Serafina and the Seven Stars

by Robert Beatty

  “Oh, you’re right,” Colonel Braddick said. “The hunting here is only a mild diversion for me, and it won’t be anything I’ll be boasting to my friends about, but I do have certain interests here.”

  “What are you after, Colonel?” Mr. Kettering, the deer hunter, asked.

  “In these grand United States of ours,” the colonel began to answer, “I’ve killed mule deer, white-tailed deer, mountain elk, moose, gray wolf, buffalo, pronghorn antelope, grizzly bear, black bear, bobcat, coyote, boar, and all the rest.”

  “Speaking of bores, maybe you could just shut up for a little while so we can enjoy our meal,” Lieutenant Kinsley said beneath his breath as he sipped his soup.

  Serafina gasped in surprise that he would say such a thing, but then realized that he had said the words so softly that only she and Jess had heard them. Jess didn’t seem to react to the comment. She remained strangely motionless. But Serafina couldn’t help cracking a little smile of appreciation.

  “There is only one American beast that has managed to elude me,” Colonel Braddick continued loudly. “Let’s just say I’ve got a score to settle with this particular breed of varmint.”

  The colonel pulled up his sleeve for all to see the thick white lines of old scars on his arm. “This was done by none other than America’s largest and fiercest feline predator, the cunning and dangerous creature known as the North American mountain lion. Some folks call it a cougar, a puma, or around these parts, a panther or catamount.”

  Most everyone was listening to the colonel with rapt attention, but Serafina noticed that Mr. Vanderbilt seemed far more alarmed by this loudmouthed guest than impressed by him. The master of the house looked over at Lieutenant Kinsley, who looked back at him with serious, knowing eyes, as if they were both in agreement that something needed to be done about this man. It was at that moment that she realized just how close a personal friend the young Lieutenant Kinsley was to Mr. Vanderbilt.

  “What about the other wound you have there, Colonel Braddick?” one of the younger gentlemen asked, pointing to what looked like a fresh cut on his neck.

  “Oh, that’s just a little scratch I got last night,” the colonel said, pulling back the collar of his shirt and showing off four jagged lacerations.

  Many of the guests around him recoiled from the gruesome sight of it, while others stared in wide-eyed fascination.

  But Serafina’s pulse quickened as she looked down at her own fingernails. Could it have been?

  “What in the world did that?” one of the women asked, clearly impressed.

  “Well, the boys and I were out scouting for signs of game last night, just minding our own business, and one of the local varmints attacked our group totally unprovoked, just pounced on us out of nowhere for no reason. That’s the mettle of these wild creatures. They’d sooner kill ya than look at ya.”

  “Tell us what happened, Colonel,” one of the admiring young men said breathlessly.

  “Well, I was fearful for the safety of the other men, so when the beast attacked, I charged straight at it. I fought the big cat, my bare fists against its razor-sharp claws. We tumbled head over heels down the side of a mountain. First I was winning, then he was winning. There was no telling which way it was going to go. But finally, I got my Bowie knife out and stabbed him just as he sunk his teeth into me. And at that point, the cowardly beast ran away.”

  It was startling to hear the colonel tell so many lies in so few sentences.

  “That’s amazing!” one of the guests gasped, and even the footmen had stopped to hear the hair-raising tale.

  “You say it sank its teeth into you…” Lieutenant Kinsley said quietly. “And yet—mysteriously—there are no puncture wounds in your chest….”

  “So, you see,” Colonel Braddick continued, nearly shouting, “ever since that first run-in that mangled my arm years ago, and now this encounter last night, the mountain lion is the only game animal—on any continent, mind you—that’s gotten away from me. And I take that as a personal affront. When my friend Turner here said he was coming to visit George Vanderbilt’s little cottage in the mountains, I was obliged to invite myself along for another try. And after last night’s battle, I think I’ve come to the right spot to bag the trophy I’m looking for.”

  When Serafina glanced over at the colonel’s friend, Mr. Turner, the poor man looked positively sick to his stomach that he’d made the mistake of bringing this rude and vulgar man into the private dining room of George and Edith Vanderbilt.

