Serafina and the Seven Stars

by Robert Beatty

  Serafina desperately wanted to help Mr. Pratt, but even if she could find a way to break the spell and move, she couldn’t abandon Braeden. As Braeden stood there face-to-face with the white deer, she kept thinking that maybe his idea would somehow work, that it had to work, that he’d find a way to communicate with it. But the deer stared at Braeden with its black, incomprehensible eyes, and Braeden stared back, frozen, as the doppelgänger pivoted and rushed toward him.

  “Run, Braeden!” she screamed as the doppelgänger charged forward and raised its iron weapon.

  But Braeden did not run. He stood completely immobile, caught in the white deer’s bewildering, hypnotic power. He did not turn away. He did not raise his arms to block the blow from striking his head.

  Instead, he took one last step forward, straight into his death.

  Something ripped through the air past her ear and struck the doppelgänger in the forehead with a thud. It collapsed to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut.

  “Will you two please get moving!” a young female voice shouted at her and Braeden, as if she was angry that they had just been standing there like a couple of deer caught in lantern light.

  Serafina shook herself out of the mesmerized stupor, feeling the focus of her dilated eyes coming back to her.

  She immediately grabbed Braeden by the arm and yanked him back into the Library, nearly pulling him off his feet but finally breaking the confounding power of the deer’s stare.

  Serafina was surprised to see that it was Jess who was helping them. A jagged cut of dark crusted blood traced her forehead, but it looked like she had changed into a fresh dress, grabbed one of her rifles, and was ready to go.

  “You’re a sight for sore eyes, Jess,” Serafina said as they took cover behind a set of bookcases. “I was afraid we lost you for good.”

  “Mr. Vanderbilt sent Kinsley and the other wounded to the hospital in Asheville, but I thought I should come and lend a hand.”

  “We’re glad to have you,” Braeden said, looking mighty relieved to be out of the deer’s spell.

  But there was no time to linger. The screaming chaos of the people trying to escape through the Main Hall’s front doors, and the snarling viciousness of whatever creatures were attacking them, came roiling down the length of the gallery.

  The priceless Flemish tapestries that covered the walls of the gallery were on fire, the flames licking up toward the exquisitely painted wood beams on the ceiling, its gold leaf flickering in the light of the flames.

  Amid all the violence and destruction, Serafina looked up to see a large white swan flying down the length of the Tapestry Gallery toward her, flapping in deep, graceful pulls that curled the plumes of smoke at the tips of its outstretched wings. The swan was so white that its feathers seemed to scintillate with the incandescence of the brightest stars.

  Serafina couldn’t do anything but gasp at the sight of it. As it flew over her head, the rushing air of its wings brushed her cheeks and lifted her hair.

  But in the same instant, a snarling griffin with the back legs and body of an African lion and the front legs, head, and wings of an eagle came charging into the Library and straight toward her. The mythical beast knocked her off her feet, took flight with a mighty heave of its wings, and slammed into Braeden, dragging him brutally to the floor with its savage talons.

  Jess swung her rifle and fired, the sharp report of the shot buffeting the ceiling.

  Forgetting about the boy it had pinned to the floor, the beast lunged viciously at Jess, screeching and hissing. She retreated rapidly, but never stopped firing, bang, bang, bang at point-blank range, until the griffin finally went down.

  “Two more!” Serafina shouted, ducking as a pair of griffins came diving into the Library with great sweeps of their wings, books and papers whirling in all directions.

  She pulled Braeden to his feet and dragged him toward the French doors that led out to the South Terrace. But even as they reached the doors, she saw through the panes of glass that dozens of large, lizardlike gargoyles from the rooftop were crawling and scraping there, looking for a way in.

  She and her companions were trapped on both sides.

  As the gargoyles smashed through the glass doors and slithered their way into the Library, Braeden wiped the blood from his face and shouted, “We’re not getting out that way!”

  Jess shot another griffin dead, levered her rifle, and shot again, trying to keep the snapping beasts at bay.

