Iron Quill - Pride - Before the fall

[Clockwork Top Hat]

Before the fall

 

She would not admit she was wrong.

 

That single thought ran through her mind over and over again as she stood in the middle of the graveyard, shivering in the cold of the chill December night. Despite everything that had brought her to this point, she would not back down, would not give them the satisfaction of saying she had been mistaken. She looked again at the skies above her – surely it must almost be time.

A normal person’s common sense would have said that this was a bad idea – that they where meddling with things beyond her reckoning. Their self preservation instincts would have told them to go home, back to where it was warm and safe and light. Isabelle DeLac was far beyond any normal person.

She closed her eyes, tensing her body in preparation and opened her mouth in song. Isabelle’s voice was not beautiful, it was harsh and always seemed to be two notes off. Despite this it was strong and clear, cutting like a knife through the dead of night.

 

“We sing. We sing.

To those we wish to meet.

So come. So come.

Hungry mouths need to eat.

Repeat the past,

Under bloody night skies.

Let the dead sing.

Listen to their cries.”

 

As she stopped, her voice left the night air seeming even quieter and emptier. Isabelle didn’t move, she didn’t even dare breathe. Even her heartbeat seemed muted, as she strained her eyes and ears for any movement or sound.

 

Nothing.

 

Seconds seem to drag on for infinity to Isabelle. Perhaps she had been wrong – what if they’d been right. No. She would not admit that...

Isabelle never finished her thought. Something had touched the back of her neck, something cold and sticky. Still she didn’t move but this time it was not off her own volition. Common sense had finally kicked in and every fibre of her being strained to run, run back to the safety of the town. Run for the safety of people; living, breathing, real people with fires and lights. And guns – a gun or two would be really nice right about now but all she could do was strain to run while her body failed to respond. Whatever had touched her before was heavy, leaning on her. It oozed, she could feel something seeping through her dress – cold and clammy against her skin.

It was only as she felt the cold, crushing pressure around her throat, and the whispering sibilant voice in her ear that it occurred to her that is might have been a bad idea. Her last thought before the tiny spark of life that kept her brain snuffed out was that she had been wrong.

 

 

 

 

 

I smiled from the other side of the graveyard, my lips cracking with the effort of the movement. It had been several years since they’d moved like that. The living are a constant thought of amusement for me, they reach out blindly into the night but fear what they find. I could always count on them coming here - lured by curiosity, insanity or lust. The smell of fear on the air mingled deliciously with the death and rotting that permeated the graveyard. I loved their last thoughts. Some were filled with regret, thinking of all the things they’d meant to do with their meaningless life. Some were defiant, refusing to believe that the natural law of death could apply to them. I stared at the horizon waiting to see the sun rise again over Malifaux and all the oblivious souls just waiting to feed things like me, savouring all the flavours on the air. This one had been truly delightful, all that pride broken in those last few seconds.

 

Perhaps someone should have told her that pride comes before the fall.