Darkness Falling

by David Niall Wilson

  Yanking herself free with a gasp, she turned her head to the side and licked the blood quickly from her lips. He would know she had bitten him, might even suspect that there was more to it, but there was no reason to be obvious. Doubt was one of her most powerful allies of the moment. His disbelief in things he couldn't understand would be another.

  Her passion, though she had not allowed it to consume her to the point that Klaus had given in to his, had been deeper than anything she remembered feeling in long, long years. He was a strong soul, an old soul. It was obvious in his talent, the beauty of his form, ingrained in the power of his voice. He would not be an easy pawn, not like the others. He was so much like his father.

  Alex, for all his posturing and snarling, was not powerful. He was uncontrolled, too young in the ways of the family to understand the effects of his own actions. His emotions and reactions were still tied to his human past. He was boring.

  Alicia was better. She had her own darkness, a past steeped in mystery and shadows that even Rosa did not know the full depths of. But she, too, was young in some ways. Her vision still looked beyond the moment, beyond Rosa herself. Though she could be controlled, she was not sufficient to Rosa's needs. After all, she was a woman.

  Copper was another story all together. He had, as opposed to the others, come slowly and willingly into the fold. He was also as completely Alicia's now as they were all Rosa's, and he would not be easily swayed from that. He was powerful, already approaching Alex's strength with a speed that the others did not suspect, but which both amused and alarmed Rosa. The two would clash; it was inevitable. She would not want to be Alex if it happened when she was not around.

  Klaus moved atop her, coming back to his senses slowly, and she returned to the moment, gently massaging his back and running her hands up his sides. He would be perfect, but he would have to be broken. She'd known that from the first moment she'd seen him, those long years past. Everything since had been a part of the plan. Nothing must go wrong.

  "You're still here." He said it matter-of-factly, but it was obvious that he was somewhat surprised.

  "Where did you think I'd go?" she smiled at him, kissing him teasingly. "Especially since you're laying on me like a rock."

  "I'm sorry," he said, sliding to her side quickly. "I…I must have lost my mind. That was…" His words trailed off, failing at the attempt to describe the moment.

  "You don't have to tell me," she said, rising to sit like a pale silhouette in the bright moonlight. "And I was only teasing. You had every right to be upset about my leaving so suddenly the last time we met."

  "Where did you go?" he asked. "I searched everywhere, and the villagers won't even speak to me if I mention your name."

  "You must never do that!" She cried sharply, turning to him with her eyes ablaze. "The villagers and I, we have never seen eye to eye. They hate me, and I have no use for them. They must not know about the two of us."

  "But why?" he asked, sitting up himself and feeling a little self-conscious, naked as he was beneath the stars. "I don't care what they think, what does it matter?"

  "They are simple people," she answered slowly, "but they can be dangerous as well. When I say they hate me, I want you to understand; this hatred they have for me is deep and very, very old. It goes back to my mother before me, and hers before that. They would not hesitate to use violence to harm me, or to harm one who is close to me."

  "Am I important to you, then?" he asked, watching her eyes closely. "You seem so detached, so unaffected. It feels to me as though it is I who am becoming attached to you."

  "You mean more to me, even after our short time together, than you could understand." she assured him. "One day soon, you will understand, and things will change for us forever. I cannot tell you more, for I don't wish you to think me a foolish woman, nor to have to prove you wrong.

  "I have to go now," she said, rising. "I have things to attend to before morning. I feel more comfortable under the cover of night, away from prying eyes, and my friends will be looking for me."

  "Let me come with you," he said quickly, reaching for his clothes. "Don't disappear on me again."

  "You cannot come," she said sternly, "not yet. Maybe tomorrow. There are others, and not all of them are going to be pleased to meet you. I need time to prepare them. Please?"

  She looked almost uncomfortable pleading with him, and it touched a chord in his heart. "Okay," he agreed, "but you have to promise you will see me tomorrow. No more disappearing. No more mystery.

