The Gathering Dark

04

My fingers curled around the key's cold metal as I eyed the bottom of the stairs, swallowed in darkness. The mere thought of stepping foot into the depths of this house fills me with dread.

"Are you sure this key opens one of the rooms in the basement?" I glanced at Claude as we made our way down the mansion's backstairs, used mostly by the house staff in those days.

"Yes, I remember it belongs with the original set when the house was built. The first to the third floor room keys were replaced over the years, but not the cellar keys," Claude said, holding a lamp to augment the sparse lighting. His low voice seemed to resonate within the narrow space while his steps produced no sound--the only indication, as far as I've observed, that he was no longer a part of the living world.

On the other hand, I winced at every creek of the wooden stairs as my foot landed on each step, my voice echoing slightly in the cold, damp air. I'm surprised the demon hadn't made his appearance to see what we were about, with all the noise I was making. The lights flickered weakly above us from the high-angled ceiling, and Claude raised the lamp higher for my benefit.

"Can you recall anything of what happened that day before"—I hesitate, steeling myself—"before you died?" I don't know why the words sounded cold to my ears, when I've asked the same question many times during my "ghostly" interviews. Somehow I felt that uncovering the truth would be hard on Claude. But I had to get as much information as I can to make sense of everything that's happened in the last hour. If I can just find the answers, I may be able to help him.

Claude let out a deep, frustrated sigh. "I remember everything clearly, save the day I died, like a dark fog that I can't see through no matter how I try. But I remember how the demon came to plague our family—that final year—" His voice caught, the flood of memories making him hesitate.

As we reached the landing before the last flight of stairs, I turned around to face him with barely suppressed incredulity. "That demon has been in this house for more than a century?"

Claude's eyes had a faraway look. "No one knows how he came to be, or why. I know he caused my parents' death in that accident, for he himself told me so. My mind was not in the right state after their deaths."

I looked at him, aghast. I read about the accident during my research of the Elburke family's history prior to my arrival, how the horses that pulled his parent's carriage went out of control, and how they were found, days later, in the bottom of a ravine a few miles from the estate. He must have been devastated, knowing the truth behind their deaths, but who in their right mind would believe him?

Following their deaths, he had closed in on himself, forfeiting his scheduled piano concertos, the media citing his isolation to severe depression.

My heart reached out to him as I touched his hand, offering comfort, unsure what good it would do now but giving it regardless. His eyes searched my face and what he found there seemed to give him the courage to continue.

"I had no idea why Azriel wanted my soul or why he would think so, as I believed it tainted as everyone else's. But though I was half-mad with despair, I never gave in to his demands. When he threatened to kill Alastair, my younger brother--my only thought was that, if I ended everything--the demon would leave him alone."

I recalled that it was mentioned briefly on a few accounts, as Claude's family had tried to suppress the news as best they could. "But you lived through that ordeal."

Claude nodded as he said softly, "It was fortunate that my fiancé, Emily, found me in time. She nursed me back to health. My recovery took several months, but she never gave up. She was... a formidable lady indeed." Under the light, he smiled with a wistful sadness.

"Azriel never showed his face during those months, and I hoped against hope that we had broken free of him, my mind shying away from the thought that perhaps, he was just biding his time.  I never told a soul, neither Emily nor Alastair, of the demon. Looking back now, I should have trusted them more. Nevertheless, Emily and I had planned to marry after my first gala concerto in celebration of my return.

"I have but a vague recollection of that night of the performance. I was in the drawing room making final preparations, when a fire erupted in the east wing where the guests had gathered. I would have done everything I could to get everyone out to safety. But the last memory I have alive and the first waking one after my death was of that accursed room."

"The reports relate that Alastair found your body there, but no evidence of violence or foul play was found," I stated, my breath misting in the cold air. "Of the seventy or so guests, only a handful survived after the fire was contained in the east wing. It's almost as if something--or Azriel--has kept you from seeing the truth that those final memories hold."

He nodded in agreement. "All the more reason to find what this key opens."

When we reached the basement landing, Claude flicked the light switch on the wall by his shoulder. The fixtures barely lit up the mansion's subterranean floor. He offered his hand and I gratefully took it, probably sensing my growing dread of the darkness that stretched before us.

To my left was a large open chamber that appeared to be a stock room and wine cellar, complete with several dusty bottles resting on tall wooden racks. To my right stretched a wide hallway with about a half-dozen rooms on either side.

"Some of these rooms were used for the staff's quarters and others for storage of grain and such," Claude explained. "Alastair and I used to play hide-and-seek here as children, to our parents' dismay."

"I can just imagine. It's a perfect haven for boys," I said with a smile. I knew he was trying to cheer me up.

Squaring my shoulders, I walked up to the first room on my left. "Guess we'll just have to see which door this key opens."

Fortunately, some of the rooms were already open and after briefly looking in and finding nothing of importance, we quickly moved on. We tried the key on one locked door after the next, but was unsuccessful each time.

"This is the last room." I stared at the door at the very end of the hall, daring to hope. Did it seem slightly wider in appearance, or was it just a trick of the eye?

Claude held the lamp up higher as I twist the key in the lock--and heard a satisfying click.

I glanced at Claude and he nodded. Realizing that I was holding my breath, I slowly let it out as I turned the knob.

The door swung open without a sound. A sudden gust of frigid air greeted us and I raised my arm, turning my face away.

I heard Claude's sharp intake of breath. Lowering my arm, I gasped at the sight before me.

As if disturbed by our arrival, swirling across the spacious room was a myriad of tiny lights--like a thousand ghostly fireflies.

I was transfixed by the arresting sight, unable to move as the motes of light flew towards Claude and surrounded him, rendering him partly invisible. I had a momentary panicked thought that he would vanish before my eyes, swallowed by those lights.

But after a few seconds the lights left Claude and swirled around me. I heard a whisper, just beyond my grasp, like the sighing of wind on a quiet night.

Just as quickly, the glowing orbs circled away, mingling with its companions that spun around the room.

Claude stifled a sound, the anguish in his silver eyes reflected in the lights' cold brilliance.

"Claude, what is it?" I asked, concerned.

He only shook his head, "For a moment, I thought I heard—"

The countless orbs seemed to whirl more frantically now, gathering at the far end of the room. Then they parted, revealing the ghostly outline of a pair of double doors.