  Braeden went deeper into the Library, shouting, “Everyone, this way!”

  As they quickly followed him, Serafina could hear the screaming and crashing noises in the distance; she and her friends weren’t the only ones fighting for their lives.

  Another griffin stormed into the Library, its clenching claws shredding the Persian carpets and gouging the walnut woodwork as its slashing beak knocked the brass lamps to the floor, shattering their glass globes. The barrel-size, blue-and-white Ming vases rolled off their stands and smashed to pieces. A dozen writhing, black-skinned gargoyles broke through the French doors and poured into the room.

  When she and her companions reached the far side of the fireplace, Braeden led them up the spiral staircase to the railed walkway that provided access to the books above.

  “Through here,” he said as he pushed open a hidden door behind the upper section of the massive fireplace.

  It was a good way to reach Biltmore’s upper floors, but as soon as she saw that Jess had a way to escape, Serafina knew what she had to do.

  “Go and help the others,” she told Jess. “I’m going to try to draw the creatures away from the house.”

  “Got it,” Jess said, darting through the door.

  “I’ll go with you, Serafina,” Braeden said.

  “You’re gonna need to hang on tight,” Serafina said, nodding.

  An instant later, she transformed into a massive black panther. Braeden leapt onto her back, and she dove claws-first, with a roaring growl, into the mass of gargoyles below her.

  “Yee-haa!” Braeden shouted as they flew through the air and landed on the floor below. She knew he’d ridden plenty of horses, so he had the skill and balance to stay on, but judging by his whoop, he’d never experienced anything quite like riding a leaping panther.

  She hit the ground and sprang through the gargoyles, across the Library, barreling straight into the griffin blocking the door. She slammed into it, exploding into a black ball of snapping teeth and slashing claws, battling with the eagle head and the talons, finally striking the beast down.

  Spotting the white deer in the Tapestry Gallery, she ran straight at it, like a huge black bullet. She knew she probably couldn’t truly hurt it, but she had to get its attention. As she leapt toward it, she lifted her paw and took a mighty swipe, striking it right across its flank. It was a strong, killing blow. But the tips of her claws scraped across the deer’s side like she was striking glass, and a priceless painting on the wall behind her tore open and went spinning across the floor. The startled, snorting deer skittered aside, nearly toppling, then turning with a crack of its cloven hooves against the floor as if it expected another swipe. But instead of striking the deer, Serafina ran right past it.

  Violence brings violence, so come and get me!

  She sprinted down the length of the gallery, leaping over its damaged sofas and broken tables, darting around the splintered grand piano with its black and white keys spilled across the floor, and flying past the burning lamps and shattered windows.

  When she reached the scorched walls and demolished remnants of the Main Hall, furniture and suitcases were strewn across the limestone floor.

  Every sculpture and relief inside and outside the house was coming to terrifying life. Mr. Vanderbilt’s visions of exquisite ancient art, grand operas, heroic journeys, beautiful ballets, and classic stories of literature had become a living nightmare.

  Maids and footmen with lanterns were scurrying in all directions. Guests in nightshirts were calli
ng to one another, trying to stay together in the smoke and darkness.

  As Serafina ran toward the archway of the open front doors, she glanced over and was startled to see her pa and Essie hurrying down the Grand Staircase.

  In all the turmoil and violence that had befallen the house, her pa must have stayed behind and run upstairs to the Louis XVI Room to find her. But he had found Essie instead, and they had become allies in the chaos, working together, helping each other, fighting to stay alive.

  “It’s not much farther, we’re almost out,” her pa was assuring Essie as they rushed down the stairs together. Their clothes were torn, their arms and bodies scratched and bruised. It was clear that they were fleeing some horrifying beast from the floor above.

  When they reached the bottom of the stairs and looked up to see a massive, yellow-eyed black panther directly in front of them, both of their faces fell white with dread. It was as if they had been fighting and fighting to survive, but knew now, at this moment, that this was a fight they could not win.

