13

Bernhard stepped backwards. He felt a sudden chill crawl across his skin and his hand raised his sabre in an involuntary defensive posture. The great man, himself, had been touched by the evil of the vampires. Yet another time that the Maestro had held back vital information. He tried to recall the stories of vampires, of how the bites affected people, but his mind had turned misty.

"Are you ..." He glanced back up the stone steps, calculating his chances of escape. "Are you a vampire?"

"No." The Maestro sighed. With an absent mind, he flicked his fingers and the batons in his hands disappeared. A sleight of hand to prove himself no threat. "Not yet. If I feed upon human blood, then, yes, I will turn. But I'm not a vampire yet. I've fought against the hunger for years, but I fear this close proximity to my sire makes that urge stronger."

There were many times, along the journey together, where the Maestro could have fed upon Bernhard. Times when Bernhard had turned his back upon Beethoven, safe in the knowledge that the Maestro stood squarely as his ally. The Maestro could have fed upon any number of the women he had taken to bed.

Yet, here he stood, alongside Bernhard as they assaulted the Vampire Lord's stronghold. He couldn't believe that the Maestro would harm him but, if he spoke true, that hunger had grown the nearer they came to his 'sire'. Yet, something did not quite make sense. If the Vampire Lord had bitten Beethoven, how did he not react when so close to him at the concert?

"Your beloved!" Realisation struck and he saw the Maestro's shoulders slump. "You weren't bitten by the Vampire Lord, but by your own beloved!"

Beethoven fell back against the wall and slid down to the step. His hands ran through his nest of hair and Bernhard noted how weary he appeared. Coming so close to the woman he loved, who had become a creature of nightmare and had bitten him, had put great strain upon Beethoven. He now looked far older than his years.

"I thought I could protect her, to stop her from becoming a monster. At least until I could find him and kill him. But my love for her proved my undoing. She is my love, my curse and my burden." The Maestro recovered a baton from where he had hidden it within his sleeve and held it with fingers of both hands. "You see, if I kill the Vampire Lord now, it will not cure me of this ailment. Only killing my sire, directly, will do that."

"I don't understand." Bernhard lowered himself to sit opposite the Maestro. "How can it cure you? How can you live with the idea of killing your beloved? I must tell you, though I killed my beautiful Hilde, it pains me so. It is not something I can ever forgive myself for. It will haunt me to the end of my days."

The Maestro nodded, turning his head to look down the tunnel. They still had some distance to descend and sitting here, discussing such things would only delay the inevitable. Bernhard understood, now, why the Maestro had insisted they moved at such speeds. From the night they met until this moment, Beethoven had lived on borrowed time. The spectre of becoming a vampire lingering over him. A shadow of a descent into evil.

They could retreat, as Bernhard had counselled, but that would not stop the inevitability that, one day, probably soon, the Maestro would succumb to the hunger. He would feed and become one of these vile creatures. Their only option lay deep in the bowels of this mountain. They had to finish what they had begun.

"Down there, somewhere, lies my beloved and I must kill her. Killing the Vampire Lord only kills those he has sired. Due to the magical nature of vampirism, I would remain infected because I was sired by her, not him." Beethoven wove the tip of the baton in the air, closing his eyes as though conducting an orchestra. "I think I have the beginnings of a funeral march, or a requiem formulating. Should we get out of this alive."

The great man's eyes sprang open and he gave Bernhard one of those grins that often crossed his face. Though now Bernhard could see the sadness that those grins hid so well. The Maestro jumped to his feet, brushing down his clothing, unsettling the dust accumulated from the steps, and turned to face the remainder of the stairs. Bernhard rose to his feet, also. He stood beside Beethoven, sabre in hand.

"If you turn, I shall end your suffering." He looked across to the Maestro and saw his head nod once again. "You have my solemn word."

"Good! Make it a clean cut, though. I'd hate to have my head dangling by a strip of flesh." Beethoven chuckled as he slapped Bernhard's shoulder. "I wouldn't want anyone else to kill me."

