Classical Guitar

         The old house was full of people.  Its large entrance hall cluttered with coats and hats.  The owner was throwing a masquerade for the harvest moon.  All of the most important people from all over the country of Luthin were here.  And that was why he was here, he guessed.  Volnar was a security contractor that worked for the government.  Of course he was used to more dangerous jobs than secretly guarding a party.  Well maybe they were giving him a break from the hard work. 
         The only info he had was that there might be some danger here.  It was more likely that these aristocrats would trip over their ridiculous costumes and break their own necks than anything serious.  Volnar stood on top of the stairs looking down on the ball room floor.  All of the “important” people in the country stood down there gossiping about trivial things.  Of course none of them gave a second thought to the war.
         He was officially going by the name Mr. Smith tonight.  A classical guitar played a quick and up-beat tune while several people danced.  This was the perfect party for him to go to, he reflected.  The way he dressed normally looked just like another costume.  He wore a long black trench coat over a black leather suit, black boots, and a black velvet top hat.  His suit and hat were lined and laced with dark red rim.
          He walked down the stairs and made light conversation.  A Mr. Duntry, some fat lady, the Duke of Loneen, all boring to him.  He gauged them, tried to read them, and to spot any assassin in the midsts.  A group of giggling girls his age pushed one of the bunch towards him.  God, he did not have time for this, but he had to act the part.  Yes, of course he would dance. The girl was attractive, for a human, and she was all smiles and chatter.  Of course, if she knew what he was, she would not be so friendly.  That was what he did not like about these rich humans.  So quick to hate and judge. 
         After the dance they stat down to eat.  She asked him why he was so distracted.  He avoided the question by saying something about the weather.  And the Classical Guitar played on; it was not live music though.  It was a recording from a large horn-like speaker in the back of the room.  He could see a record going round and round, playing it over and over. 
In one corner of the large room, some older gentlemen lounged on some reclining chairs smoking cigars.  A huge cloud of smoke drifted up to the skylight window above them.  It was made of stained glass and was the perfect place for an assassin to hide.  The morons don’t give one thought to their own safety, Volnar thought. 
         Then he saw something out of the corner of his eye that chilled him to the bone.  It was only for a second, but one of the party goers consumes got caught on something and parted to reveal a dull gray colored tail.  Worst case scenario, Volnar thought.  It was only visible for a second and the party continued around him, and he could not locate that thing anymore.  The girl tried to pull him onto the dance floor again; He forced her down in her seat and told her to stay there.  Then he braced himself for what he knew would come. 
         A chill gust of wind blew from somewhere and all the candles, even the torches and gas lights went out.  No one knew what was going on, except him.  Time froze for an instant.  Volnar pulled out a revolver and his rune inscribed saber extended out of his left arms sleeve.  He could only think one thing.
Shit. 
         A gargoyle crashed though the stain glass skylight and sent glass shards spraying everywhere.  As soon as it landed its claws went to work slashing and decapitating the aristocratic gentlemen.  After only seconds the only thing recognizable was an arm here or a head there, mostly just smeared blood and fleshy pulp. 
 This took about five seconds. 
         The party goers did not even know what happened, but as soon as they saw what was in front of them they all panicked.  Volnar held the girl in her seat, protesting and screaming hysterically.  He knew about gargoyles all too well, they always traveled in packs.  Soon every window was broken and the room turned into a slaughter house.  Volnar fired his gun at the monsters that got close, his silver bullets disintegrating the creatures back into the stone and dust they were made of. 
         But they were not the real enemy; no they were just summoned puppets.  The real reason he was here was the Neuri witch.  The creature he had seen disguised as a party member, it would be here somewhere.  Then he found it, or more it found him.  As soon as he saw the witch, it charged him screaming,
“Volnar Witch Hunter!” 
“My reputation precedes me.” Volnar said. 
         He had hunted and killed countless of these Neuri.  The witch was truly an ugly and evil looking creature.  It was a tall dull grey creature with no hair anywhere and long limbs.  It was humanoid, but the extra large catlike eyes and flat nose gave it a grotesque appearance.  The tattoos covering this one showed it was very powerful. 
         A black mist shot out of its hand and enveloped Volnar.  He dispelled it with his enchanted saber, but soon found himself savagely attacked by the witch.  He did his best to keep the long, poisoned blades away from his flesh.  As the battle of parries went on, neither was able to score a blow on the other.  Then Volnar saw his opportunity.  He pretended to trip backwards over a chair and in doing so pulled out a small cross bow, this one armed with wooded bolts covers with gold flakes.  As the Neuri jumped over the chair and onto him, he fired upward though its heart.  It let out a scream and vanished into a green mist. 
         He turned and saw the girl huddled under a table grabbing her legs and crying.  Well, as long as she stays there, Volnar thought.  He got up, put away the cross bow, and took out his revolver again.  The remaining gargoyles stood aimlessly, without a master to control them.  He systematically shot then one by one, turning them all back to dust, he had no resistance.  He stood in the dark hall; no one was left except the girl and himself.  The place was covered in blood, and the occasional pile of shredded flesh.  The only sound was that of the classical guitar playing its jovial tune over and over. 
         He was used to this type of thing; it was what he had grown up fighting on the front lines.  The girl obviously had never experienced any sort of pain or horror in her life.  She had been sheltered by her rich parents to the point that she did not realize the rest of the world existed at all.  This was a very hard awakening for her.           Volnar tore a piece of cloth off of a table and wrapped it around her eyes.  He told her not to take it away and then guided her out from under the table and to a carriage outside.  She was still shaking and sobbing.  As he rode away the last thing he heard from the dark old house was the classical guitar.  Doomed to forever play its tune where only the spirits of the dead could hear.