Beethoven - Scourge of Vampires [ONC 2022]

15

15

The Maestro and the woman came to stand beside the Vampire Lord, Maximilian, and Bernhard could hardly recognise the look in Beethoven's eyes. A look of hunger and malice that he had not worn before. Not in Bernhard's presence. He felt a profound sense of loss. Not only for himself, but for the world. A great man, a great composer, corrupted into something malign and evil. It made Bernhard feel sick.

Maximilian only glanced towards the Maestro before turning his attention back to Bernhard. He hooked a long finger and Bernhard felt himself compelled to walk forward. He fought against it, his feet scraping against the stone floor as he tried so hard to regain control of his body, but he moved onwards, regardless.

As he neared Maximilian, he saw his sabre upon the top of the pipe organ. So close. If only he could reach out for it. Summon one last spurt of strength and use that well-honed blade to destroy the abomination that had him under his spell, he could end everything. End the horror of Maximilian's existence. But his hand only twitched.

To the side, he noticed that he had missed someone else in the hall. Something twisted and pitiful that stood beside the bellows of the pipe organ. Its misshapen head bowed, claw-like fingers gripping the handle of the bellows. Stunted and ruined, Bernhard wondered who that creature once was. He couldn't even tell if it had once been man or woman. Now, it was nothing but a thing that pumped the bellows in order for Maximilian to play his music.

"You are a curious man. I can feel your hatred for me. It emanates from your every pore. I can smell it. I can hear the beat of your heart, the rushing of blood through your veins. All in hatred of me." Maximilian gripped Bernhard's jaw, twisting his head to the side and examining him. "That fire, that hatred will prove useful once you become one of my children. It will continue to burn within you but in service to me and my new Holy Roman Empire."

"I will never serve you!" Teeth gritted, Bernhard tried to pull his head back, eyes lingering upon his sabre. Locked upon that sabre. "Even were you to turn me, my hatred will fuel me until I destroy you. I will not rest until your head becomes detached from your shoulders and you crumble to dust before my eyes."

"Such strength!" The hand released Bernhard's face and Maximilian laughed. "I must say, I have rarely felt someone fight me as strong as you do now. Maestro, tell him. Tell him how he struggles against the inevitable."

The Maestro stepped forward, his arm stretching behind him, reluctant to release the hand of the woman. Bernhard knew who she was. Beethoven's beloved. Unnamed by the Maestro, the woman gazed towards Beethoven with undisguised passion, but, every so often, her eyes would flicker towards Maximilian and Bernhard knew who she loved more. Her loyalty lay with the Vampire Lord.

Beethoven came close to Bernhard, leaning in towards him, leering into his face, tilting his head as though viewing him for the first time. Bernhard could smell the dried blood upon the Maestro's chin and he made an involuntary flinch backwards as the Maestro raised his hand towards Bernhard's face. A movement!

Blood dripped from the Maestro's wrist, an injury caused as he had run, headlong towards his beloved, no doubt. Bernhard tried to pull further away, but, even though he had managed to move, if only a slight, the power of Maximilian still held him rooted to the floor. The Maestro's hand came to rest on his shoulder.

"Surely you know, Bernhard? You must." Those transformed teeth flashed as the Maestro spoke, any blood that had stained them now licked clean. "It's impossible to fight the call of becoming a vampire. Once bitten, you will succumb and you will join us in glorious slaughter. You understand, don't you?"

Now Bernhard's shoulders moved. He had only made short glances towards the Maestro and to the scowl upon Maximilian's face. The majority of his attention lay upon his sabre. The sabre that had taken the life of his own beloved, Hilde. Yet, he no longer felt guilt for that. He realised now that the woman he had loved had died upon the ground outside that church in Vienna. The thing he had killed was not her. Could never be her.