  Mr. Turner looked at Mr. Vanderbilt with a profoundly apologetic expression on his face, but the master of the house wasn’t looking at him. Mr. Vanderbilt’s dark and penetrating eyes were locked steady onto Colonel Braddick now, as if he were studying every minute detail of a monster that he was going to slay.

  As the colonel carried on with harrowing tales of his “astounding skill” with a rifle, and people encouraged him with questions, Serafina’s blood boiled. She was sitting here at the dinner table, with her pretty hair and her pretty dress, pretending to be one of these people. But she wasn’t one of them. These humans wanted to hunt and kill the animals of the forest. They wanted to hunt and kill her own kind, her own brother and sister. Why would she want to be one of them? Why would she want to protect them? Why would she want to be a protector of Biltmore if this was Biltmore?

  She imagined seeing this great white hunter, this famous Colonel Braddick, alone out in the forest, up on his horse with his rifle in his hands. She would stalk him from behind, moving slowly at first, her long slinking black body crouched low to the ground, then charging so swiftly and so silently that he would never even see her coming. She would launch herself at him, rip him from his screaming horse, slam him to the ground, and tear him to pieces with her teeth and claws. Then he would truly know what a “Southern varmint” could do.

  As she sat there at the table with a pretty bow in her hair, she could feel her nostrils flaring, the sweat oozing from her pores. She wanted to do it so bad that she could taste it like blood between her fangs.

  Regardless of how she had been feeling a few moments before, she knew now that she didn’t belong here in this so-called civilized place. She didn’t fit in among these people laughing and smiling at the colonel’s stories. She was a creature of the night. A slinking, clawing animal with the soul of a panther.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the violence of her thoughts.

  The house, the forest, the wind, the trees, the people, the beauty, the peace, she didn’t trust any of it. But most of all, at this moment, she didn’t trust herself.

  “I once shot and killed a running cheetah at a distance of five hundred yards,” Colonel Braddick was saying cheerfully to his admirers. “So the next time I see a mountain lion in these hills, you can believe me when I say that it’s going to come to a quick end.”

  In one last bid to maintain her quiet and civilized composure, Serafina glanced over at Lieutenant Kinsley. It was clear that, like her, he had been struggling to sit passively through this braggart’s boasting. And now, finally, the lieutenant raised his eyes, looked at the colonel, and spoke loud enough for all to hear.

  “But if mountain lions are as cunning and elusive as you say, Colonel,” he asked, “how do you plan to find one to shoot?”

  Lieutenant Kinsley had phrased his question such that it seemed as if he was genuinely interested, but it was evident to Serafina that the young officer was baiting him. The fight was afoot now, sides were being taken, and she knew hers.

  “Well, it’s true that mountain lions are the most cowardly and treacherous of wild beasts,” the colonel said. “But I am a man of great experience and tracking ability. If I work long and hard enough, I’ll find my quarry and kill it. You can be sure of that, Lieutenant.”

  As the evening proceeded through the seven courses of the meal, Colonel Braddick continued with what were meant to be enthralling stories of his bravery and grit.

  All the while, Serafi
na watched as the dark-haired girl named Jess sat quietly across from her. The girl ate her food. She drank her water. She never looked at Colonel Braddick, and she didn’t seemed to be listening to him. But she glanced at the other guests and the details of the room, one after another in rapid succession, her eyes glistening in the candlelight as she took in her surroundings.

  When Jess’s eyes finally fell upon Serafina, the girl studied her for just a moment before her eyes flicked away again. But Serafina had the impression that Jess took in more information in that split second than another person might do in an hour.

  After dinner, as everyone was getting up from the table, Mrs. Ascott said, “Well, it was very nice to meet you, young lady.”

  It took Serafina a beat to realize that the woman was speaking to her. Flustered, she said, “And it was very nice to meet you as well, Mrs. Ascott.” She bowed slightly, as she had seen the other girls do. “I hope you enjoy your stay at Biltmore.”

