I... I had my work."
"Really?" Angel bit her lip, and scooted closer to Helsing on the sofa. "Because I remember differently. You used to go to all my plays, and help me with all my rehearsals, even though you hated it. And we always used to play together when it snowed out, you, me, and Sacred. I can't even remember how many times you two took me along when you went exploring the woods, even though it always made Dad angry."
Helsing smiled faintly. "Closest I ever came to getting you into hunting."
Angel shoved him playfully, and let her hoof linger on his shoulder before dropping it away.
"...I blame myself, you know," she said, quietly. "At least in part. After Dad died, and you took up his trade, I didn't think I had that much in common with you anymore."
"You didn't," Helsing said. "You still don't. To a greater degree, I think."
"But we needn't have drifted as far apart as we did. We went our separate ways, it's true, but this gulf between us exists because we... I... let it happen. It doesn't need to be like that anymore, Helsing. It shouldn't be like that."
Helsing looked at her; she was staring at him, earnest and resolute.
"What are you trying to say?" he said, swallowing.
Angel hesitated, before seizing his hooves between her own and holding them tightly. "You closed yourself off after what happened with Dad, and I never made an effort to open you back up. And now, with Mom..."
She paused to sniffle. Her hooves trembled.
"I know you, Helsing. When Mom passes, history will repeat itself. You'll leave again, and close yourself off for good, and I fear there'll be no coming back from it. If we don't resolve ourselves to stay together, to change things between us here and now... we never will."
"I don't..."
Helsing gave voice to a thought that he didn't know how he could finish. His mouth felt unaccountably dry.
"I know," said Angel. "Maybe we just can't; maybe we're too far gone, and maybe things will never be like they were, but we have to try, at least. I can't lose you and Mom at the same time. I need my big brother back."
Angel pulled one of her hooves away, and traced it tenderly along her stomach. She squeezed her eyes shut, and took a deep breath.
"Helsing, I'm—"
The doors to the study flung open, suddenly, and Helsing bolted upright with his horn aglow. He relaxed when he saw Loyal Service, and then tensed again immediately when he saw the look on the older stallion's face. For what may have been the first time, in all the time they'd known one another, Helsing could see fear – palpable, naked fear – in the old servant's eyes.
"Master Helsing," said Service, a quaver in his voice. "You're needed on the balcony."
The streets of Hoofgate were a battlefield. Fire swallowed whole buildings, churning up thick black smoke that blotted out the moonlight and choked the air. Corpses littered the pathways, bleeding into the dirt and staring out vacantly at the carnage. The ponies who still lived ran back and forth through the chaos, screaming to the heavens for mercy as their former friends and neighbours came after them in the dozens. Their eyes were crazed and tearful, and their mouths red with blood.
Every time one of the vampires caught a pony, it was only a matter of luck whether their victim survived or not. Some vampires tore out throats, drank blood, and ate flesh, while others merely pinned down those they caught and force-fed them vampire blood, creating yet more vampires to ravage the town with. Every single one of them did so only after shouting warnings or hysterical apologies to those they killed or turned. And every time one turned, they immediately fell under the web of influence.
Devious felt them all, albeit some more distantly than others. From him, to his mother, to those she turned, to those they turned, it was all one unbroken chain. He issued his orders, and they were carried down through the ranks, until those vampires out on the streets heard his will. Most attempted to resist, to put an end to the slaughter, but Devious wouldn't allow it. He bore down on those rebellious sentiments with all his willpower. Those minds that he had more sway over, he used as intermediaries, marshalling their mental strength to add to his own. None of the new vampires could resist him for long.
Even so, the mortals still attempted to fight back. Here and there, a farmer with a pitchfork or scythe would try to skewer his attacker, or a unicorn with an interesting talent spell would use magic to defend herself. The fledgling vampires would cry and scream when hurt, but Devious would silence them, and compel them to keep fighting until they won. Those few that actually put up a fight against his forces, Devious made sure to turn; they would prove useful for subjugating the rest of the town.
All the while, his eyes were fixed up on the hill, where Songbird Manor stood watching. Soon enough, he and his army would advance upon it. But not yet. Not until Hoofgate was his. So instead of climbing the hill, he turned to the Silver River, and send the horde across the bridge and into the mass of cottages on the other side.
Devious passed beneath the portcullis, vampires swarming past him to join the battle. With a slight smile, he reared up onto his hind legs, and two pegasus vampires swooped down and grabbed him. They lifted him into the air and deposited him atop the tower, where he had a view of the whole southern side of the village.
"Go! Destroy them! Show them how useless it is to defy the will of Devious!"
It didn't take long before more fires started. The fools down below kept trying to flee into their homes and barricade the doors, desperately trying to protect themselves and their families. So Devious had his vampires throw torches onto their straw roofs to coax them out, and when they came, he punished their insolence by making them eat their own children.
Even after that, Hoofgate wasn't finished yet. Some ponies still raced through the streets, and others still needed to be dragged out of their homes, kicking and screaming. But it was only a matter of time now. From atop his tower, Devious admired what he had wrought, and delighted in the knowledge that this was only the beginning of his conquests.
He noticed a few stragglers running across the meadow to the south of the town, all heading for the church by the forest's edge. Devious briefly considered sending his vampires after them, but in the end, decided against it. His grandfather, for all his faults, was the one pony that had ever cared for Devious. He would be given this gift as well, in time, but not like the rest of them. He would be offered a choice, and Devious would find some way to convince him. Later, though. For now, he could have one last night with his faith.
Devious turned back to the north side of Hoofgate. He looked to Songbird Manor, and grinned to himself. All this was just practice for the fight to come.
"I hope you're watching, Helsing," he said. "I hope you'll be ready when I come."
Helsing watched from the first floor balcony of Songbird Manor as Hoofgate burned. The smoke plumes trailed into the sky, and the orange glow gradually spread from north to south. Most of his family stood with him. Angel had come to see as well, and now cried into Sacred's shoulder while he held her, but Sacred wasn't doing much better. He wore a look of utter despair, and seemed to lean on Angel as much as she did on him. Loyal Service and Jekyll were both unable to watch, and went back inside to get away, while Father Sunflower wept openly and hung his head.
"Not again," he choked out through his sobs. "Please, not again."
Helsing didn't know how to react at all. He watched the massacre with a blank expression upon his face, not moving an inch or saying a word.
"All those ponies..." Angel cried to Sacred. "All my friends! Snowcap, Whistle, Tiller, Proper... Oh Celestia... What about old Mrs. Pinecone? She's got a bad hip! What if she can't... What if...?"
She broke down into further sobs. Sacred held her tighter, and glared at Helsing as he stood near the balcony's edge.
"You said Godric was dead," Sacred said accusingly. "Did you make absolutely sure, brother?"
"Aye," said Helsing, neither moving from his place nor raising his voice. "The Captain wouldn't have been cured if Godric still lived."
"Then why is this happening?"
He finally turned around to face his brother and sister, and gave a tired sigh.
"I don't know, brother. Godric was dead when I left. I'm sure of that. But he might have had a partner, some kind of backup plan, or..."
Helsing stared at the floor, the realisation slowly dawning on him.
"Or...?" said Sacred.
"...Devious." Helsing held his forehead, shaking his head. "He was there in the tavern when I fought Godric. I left him alone with the corpse."
A tearful Father Sunflower abruptly turned to the three of them. Sacred let go of Angel, eyes widening, and stepped back until he hit the wall, while Angel started trembling.
"Wh-What?" Sunflower whispered, shaking his head as well. "No, impossible! My grandson couldn't..."
"Devious absolutely could." Helsing looked up from the floor to give the weeping priest a disdainful glare. "I still have no idea how it's escaped your notice for this long, but he's a monster. Literally, now."
Helsing grimaced and started pacing up and down the balcony, while Father Sunflower sank to his knees and buried his face in his hooves. Angel broke down into a new round of sobs, prompting Sacred to recover and go hold her again.
Loyal Service emerged back onto the balcony, supporting himself on the nearest wall as he stared out at the town.
"Sirs," he said in a shaky voice. "You have to put a stop to this. You're the only stallions who can."
"Ha!" Helsing kept pacing. "Stop it how, Service? What exactly do you expect us to do against hundreds of vampires?"