Nothing else remained for them to say. They had only to continue. Only, now, it seemed they had two objectives. First, they had to find Beethoven's beloved, for him to perform the unthinkable and release himself from the curse she had placed upon him. Then, once they had saved the Maestro's immortal soul, they could finish the Lord of Vampires himself.

With renewed determination, they began to descend the steps once more, each step taking them deeper below the Earth. Each step taking them closer to the trap that awaited them. Bernhard did not even consider the possibility of failure. He couldn't. He had spoken true to Beethoven, he could never forgive himself for taking the head of Hilde, but taking the head of the Vampire Lord could go a long way to bringing some kind of peace to his mind.

What he had not told Beethoven played upon his mind, however. He fully understood the Maestro's desire to put an end to his infection before killing the Vampire Lord. If, however, the chance for vengeance came upon him before Beethoven managed to release himself from the curse ...? Well, Bernhard would fulfil his pledge and end Beethoven's suffering afterwards. Revenge for Hilde took precedence over everything and everyone. Even over and above his own life.

As they reached the bottom of the steps, Bernhard almost felt disoriented. They had climbed down so many steps, he had lost count far, far above and suddenly finding themselves on a flat surface came as a surprise. The tunnel continued, uninterrupted, straight before them, but Bernhard cocked his head to the side, reaching out to stop the Maestro.

"Can you hear that?" The sound seemed to drift along the walls of the tunnel and Bernhard frowned as he tried to listen. "It sounds like music."

"I'm half-deaf, mate. What kind of music?" Beethoven tilted his head, concentrating before shaking his head. Then Bernhard moved him to stand closer to the tunnel wall and Beethoven's eyes widened. "Oh! Now I can heart it! Great acoustics and that, I believe, is a pipe organ. How'd they get a pipe organ down here?"

The Maestro looked down the tunnel and back up the steps, considering that important question. Important to Beethoven. To Bernhard, the sound of the music told him that their enemy either did not know they were coming, or did not see them as a threat. He prayed that it was the former reason, for if the Vampire Lord felt so unthreatened he could play music did not bode well for their chances.

Still, they had not met any resistance since they had entered the Bavarian style house, above. There were too many possibilities running through Bernhard's head. Too many opposing strategies, none of which appeared likely to help them. They were but two people, walking into the unknown. Were his commanding officer here, no doubt Bernhard would suffer a withering rebuke at his failings.

But that commanding officer was not here. Only he and the Maestro and they had no other options. The further they travelled along the tunnel, the louder the music became. Bernhard did not recognise it, but the Maestro did not appear to like it. His face scrunched into a grimace, head shaking as the music played, leading them onwards.

Finally, after what felt like hours of walking, they came upon a junction. To the left, Bernhard could hear the sounds of the pipe organ even better than he had before. It seemed clear they had to go that way. Yet the Maestro stared in the other direction. It looked as though the great man fought against himself, shifting from foot to foot, fingers flexing and releasing upon the batons in his hands.

"Maestro, I believe the Vampire Lord is this way." He reached out for Beethoven, but the great composer stepped away. He turned towards Bernhard, causing Bernhard to step back. "Maestro?"

"It's too strong, Bernhard! Too strong!" The Maestro gripped his stomach as he doubled over, a whimper escaping his lips. "I've made a mistake. Run. Get away from me! Burn down the house. Get those kegs of black powder and blow it all up, just get away!"

The Maestro's head whipped upwards and Bernhard could see the pallor of the great man's skin turn pale. His teeth had transformed, becoming pointed and vicious looking. Before Bernhard could protest, the Maestro turned, running away along the tunnel to the right.

Then, from behind, Bernhard heard the unmistakable sounds of vampires. The sibilant hisses reached his ears and he realised the trap had now closed upon him. He turned to see several vampires stalking him, coming from the tunnel and the steps that led to his freedom. Gripping his sabre, he glanced towards the tunnel to the left. If he were about to die, at least he could try to take the Vampire Lord with him.