  “Oh, yes, of course. How could I not enjoy myself in such a peaceful and lovely place as this?” Mrs. Ascott said warmly, gesturing to the grand scale of the room.

  Serafina turned and looked across the table to say good-bye to Jess, but was disappointed to see that she had already left.

  When someone close beside her touched Serafina’s arm, she jumped, startled, and turned quickly.

  “I didn’t mean to—” Jess began to say apologetically.

  “No, it’s fine, it’s just me,” Serafina said, trying to explain. “I’m just—”

  “I liked seeing your friends earlier,” Jess interrupted. “I wished they had stayed a little longer.”

  “My friends?” Serafina said in surprise, then realized who she must be talking about. She didn’t think anyone had noticed her little rat catchers slinking around in the shadows of the huge room. “How did you know they were mine?” Serafina asked, not trying to deny it, but mighty curious.

  “I saw them listening to you,” Jess said.

  “They’re usually decidedly bad at that,” Serafina said with a smile.

  Jess smiled in return. “What are their names?”

  “The dark, quiet one is Smoke and the little orange ball of clawed fur is Ember,” Serafina said.

  Jess was about to say something in reply, but visibly winced when Colonel Braddick’s voice clanged like a broken bell across the Banquet Hall.

  “Come on, gents, it’s finally time to get this party started,” he bellowed, putting his arm roughly around the squeamish Mr. Turner and dragging him from the room. “I didn’t think that meal would ever end! Seven courses? My God, who on this planet ever needs more than five?”

  As Colonel Braddick, Mr. Turner, Mr. Suttleston, and some of the other hunters left the room, Jess said calmly, “They’re going to go play poker now.”

  Three seconds later, Colonel Braddick’s voice rose above the others. “Let’s play some poker in Vanderbilt’s Billiard Room!”

  Colonel Braddick and his group pulled their cigars out of their breast pockets as they headed to their card games. Many of the other guests wandered over to the Salon to enjoy an after-dinner coffee or stepped outside onto the Loggia to partake of the late night air. Another group availed themselves of a tour of the Winter Garden with Mrs. Vanderbilt. But Serafina noticed that Mr. Vanderbilt and Lieutenant Kinsley remained in the Banquet Hall, standing near the fireplace at the far end of the room, talking privately in hushed voices, sometimes looking toward the Billiard Room, as if they were hatching some sort of plan.

  The bellowing voice of Colonel Braddick could still be heard ringing through the corridors of the great house.

  “Listen,” Jess said, leaning toward Serafina with a conspiratorial whisper. “Don’t let him fool you. He’ll drink and gamble most of the night, but that won’t stop him from getting up early in the morning to go hunting. You need to leave here and warn whoever you need to warn.”

  Serafina looked at her in surprise. This girl was getting downright spooky now. “What do you mean?” she asked. “Warn who?”

  “I saw your reaction earlier,” she said. “You weren’t just put off by his story about mountain lions, you were angry and you were scared, and not for yourself. I could see it.”

  Serafina just gazed at her, unsure of what to make of this peculiar girl with the eyes of a hawk. Should she pretend she didn’t know what she was talking about? Should she deny it? Was there even any point in denying it? The girl seemed to already know.

  “You have to understand,” Jess said. “He’s not just an aggravating braggart. He’s a liar and a cheater as well. He said that in the days ahead he’s going to use his skills and experience to track a mountain lion, but the truth is he’s already hired a local man with a pack of hunting dogs to do the work for him. As soon as the tracker finds a mountain lion, the colonel will go to its den and shoot it. Then he’ll tell everyone grand and exciting stories about what a great hunter he is.”

  Serafina tried to stay calm, but a jolt of new fear ran through her. Her brother and sister were out there. And Colonel Braddick was going to hunt them down.

  “How do you know all this?” Serafina asked in amazement.