"There—" Angel choked on her words, tears streaming down her cheeks. "There must be some way to save them... right?"
"No," Helsing said coldly. "Not all of them. In fact, we'd be lucky to save any. The only way to cure a vampire is to help them kill their maker, and if one vampire made multiple progenies, then only one of them is getting saved. At best, we kill half the town, and that's only if we can identify the relationship between each vampire, which we can't. I'm sorry, Angel, but Hoofgate is lost."
Angel broke away from Sacred, and ran back into the house, crying loudly. Still Helsing didn't stop pacing.
"There must be something we can do..." Sacred said numbly. "Once they're finished in Hoofgate, they'll come here."
"Undoubtedly," said Helsing.
"So what's the plan? What do we do, brother?"
"I'm still working on that, Sacred."
Service lent Father Sunflower a hoof as he struggled to pick himself up.
"Can we send a message to the Hunters Guild or the Church?" Sunflower asked, standing upright and dusting himself off.
"We can try," Helsing said grudgingly. "But I doubt help will arrive in time. And if Devious has to chase us down, we may be putting other villages in danger."
"Well, we can't let him come here, brother. Not with Mom stuck in bed."
"I know, Sacred, but he'll come no matter what. If Mother were in better health, I'd say we could send her and Angel off to Woods' End or Maresbridge, but we can't."
Helsing stopped his pacing, and raised an eyebrow at Sacred.
"...You mean Diamonds?"
Sacred nodded. Sunflower and Service shared a questioning look.
"I'm not sure it would work on that scale." Helsing chewed his lip. "My talent spell, versus a few hundred vampires... I don't know. Maybe."
"You have a talent spell?" asked Sunflower. "I always thought—"
"I keep my cards close to my chest, Father. Which is why I'm not sure about using it."
Sacred blinked. "You've got to be joking, brother. When else would you use it, if not now?"
"Excuse me, sir, but what exactly is this talent spell that we're just now hearing about?" Loyal Service asked.
Helsing ignored him.
"Aye, my talent spell probably could do something about the army, but as soon as I use it, we lose the element of surprise against Devious. If he's a vampire now, then he's finally in a form my magic can do damage to, but that also means he'll have his horn back. I can harm him with Diamonds, but only if I catch him off-guard. Otherwise he could simply stop time and negate any attack I throw at him. Using it to fight the lesser vampires and throwing away that advantage just seems... wasteful. We'll need another way to fight them."
Father Sunflower swallowed. "If you... kill him... will they stop? Will his control over them be broken?"
"Aye, but it hardly matters. We'd not be able to spare them."
"More importantly," said Sacred, "if you're going to hold back Diamonds so you can take out Devo, then what else can we do fight the rest?"
Helsing shrugged. "You're the one with the sunlight magic; you tell me."
"I— What?" Sacred spluttered. "I can't hold off a hundred vampires alone!"
A new voice came from behind the brothers. "You won't do it alone."
They glanced over to the door, where Nightshade now leaned against the frame. Helsing broke into a smile.
"Feeling better, Captain?" he asked.
"A little sore," said Nightshade, stretching out a wing to display a burn mark where he'd clutched Helsing's dagger. "But I'll manage."
"See, Sacred? You and Nightshade will handle the army. That seems like a winnable fight to me."
Sacred stared dumbly at Helsing, before gulping and nodding his head.
Father Sunflower cleared his throat.
"I believe I can also contribute some sunlight magic for the battle. I will have a harder time of it, since it isn't my natural style, but—"
"No," said Helsing. "Keep up our mother's vigil. If the three of us fall, only you can protect her from Devious. You're the only one who might have a chance of talking him down. Personally, I don't believe he has a scrap of mercy or decency left in him, but you've always disagreed. Maybe, if it comes down to that, you'll be able to reach something in him that I can't."
"I... I understand."
"Shall I also guard Mistress Choir, sir?" asked Service.
"Aye, please do. Bring my sister and Doctor Jekyll to her room as well. It'll be the last holdout in the house. Sacred, can you reinforce the traps we set for Godric?"
"Around Mom's room, or...?"
"There especially, but all around the house if we can, and I want some additional ones on the front lawn."
"I'm sure I can manage that, aye, but—"
"Good. Father, any way you could help him with that would be appreciated. We need this manor to be saturated with sunlight magic. I want no bloodsucker to cross a threshold and live."
Sunflower nodded as well. "I will endeavour to do my best."
Helsing gave him a skeptical look. "See that you do, Father. Whether the rest of us survive or not, Devo needs to die. Tonight. There can be no room for doubt on that. If you still feel tempted to defend your beloved grandson and tell me I owe him apologies, then take a good long look out at your parish, because that is the fate that I will leave you to."
Sunflower swallowed.
"No need for harsh words," he said quietly. "I know where I stand. I am a servant of Celestia, to the bitter end."
Helsing's expression softened, and he turned away from the priest.
"Go say a prayer for us, then. We have to prepare."
Sunflower scurried back inside, closely followed by Sacred. Service went to go with them, but Helsing held out a hoof and stopped him in the doorway.
"One last thing, Service."
The old servant cocked an eyebrow, and Nightshade also took an interest in the two of them. A sigh passed Helsing's lips, as he discretely pulled a dagger from his pocket and passed it to Service, who fumbled while taking it. Helsing leaned in and whispered into his ear.
"The priest won't be able to stop Devious. If we fail, it's you I'm really counting on. If any vampire reaches that door, kill everypony in the room, and then yourself."
There was electricity in the air as Devious made his approach, a mounting tension that he wanted to savour. He could've ordered a charge, sending his vampires rushing up the hill to overwhelm Helsing before he even knew they were coming, but he didn't. Instead, he made them walk, leading his army from the front at a leisurely pace. There was no need to rush. He had all the time in the world.
He brought them to a stop just on the edge of the mansion's grounds, lining up some expendable pawns just outside the fence. The lights were all off inside, but he could practically smell all the warm bodies in there now.
"Oh, Helsing!" Devious called in a sing-song voice. "I know you're in there. Don't be shy..."
On the first floor balcony, a white stallion in a red overcoat stood and revealed himself. A crossbow floated at his side, angling down at Devious.
"I thought I told you to get off my lawn," Helsing said, dryly.
Devious laughed.
"Ah, Helsing. You pretend that you hate the game, but you play it like a grandmaster. Didn't I tell you that it wasn't over yet?"
"You did." Helsing paused. "I should've listened. And I shouldn't have left you alone with that corpse. You have the Devil's luck, and you're twice as evil."
Devious grinned. "You flatter me, Helsing. I'll remember your kind words when I sink my teeth into you and drain you dry. Maybe if you pay me more compliments, I'll grant you the mercy of becoming my slave for eternity."
"Vampires aren't eternal, shithead. Didn't you learn that lesson from Godric?"
His grin turned to a sneer.
"Do not compare me to Godric. He was a fool who squandered his potential. I will not make his mistakes. I, Devious, am a thousand times what he was."
"Really?" Helsing tilted his head and smiled. "Because from where I'm standing, you look like just another filthy inequine degenerate."
"To be equine is to have limitations," said Devious. "It's to accept your weaknesses. I have evolved beyond weakness and limitation. I have rejected my equinity, Helsing."
"I'm happy for you, Devious. From the bottom of my heart. And speaking of hearts, let's see if I can pierce yours!"
Helsing fired. Devious saw it coming from a mile away, and cast Judas Priest. A burst of power, and the world around him froze. He took a casual sidestep, and readied to deactivate the spell when the pain flared in his muscles. Except it didn't come when he thought it would. The usual two seconds passed, and nothing happened. For the tiniest moment, Devious was very confused. Then it hit after the third second. His surprise was so great, he waited until the fourth second before he unfroze time, the full-body ache now quite substantial.
Devious growled as Helsing's bolt flew by him and hit the garden path.
"Destroy him!" he shouted. "Tear his eyes from their sockets!"
His vampires climbed the fence and jumped over, charging across the lawn towards the manor's front doors. Those with wings took to the air and made a beeline for the balcony. But none of them noticed the discs of glowing yellow lighting up beneath their hooves. Not until they erupted into plumes of bright flames, instantly incinerating several vampires and setting others ablaze.
