Serafina and the Black Cloak - Robert Beatty Page 0,69

save Braeden and the other children who were still alive. She wanted to protect Biltmore. She thought about the inscription on the base of the stone angel’s pedestal: Our character isn’t defined by the battles we win or lose, but by the battles we dare to fight. Standing in the forest at that moment, that’s what she chose to believe. It was true that she was a creature of the night. But she would decide for herself what that meant.

She had two choices before her: to slink away and hide, or to dare to fight.

At that moment, she saw a plan in her mind and knew what she must do.

A part of her didn’t want to do it. It would mean she could well die this very night. And her death would come at the moment in her life when she had finally crawled out of the basement and found a friend and begun to understand and connect to the world around her. She wanted to go home and sleep in front of Braeden’s fireplace, and eat chicken and grits with her pa, and pretend like none of this was happening. She wanted to curl up in the basement behind the boiler and hide like she’d done all her life. But she couldn’t. Thorne was going to keep coming. He was going to take Braeden’s life. She had to stop him. She might die, but it meant that Braeden might live. He’d go on with Mr. and Mrs. Vanderbilt, and his horses, and with Gidean at his side. And that, she decided, more than anything, was what she wanted. She wanted Braeden to live.

She’d seen with her own eyes that the Man in the Black Cloak absorbed any child he encountered, but she knew that he wanted Braeden Vanderbilt next. She’d seen this when the Man in the Black Cloak attacked them in the forest. He hadn’t come for Nolan, he had gone straight for Braeden. There was a talent in Braeden that Thorne craved: Braeden’s expertise in horsemanship, but more than that, his almost telepathic connection to animals. She imagined what it would be like to be able to befriend all the animals around her, even to control them.

But she sensed there was something more as well, something that obsessed Mr. Thorne, that drove him even beyond Braeden. More and more, he had to take a child every night. Any child. And she’d use that need against him. She would meet him face-to-face on the most deadly battlefield she could think of. She would defeat him once and for all. Or she’d die trying.

She turned around and headed back toward the estate. As midnight approached, she went down the stairs toward the workshop.

It did not surprise her that her pa was asleep in his cot, snoring gently, exhausted from a long and difficult day. But then she saw something lying on her makeshift bed behind the boiler. As she stepped toward it, she realized it was the dress that Braeden had given her. Braeden must have come down and laid it there while she was gone. There was a note attached:

S,

A and U are determined. I’m leaving early in the morning with T. I’ll see you in a few days. Please stay safe until I return.

—B.

Serafina stared at the note. She didn’t want to believe it. He was really going to do what his aunt and uncle wanted.

But then she looked at the dress.

She was sure it wasn’t Braeden’s intention, but it was a perfect addition to her plan. Now she would look the part.

The time for sneaking and hiding was over.

She was going to make sure one man in particular saw her.

And tonight was the night.

The Chief Rat Catcher had a job to do.

Serafina put on the beautiful, dark maroon winter gown that Braeden had given her the night before.

The intricate black brocade corset felt tight around her chest and back, and she worried that when it came time to fight, it would restrict her. She twisted and turned to test her freedom of movement. The long skirt hung heavily around her legs, but even as unfamiliar as the girls’ clothing felt, she couldn’t help but be taken by it. It felt almost magical to be putting on a dress for the first time in her life. The material was fine and feminine and soft, like nothing she’d ever worn before. She felt like one of the girls in the books she read—like a real girl, with a