  "I really don't feel up to much now, anyway," he admitted, rubbing the sore spot on his neck. "Boy, you're dangerous! What do you do, coat your teeth with some sort of drug? I feel almost as though I'm hallucinating."

  She laughed again and leaped to her feet. She slipped her dress back over her head in an impossibly fluid and graceful motion. "You are tied to me, Klaus Von Kroft, heart and soul. You must rest. I will see you tomorrow, and you will meet my friends. Maybe we will sing some new songs, eh?"

  And almost before he could move or utter a sound, she was gone. He saw her leap toward the edge of the clearing, and then he saw nothing but grass, moonlight, and ancient stone. He rose, finished dressing himself and put his guitar back into its case. His head reeled, and he felt kind of weak. Hurrying back down the mountain, he slipped into his cottage and then into his bed, exhausted. It was nearly dawn.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sebastian and Peyton waited for Klaus to get up as long as their combined patience could be maintained. Finally they headed off to the Flagon and Barrel. Damon and Melissa – who had arrived and settled in – joined them, and they spent the ensuing hours catching up on all of the things that were happening back in the outside world. The newly reunited couple never moved more than an inch apart, as though they were physically joined, and it was pleasant to see the old gleam return to Damon's eyes.

  "This is such a quiet place," Melissa said, eyes sparkling. "I wish we could live in a place like this. The city is so, busy, you know?"

  "Never too busy," Peyton grumbled, shoveling toast and coffee indiscriminately into his mouth. "This place has about as much life as a graveyard."

  "No luck with the Inn keeper's daughter, I take it," Sebastian grinned at him. "Maybe you should give up and take up meditation – much more relaxing."

  "She'll give in," Peyton said, staring down into his swirling coffee as if mesmerized. "Claudia actually went for a walk with me last night – alone!"

  "Claudia? She has a name, now?" Damon asked, eyebrows arching. "So you went for this walk, and…"

  "And nothing," he muttered. "We were walking along the trail at the bottom of the mountain, holding hands, and I was telling her about my many adventures across the world, just getting warmed up. Then this music started, way up on the mountain, really weird stuff, and she froze up like an ice cube. I wanted to go and see what it was, it sounded pretty good, but she wouldn't go near that mountain. Wouldn't let me go, either.

  "She took me back to the Inn, gave me a glass of wine, and told me to stay put. She went in the back to talk to her mother and father. After that I heard all kinds of shouting and carrying on. A minute later that damned Inn keeper came out, eyes all wild and crazy, and started yelling at me! Of course it was all in German, and I have no idea what he said. I got up and got out. Didn't even get a chance to say goodbye."

  "So," Sebastian said slowly, "either there are more musicians on this mountain than we know of, or maybe our man Klaus was actually up there working on this promised music. We can always hope."

  The conversation turned back to mundane gossip from Melissa and more grumbling from Peyton. Sebastian paid only slight attention. His mind moved eagerly ahead to the prospect of new music. His fingers almost itched with the inactivity of the past week, and he was ready to get started.

  "Let's go get the maestro," Peyton said, finally, "and see if we can't get him up and about in the light of day for a change."

  They finished their meal quickly, ro
se and left the Inn, Peyton scanned the corners of the room and peered through the doorways to the back rooms in search of Claudia. She never appeared, and the villagers, if possible, seemed even more hostile than usual, surlier and less communicative.

  ~*~

  It took a lot of pounding on his door to get Klaus out of his bed, and when he finally opened it, Sebastian almost wished they'd let him sleep. His eyes were sunken and hollow, and when the morning sunlight slashed in across his face, he stumbled backward with his arm upraised, shading them. His hair was matted and tangled, and he wore only his pants, no shirt or shoes. In a word, rough.

  "My god, Klaus," Sebastian said, pushing his way inside with the others at his heels. "You look like you've been on a two week drunk. It's almost noon!"

  Stumbling back to his bed, Klaus reached almost frantically for the sunglasses beside his bed. Once he'd slipped these on, he sat on the edge of the mattress and looked around in bewilderment. It was almost comical, and they might have laughed if they hadn't been so worried about him.