"What?!" Devious cried, as the remnants of his front lines screamed and flailed about on the ground.
Above, the fliers faced a similar problem. Helsing kicked down a door behind him and retreated inside the mansion, but the first few that followed him burst into flames as well. The rest stopped, hovering outside rather than landing on the balcony, but that only made them easy targets, as a trio of silver bolts flew out through the door and struck a pegasus vampire. One of the bolts found her heart, and she instantly dropped from the sky and landed in a crumpled heap.
"No! Damn it all! Your traps won't save you, Helsing!"
Devious ordered his next wave of cannon fodder forward. Their survival instincts flared; they tried to fight his influence, but he snuffed out their rebellion and forced them on anyway. Some trod over new traps, and were caught in an inferno just like the last wave. But others, when they stepped where Devious had seen traps already go off, survived unscathed.
The fire plumes are a one-time effect.
That was good to know. His confidence renewed, Devious grinned and shouted for the rest of them to charge. He might lose a few, but he had more than enough to take down a single residence, no matter how well-guarded.
As for himself, he wasn't taking any chances. Devious let out another burst of magic, and galloped across the lawn at full tilt. Nothing could harm him in stopped time. He could still affect and be affected by the world around him, but only if he chose to. If he didn't tell time to continue for Helsing's traps, they would do no good.
He passed the two-second limit again without pain. Then three seconds. Then the barest hints of muscle pain began at four. This time Devious recognised the signs in time and deactivated his ability. Time resumed flowing, and a host of vampires exploded into flames behind him, but he was already to the front door. A giddy excitement overtook him, and Devious let loose a gleeful, maniacal cackle.
My time limit is increasing! It must be this vampiric regeneration. It's taking the strain off my body!
Another mortal limitation removed. Where before he'd been confined to a two-second window to act in, now he was up to four. How much more might it grow by? Five seconds? Ten? Fifteen? Thirty? A minute? What if it it never stopped increasing? What if his potential was truly infinite?
Time was his to master. He had finally bested fate for good. With this power, Devious could rule the world.
Glass shattered and spilled at the stallions' hooves as they fired through the windows at the winged vampires outside. The vampires screamed and spasmed whenever their shots hit home. Most fell out of the sky entirely; some dive-bombed the windows and smashed through, only to ignite and collapse onto the floor, writhing madly as the flames consumed them. Helsing staked each of them while they were down, and quickly threw them back out onto the balcony before the fire could spread. Even through the facemask covering his nose, the stench of burning hair and flesh was enough to make his eyes water.
Nightshade and Sacred, both covered in facemasks of their own, kept up the assault with their crossbows, while Helsing staked the ones they brought down. Most of their shots weren't actually hitting the vampires' hearts, but a blessed bolt would still deal an injury that wouldn't immediately heal. For simple, ordinary villagers who weren't used to fighting like this, the shock and pain alone would be sufficient to keep them down for a while, though Helsing tried not to think about that in the moment.
Another flock of pegasi swooped in, all at once. With four of them on the approach, Sacred and Nightshade couldn't hold them all back. They accidentally aimed for the same one, and Helsing took down a second, allowing two vampires to make it to the balcony and fly through one of the smashed windows. With Sacred's traps already sprung, they landed in the mansion unscathed.
Helsing cursed, gripping his sword and swinging it at the closest vampire. He took her head off, and then spun and drove his sword directly through the heart of the other one, leaving it in just long enough to confirm the kill. Helsing looked into the dead vampire's eyes, and faltered slightly when he recognised her from his old school. Honeydew, she was called. She'd given him flowers for Hearts and Hooves Day once.
He squeezed his eyes shut, put a hoof on her chest, and shoved her off his sword, before spinning around to drive it into the heart of the mare he'd decapitated. As he finished her off, half a dozen more vampires came crashing in through the broken windows, and charged at the group.
"Fall back!" Helsing called, shooting one directly through the heart and thrusting his dagger through the throat of another.
He turned and fled from the rest, galloping away alongside Sacred. The main hall stretched out below them, and they ran along the outside of the room until they reached the top of the stairway with the rearing statue of Celestia at the bottom. Nightshade hovered over the middle of the hall, firing at one of the vampires with his crossbow, and cutting at another with his wing-blades when he came too close. They collapsed in bloody heaps, and rolled down the stairs into the hall below.
More vampires poured into the house through the windows on the other side of the hall, and Nightshade retreated, landing behind Helsing and Sacred as they both reloaded. The stallions each fired once more, before switching to their blades to face the rest.
Helsing swung and cut deep into the shoulder of a local weather mare, who dropped to the floor, howling. He quickly shoved a stake through her heart, and twisted about to impale the baker who'd lost his wife in Godric's attack. A prostitute that he'd slept with once screamed in horror, even as she tried to pounce on him and bite his neck, but he shoved his sword through her throat and threw her to the ground. Meanwhile, Sacred slashed open the belly of the mayor's son, and fended off another attack from a farmhoof that Helsing knew from the tavern, while Nightshade blinded the flower merchant's husband with a wing-blade cut through both his eyes.
No mercy, Helsing insisted to himself. They're vampires. They need to die. There's nothing I can do for them now.
Downstairs, he heard the sound of the front door breaking. A group of burning vampires ran into the main hall, shrieking at the top of their lungs. They all collapsed onto the carpet rolling around, and the fire spread from where they fell.
"Shit!" Helsing shouted as he cut down another vampire. "Sacred, the fire!"
Still more fliers entered from the balcony windows, and a few unburnt vampires started streaming into the hall from the foyer, congregating at the bottom of the stairs. A few ran up to meet them, but Sacred let loose a swathe of flames and burned the ones charging at them, consuming the stairway in an inferno. Helsing was surprised he'd done it, but understood without having to ask; if the mansion was going to burn either way, there was no point in his brother holding back anymore.
He floated out his crossbow and shot a burning vampire still stumbling up the stairs, and threw another into the flames with his telekinesis. Nightshade took off and flew over the stairs, cutting down a flying vampire midair and making her fall into the fire as well.
Then, just as the battle was beginning to turn, Devious appeared on the lower floor. He stood among his minions, ignoring the fires and grinning in that way he did that made Helsing's stomach turn.
"I'm here to take everything you have, Helsing!" Devious shouted up at him. "You will be mine!"
Helsing reloaded his crossbow and ran to the top of the stairs, leaning over the edge of the balcony just next to the fire.
"Come and take me, you sick bastard!"
The burning stairway was a great enough distance that Devious shouldn't have been able to climb it in his two seconds of stopped time. Helsing knew Judas Priest's limits, and was ready to exploit them once again. If Devious cast his spell first and then tried to run up the stairs, he would need to stop before he reached the fire, or else burn to death. The alternative was to start climbing the stairs first, and to then stop time midway up, in order to bypass the fire. Either way, Devious would be vulnerable for a moment on the stairs. And a moment was all Helsing needed.
Yet, when Devious's horn flashed, he instantly appeared at the top, mere steps away from Helsing.
What?!
Helsing fired at him completely on instinct, but of course it missed. Devious appeared off to the side, and Helsing felt two pinpricks and a sudden emptiness in his neck, as if a great quantity of blood had been drained from him in an instant.
"D-Damn it!" He clapped a hoof to his neck, as blood ran down it from the fang-marks
Sacred and Nightshade whirled around, the former shooting a burst of flames at Devious, and the latter rushing in his with wing-blades. Neither had any effect. Sacred stumbled, blood shooting from his nose where he'd been struck, while Nightshade was suddenly on the floor, his head pressed beneath Devious's hoof as he ground his face into the carpet.
"Useless! Utterly useless! Nothing can stand against the power of my Judas Priest!"
Helsing grunted, trembling slightly as he held his bleeding neck. "You said that once before, Devious. Have you already forgotten how our last fight ended? I beat you then, and I'll bet you the world that I can do it again!"
Devious casually kicked Nightshade aside. The remaining pegasus vampires went for Sacred, who desperately fought them off while Devious advanced on Helsing.
"How interesting! What say you then, Helsing? One last fight, just the two of us?"
There was another jump, and Helsing's sword was missing. He turned around just in time to find Devious swinging at him with it, and narrowly dodged his strike. Helsing drew his dagger and tried to stab him, but Devious flashed to his side and kicked Helsing in the ribs, knocking him back against a wall. He moved again, and pain erupted all over Helsing's body, as if Devious had kicked him in twenty places at once.
