Beethoven - Scourge of Vampires [ONC 2022]

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While Bernhard retired alone to the room the Maestro had paid for them both, Beethoven himself fell for the entreaties of the fair maidens at his side. After half-an-hour, or so, Bernhard heard the Maestro's loud voice nearing the room and then passing by, the giggles and laughter of the two women mixing with Beethoven's tales of his recitals in far off lands. Bernhard doubted he would see the Maestro until the morning.

Laid upon one of the beds, Bernhard held his sabre in his hand and wondered about the great man's words. That a symbol of faith need not entail a religious significance. His fingers traced over the grip, smoothed by years of use. Truth told, he did have faith in that sabre. It represented the years he had fought for Austria. The people who had fought alongside him and those that had died. Through it all, that sabre had remained the only steadfast thing he could rely upon.

He placed the scabbarded sabre, point down, at the side of the bed, leaning against a chair that held his clothing, and lay back, hands behind his head. Things had moved so fast, he had had little time to make much sense of it all. Vampires! Real vampires. Days before, he would have scoffed at the idea, but the Maestro had spoken true. In the back of his mind, he had always believed that they existed, out there.

The roof above his head began to flicker as he fought to keep his eyes open. Fatigue had crept up on him and, with the addition of the large amounts of beer the Maestro almost forced down his throat, Bernhard could remain awake no longer. He allowed his eyes to close, forgetting to blow out the nearby lamp, and fell into a dreamless sleep.

His eyes snapped open. He didn't know how long he had slept, but he could tell he had not slept until morning. The darkness pressed upon him and, wide awake in an instant, he wondered whether Beethoven had returned to the room after all. The lamp no longer glowed, away to the side, and the darkness was almost absolute.

Something, however, did not feel right. He felt something. A presence within the room and, somehow, he knew it was not the Maestro that occupied the room with him. It was something else. Something foul and malodorous that smelled of dank cellars or tombs. Musty and fetid. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, his hand moved, with interminable slowness, towards his sabre.

Before he could reach the sword, he saw a flash of red. Two flashes of red. Eyes that burned with hellfire, staring at him from the foot of the bed, cloaked in shadow. He shot upright, reaching out for the sabre, but catching it with his knuckles instead, sending it toppling to the wooden floorboards with a clatter. Then the two eyes sprang towards him, a hissing sound reaching Bernhard's ears.

"Where is the Scourge, mortal?" Breath that stank of rotting corpses fell upon Bernhard's face. "Where?"

Fingers like claws reached out for Bernhard's throat, but Bernhard grabbed the wrists, holding the shadowed creature back. Pointed, animalistic teeth snapped towards Bernhard's face, dripping spittle that stank worse than the creature's breath, and, this close, Bernhard recognised his attacker. The cloaked figure that had watched him and the Maestro, earlier.

Bernhard lifted his knee to his chest, placed his foot against what he hoped was the creature's body, and pushed with all his might. The beast flew backwards, slamming into the shutters upon the window and shattering one, allowing the light of the Moon to tumble into the room. The creature clung to the wall like a spider, hissing, stretching and straining its neck towards Bernhard. Bernhard could tell what it was, now.

So similar to the creatures that had surrounded him. Pale-skinned, gaunt, with those burning red eyes that were not of this Earth. A vampire. And not alone. To the side, Bernhard could see two more cloaked figures. More vampires and Bernhard felt his chest tighten in fear. The fear came unnaturally. He could tell.