<div class="floatleft">(http://i247.photobucket.com/albums/gg142/ElectricBadger/angel1-1.jpg)   <br/><div align="center"><em><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;">Muriel - Unknown</span></span></em></div></div>The House gave the creak and groan of old boards and rusted nails caught in a heavy gust, although the weather outside was clear.  Muriel stepped down the central stair dressed in something black that seemed more like a tightly wound, tailored sheet than a dress.  A pair of large wings, slightly burnt, were held to her shoulders with elastic straps.  The lamp above her flickered as she passed, but she only stretched her arms wide in an exaggerated yawn.<br/><br/>She didn't falter when she caught sight of the darkness at the bottom of the stairs.  A porcelain plate above the fire slipped and shattered, however.  On the floor above the grand piano in the parlor slid a foot across the hardwood as she briefly considered how well its falling weight might pulverize the girl's delicate bones; the scrape echoed through the house with a discordant burst of notes.<br/><br/>Then she remembered - the Sparrow.  She mustn't kill her until much later, when she was no longer of use.  And until then, the girl had such wonderful stories!  Muriel gave her a sleepy smile.  "Mmm, no, the festival was last week.  Remember?  There was that Austrian fellow, with the plumes in his hat, who danced with me all night."