  But before she could answer, Colonel Braddick’s voice rose up above the voices of the other men in the Billiard Room. “Oh yes, I’m sure she’ll be tagging along,” he replied to a question that someone had asked him. “She’s a good, obedient girl, tougher than you might think out on the trail, but I gotta tell ya, gents, she’s a god-awful terrible shot with a rifle. She couldn’t hit the side of a barn if her life depended on it. And sometimes she’s unbelievably loud with her feet when we’re trying to stalk up on a good kill. She sounds like a herd of tramping elephants in those girly boots of hers!”

  As the entire room of men erupted into laughter, Serafina looked at Jess. Her face was quiet of expression, almost emotionless, as if she had heard that same joke so many times it didn’t affect her anymore.

  “You’re Colonel Braddick’s daughter,” Serafina said softly.

  “He makes me go out on his hunts with him,” Jess said. “But I’m a liar, too.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “My bullet always hits a tree,” Jess said.

  Serafina smiled, liking that answer and the girl who had said it.

  “She’s like any girl, I guess,” Colonel Braddick was telling his friends, “totally worthless at the practical things in life. But I gotta bring her along or she’d have no place else to go, poor little soul. Her mother’s been gone all these years now, left us to fend for ourselves nearly from day one. Tuberculosis, God rest her soul.”

  As Colonel Braddick droned on in the distance, Jess stepped closer to her.

  “We lived and traveled in Africa for years,” Jess said. “When I was very young, I remember my father asking me all kinds of questions when we were out hunting, day after day, year after year.”

  “What kind of questions?” Serafina asked.

  “He’d ask things like ‘Which of these game paths do you think looks more trodden than the other?’ and ‘What kind of animal makes this kind of track in the dirt?’ For a long time, I thought he was asking me because he was trying to teach me, and maybe he was, I don’t know….”

  “But what happened?” Serafina urged her, fascinated by her story.

  “I had heard that the African leopard was one of the most elusive and beautiful animals in all the world. I had always wanted to see one. I learned where they lived, what kind of tracks they made, and how they behaved. Finally, I spotted a gorgeous leopardess sleeping high up in an acacia tree, nearly impossible to see.”

  “Was she amazing?” Serafina whispered, envious of seeing such an animal.

  “My father shot her,” Jess said bitterly. “It was at that moment that I realized the true purpose of my father’s questions. For the last few years, he wasn’t teaching me. He had no idea that leopards frequented this particular part of the savannah or that they preferred acacia trees. And he had no idea of t
he particular way in which they draped their sleeping bodies over a branch so that their spots camouflaged them just right. And his eyes weren’t that good.”

  As Serafina listened to Jess’s story, she began to understand the level of trust that Jess was putting in her. She must have seen something in her, not just that she could share this story, but that she should share it.

  “My father had used my skills to track the leopardess and kill her,” Jess said. “And I realized that he had been doing that for years. I swore in that moment that I would never show my true self to my father again.”

  “I’m so sorry, Jess,” Serafina said, touching her shoulder.

  “But truth is, I thank my father every day,” Jess said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “A daughter grows up watching her father, seeing everything he does. Whether he realizes it or not, he is teaching her. From my father, I learned what I most don’t want to be.”

  Serafina looked at Jess, and Jess looked back at her. This time Jess’s sapphire eyes did not flit away. She held Serafina’s gaze. It felt as if it was in this moment that the two of them were truly meeting each other.

  “I understand,” Serafina said, touching her arm in the way Jess had tried to touch hers earlier. “Thank you for warning me about your father. I mean it. I truly appreciate it.”

  “You’d do the same for me, right?” Jess said, a tinge of hope in her voice as she looked up at her.

  Serafina nodded. “Yes, I would,” she said, but she couldn’t help but wonder exactly how Jess had determined that about her so quickly. “Do you know me somehow?”

  “No,” Jess said, a little surprised by the question. “I just got here yesterday. You saw me arrive.”

  “Wait,” Serafina said, startled. “Did you see me when you arrived?”

  “You were on the terrace, behind the stone railing,” Jess said.

  This girl truly does see everything, Serafina thought. And as they were talking, Jess’s eyes flicked over to the main corridor.