Serafina and the Black Cloak - Robert Beatty Page 0,72

the night he absorbed Clara Brahms. She was the girl who attacked him in the forest the night he took the stable boy. She was the girl who skulked through the darkness without need of a lantern, the one who could run and hide and jump and seemed to have impossibly fast reflexes. She was a girl with many talents.…

And now here she was, standing right in front of him. A prize for the taking.

It was too late to run.

When Mr. Thorne smiled, she flinched. But she stood her ground.

She was so scared that it hurt to breathe. Her corset felt like Satan’s bony hand gripping her around her chest and squeezing her tight. Her limbs were hot with the burning drive to flee.

But she didn’t. She mustn’t. She had to stay.

She took in a long, slow, deep breath. Then she turned her back to him and slowly walked away.

She walked at what felt like a snail’s pace down the corridor, pretending as though she had no idea who he was or that her life was in danger.

Her back was to him now, so she could not see him anymore, but she could hear Mr. Thorne’s footsteps following her, getting closer and closer behind her, so close that the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Unable to control her fear, her arms and hands began to tremble. His footsteps behind her pounded in her temples.

There was no doubt in her mind that they were not the footsteps of a mortal man, but of the Man in the Black Cloak. This was the Soul Stealer. This was the fiend who had taken Anastasia Rostonova, Clara Brahms, Nolan, the pastor’s son, and countless others.

And he was right behind her.

She looked down the corridor at the small side door ahead of her.

Just a few more steps, she thought, and she kept walking.

Three more steps…

Slowly walking.

Two more steps…

Finally, she slipped out the door in one quick movement and went out into the cold darkness of the night.

Mr. Thorne followed her outside, pulling his billowing black cloak and hood up around his head and shoulders as he entered the night.

As the snow fell gently down from the moonlit sky, she ran across the grass and ducked into the Rambles. The maze of twisting paths was a bewildering convolution of bushes and hedges with dark shadows, blind corners, and dead ends—a place where the Man in the Black Cloak had killed before. But she knew this place, too. She knew it better than anyone.

She moved swiftly through the maze. She imagined she’d see the ghost of Anastasia Rostonova searching the paths for her little white dog.

The Man in the Black Cloak followed her down one pathway after another.

“Why are you running away from me, child?” he asked in a hideous, raspy voice.

Too frightened to answer, she just kept moving. When she looked over her shoulder to see how much of a lead she’d gained, she saw him coming up behind her. In the long, flowing black cloak, he flew a foot off the ground, standing erect, his arms stretched out like a wraith, his huge bloodstained hands reaching to grab her.

Her breath caught in her throat so severely that she couldn’t even scream. Terrified, she sprinted forward with a burst of speed.

To stop was to die, and it was far too early to die.

Seeing a hole in the bushes, she dove through it. She left the manicured paths of the Rambles behind her and ran into the wild forest.

Tearing through the underbrush, she made quick time. She ducked behind trees. She scurried into and through thickets. She delved into the deepest shadows of the forest. She ran, and ran, and ran, deep into the darkest night, her nemesis close on her tail.

The thickness of the forest made it difficult for her pursuer. The trees grew so close together that an adult could barely squeeze between them. The spiny thickets were so bristling with thorns that they were nearly impenetrable. But with her smaller size and her agility, she could move easily, darting betwixt and between, scrambling below and leaping above. She moved as swift as a weasel through the brush. The forest was her ally.

She was terrified that he’d catch her and kill her, but she didn’t want to lose him completely, either. When he fell behind or lost her trail in the snow, she slowed down to let him catch up. Deep into the woods she led him. She had studied