"Gyaahhh!" Helsing doubled over, eyes going wide as blood poured from his nose and mouth.
That was far too many attacks! And jumping the entire length of the stairs like that.... Somehow, his ability has massively grown in potency!
Helsing was having trouble even comprehending the implications, let alone standing. What was Devious's new limit? Ten seconds? A minute? Whatever it was, it almost didn't matter now. It was far too much. All that was keeping him alive now was Devious's desire to draw out his suffering. He had to use that somehow. The plan hadn't changed.
He looked over to his brother and the Captain. Nightshade was on his hooves again, and the two of them were holding their own against the thralls, though Sacred was faltering. Meanwhile, the fire had spread to the lower level, and the main hall was now engulfed in flames. Smoke choked the air and clouded near the ceiling, such that it was already getting harder to breathe. Some of the vampires caught below in the fire screamed to Celestia for mercy, little knowing that the cleansing flames were her mercy.
Helsing pulled himself up and spat out a glob of blood, while Devious twirled his sword and gave him a cocky grin.
"Do you really believe you stand a chance, Helsing?"
"Aye." Helsing picked up his dagger, using it as a cover while he primed his talent spell and directed the magic inwards. "I do. I am a hunter, and you are a vampire. There's only one way this could ever possibly end."
Devious closed his eyes and shook his head. "Oh, Helsing..."
Helsing lunged while his enemy was blind, dagger flying out ahead of him, but he never made it. Even with his eyes closed, Devious had the senses of a vampire. That attack was never going to get through. An unseen force knocked Helsing back mid-stride and drove all the air out of his lungs, and there was another spike of pain his neck. Devious now stood near the balcony, eyes gleaming in the firelight and blood on his muzzle. Helsing grunted, and fell to his knees, still holding his neck as a light-headed feeling overtook him.
"What now, Helsing?" Devious casually swaggered towards him. "All that lost blood must be slowing you down by now. How much longer do you think you can last?"
Helsing grimaced, glaring back at him. "You fool."
Devious narrowed his eyes.
"What was that, Helsing?"
"You poor, stupid fool. You've fallen right into my trap."
Devious recoiled as if slapped, eyes going slightly wider. Helsing shakily climbed to his hooves, and wiped the blood from his mouth.
"I was worried I'd have to settle for bleeding on you, but I predicted you perfectly!" Helsing pointed a hoof at Devious. "Don't you see? You biting my neck and drinking my blood was part of my plan all along! It's over!"
Helsing's horn flared, and Devious followed suit a millisecond later. He flashed forward, but only a few steps. When he reappeared, he was screaming.
"Wryyyyyyyyyyyyy!"
Devious clawed at his own face as his skin peeled off in moulding brown flaps. A sparkling silvery liquid trickled from the roof of his mouth and down the sides of his face, sizzling and hissing as it ran over his ruined flesh. Everything the sparkling liquid touched, it destroyed. Blood boiled, coat hairs withered and fell out, flesh darkened and rotted, and exposed bone seemed to melt away. Devious doubled over, thrashing his head back and forth as he tried to scrape away the liquid with his magic.
Helsing looked on, and smiled, now bleeding the same substance all over his body. He brought his hoof back to the holes in his neck, and stood up straighter.
"You're probably wondering what that stuff burning your insides and rotting your flesh is. I call it paleblood. The most virulent anti-vampire poison ever devised, it's ten times stronger than the light of the sun itself. If Celestia bled, this is what would be in her veins. Until now, it wouldn't have ever worked on you, so I never saw the point in tipping my hoof. But now that you've become a monster on the outside as well, I thought it was time. I did say that most unicorns keep their talent spells hidden, didn't I?"
Devious's head twisted suddenly to look at Helsing.
"What?" he choked out, his voice a gurgling, scratchy mess.
"This is my secret, Devo. The ultimate vampire-hunting talent spell: to create paleblood at will from any blood I might find, including my own. This is how Helsing fights a magic duel. Behold, DIAMONDS AND RUST!"
Devious tried to move towards Helsing, but fell to one knee instead, spitting out more paleblood. It had already burned through his cheeks, and the skin around his neck was sagging and going brown.
"Once it reaches your heart, you're dead." Helsing smirked. "Nothing can stop paleblood once it's in your veins. Not even me. But you're in luck, Devo! It looks like I activated Diamonds and Rust while my blood was still mostly in your mouth. It's not in your system yet, so you can still save yourself... if you cut off your own head."
He picked up his sword and tossed it at Devious's hooves.
"Go on. I want to see you do it."
"So that you can put a stake in my heart while I'm not conscious to defend myself?" Devious rasped. "I think not, Helsing."
Before Helsing could react, he was dangling upside-down over the inferno, held aloft in a golden aura. Devious leaned over the edge of the balcony, holding a hoof to the ruins of his face. The brown patch had spread to his neck now, and was still creeping downwards.
"You may have your paleblood in me, but I still have Judas Priest. I've more than enough time to take you with me."
The heat of the fire below made sweat run up his face, but Helsing simply let it wash over him, and gave Devious a sly smile.
"So do it then."
There was a pause.
Devious glared. Helsing laughed quietly, barely audible over the roar of the fire.
"Can't do it, can you? You never came here to kill me. You came here to enslave me. You said so yourself. But now you know that you can't. Maybe you figured out that paleblood in a mortal makes them immune to infection, or maybe you just assumed that I'd die too if you turned me now. Doesn't matter, though, does it? You've got no choice, Devious. Either we die together, or you die alone. Because I promise you, there's no surviving Diamonds and Rust... Especially since it just reached your heart while I was talking!"
Devious's pupils shrank, and he let out a sharp gasp. Helsing channeled his magic and wrapped himself in his own light blue glow just as the golden aura faltered. His whole body was held rigid by his own magic, and combined with the stifling heat of the flames below, it was almost suffocating. Still, he tried to hold himself in place, while over on the balcony, Devious screamed and thrashed, clutching his heart. Most of his golden coat had gone grey and brown, and flesh was falling away from his barrel, exposing his ribcage.
He leaned on the balcony to support himself while he writhed in agony. In his last throes, he didn't even see Sacred running up behind him with Helsing's dagger. Not until he shoved it into the back of his neck.
"Nyarrrrghhhh!"
Sacred ripped the dagger out and grabbed him by the shoulder, turning him around. "That was for Mouse!"
Devious choked, paleblood spewing from his mouth and burning through his throat. His horn lit up again, but he didn't manage to cast another time-stop before Sacred plunged the dagger into his stomach.
"This is for my sister!"
He gave it a twist, drawing another gurgling scream out of Devious, before he violently ripped it out and stabbed Devious just under the horn. He drove the blade straight into his most sensitive nerves, all while Devious thrashed and spat paleblood all over Sacred.
"And this is for Hoofgate!" Sacred roared.
He pushed the dagger in deeper, leaving it in there until Devious's eyes rolled back into his head, before finally pulling it loose. Devious sank to his knees, and was just about to collapse entirely, but he never had the chance to hit the floor. Sacred twisted around, his horn bursting with light, and blindingly bright sunlight magic burned around his back hooves as he bucked Devious straight over the balcony.
"Goodbye, Devo!" he called.
Floating over the inferno, Helsing had a good view as Devious flew past him, trailing paleblood through the air. He sailed halfway across the hall, down into the fire, and as luck would have it, was impaled upon the rearing statue of Celestia. Her horn burst through his ruined chest, his heart skewered upon its tip, and his body sank to its base and disappeared into the fire.
Helsing stared, incredulous, until a pair of hooves wrapped around him. He let go with his magic, and let Nightshade carry him back to the balcony, which now creaked and strained as the fire charred its supports. He looked back towards the statue as Nightshade flew him away, and held a hoof to the sun symbol hanging around his own neck.
"...Umbasa," he said quietly.
They touched down next to Sacred, who breathed heavily as he stared into the flames. His hooves were still on fire, but he didn't even seem to notice that he was burning.
"...Sacred..."
"I'm fine, brother." Sacred didn't look away from the inferno, and the fire around his hooves extinguished itself, leaving no blemishes in its wake. "I just want to make sure he's dead."
