Serafina and the Black Cloak - Robert Beatty Page 0,51
to her wounds and cleaned herself up the best she could. Although she lived in a dirty place filled with grease and tools, she liked to keep herself clean, and her adventure in the mountains had left her as muddy as a mudpuppy on a rainy day. She took off her wet clothes, wiped her face and neck, her hands and arms, and all the way down her legs until she was spotless once more.
When she was done she changed into a dry shirt, but she’d lost her only belt. She found an old leather machine strap on one of the shelves and used a knife to slice it lengthwise so that it was about an inch wide. She poked holes in it and cut thinner strips of leather to fasten it. When she was done, she cinched the leather belt around her waist to see what it looked like on her. She was so thin that she could wrap it around her waist twice, but she thought it looked very nice. If her pa had been there, he would have said that it made her look halfway to half-grown. She had always wanted to wear a dress, too, like all the other girls, but she’d never been able to find a discarded one, and she didn’t think it was right to steal one. For now, she was happy with her new belt. She bowed and pretended she was a young woman meeting a friend at the market. She smiled and twittered and pretended to tell a story that made her friend laugh.
Somewhere between washing the blood and mud off her face and seeing herself in her new belt, she decided that if she could survive a haunted forest, find her way through a misty cemetery, and narrowly escape a highly perturbed mountain lion, then maybe she could sneak into a Vanderbilt’s bedroom while he was sleeping. One way or another, she needed to solve the mystery of the Man in the Black Cloak, and that wasn’t going to get done with her taking a nap behind the boiler. The Man in the Black Cloak was going to walk again tonight. He was going to take another child. She was sure of it. And the one he wanted was Braeden Vanderbilt. She had to protect him.
The house was quiet and dark. There was a palpable fear in the air. With no electric lights, the Vanderbilts and their guests had gone to bed early, holing up in the safety of their rooms, next to their small brick fireplaces. A once bright and grand home had been robbed of light and had become a dark and haunted place.
She knew Mr. Vanderbilt’s room and Mrs. Vanderbilt’s room were both on the second floor, connected by the Oak Sitting Room, where they shared their breakfast each morning. She didn’t want to go anywhere near there. She turned left down the corridor toward the southern end of the house, where she knew Braeden’s bedroom overlooked the gardens.
She crept past door after door, but they all looked annoyingly similar. Finally, she came to one adorned with a running horse carved in relief in its center panel, and she smiled. She’d found him.
Crouched outside Braeden’s door, she realized that the real risk she faced wasn’t just that someone would catch her, but that Braeden wouldn’t want her there. He hadn’t invited her to his room that night. He hadn’t even said he wanted to see her ever again. What if her whole theory of their friendship had been pure and utter imagination on her part? What if he was glad to get rid of her in the forest that morning? Maybe he didn’t want anything to do with her anymore. He certainly wouldn’t want her sneaking into his room late at night.
So she devised a plan. She would peek in, and if her presence there didn’t feel right, she’d turn tail quick as a wink.
She slowly turned the knob and pushed on the door. When she slipped inside the room, Braeden lay fast asleep in his bed. He lay on his stomach beneath several layers of blankets, his cheek against the white pillow, his arms up around his head. He looked plum tuckered out, like there wasn’t anything in the world that could wake him, and she was glad that he was able to sleep. Gidean slept on the floor beside him. She was relieved to see that they were both safe.