The Gathering Dark

03

Amused, the demon's crimson eyes bored deep into my soul. "How astonishing this is. I was beginning to think all her words had been a lie."

Something stirred within me, a deep-seated anger at the demon. I wondered at it, but shrugged it off as stemming from my forced confinement.

"Azriel, let her go!" Claude pleaded. "She has nothing to do with this!"

"Oh but she does," Azriel's eyes flicked at Claude. "She kept her end of the bargain...and so must I."

So that's the name of this batshit crazy demon! What is he even talking about? I looked at Claude and saw that he was as perplexed as I was.

Several black tendrils wafted slowly in the large receiving hall, forming into dark, individual shadows that gathered around us. Sibilant whispers echoed around the room as vague shapes of men and women materialized from the shadows. I can faintly make out their formal, nineteenth-century garb, their bodies horribly burnt beyond recognition.

If I had not been so accustomed to seeing the dead, I would have fainted.

'Wraiths?' I thought. No, something else--something more sinister and dark as their faces radiated with an ancient hatred--

--hatred directed at Claude.

I gasped at the malevolence emanating from them, instinctively moving toward Claude.

As I moved, they suddenly turned their attention on me. With a shriek, the shadows rushed at me with clawing hands as I shrank back. But to my surprise, their icy touch merely passed through me.

"Leave her alone!" Claude commanded, stepping between me and the shadows. They drew back at his voice, their hatred mingling with a sense of desperation.

"They cannot harm you," Claude said softly to me. "They want what I cannot give them."

"And what do they want?" I asked, my eyes still locked on the shadowy figures.

"I--"

At Claude's silence, I glanced back at him. He was staring at his hands, his eyes filled with anguish. Those long, slender fingers--a pianist's prized possession--shook so hard, before he clenched them into fists.

The shadows whispered around us.

"Maestro...."

"...it is time..."

"time..."

"...we.... beg you...."

"Silence!" Azriel's voice thundered from where he sat by the fireplace, causing the shadows to cower in fear. Then he seemed to relent, saying to them in a soothing voice, "Listen, my dears. You'll have your chance soon enough."

"As I was saying--before I was rudely interrupted by a flying vase," the demon looked pointedly at me. "Your very presence has set in motion what was promised to me, precisely a hundred years from this day. Call it a wager, or a game. And the prize?"

His crimson gaze focused on Claude as he made an expansive gesture. "The prize is your release, my master. And that of the lady, of course."

"And what of the wager?" Claude asked in a tight voice.

"Master, isn't it obvious?" He gestured at the shadowy forms who had quieted down, standing as still as statues. "Look at your patrons. Don't you think they've waited long enough?" Azriel smiled coldly. "Your ineptitude binds them like a curse and only the power of your music can free them. Produce the most ethereal composition to satisfy their desires and earn their freedom and yours. Fail--and I will hand the lady over to them to tear limb from limb, before I dine on her soul."

"Eat this instead, you son of a bitch!" I gave him the finger. Claude looked at me as if I had grown a pair of horns.

Even Azriel paused for a second, before letting out a laugh. It even sounded genuine to my ears. "I swear, young master, this girl is worth the wait, for both of us."

"You can just take my soul and be done with it!" Claude said bitterly.

"You know that won't do. A pure soul such as yours must be offered willingly with nothing at stake. But now I have a true clairvoyant's soul in my hands"--his frightening eyes glanced at me--"the perfect combination."

He stood up, giving me a graceful bow from the waist like the perfect butler he pretended to be.

Azriel nodded his head at Claude. "You have until the clock strikes six past midnight, to craft the masterpiece of your life's creation. Use it well."

With that, the demon faded from our sight, taking the undead shadows with him.

I cursed loudly, again, as I tried to ignore the cold dread that suddenly gripped me, realizing that my situation had turned from bad to worse. That was when I caught Claude's stare, his silver eyes with a pensive look and his brows slightly furrowed.

"What?"

"Nothing," he quickly glanced away. "Forgive me, it is just that you reminded me of someone I knew from when I was--" He shook his head, unable to continue.

From when he was alive...

My heart went out to him, seeing the memories cloud his eyes. Whoever this person was, must have been very dear to him.

I tried to change the subject to the situation at hand. "So, this wager shouldn't be that hard to win, right?"

He's the musical genius of his time! Of course he'll whip up a masterpiece in no time that would appease those vengeful spirits and send them to the afterlife!

Claude glanced back at me with a pained expression on his face.

"There is a bit of a problem. I haven't been able to complete a piano piece since I"--he drew a breath--"since I died."

For a few seconds, I stared at him with my thoughts spinning, the reality of our situation finally sinking in.

"Well, um, that is indeed.... a problem."

Claude looked at his hands, his voice hollow. "My hands shake, and pain radiates from my fingers when I hit the keys. All those people that died a horrible death on my account--I can't get them out of my mind." His silver eyes regarded me with determination. "But I'll do anything to free them from the demon's curse--to set you free."

A phantom or imagined pain? There was nothing wrong with his hands that I can see. It wasn't acquired after his death, that's for sure. Something happened to Claude just before he died. If we were going to pull this off and succeed, I need to find out what happened to him.

* * * * * * * * *

Claude gently placed a hand on Arthur's sightless eyes, closing them. The old butler seemed to have died quietly as he laid on his bed, wearing the black and white uniform, in this small but well-appointed room.

I gazed at Claude as he sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes burning with unshed tears.

"He lived his whole life serving a ghost," Claude said softly. "I guess he considered me his only family, knowing that everyone I ever knew was gone."

Arthur's face was peaceful, looking just as if he was sleeping. Did the demon really eat his soul? I shied away from the thought.

Claude moved to arrange the old man's hands that were clasped at his side, to lay across his chest. As he held Arthur's right hand, he stiffened as something fell from it into his hand.

It was an old, worn-out key, its bronze metal glinting under the dim light.