Iron Quill - Feast - A Fine Night For A Party

[Haunter]

A Fine Night For A Party

 

Alice popped a pomegranate seed in her mouth and savored the sweet, tart shock of flavor as it burst between her teeth.  She closed her eyes briefly and sighed with luxurious satisfaction.  “Do have one, Ducky!”

 

“Oh, no.  No thank you,” her companion demurred, “they stain my teeth red.”

 

“Oh dear, we wouldn’t want anyone mistaking you for a vampire now, would we?” Alice laughed gaily at her own joke.  

 

“That was not nice.”  Megan’s face flushed in spite of herself.  Alice had a way of making her feel foolish without the slightest effort.  She sometimes wondered why they were friends, and sometimes even if they were.

 

“You haven’t an impractical bone in your body, do you?” Alice said as she launched herself from the divan and checked her perfect teeth in the mirror.  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do a single spontaneous thing in the whole time I’ve known you!”  She spent a moment preening, clearly enjoying what she saw.  She looked at Megan in the mirror and arched a mischievous eyebrow, “Are you up for a little adventure tonight?”

 

“Oh… well, I…” Megan fished for an excuse but found herself tongue-tied.  Alice’s idea of ‘adventure’ had not infrequently landed them in some most unsavory drinking halls and once even in a brothel.  While she would never admit it there was a part of her that was grateful that Alice dragged her along on her mad flights.  She never felt more alive than when they were together.

 

“You love it,” Alice chided, “You know you do, prude.  Come on, I’ve got something special in mind for tonight!”

 

“Oh dear,”  Megan groaned melodramatically, but rose to don her coat anyway.

 

Alice flagged down a taxi and flirted amiably with the driver as he helped them into the carriage.  

Megan stare wide-eyed out the window as they bumped along cobblestones through the misty streets.  By night the city took on such an dangerous demeanor but she could not deny the tingle of excitement that shivered her spine.  Her life felt so small and so safe that sometimes she just wanted to scream.  She spent her days trapped in a prison of her own making, so afraid of stepping out of line, of breaking the rules.  It was only with vivacious, fearless Alice that she let herself escape.  She fantasized about someday throwing off her shackles and being bold and daring like her friend.

 

The carriage clopped to a halt in front of a rather dingy looking house over which a towering wall loomed.  A single candle burned in a window, the only sign of habitation.

 

“We’re...uh… here.” The cabbie said uncertainly, “Miss, not to be overbold but are you sure this is the place?  This is the address you gave me, but I don’t think…”

 

“Thank you driver,” Alice replied lightly, taking his hand and stepping gracefully down from the carriage, “I am quite sure this is the place.  Auntie Grace assured me she would leave a candle burning.”

 

Megan stepped down as well, trying to look brave and carefree when the driver caught her eye.  His look of concern made her confidence wilt slightly, but a look at Alice reassured her.  She pressed an extra coin into his hand.  “Thank you kindly driver.”

 

As the cab clip-clopped away into the murky darkness Megan and Alice stood looking at the derelict house.

 

“What is this place?”

 

Alice grinned, “It’s a surprise.”

 

Despite her pounding heart, Megan followed Alice up the creaking steps.  As they stepped onto the veranda the front door opened.  A hunched elderly woman squinted suspiciously at them.

 

“You’re a long way from Gov’ner Row little birds,” she croaked.

 

“Oh, but it’s such a fine night for a party!” Alice replied.

 

The bent crone nodded and shuffled back to allow them in the door.  Alice took Megan by the hand and entered.  

 

Megan’s heart thudded painfully in her chest as she allowed herself to be led through a narrow hallway and down a rickety stairwell into a dark, clammy cellar.

 

“Where are we going?” she whispered, surprised by how loud she sounded in the silent space.  Her face felt flushed and hot.  They shuffled awkwardly through the darkness with hands outstretched.  

 

“Don’t worry,” Alice whispered in return, “You’ll see in a moment.  Where are we now… ah.”

 

Alice fumbled around blindly for a moment.  There was a rattle and a click as she opened a door to a set of stairs lit by a lantern above.  The two women climbed the worn stone steps to the street.  

 

Megan looked around with wide eyes.  Dilapidated buildings lined the street.  Behind them loomed the monolithic partition wall.  They had crossed into the Quarantine Zone.  The foggy night air felt cooler here, damper, and full of the promise things unseen.  She shivered.  

 

“Oliver!” Alice crowed.  Now Megan noticed a man sauntering toward them.  He was tall and thin, dressed in a well-tailored suit and sporting a tall black stovepipe hat.  He greeted them with a charismatic smile that showed off his perfect white teeth.