  They didn’t seem to see or comprehend at first that there was actually a boy clinging to the panther’s back. They were transfixed by the panther’s black body, the massive head, the fangs, and the yellow eyes staring at them.

  But Braeden rose from her shoulders and screamed, “Get down!”

  Her pa pulled Essie to the ground just as Serafina sprang straight over their heads at the hellish winged lion charging down the stairway directly behind them. She and Braeden and the fighting lion went tumbling down the stairs, knocking her pa and Essie off their feet. The roaring growls of the two big cats exploded into violence as they battled with claws and teeth.

  Braeden was flung from her back, but immediately sprang to his feet and ran to help her pa and Essie scramble out of the way.

  Her pa turned toward her, gazing in awe at the astounding sight of a black panther battling a winged lion. But high above them, Serafina heard the dome of the Grand Staircase crack under the weight of what sounded like a massive flying beast landing on the rooftop. As the bolt that held the four-story-tall wrought-iron chandelier was ripped from the dome, she suddenly remembered her pa’s elaborate descriptions of how he had helped install the huge, seventeen-hundred-pound chandelier years before. Now it was falling, collapsing down through the center of the spiral staircase, smash, smash, smash, one level crashing into the next, with him standing right below it. She yanked herself away from the snarling battle with the winged lion and sprang toward her pa.

  The full weight of her panther body slammed into her father, and they went tumbling across the floor as the wrought-iron chandelier crashed onto the charging winged lion and exploded into hundreds of clanging pieces.

  Lying on the floor a few steps away, Serafina and her pa disentangled themselves and looked at each other face-to-face, the oak-brown eyes of a human being and the bright yellow eyes of a black panther.

  She was expecting fear, horror, shock. But the first thing she saw in her father’s expression at that moment was recognition.

  He knew he was looking at his daughter.

  Whenever she had thought of this moment, she had imagined her pa roiling with dismay, turning away from her in revulsion at the unnatural creature she was, and angry at how dishonest she had been to hide it from him all this time. But what she saw in her father’s eyes was amazement, heartfelt pride and awe at what his little girl had become. She had gone for so long without him knowing who she was; she had felt so alone, so adrift. And now, in the midst of all this chaos and violence, a tremendous sense of relief poured into her body, a tremendous sense of love, to finally be seen by her father in her fullest and truest form.

  “Come on, Serafina, the white deer’s coming!” Braeden shouted as he ran toward her and leapt onto her back.

  Serafina took one last look at her father and dashed out the front door of the house.

  Several carriages had been split open at their doors by some great force. The wooden spokes and metal rims of their wheels had been smashed. The horses, still trapped in their harnesses, were dragging the broken carriages across the cobblestones, the bare axles throwing rooster-tails of sparks in all directions.

  Mr. Doddman, the security manager, was cramming the elderly Mrs. Ascott and a half dozen other guests into one of the carriages that was still intact. But as he was shutting the carriage door and shouting instructions up to the terrified coachman, an arrow whizzed through the air and sank into Mr. Doddman’s chest, stifling his shout.

  He clutched at the shaft of the arrow desperately as his entire prodigious body crumpled downward and then fell dead to the ground.

  Serafina looked out to see Diana, goddess of the hunt, charging toward them, firing arrows as she came.

  Mr. Vanderbilt, bleeding from a wound to his neck and head, was frantically helping his wife and child into the next carriage.

  Mrs. Vanderbilt held the crying baby Cornelia wrapped tightly to her chest as the barking, snapping Gidean and Cedric fought off a pack of gargoyles surrounding them.

  The goddess Diana drew her second arrow, aimed straight at Mrs. Vanderbilt, and let the arrow fly.

  Serafina threw herself at Mrs. Vanderbilt and slammed her against the side of a horse as the arrow whizzed by.

  Then she charged straight at Diana, praying she could sprint faster than the goddess could nock another arrow.

  Just as she made her final lunge at the goddess, the arrow shot past. Braeden screamed as it tore a gash out of his arm and struck a footman in the head behind them.