"He took a dose of paleblood to the heart from my Diamonds and Rust, a buck full of sunfire to the face from your One More Light, three stab wounds from a blessed dagger, he was impaled upon the Princess's horn, and he's trapped in a burning house. Tell me, how exactly would he survive that?"
Sacred grit his teeth and shook his head. "You know him better than I, brother. You know what he's like. We can't take chances. Not with him. Not ever."
"Sacred." Helsing grabbed his brother by the shoulder and turned him around to face him. "He's dead. I promise you."
"And we'll be dead too in a minute, if you two insist on having this conversation here!" Nightshade shouted, gesturing to the rest of the hall.
Helsing and Sacred looked to him, and then back to each other.
"Stallion's got a point, brother," Sacred muttered.
"Aye. Quickly! Let's get back to Mother's room!"
They had arranged a password with Loyal Service before the battle began, a series of knocks to let him and the others know that it was them at the door, and not a horde of bloodthirsty vampires. Helsing ignored all that, and simply kicked the door in and stormed inside to a chorus of startled cries. Jekyll sat up from his chair in the back of the room, while Loyal Service at Choir's bedside reached for a blade, before noticing who it was.
"The building is on fire; we have to go!" Helsing shouted.
Sacred and Nightshade entered behind him. Helsing gave Service and his sister expectant looks, but hesitated when he saw that Angel was red around the eyes. He soon noticed that Father Sunflower was much the same, and his heart jumped in his throat when he realised his mother wasn't moving.
"Is... Is she alright?"
"What do you think, brother?!" Angel snapped, fresh tears running down her cheeks.
Father Sunflower bowed his head and closed his eyes.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered.
Sacred's lip quivered slightly. "It's... It's okay... We still have one last chance to talk, don't we?"
Father Sunflower didn't look up. "I can call her forth any time between now and sunrise."
Helsing swallowed. "Good. Let's grab her body and get out of here. We need to be away before this whole place burns down."
Helsing floated Choir's body, wrapping her in her bedsheets, and carried her out of the room. Angel glared at him through her tears, but followed him out, along with the rest of the room's occupants. In the corridor, the fire was spreading from the main hall down one end, and the acrid stench of smoke filled the air, so Helsing directed everypony towards the manor's back exit.
The seven of them plus Choir soon emerged onto the grounds behind the mansion, and found it swathed in an orange glow. The fire was now visible from the exterior, burning in the windows and on the roof. Helsing stopped the group there, and lay his mother, still wrapped in her bedsheets, down on the grass. He stood over her body, staring down at it with an empty look about him.
"...Do it now, Father."
"Helsing!" Angel hissed.
"Here?" asked Sunflower. "Now?"
"Brother..." said Sacred. "She won't want to see our home in this state..."
"All the town's aflame, Sacred." Helsing looked back at his siblings. "And our job isn't done yet. Her soul leaves for Paradise at dawn. If we want to say our goodbyes, it's now or never."
Sacred blinked, mouth hanging open. Angel wore a similarly uncertain look. After a moment's hesitation, Sacred nodded his assent to Sunflower, who reluctantly knelt next to Choir's corpse. He closed his eyes and channeled an off-green light from his horn, which streamed into her heart while he whispered a prayer under his breath.
"Celestia on high, Bringer of Daylight, mother to us all, grant this mare but a moment's reprieve before final judgement, and shine your light of life upon her soul once more. Allow her this final breath, that she may use it to speak one last time to this world, and let her parting moments be peaceful, before you take her into your guidance forevermore. Umbasa."
Sunflower opened his eyes.
"And it shall be so. LIVING ON A PRAYER!"
Choir Voice's body jolted, and her eyes shot open as she sucked in a deep, desperate breath.
"Wha—!" she screamed, looking around wildly. "Where am I? What's happening to me?"
"Shhhh!" Helsing knelt down next to his mother, cradling her head. "It's okay, Mother. Calm down. It's just Father Sunflower's spell."
Choir looked down at her chest, and saw the green magic flowing into her heart. She hysterically tried to swat it away, but her hooves moved in a stiff and awkward fashion, like she was puppet on strings rather than a living pony.
"Eurgh, it feels strange! Everything about this is... wrong! It's like there's something crawling under my skin... Oh, Helsing... I feel sick..."
Father Sunflower winced, but said nothing as Sacred and Angel came to join Helsing at their mother's side.
"Mom..." said Angel, reaching out to touch Choir's face while tears ran down her own.
"Angel..." said Choir, grabbing Angel's hoof with her own. "My Angel... I can't feel you... There's no feeling..."
Loyal Service and Nightshade stood aside from the scene, looking aghast.
"This is obscene..." Nightshade muttered.
Helsing shot him a glare, before turning back to his mother. His hooves trembled as he held her head, and his heart thumped in his chest. It was a struggle not to cry along with Angel.
"I'm sorry, Mother," he said, nearly choking on his words. "I'm sorry I wasn't at your side when you..."
"My boys..." Choir's eyes met Helsing's. "It's okay... I know what you had to do... Please... tell me it's over?"
Helsing's lips parted, but he couldn't say anything. Choir tried to turn her head, but Sacred moved in front of her to block her view of the burning mansion.
"It's over," said Sacred. "We got him. That bastard will never hurt anypony else ever again."
Again, Father Sunflower winced.
"That's good... I'm proud of you..." Choir's voice turned into a wheeze, and she took a deep, gasping breath. "Oh my... Listen, you three... I had a good life. I spent it around family, and I have no regrets for the way I lived it. Just promise me, before Celestia takes me... that you'll be there for each other. Like your uncle was, for your father... Like you all were for me..."
"Of course," said Sacred.
"Always and forever!" said Angel.
Helsing was quiet, but nodded.
Choir Voice smiled, and awkwardly raised a foreleg to pull both of her sons into an embrace, holding Angel close with her other.
"I feel so numb..." she muttered. "But I know you're all here with me. I know I never said it often enough, but I love all of you."
Between sobs and heavy, shuddering breaths, Angel gasped out a reply. "I love you too, Mom."
Sacred slumped over his mother's body, limp as a corpse, as he cried into her mane.
Helsing swallowed a lump in his throat, and squeezed his mother tighter.
"I love you, and I'm going to miss you," he said.
She closed her eyes, lying back with a contented sigh. "I'm ready, Sunflower. Goodbye, everypony. I'll see you all again..."
There was a chorus of final farewells, including Sunflower's and Service's. Even Nightshade and Jekyll said goodbye. Then the spell abruptly cut, and Choir Voice went limp again as the magic stopped flowing. Sunflower jolted back when it was finished, grunting, and rubbed his horn.
Helsing was the first to separate from his mother, walking away to watch Songbird Manor as the fire ravaged it. Loyal Service crouched next to Choir's body and touched a hoof to her forehead, while off to the side, Jekyll and Captain Nightshade looked helplessly out of place.
"...We aren't done," said Helsing, just loudly enough to be heard. "Sacred, Nightshade... Devious brought an army with him, and we didn't kill all of them. We broke his hold on them when we slayed him, but... there's still a village's worth of vampires down there that need to be put out of their misery."
Angel separated from their mother too, and stared at Helsing in quiet shock.
"Y-You can't be serious, brother..."
Helsing turned around to face her.
"I'm afraid I am, Angel. If all it takes is one vampire to bring ruin like this to a whole town, imagine what devastation an army's worth of them can do. The Griffish Isles themselves are at stake."
Sacred stood on shaky knees.
"If it must be done... I'm with you."
"I'll also assist," said Nightshade, trotting over and placing a hoof on Helsing's shoulder. "This is grim work. I wouldn't want you to do it alone."
Helsing returned the gesture.
"Thank you, my friend. This will be... a burden."
They went to the church first. Helsing, Nightshade, and Sacred escorted the others all the way there, going around Hoofgate rather than through it. When they arrived, they found several desperate vampires already there, lying prostrate before the altar in the company of a small number of unturned ponies. Father Sunflower walked among them, offering comfort to the frightened villagers, while Helsing ordered the vampires outside into the graveyard.
One of the vampires, a mauve-coloured earth mare that Helsing recognised as one of Angel's friends, ran up to her as he tried to herd them out.
