The Spider and the Fly
A group of high school tourists giggle, speaking in French and pushing to get through the only other door in the alleyway. The entrance to a miniature museum, that on any other day I'd find amusing.
Today wasn't the day for a leisurely browse though.
The girls disappeared behind the oak door and it thumped shut, the sound booming around me. I stood near the other door, a dark cherry color that almost looked like it had been rubbed with blood. I shudder. You never could tell in old places like this.
Wind swirled down the passage, and the light dimmed slightly. Clouds had been skidding across the sky all morning. I hoped we'd be finished with our business before the storm blew up. I didn't fancy walking back in a downpour.
A thin whistle sounded, and a saw a figure at the other end of the alley. Morrigan, right on time.
She sauntered down the alley, somehow managing to make it look easy and spacious. She was graceful in the same way as daggers, and more deadly.
"Ah, Evie, I knew you'd come. You always do, like a good little girl."
Not so good as you think. I mused, but I kept that to myself. "I promised I would. I keep my promises."
Her smile had an edge. "Yes, you do. More's the pity."
She reached past me, flicked a finger at the lock on the door and then twisted the knob. The door opened smooth and silent as a grave. She motioned with one hand, and thunder rumbled in the background. "After you, my dear."
For a second, I swore I saw flames dancing in her eyes.
"Age before beauty," I countered with a teasing grin.
Her smile did not reach her eyes. She stepped over the threshold. "Come into the parlor."
Said the spider to the fly, I thought. With a deep breath, I followed her into the darkness.