Serafina and the Black Cloak - Robert Beatty Page 0,79
fight anew, pulling her arm free from her captor.
At that moment, a large black shape lunged out of the mist with a ferocious snarl and a flash of white teeth. At first she thought it must be some kind of black wolf. But it wasn’t a wolf. It was a dog. A Doberman.
It was Gidean!
Gidean bit into Thorne’s side and pulled him to the ground, then plunged in for another attack, biting and snapping. Thorne grabbed his fallen dagger from the ground and slashed Gidean in the side. Gidean yelped in pain and pulled back. Then the mountain lion charged out of her den and dove into the battle. She attacked Thorne with rapid swats of her clawed paws, her teeth snarling and her ears pressed back against her head, as if she was mightily perturbed that he hadn’t stayed dead. Plunging back into the fight, the wounded Gidean chomped Thorne’s arm, forcing him to drop the dagger, then tore into his shoulder and dragged him viciously across the ground, shaking him.
Serafina spotted the Black Cloak lying on the ground. She darted into the battle and snatched up the dagger that had fallen from Thorne’s hand. Then she attacked the cloak with the blade. She was sure this was the answer. She cut and stabbed, trying to slice through the material, but the cloak fought against her, twisting and turning and rattling. Becoming a black seething coil in her hands, the cloak clutched at her and wrapped itself around her arms and then her body, and began to crush her. No matter how hard she tried, she could not cut the snaking cloth.
As the folds of the Black Cloak slithered around her neck and began to tighten, she tried to scream for help, but the cloak choked her breath short. Nothing but horrible gagging noises escaped from her clasped throat. Gasping for breath and clutching at her neck, she struggled to get up onto her feet. She stumbled toward the statue of the angel in the middle of the glade. It had sliced my finger with the slightest touch. In one swift motion, she hurled herself onto the point of the angel’s gleaming sword. The sword slashed the side of her neck with searing pain as its tip pierced into the folds of the Black Cloak. The cloak screamed and hissed as the razor-sharp edges cut into it. Serafina grabbed at her neck and tore the cloak away, then clenched the material in her fists and slammed the cloak onto the sword point. She pierced it again and again. The cloak slithered and screeched, coiling like a tortured serpent. It writhed in her hands as she tore the cloth, but she did not relent. When she was finally done, there was nothing left of the Black Cloak but shreds lying at the angel’s feet.
Serafina fell away, panting and exhausted, pressing her hand to the wound at her neck to staunch the bleeding. She looked over and saw Thorne pinned to the ground beneath her allies. Thorne was strong, but without the Black Cloak he was no match for the speed, power, and jaws of both Gidean and the lioness.
Serafina felt a wave of triumph pass through her. They’d done it. It was all over. It had to be.
But as Gidean and the lioness struck the final, killing bites into Thorne, his body emitted a frightening sizzling sound, like meat burning on a fire. His carcass vibrated as his skin burned and peeled down into blood and bones. A thick cloud of smoke emanated from his body as it rapidly disintegrated, as if enkindled by the air itself.
Gidean stepped back and tilted his head in confusion. The lioness retreated into the den to protect her cubs.
The stinking black effluence poured forth until the roiling smoke filled the entire glade. The whole area became a great, choking cloud. Serafina coughed, waved her arms, and tried to escape from the smoke.
“Come on, Gidean,” she called, and pulled him back as she gagged on the horrible taste of the smoke in her throat.
Overwhelmed by the fumes and unable to see, she tripped over something and fell face-first to the ground. Whatever she tripped over was hard, like a branch. But when she looked, she realized it wasn’t a branch. It was a human leg. She whimpered in horror and scrambled away from it. The body of a little girl lay on the ground, her arms and legs tangled and bent at crooked angles.