"Oh, thank Celestia you're alright!" said Tiller, pulling Angel into a hug and burying her face in her shoulder as she cried. "I was afraid that you'd... Everypony just started killing each other! My mother, she... she..."
"I thought you'd... as well..." Angel sobbed. "I'm so glad you're safe, Tiller!"
A little part of Helsing said to leave them alone, but he stomped that part of him down when he saw the mare's tiny fangs gleaming. He marched over and pulled Tiller away from his sister.
"We need to go outside," he said, firmly. "Until all this is sorted, no vampires in the church."
The way Angel looked at Helsing then made his stomach turn, but he just glared at her until she turned and galloped away.
"Wh-What's happening?" asked Tiller, trembling.
"Nothing," said Helsing. "Just come with me."
He marched out of the church with her in tow, along with a line of other vampires. Tiller kept her head low to the ground as she followed.
"You're going to save us, aren't you?"
"Aye," said Helsing, not looking at her. "It's a hunter's job to save ponies."
She lifted her head slightly, and gave Helsing a small smile.
"You're a good pony, Van Helsing. I... I always liked you."
Helsing tried not to react to that.
Please don't make this harder than it already is.
Out in the meadow, the vampires gathered in a small crowd just at the edge of the graveyard. Many of them were bloody and dirty, and plenty of them held each other or sat down in the grass. Again, Helsing recognised far too many faces, and tried to put them out of his mind. Some were families. Some were foals. Nightshade stood stoically at one end of the crowd as one of the vampires shouted at him, while Sacred stood at the other, looking like he was going to be sick. Tiller clung to Helsing's side until he directed her to join her fellow vampires in the crowd and went to join his brother.
Sacred gulped. "Are... Are we seriously doing this?"
"Try not to think about it."
They waited until the last vampires had come from the church, and Nightshade had corralled them all into place. In that time, a few more vampires came across the meadow from the burning town, and the hunters directed them to join the crowd as well. Once Helsing was satisfied with their positioning, he cleared his throat and whispered the order to Sacred.
Sacred screamed as he unleashed his pyromancy on the villagers, sweeping the entire crowd with his blindingly brilliant flames. But his screams were nothing compared to theirs, and the smell of their burning was a thousand times worse than it had been in Songbird Manor. Helsing had to force himself to stay and watch it. He and Nightshade rushed after any who got up and tried to run away, putting stakes through their backs before they could escape. For the rest, they provided as many mercy kills as they could, but most simply burned to death.
The other survivors came outside to see what the screaming was about. Their cries of horror and disgust at what they saw only added to the night's cacophony. Helsing decided not to go back inside and face his sister just yet. Instead, he took Sacred and Nightshade and headed towards the town. In the distance, Songbird Manor still burned upon the hill, a beacon in the dark night, but Hoofgate looked like nothing less than the fires of Hell itself.
The night was long and brutal. Everywhere they went, the vampires cowered at their presence rather than fought. Helsing had to coax the frightened villagers out of their hiding places, and stab ponies that trusted him right in their hearts. Others tried to run, and he and Nightshade would have to chase them down. Most could scarcely believe that the hunters hadn't come to save them, but there was nothing he could do. That's what he told himself, again and again, every time he killed them.
There's nothing I can do. It was Devious who turned you all. I can't cure you.
Everywhere he went, there was evidence of the massacre that had taken place before they arrived. Devious had shown no mercy to the town he'd lived in all his life. Streaks of blood painted the few buildings that had yet to burn down. Severed limbs and splayed torsos littered the ground. The eviscerated bodies of those he hadn't turned spilled out all over the pathways, and the air stank of death. Everything he saw disgusted Helsing. But here he was, coming along to kill those that remained. What Devious started, Helsing was there to finish.
It needs to be done. No mercy.
The vampire was a creature predisposed towards acts of evil. He couldn't let a single one get away. They all felt like themselves now, but they all had that shadow inside them. They would all feel the urge sooner or later. The urge to feed, to kill, to commit obscene acts of barbarism just like the one that created them all. Helsing couldn't afford to spare any of them, and he didn't.
Not even the children.
The air was bitterly cold on the morning of the funeral, almost unnaturally so for the middle of summer. The sky was clear, but the sun seemed dimmer somehow. It was like all life had gone out of the world, and all that was left was a washed-out mess.
It was several days since the massacre. They'd buried Choir Voice beside Hellfire, in a modest grave just like his. All the craftsponies who would have normally built her tomb were dead, so they'd had little choice, but it was fitting, in its own way.
It was better than how the rest of the town had been memorialised. By the time dawn had broken over Hoofgate after that awful night, most of the townsfolk's bodies were charred beyond all recognition, and the ones that weren't had still been ugly sights. A dignified burial under their own names was impossible for most, and the number of anonymous corpses had been too high, so Father Sunflower had elected for a mass cremation.
It almost seemed like a sick joke after the way that they'd died, but Sunflower had done his utmost to make it a respectful ceremony. The surviving townsfolk had all come together in solemn prayer, and scattered the ashes over the meadow. Though, even that simple gesture was marred by the ashes on the other side of the meadow, surrounding the piles of blackened timber that had once been their homes.
Officials had come to attend the ceremony as well. The Bishop of Trottingham had offered her blessings. The noble lords and ladies of the region had come to put in an appearance. Politicians of many stripes had inevitably showed up to exploit the tragedy for political points, and news reporters had badgered the traumatised survivors until Father Sunflower ran them off. One had tried to talk to Helsing, and made the mistake of calling him the Hero of Hoofgate for his role in stopping the monsters. Helsing had punched that one in the face, and none of them approached him after that.
Choir's funeral, thankfully, had been different. They'd waited until the vultures had gone, and had a small private ceremony, with family and friends only. Uncle True Shot and his family made the trip from the Heartland to attend, and Litigation returned from Trottingham for a surprise appearance. Other than that, the only ponies in attendance were the ones who'd been in Songbird Manor on the night she died.
Helsing and Sacred buried her themselves as the last act of the ceremony. Father Sunflower finished the final prayers, and then the small gathering started shuffling back towards the church. Gradually they left, one by one, until only the three siblings remained. Sacred and Helsing waited by the gate to the family plot, while Angel stood silently beside their mother's grave.
"...You go on ahead," said Helsing. "I'll talk to her."
"Are you sure?"
Sacred's voice was monotone, devoid of any emotion. He'd been like it ever since that night. Helsing didn't blame him. He'd often felt that same numbness of late.
"I'm sure. I've never been the best brother to her. Maybe it's time I start trying."
Sacred simply nodded. "Okay. I'll see you inside."
He trotted off, while Helsing strolled over to join Angel beside Choir's grave. She stared at it vacantly, face unmoving but for the occasional eyeblink. She didn't even react to Helsing at all.
"Are you..."
He was going to ask if she was alright, but he thought better of it. It was a stupid question. Of course she wasn't.
"...Are you going to come back inside? It's cold out."
"...Yes. In a minute."
Helsing cleared his throat.
"Angel... look, I know these past two weeks I've been—"
"I'm pregnant," Angel blurted out suddenly.
Helsing froze. There was a prolonged silence between them. Angel looked at him as if she were waiting for an answer, but when he finally relaxed, he still didn't know quite what to say.
"I... see..."
Angel went back to staring at the grave. Helsing thought it a good distraction for him, too. His throat felt dry when he tried to speak again.
"...It's okay," he said, finally. "There are places you can go for this sort of thing now."
"Places?" Angel repeated, looking aside at him.
"Aye. I know a doctor in Trottingham who specialises in it. As long as you terminate early, before they detect any magical signature in the womb—"
"Excuse me, terminate?" she said incredulously.
"Well, you're not keeping it."
"...What if I want to?" she said, uncertainly.
Helsing fixed Angel with a glare. "You can't possibly be serious."
"Why not?" she asked.
"I don't know, how about because its father is Devious?"
"So?"
"So?" Helsing rounded on her, his face red and twisted. "So I won't allow you to raise a vampire's bastard!"
"Allow me?" Angel said, indignantly.
"Angel, do you really want to be responsible for bringing another monster like Devious into this world?"
"Well, he won't be a monster, because I'll raise him better than that!"
Helsing's eyes narrowed.
"Him?"
