A gust of wind more powerful, I swear, than any that had beaten against the stone of the tower for a thousand years or more seized it and shook it from side to side as a young tree can be shaken by a man’s fist. Count Karlstein fell to his knees, and his eyes—one full of blood, the other so wide with fear that I thought it would burst from his head—rolled this way and that, seeking safety.

But there was none. For once again the great voice of the Demon Hunter—sonorous as a mighty organ, yet with depths of jagged harshness, discordant tones of mockery in it—filled the small room, washing through it as a wave on the stormy sea would sweep through the length of a smashed and drifting boat.

“It is after midnight now, Count Karlstein.”

“No, no! I beg you!”

“Ten years ago we made a bargain. Now I have come to collect what is due to me….”

“No—no—”

And the glass of the window burst, and the heavy curtains rose up and drew together like gigantic hands—and then they were not curtains anymore, nor hands, but a billowing cloak, fastened at the neck with a clasp of blazing fire. And the great Being who wore the cloak had no face, nor body, nor arms, nor legs, but was composed all of impenetrable Darkness. And the Darkness laughed, and the room was filled with the baying of hounds; and the sounds and the Darkness flung themselves at Count Karlstein, and took him up and crushed him like a piece of paper and dropped him to the floor—dead.

As for what happened then, I have no knowledge at all, because I fainted clean away. But when I woke up—and it can’t have been more than a minute or two later—the candle had blown out and only the moonlight illuminated the room, in a wide swathe of cool silver from the broken window (the curtains hanging, tom and ragged, on either side) to the overturned table. Count Karlstein lay, face down—thank Heaven!—in the center, and the secretary had fled. Some distant swirl of sound that might well have been my imagination diminished in the distant sky. Otherwise, everything was silent.

I stood up, trembling, and felt my way to the door. After what I’d seen, I had no fear of the castle servants, and I ran down the stairs quite openly. The great hall was deserted; the fire was burning low and its embers gave the only light. I looked around for a lamp or a candle that I might light from the last coals and then I heard voices, high-pitched, panicking, and looked up to see who it was.