  "What's happened to you?" Melissa cried as she entered the gloomy room. "You look like you've lost weight, don't you ever eat?"

  Finally, as if the act of putting his thoughts in order were some great challenge, Klaus answered. "I'm fine. What time did you say it was?"

  They all laughed then, there was no way they could have held it in. Klaus, who was finally showing signs of wakefulness, looked about as lost as they'd ever seen him. They were so used to the confident, arrogant superstar that this confused, scruffy young man hardly seemed the same person.

  "I'll go and get you some coffee," Sebastian suggested. "We're to work on the album today, or had you forgotten?"

  "I didn't forget," he said, shaking the last few cobwebs from his head, grabbing the nearest t-shirt and sliding it down over his head. "Don't worry about that coffee. I don't think my stomach would handle it very well right now. I am starving, though. You think you could find a steak?"

  Sebastian left without answering. Whether his stomach would handle it or not, it was obvious that Klaus' brain was going to need the coffee. He didn't even stop to argue over whether coffee or steak was more likely to cause indigestion first thing in the morning. Sebastian made his way quickly back to the Inn, ordered Klaus' usual rare steak, potatoes, and a small porcelain jug of coffee. He caught a quick glimpse of Claudia, who waved shyly from the door to the kitchen, but she was yanked almost violently out of sight, and her mother suddenly stood in her place, glaring at Sebastian as if her very gaze could kill.

  Sebastian took the food and headed back to the cottage, where he found Klaus much more civilized, though looking a bit strange with his disheveled hair and those dark sunglasses. He took the tray, ignored the coffee and the potatoes and immediately attacked the steak. He wolfed it down ravenously, more like a starved animal than anything else. They watched in silent fascination until he'd all but licked the plate clean and set it aside with no more thought to the coffee or the rest of the food than a bull would give a gnat.

  "Hungry?" Peyton asked, grinning.

  "Starved," Klaus agreed. "I was up late, and I have something to show you – another song."

  He rose quickly, all traces of the clumsy, lethargic attitude he'd sported on their arrival gone. Klaus, the Klaus they knew, was re-asserting himself rapidly. Grabbing his twelve string from its case, he went back to sit cross-legged on the bed and tuned it quickly. He looked like some sort of 1960s guru, long blonde hair twisted and tangled, the sunglasses, sitting barefoot on his bed with that guitar, and Sebastian almost laughed again.

  "Damon," he said quickly, "I want you to pay close attention to this, because it's kind of tricky, something new."

  A flash of what might have been anger, or disdain, passed over Damon's features, but he was too happy over Melissa's presence to really get upset. There was very little on a guitar that would be tricky for him, and they were all surprised to hear Klaus suggest it. Then Klaus started to play.

  It was a strange tune, bluesy, but at the same time not. The chord progression was a twisting stair of diminished notes and obscure 7ths. It was elusive, and the anger in Damon's eyes melted to deep concentration.

  "Hold it," he said, stopping Klaus' hand with his own. Klaus' fingers were twisted in one of the oddest chording patterns any of them had ever seen. It almost looked impossible, the way his fingers were stretched, that he could hold the strings down at all.

  "What is that chord?" Damon asked finally, his eyes intense. "And how the hell are you doing it?"

  Klaus looked down at his own fingers and stared. It was as though the difficulty of what he was doing had just occurred to him, and he shook his head slightly. "It's a D diminished with a 7th, sort of." He said lamely. "And I don't have the slightest fucking idea."

  Everyone but Damon laughed then, and Klaus handed the guitar over, still shaking his head. "Rosa showed that to me last night," he said slowly. "It does look like a finger twister doesn't it?"

  "Rosa?" Sebastian burst in. "Then she did come back? She's a guitarist? Where the hell is she, Klaus?"

  "How many of those do you want answered, and in what order?" he grinned. "Yes, she came back, obviously. Did you think I dreamed her up to teach me a new song? No, I don't think the guitar is her instrument, though she did show me the fingering. When she came up there last night, she was carrying a damned lute, of all things. Final answer, I don't know. She promised to come back tonight, but at the moment I don't have any more idea where she is than I did yesterday."

