Serafina and the Black Cloak - Robert Beatty Page 0,55
to the mirror and draped the dress in front of her to see what she looked like. When she saw her image, it almost seemed like a completely different person staring back at her. She wasn’t a wild creature from the forest anymore, but a beautiful little girl who belonged wherever she went. She stared at the girl for a long time.
As she marveled at the exquisite details of her new gown, a dark thought crept into her mind. She didn’t want to be rude, but her curiosity won that battle as fast as water running downhill. She turned to Braeden.
“I already know what you’re going to ask,” he said.
“We’ve only known each other for a short time, so how did you get this dress so quickly?”
He looked at the pictures on his wall.
“Where did it come from, Braeden?”
He looked at the floor.
“Braeden…”
Finally, he looked at her and answered, “My aunt had it made.”
“But not for me.”
“She wanted me to give it to Clara.”
“Ah,” Serafina said, trying to come to grips with it.
“I know, I know, I’m really sorry,” he said. “She never wore it, though, I swear. She never even saw it. I just really wanted to give you something nice and I didn’t have anything. I didn’t mean any offense by it.”
Serafina gently touched his arm. “It’s a beautiful gown, Braeden. I love it. Thank you.” She leaned toward him and kissed him on the cheek.
Braeden smiled, happy.
She enjoyed seeing him pleased, but the dress made her think of Clara again. “So, why were the Brahms invited to Biltmore?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Braeden said. “I think my aunt and uncle heard that Clara was a prodigy and they thought it would be nice to meet her and have her play for the guests.”
“And your aunt saw how sweet and pretty she was, how educated and talented, and she wanted you to be friends with her.”
He nodded. “Part of my aunt’s grand plan to find a friend for me. She really liked Clara, in particular, but I only spoke to her a few times so I didn’t know her very well.”
As Braeden spoke, Serafina’s ears picked up the sound of someone approaching. She heard footsteps coming slowly down the hall. She set aside the dress. “Do you hear that?” she whispered. “Someone’s coming!”
“I hear it,” Braeden said in a low voice.
Gidean rose to his feet and went straight to the closed door.
“Douse the light!” she whispered.
Braeden quickly followed her suggestion, striking them into darkness.
Staying quiet, they stopped and listened.
From the sound of the shoes, she thought that it might be Mr. Vanderbilt coming to check in on his nephew. She’d been caught, she thought. She’d been caught bad and there wasn’t going to be any way to get out of it! The shoeshine-girl ruse wasn’t going to work this time. She wondered if she could hide under the bed, or fling some sort of crazy excuse at him and then skedaddle down the corridor before he got a good look at her. But then she heard the slithering noise.
It was the Man in the Black Cloak.
He was coming down the corridor.
He was searching.
Every night he came.
He was relentless.
“I have a secret way out,” Braeden whispered.
“Let’s just be real quiet,” she said. “Stay very still.” Leaving Braeden near the bed, she moved forward through the darkness and joined Gidean at the door, worried that he’d start barking and give their presence away. She touched the dog’s shoulder, letting him know that if a fight came, they’d fight it together.
The sound came closer and closer until the Man in the Black Cloak was right outside the door.
He stopped there, listening, waiting, as if he could sense them inside the room. He knew they were in there.
She could hear him breathing. She picked up the foul scent of the cloak as the stench wafted through the crack under the door.
The Black Cloak began its slow, slithering, rattling motion.
Gidean growled.
The doorknob slowly turned.
Serafina watched the doorknob rotate a quarter turn and then come to a stop with a click of metal on metal. She had locked the door when she came in, and she remembered the weight of it, with its solid, inch-thick oak panels. It seemed nearly impossible for anyone to break the door. She just hoped that the Man in the Black Cloak couldn’t pass through it using some sort of dark magic.
She could feel him breathing on the other side of the door, seething.