 

“Good evening ladies!” Oliver’s voice was as smooth as his well oiled hair, “Alice, my dear,” he said, kissing her hand, “and who have we here?”

 

“This little bird is my dear friend Megan,” Alice presented her like a prize, “She’s a tad shy but she’s a doll.  Really.”

 

Oliver took Megan’s hand and kissed it.  The warmth of his breath on her hand melted her just a little.

 

“Have no fear, little bird,” he said, looking her in the eyes, “Fear has no place on this side of the wall.  Ironic, I know, but it’s true.  Over there, everyone is ruled by fear.  They fear the dark, the Governor-General, even each other.  Over here we are free from all of that.  Over here we are free to dance, to sing, to love, to feast!  Let it go, little bird.  All those rules that bind you, the dance of poise and gossip, the prison of propriety and station.  Let it go.”

 

Alice’s eyes gleamed with excitement, “See Ducks, I told you this would be a grand adventure.  You could use a little freedom in your life!”

 

Megan looked from Oliver to Alice.  She could certainly see why Alice gravitated to this man.  She knew he was saying all the same things Alice always said, but somehow it sounded so plausible coming from him.  She smiled and nodded tentatively, “I… perhaps I will try… to, to let go… just a little.”

 

Alice laughed and clapped, “Would you look at that!  I dare say you’re a man of magic.  I’ve been telling her that for months.  I should have introduced you two earlier!”

 

“Now, my lovelies,” Oliver said, wrapping an arm around each waist and guiding them down the street, “Tonight is a very special occasion.  Tonight, you may not be aware, is the Feast of Amen’toth.  It’s a festival from old Malifaux that Cleo found in some dusty old book, so we thought it would make a grand excuse for a feast of our own!”

 

Megan blinked, “Who’s ‘we’?  Where exactly are we going?”  She asked out of reflex, but curiously felt no anxiety about it.

 

“We,” Oliver proclaimed with a wink at Alice, “are the League of Extraordinary Dilettantes!”  

 

As if on cue the trio rounded a corner and saw the brightly lit facade of an old theater.  A handful of well dressed party goers loitered in the lamplight, chatting, smoking, and drinking.  They smiled and waved to the newcomers.  

 

“Hail and well met!” Oliver tipped his tall black hat.  He led his two companions over to his circle of friends where they were all met with wide smiles and pleasantries.

 

“Oh Oliver,” said an elegantly dressed redhead, appraising the two young women, “You always have such good taste!”

 

“Only the finest my dear,” he replied with a sly wink.

 

Alice glowed at the compliment.  She draped herself over Oliver, thrilled to be in the limelight.  Megan looked around at the gathering, trying to put a finger on something.

 

“But who is the guest of honor?” asked a rakish looking man in a green silk vest as he hopped off the barrel he was sitting on, “You’ve brought two such beautiful specimens!  How are we to choose?”

 

“I believe I shall let the ladies decide for themselves,” Oliver said, looking to each.

 

Megan shrank a little.  She may have shed her fear, but she still had no desire to be the center of attention.

 

“Oh please, let it be me,” Alice implored, “I would simply love to be your guest of honor!  You wouldn’t mind, would you Ducks?”

 

“By all means,” mumbled Megan, instinctively stepping away from center stage.

 

The redhead stepped up to Alice and brushed the silky blonde hair off her shoulder.  She produced a gleaming needle seemingly from nowhere and quickly pricked Alice’s exposed neck.  Alice barely had time to gasp an alarmed “oh!”

 

Megan watched with a queer sense of detachment as her friend slumped in Oliver’s deceptively strong arms.  The man in the vest and another dapper gentleman efficiently relieved Oliver of his burden.  Somewhere inside of her a voice screamed to run but it seemed distant and muted.  Instead she felt placid and clear, and strangely curious.

 

“The feast can begin!” The redhead clapped with delight.

 

“Shall we?” Oliver asked, his eyes gleaming in the lamplight.  He offered his elbow.

 

“Yes, I think I’d like that.” Megan took his arm as the procession of revelers headed inside.

 

[The Grue]

While I sort of guessed the direction this was heading, you did not disappoint in the execution of the story. I liked how you chose to focus on the lead up to the event instead of the event itself. Keep up the good work.

 

As always,

The Grue

[Gnomezilla]

I did read someone sighing over how, with all this necromancy swirling around in Malifaux, we had no vampires. I like the answer that you provided in the use of a syringe instead of showing fangs.