"...I have a feeling," Angel said quietly. "If it's a boy, I think I want to name him Golden Heart."
Helsing just stared at her.
"Golden. Heart."
Angel blushed and looked away from Helsing.
"I knew I shouldn't have told you," she muttered.
"...Sister, I'm going to give you one chance." Helsing spun her around to face him again. "You can come with me back to Trottingham, do the responsible thing, and get rid of your demon spawn, or you can get out of my sight and never come back, because I don't want that thing in my life."
Angel grit her teeth, glaring at Helsing through the tears welling in her eyes.
"Fine then," she said, brushing his hoof off. "I don't want you in my life either. I don't need you trying to control me and telling me how to live, as if you think you're my father or something!"
"I am your father! The closest thing to it you've got! Dad couldn't be here to protect you from the monsters of the world, so I am! But I can't do that if you don't listen to me! I was right about Devo, and I'm right about this! Don't ignore me again, Angel! Angel!"
She was already walking away.
"Have a nice life, brother," she called back. "I hope one day you'll find a mare who'll put up with you."
Soon she was gone, and Helsing was alone in the graveyard. He screamed, pounding the dirt, and kicking the mausoleum of some distant ancestor. He pulled his own mane, shouted and cursed, and when his rage subsided, he trod back to his mother's grave. He threw himself before her headstone, and wrapped both hooves around it, sinking to the ground. Alone there, with only the dead to hear him, he sobbed into the freshly dug earth.
The wake was less private than the funeral, since the mourners had to share the space with Hoofgate's refugees. The church was the only structure still standing after the incident, so Father Sunflower had opened its doors to all the surviving townsfolk. Now they all had to live with each other, both figuratively and literally.
They gave Helsing wary or resentful looks during the wake, like they always did now. He could hardly blame them. Godric's attack had been one thing, but what Helsing had done to their friends and relatives, regardless of its necessity, was beyond their ability to understand or forgive. He half expected somepony to cut his throat while he slept one of these nights, so he always kept apart from them now, going off to sleep in the belltower while everypony else took the pews.
For now, the pews were unoccupied, so Helsing sat in the frontmost one, nursing a cup of tea. He idly stroked the carved woodwork on the side of the pew, feeling its rising sun and waning moon. Light shone through the stained glass windows, and Helsing stared up at them with none of the reverence or sense of admiration he usually felt. The images of Celestia were meant to convey her grace and beauty, and inspire awe, hope, and comfort. But instead, all Helsing could think of was why. Why would Celestia have ever allowed this to happen?
His reverie was interrupted when Nightshade sat beside him. His eyes were bloodshot, and his normally lustrous blue mane was disheveled from days of neglect. He gave Helsing a tired smile, and lay back against the pew, rubbing his eyes.
"Still not sleeping well, Captain?"
Nightshade sighed.
"No."
Helsing was silent, keeping his eyes on the stained glass windows.
"...Do they ever stop?" Nightshade asked. "Your hunter's nightmares?"
"Afraid not," Helsing said gravely. "It's just our lot in life. Our curse. Slay the vampire, suffer the nightmare."
"...I see it every night now," Nightshade buried his face in his hooves. "Always the river of blood. Always the red moon. What does it mean?"
"Search me." Helsing shrugged. "We hunters have our superstitions, but that's all."
"But how do you all live with it? This same horrible dream, night after night?"
"We just... endure." Helsing slumped back and looked at the floor. "Sometimes I drink, and that helps. My brother, he sleeps through it, and forgets the dream as soon as he wakes. He's lucky. I've heard other hunters cope with prayer, or counselling. One I knew from Trottingham swore by vinegar. Quarter of a jar of pickling vinegar before bed every night. Gave him horrible stomach pains, but he insisted that it stopped the nightmares. Until he died, that is."
Nightshade stifled a laugh at that. Helsing hadn't been joking, but it made him smile, too.
"Brother, have you seen Angel? I can't find her anywhere."
Helsing looked over his shoulder, and found Sacred there with a familiar brown earth mare. She doffed her trilby hat at him, and put down a briefcase on the floor.
"...She'll turn up," said Helsing, uneasily. "What's going on?"
Sacred sighed. "Miss Litigation had a matter of legal importance to discuss with the three of us."
"Well, Angel is..."
"The three of us meaning... You, me, and the Captain."
Nightshade raised an eyebrow. "Me?"
Litigation cleared her throat, and offered a hoof to Nightshade.
"Pleasure to meet you, Captain Nightshade." When he shook her hoof, she turned to Helsing next. "I am so sorry for your loss."
"...Thank you," Helsing grunted.
The attorney gave a perfunctory nod. "I wish I didn't have to approach you all about this here and now, but I understand that the Captain will be returning to the Heartland soon?"
Nightshade nodded, rubbing one eye. "I must resume my royal duties. This excursion has already had me away for far too long."
"Naturally. Before you leave, however, there's a matter of inheritance to be settled, which concerns all three of you." Litigation looked to each of them in turn, as if gauging their reactions. "I assume that you're all familiar with vampire inheritance law, such as it is?"
Helsing groaned and sank back into the pew.
"What?" asked Nightshade. "What is it?"
Litigation cleared her throat. "Legally speaking, a vampire is not considered a person, but a monster. It's by this mechanism that hunters are allowed to kill them. But this also means that vampires are not entitled to the protections of many of our laws, including the ability to legally hold, exchange, or bequeath personal property. Anything a vampire owns is considered free to claim as part of a hunter's bounty, with the exception of land."
Nightshade blinked. "...Is this going where I think it is?"
"Aye," Helsing said bitterly. "Hunter's bounty. It's not just what the church pays us. We're also entitled to loot anything belonging to vampires we've killed. Hengstwolves as well. She's trying to tell us that we just inherited what's left of Hoofgate."
"That is correct." Litigation waved her hoof. "More or less. The land itself will become property of the provincial government. But anything still remaining inside the buildings is yours to take. Since we likely cannot determine which of you killed what vampires, unless you all remember names and faces and can testify as such, the three of you may divide your findings any way you like."
"...Well, even thirds sounds fair," Sacred said grimly.
"Is this really where we are?" asked Nightshade. "We slaughtered a village. I killed children. And now we're robbing their grieving families?"
"Hmm, I'm not happy about this either," said Helsing, leaning back and staring up at the stained glass windows again. "But..."
"But?" Nightshade rounded on him. "But what, Helsing?"
"...My family's fortune has been dwindling for years, and most everything of value we owned was in the house when it burned. If we're to get back on our hooves, we're going to need to scrape for every bit."
"Oh, Celestia..."
"Back on our hooves?" said Sacred, quirking an eyebrow. "In what sense?"
"Relocating." Helsing looked at his brother with a neutral expression. "Getting back into hunting. It all costs money, brother. We can't even pay Service his promised retirement package if we don't have anything to pay him with."
Sacred stared.
"Back into hunting? You seriously still want to be a hunter after all this?"
"What else do you propose we do?"
Sacred shrugged. "Uncle True Shot said we're always welcome at his home if we want."
"Eugh, Canterlot," said Helsing, sneering. "No thank you. No offense, Captain, it's just that the Heartland is far too quiet for my tastes, occasional vampiric invasions of the royal palace aside. I need to settle somewhere I can make a long-term living as a hunter. And Sacred, I would rather you were there with me."
Nightshade snorted, and stood from the pew.
"Well, count me out of it. I'm glad to have met you both, and I wish you all the luck in the world going forward, but I can't be a part of this. I am the Captain of Celestia's own Royal Guard, and I will not reduce myself to stealing from peasants."
"Suit yourself," Helsing said casually. "More for us."
"...I'll see you around, Van Helsing."
With that, Nightshade trotted out of the church, leaving the brothers and Litigation alone. As the sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows and fell upon their group, Helsing turned to Litigation and crossed his hooves.
"So, how much do you think we can get out of this place?"
Songbird Manor was a black ruin, nothing now but ashes and rubble, the grass outside full of dark patches from both the fire and the blood. Helsing stepped over piles of charred wood and broken furniture, a light breeze ruffling his hunter's coat and kicking up clouds of ash. He stopped when he noticed the fallen statue of Celestia beneath a pile of debris. A crack ran down her face, and her horn had snapped off and now lay in two pieces beside her. Helsing gave the statue a slight bow, and then climbed over a fallen rafter, continuing deeper into the mansion's ruins.