  Mrs. Vanderbilt—stunned from being slammed against a horse by a huge cat, but still holding on to her baby—staggered forward, away from the wildly spooked horse, as her husband pulled her and their daughter into the carriage.

  Nolan, the stable boy, scrambled up into the driver’s seat and grabbed the reins of Braeden’s horses, harnessed at the front of the carriage.

  “Go! Go!” Braeden shouted directly to the horses, and the horses charged forward, pulling the carriage away.

  Two gargoyles leapt onto the carriage before it escaped and were now crawling across its roof toward Nolan’s back as he concentrated on steering the galloping horses.

  The remaining gargoyles turned on Gidean and Cedric with new viciousness. Serafina ran straight at the pack of them, swiping at the nasty beasts with her claws to give Gidean and Cedric enough time to break away and dash after the carriage. Nolan and the Vanderbilts were going to need all the protection they could get.

  There were more carriages, more people trying to escape, but Braeden shouted, “We’ve got to keep running, Serafina!”

  She turned to look behind her. The white deer was emerging through the front doors, its eyes scanning the chaos of the fleeing humans without emotion. It was looking for her, the panther that had charged toward it and clawed its side. And as soon as it saw her, it locked its powerful black eyes onto her.

  “I think we’ve got her attention!” Braeden shouted.

  Serafina wanted desperately to lunge at the deer, to claw it, to bite it. But fighting it was no use. Violence and attack made it stronger. It was as impervious to her claws as it was to Kinsley’s bullets, and growing more and more powerful by the second.

  Knowing what she had to do, Serafina pivoted and ran. She didn’t hide. She didn’t go for cover. She ran away. Away from Biltmore. Away from her pa and Essie, and Mr. and Mrs. Vanderbilt and little Cornelia, away from all of them.

  When she reached the flat, open area of the Esplanade she pushed herself harder, driving the force into her legs and blazing across the grass.

  Come on, deer, she thought as she sped away. Let’s go for a little run!

  When she was sure she had put a good strong distance between her and the house, she glanced behind her, hoping to see the white deer following after her.

  But what she saw struck cold, hard fear into her panther heart.

  The white deer stood at the very front of Biltmore House, staring toward her and Braeden up on the
hill. It was just standing there—with its all-white body, and its white antlers protruding from its head. For a moment, Serafina thought the bizarre creature had given up, that it had chosen to finally stop pursuing them. But then hundreds of gargoyles, chimeras, and other monstrous creatures poured from the facade of the house in an all-enveloping black wave. Thick channels of beasts streamed out of the front door and out through all the broken windows, like black swarms of hornets vomiting from an ungodly nest.

  There were hissing, viper-headed fiends with burning eyes, grotesque humanlike ogres, hook-beaked hyenas, muscled wine gods with curved ram horns protruding from their chiseled heads, and hundreds of snarling, hunchbacked, razor-clawed gargoyles.

  And they were all coming straight for her and Braeden.

  “We better get out of here!” Braeden shouted.

  Serafina turned and ran, sprinting as fast as she could up toward the top of Diana Hill. Her powerful panther heart pounded in her chest. Her great lungs pumped like bellows. Her feet drove against the ground, pushing her and Braeden forward.

  She could run fast, very fast, but she couldn’t run as fast as those wicked creatures could fly.

  Halfway up the hill, two of the giant, bat-winged gargoyles bore down on her and Braeden. Braeden clung to her back with one hand and tried to fight them off with the other, swiping and punching at them as they came in for their attacks.

  One of the gargoyles seized her back leg with its talons, dragging her to the ground, pulling her down the steep slope of the hill. Another gargoyle grabbed her front leg.

  She roared with pain as a third gargoyle landed on her back, piercing her spine with its claws and snapping at Braeden with its teeth. Braeden kicked it in the snout and pushed the snarling, snapping creature back, but it lunged forward and closed its jaws around his shoulder, Braeden screaming in agony.