  As Klaus spoke, Damon fumbled about on the twelve-string trying to duplicate the chord. He had his fingers all in the right places, but the strings rang dully. He wasn't able to apply enough pressure. His brow furrowed from the effort, and his knuckles went white with tension. Finally he stopped, set the guitar aside, and just stared at it. He was oblivious to the rest of those in the room, and Melissa watched him with obvious concern.

  "I'm going to go get my guitar," he said finally, "and he rose, not saying another word as he left. Melissa half rose, as if to follow, but changed her mind. The look in his eyes had been odd and vacant.

  "My God," Klaus, Sebastian said, "what have you been doing, some weird sort of finger exercises or something? I mean, a chord that Damon has trouble with, and you put it in the middle of a new song like it was no big deal. Are there words to this song, too, or is it all instrumental so far?"

  "There were words," he said, his eyes trailing off to some point on the wall. "There were beautiful words. They weren't in any language I understood, though. I'm going to have to write it out the best I can from the little bit that I did catch. I think it's a good bet as the beginning to a theme album. The tune went something like this."

  Picking the guitar back up, Klaus' fingers returned to the nearly impossible chord progression and he began to sing. He didn't sing words, just sort of hummed. It was almost a croon, and it was beautiful, there was no way to deny it. The notes flowed together with the guitar, and Sebastian's mind was already whirling with the additions and subtle background he could provide with his keyboards, but there was something odd about Klaus' voice. It was as high and pure as ever, stronger, even, than they remembered it. He didn't miss a note; his fingers never faltered on the guitar strings.

  It was perfect. Way too perfect for a piece learned only the night before. It reminded Sebastian instantly of the song that had started all of their present problems, and a chill transited his spine. What was it about this music? Why was it so easy for him, for the band? Where did such songs come from, and why to them?

  "Kind of makes you wonder, doesn't it?" Peyton said when Klaus had finished.

  "About what?" Klaus asked, setting the guitar aside again.

  "About why in hell this woman isn't tearing up the charts herself, if she knows all this music. I mean, this is no bush league tune, Klaus my friend. If anything, it's better than the last one, and you say she knew that one as well. Just who is this woman, anyway?"

&nb
sp; "I only wish I knew," Klaus answered. "One thing is certain, I can't get her out of my head. Maybe tonight I'll get some answers. She's supposed to introduce me to some friends of hers."

  "I don't suppose any of us would be invited to that meeting," Sebastian asked, already certain what his answer would be. It seemed very much like his friend was slipping away, and there was less of him each time he returned.

  "No, I think that would be a bad idea," Klaus confirmed. "I have enough trouble getting her to show up when it's just me. She doesn't seem very comfortable around a lot of people. That might be the answer to your question, Peyton. Maybe she can't play in front of an audience."

  "Well," Melissa said slowly, "I love the song. What is this other one you're talking about, something you've done since you left the city?"

  Sebastian explained about the harp solo and the almost magical conception of the latest entry to the band's repertoire, leaving out the more difficult to believe parts and glossing over the performance on the mountain. There was no need to alarm her, especially since they wouldn't be able answer the questions she was bound to have.

  "Oh, I want to hear it!" she said, clapping her hands and beaming at them.

  Just then, Damon returned with his guitar and his small amplifier in hand. His face was serious, but the lost look had departed, and they knew he must have been able to manage the chord on the easier action of the electric.

  "Well," Sebastian said, "we could play it once before we work on this new one, but we have to get on over to the "studio" first. How about it Klaus – sunlight and everything?"

  Klaus didn't look all that happy at the prospect, but Sebastian suspected he knew how a refusal would go over with the rest of the band. Klaus pulled on socks and his boots as quickly as he could and ran a brush through his hair, looking more and more like himself, although with a strange, fey quality about him that was hard to place. He moved even more gracefully than they remembered, with mechanical precision. Sebastian watched for a moment, shook his head at the absurdity of such a thought, and rose to leave.