The Head Maid's Shadow
The figure moved forward, every step ringing out sharply against the cold stone floor, slow and inexorable. The voice cut through the thick, strained air once more like a knife. "Now… who the hell are you?"
Heads turned toward the source. Shadows quivered on walls, writhing and spinning in the dim light of the torches, showing faces pale with fear, hearts pounding visibly behind wide, terrified eyes. The room seemed smaller, walls pressing in as a chill tension fell over all who stood within it.
Leon's arm involuntarily closed around Natasha, holding her close as if mere contact would protect her from whatever threat was in that voice. She shook in his arms, shivering not from chill but from the raw flood of fear that had held her. Her head came up slightly, dark eyes shining with unshed tears, lashes wet, streaks adhering to the soft curve of her cheeks. Her black hair, wet and unkempt, slumped over her face, a thin curtain she couldn't raise.
