Serafina and the Black Cloak - Robert Beatty Page 0,19

want it to be true.”

She stopped and looked at him in shock. “But it is true, Pa. You can’t just wish things aren’t true when they are true!”

“I’m sorry, Sera,” he said. “I just wanted you to be my little girl.”

She was angry, very angry, but she felt a lump in her throat. He had finally reached deep down into his heart and told her what he was thinking, what he was feeling, what he was frightened of, and what he dreamed of.

And what he dreamed of was her.

She clenched her teeth and breathed through her nose and looked at him.

She was angry and confused and amazed and excited and frightened all at the same time. She finally knew the truth. At least some of it.

Now she knew that she didn’t just feel different, she was different.

The thought of it terrified her: she was a creature of the night.

She came from the very forest that her pa had taught her to fear all her life and had forbidden her to enter. The thought of coming from that place repulsed her, scared her, but at the same time there was a strange confirmation in it, almost a relief. It made a twisted kind of sense to her.

She looked at her father, sitting with his back against the wall. Now that he had finally told her the story, he seemed exhausted, like a man who had shared a great burden.

He picked himself up off the floor, brushed off his hands, and walked slowly to the other side of the room, deep in thought.

“I’m sorry, Sera,” he said. “I reckon it ain’t gonna do ya no good on the inside knowin’ all that, but you’re right, you’re growin’ up now, and ya deserved to know.” He came over to her and squatted down and held her so that he could look into her face. “But whatever you do with it, I want you to remember this one thing: there’s nothin’ wrong with you, Sera, nothin’ at all, you hear?”

“Yeah, I hear, Pa,” she said, nodding and wiping the tears from her eyes. There was turmoil in her heart, but one thing she knew for sure: her father believed in her. But even as she stood there looking at him, thoughts and questions started weaving through her mind.

Would she have to stay hidden forever? Could she ever fit in with the people of Biltmore? Could she ever make any friends? She was a creature of the night, but what did that mean she could do? She looked down at her hand. If she grew out her fingernails, would they become claws?

In the distance she could hear the sound of the search party moving through the basement, and she tried to block it out. She looked over at her father again. After a long pause, she quietly asked the question that had been forming in her mind.

“What about my mother?”

Her pa shut his eyes for a second as he took a good, long breath, and then he opened his eyes, looked at her, and spoke to her with unusual softness. “I’m sorry, Sera. The truth is I don’t rightly know. But when I see her in my mind, I think she must have been beautiful, both lovely and strong. She fought hard to bring you into the world, Sera, and she wanted to stay with you, but she knew she couldn’t. I don’t know why she couldn’t. But she gave you to me to love and take care of, and for that I’m much obliged.”

“So maybe she’s still out there someplace.…” Her voice trembled, uncertain. Her pa’s story had made it feel like there was a tornado twisting inside of her, but the thought of her momma felt like the bursting of the sun.

“Maybe she is,” he relented, gently.

She looked at him. “Pa, do you…do you think that…do you know if she was human or—”

“I don’t want to hear any talk ’bout that,” he interrupted her, shaking his head. She could see in the tightness of his mouth how upset her question made him. “You’re my little girl,” he said. “That’s what I believe.”

“But in the forest—” she began.

“No,” he cut off her, “I don’t want you to think about that. You live here. With me. This is your home. I’ve told ya before, and I’ll tell ya again, Sera: our world is filled with many mysteries, things we don’t understand. Never go into the deep parts of the forest, for there are many dangers