Eventually, he came to a small trapdoor in a clearing, where the dust and rubble had been brushed aside. With one last look up at the midday sun, Helsing pulled the trapdoor open, slipped inside, and closed it behind him.
He descended from a ladder and touched down on the cellar floor. In the centre of the room, surrounded by wine racks and barrels, Devious lay upon a table, stirring. Straps held him down and restrained his limbs, while a silver rod dug into his forehead where his horn would normally be, caked with dried blood around the base. His chest was a ruin, with a wide, gaping hole where his heart should've been, equally bloody, but now festering with maggots. Almost every inch of his bare body was burned black, and the parts that weren't still bore the ravages of the paleblood.
Devious's eyes fluttered open when Helsing stepped closer, responding to the sound of his hoofsteps. He turned his head, and smiled when he saw him, a macabre look with the skin missing from his cheeks.
"Ah, my saviour," Devious rasped, his voice still scratchy from the damage to his throat.
"You're finally conscious," said Helsing, dispassionately. "I wondered how long it would take."
Devious's broken horn sparked, and he seethed, seemingly only just noticing the piece of holy silver stuck in his skull.
"How did you know I lived?" he asked.
Helsing circled the table. Devious's eyes followed him.
"I suspected after I saw your grandfather perform his talent spell. Living on a Prayer... The ability to infuse life into the dead, by anchoring souls to their dying bodies... Probably the one spell in the world that could subvert my Diamonds and Rust. It was too much to hope that you didn't know it too. After the battle, I asked Sunflower directly, and he confirmed my suspicions, so I went digging for you. Fortunately, the state of your body seemingly kept you down for a while."
Devious smiled wider.
"My grandfather does have his occasional uses, doesn't he?"
"I have to say, I'm impressed; no vampire has ever survived Diamonds and Rust before. I destroyed your heart, and yet somehow you linger on. Sadly, decaying corpses like yourself don't get vampiric regeneration, but that's okay; you don't seem like you need it. Though, Living on a Prayer seems like a poor substitute for just plain old living."
"Living on a Prayer is my grandfather's spell, and only works on others. Mine is a modification for self-use. I call it Holy Diver."
"Of course you do."
"Incidentally, did my mother survive?" Devious asked casually.
"Not to my knowledge."
He smacked his lips. "Hmph. Shame."
Helsing pulled a chair from a dark corner of the room, dragging it up next to the table and sitting down beside Devious.
"I broke your horn." Helsing stated. "Whatever you call it, you can't maintain that spell forever. How long until it wears off and you finally die?"
Devious made an admirable attempt at a shrug, despite his bondage.
"A year? Two? Fifteen? Who knows. You may be stuck with me for a long while, Helsing." He grinned ghoulishly. "Fate binds us together once more, as it always has."
Helsing rolled his eyes. Devious chuckled, relaxing against the table.
"I know you don't believe me, Helsing, but it's true. A force like fate acts upon us all, and it is my purpose to defy that fate for us, though I don't always succeed. I believe I was fated to lose to you, and that is a failure on my part. I could have resisted better, but you have some power over me still."
"Sounds to me like you're just making excuses for losing," Helsing said disdainfully.
Devious sighed.
"What is my cutie mark, Helsing? What do you think it means?"
"It's an hourglass. You can stop time with Judas Priest."
Devious shook his head. "Not just an hourglass. The sands of time, running low. Fate, inevitably drawing towards the end of all things. But the special thing about an hourglass, Helsing, is that you can pick it up and turn it over on its side, and the sand will stop draining. That's what Judas Priest is. Nopony else can see time this way, but I can, and thusly can I affect it with my magic. In freezing time, I delay inevitabilities, and in frozen time, I can act. In this way, I alone may avoid what is fated. My special talent is no less than the ability to defy fate itself."
Helsing sat up.
"So, what? Everything is preordained except what happens to you? If you're that special and powerful, then why did I still kick your ass?"
"Because I was careless." Devious stared up at the ceiling. "Sometimes, trying to stop the future from coming to pass is exactly what causes it. I can change events, but it's difficult."
Helsing raised an eyebrow. "So now you're saying you can see the future, too?"
"Not always, but..." Devious became sullen, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I have dreams, sometimes. Like premonitions. I can't control them, but sometimes they help me. I might see an event that is fated to happen, that I might have the chance to change. But other times, I just see darkness. The end of everything."
"...What's that supposed to mean?"
Devious turned his head, and glared at Helsing.
"I've seen the end of the world, Helsing. The end of our race. Ponies struggling to survive an onslaught of the dead. Soul-sucking abominations roaming the land. A great chaos rising in the north and birthing monstrosities that should have never been. And a darkness, a primordial black abyss that will swallow the world... I've seen it in my dreams countless times. This is the future we are fated to, Helsing. Unless I can find a way to avert it, that is."
"...And I'm sure that killing my dog and fucking my sister are great first steps to this wonderful, world-saving plan of yours, oh sainted one."
His grin returned. "Well, no. Those were just because I like you."
"And you have a horrible way of showing it."
Devious laughed, a terrible, dry, rasping laugh.
"But it's our way, Helsing! The way we've always played! I do it because I care. Because I want you to see how alike we are."
"We are not alike!" Helsing snapped, standing from his chair.
"Of course we are. You play just like I do. I killed your dog, so you vandalised my home. I beat you up, so you fucked my mother. I slaughtered our neighbours, so you killed me with poisoned blood and threw me into a fire. It's classic us."
"I retaliate because you start shit!" Helsing shouted, leaning over Devious. "You always start shit! And why? Out of some twisted sense of affection? To 'fight fate,' as you call it?"
"Because it makes me happy," said Devious.
Helsing blinked.
"It makes you happy, too, Helsing. I know it does. You were always so bored here, because coming home to Hoofgate can't compare to the hunt. You're never more alive than when you're fighting. I saw it with Godric. I understand that need of yours. I embrace it. I nurture it. Because it's your chaos that makes you beautiful, and I'm the only one that sees it."
"...Aye. Twisted sense of affection. Right the first time."
"You may deny it for now, Helsing, but we're kindred spirits. I understand you. You hunt vampires because they're the one group that aren't protected by law, and you subject them to a talent spell that would be considered a war crime if it worked on ponies, because you like hurting people. And I understand that, because I'm the same."
Helsing paused, trying to think of an answer to that, but nothing came to mind. He wanted to protest, to deny and argue, but nothing in his head sounded convincing. Devious was wrong, but he couldn't find a way to express it.
Sighing, he shook his head, and began climbing the ladder out.
"...Where are you going?" asked Devious.
Helsing stopped on the middle rung, and looked back over his shoulder.
"I only came to see if the spell had worn off yet and you'd died," said Helsing. "If I've really got years left to wait, I have no intention of spending them down here with you."
Devious tried to sit up, but his straps held him.
"So you're just going to leave me here?" he said, a note of desperation entering his voice. "Alone in the darkness forever?"
"Well, that depends." Helsing smiled mischievously. "Can you cancel the spell yourself without a horn?"
Devious's eyes widened.
"...N-No."
"Hmph. Oh well." Helsing opened the trapdoor above him. "In that case, have fun with the maggots down here. You deserve each other."
"Helsing! Don't leave me here! Helsing!"
Helsing climbed into the sunlight and closed the trapdoor behind him. Devious could still be heard shouting down below, but his screams were muffled. Helsing stomped the trapdoor down with a hoof, and floated over some bricks to cover it. Dust blew by his hooves, and he climbed back over the rubble the way he came until he was out of the ruins.
The wind was in his mane, and his coat fluttered as he crossed what was once the front garden of Songbird Manor. He stopped at the edge, and looked down from the hill. He remembered how beautiful and tranquil this view had once been, back when there had been a village down there, and not an ugly black blight on the landscape. Only the river crossing now stood to commemorate its passing. Would they ever rebuild, he wondered? Would the church bells ever toll again?
Helsing sighed. In the end, he supposed it didn't matter. He wouldn't be here to see, either way. After one last lingering look, he trudged off down the hill, turning his gaze to the summer sky as he thought of the journey ahead. He had to be off to Trottingham soon.
