Serafina and the Black Cloak: Chapters 20–31

When she thought about the place she was going and the dark forces she’d meet there, it felt like she was jumping a chasm and she wasn’t going to make it to the other side.

She couldn’t tamp down the feeling that she wouldn’t be coming back.

As she made a slow promenade in her long, wide dress through the broad corridors of the house, it felt deeply strange not to be hunting, not to be the eyes of the predator but the prey that is seen.

After losing his plantation in the war and falling to the depths of ruin, here he was now, finally back to his rightful place again, a distinguished gentleman of the highest order, a personal friend of one of the richest men in America.

All he had to do to get here was steal the souls and talents of a hundred lousy children, with their small, frail bodies and their pliable spirits.

To anyone else, it might have appeared that the handsomely attired gentleman intended to take a quiet stroll on the grounds before he retired for the evening, but she knew the truth: it wasn’t just a cloak, it was the Black Cloak, which meant he was bent on malevolent purpose.

She ran, and ran, and ran, deep into the darkest night, her nemesis close on her tail.

Ecstatic, she began to crawl toward the entrance of the den so that she could run home, but it was too late.

She knew she could not speak to the lioness in words, but she yearned to.

The lioness’s breath was loud in her ears, her lungs sounding like a bellows, the air rushing in and out.

She had defeated the Man in the Black Cloak! It felt like every muscle in her body was alive and moving. There was a part of her that felt elated, almost euphoric, like she was floating on air.

She had defeated the Man in the Black Cloak! It felt like every muscle in her body was alive and moving. There was a part of her that felt elated, almost euphoric, like she was floating on air.

“Shut up,” she told the cloak, her words spitting out of her like she was reprimanding an uppity rat she’d captured.

The satin material reflected the sheen of the moonlight as she turned it over in her hands.

But what did the cloak do? How did it work? Did it really give its master the blessing of profound knowledge? Could it answer the questions that stormed through her mind?

She held out her arms and pivoted and looked at the cloak on her body. She thought she looked very sophisticated and aristocratic wearing it.

He’d intended to use it to gain talents and understanding, to learn languages and skills, and to become a great, unifying leader in society, but his creation went terribly awry. He hadn’t just created a concentrator of knowledge: he’d created an enslaver of souls.

She felt good and hopeful and buoyant.

“Please help me!” wailed a woman, only to be pushed out of the way by two more faces. The visages of terrified children and adults were crowded inside the cloak.

This was the cloak’s power: to enslave people’s talents and hold their souls prisoner in a ghastly cage.

The act of ripping it from her body struck her such a blow that she fell onto her hands and knees, suddenly debilitated by extreme fatigue and despair.

As the cloak roiled and twisted like black snakes in her hands, she tried to tear the material in her fingers, but they weren’t strong enough to rend it.

Thorne’s face was gray and deteriorating, his skin flaking off around his cheeks and eyes. His hair had turned gray and wiry. His mouth dripped with blood.
A wave of revulsion poured through her.

But she could feel herself drifting now, the life ebbing out of her, her soul slipping away.

The rat don’t kill the cat, she thought as she pulled her wayward soul back into her body with fierce determination.

A thick cloud of smoke emanated from his body as it rapidly disintegrated, as if enkindled by the air itself.

The stinking black effluence poured forth until the roiling smoke filled the entire glade.

It wasn’t a rotting monster, but the perfect features and lucid, pale blue eyes of Clara Brahms.

She felt a tremendous sense of relief, a sense of exultation. They were alive. They were safe.

But then the woman made a series of sharp, guttural hissing noises, and the lion cubs came trundling out of the den in response to her call.

But then the woman made a series of sharp, guttural hissing noises, and the lion cubs came trundling out of the den in response to her call.

Serafina reeled with dizziness as a new wave of confusion swept through her.

Some of them spoke to each other, trying to understand where they were and what had happened to them, but their minds were beset by confusion.

“What do you mean? What is asunder?”
“The Black Cloak tore me apart, Serafina. It absorbed the human part of my soul, for that was its purpose, but it had never encountered a catamount before.”

“This isn’t a fleeting run. I’m here now, and I’m whole again. In the days ahead, I will begin to teach you all that I can, just as a mother should. And you will tell me all about your life, too, to help me come back into the human world that I’ve been absent from for so long. We are together now, Serafina. We are family and kin, and nothing shall ever break that bond between us again.”

The four brindled Plott hounds bayed like it was a coon hunt.

The four brindled Plott hounds bayed like it was a coon hunt.

“It sounds like you all went through an extremely harrowing experience…” Mr. Vanderbilt said, his voice filled with both sympathy and respect.

“Do you have a job in the basement, Serafina?” Mrs. Vanderbilt asked.
“Yes,” Serafina replied, feeling a smidgen of pride shining through her.

“Well, I can’t say it’s the norm, and I can’t imagine it being very comfortable down there for you. Do you even have proper linens?”
“No, ma’am,” she said sheepishly. “I sleep behind the boiler.”