Serafina and Braeden looked at each other in surprise, then looked back at Mr. Crankshod.
“Where have you been?” Braeden asked.
“We’re gonna need the ax,” Mr. Crankshod said again, ignoring the question.
“I’ll get it, sir,” the assistant coachman said as he came running up from behind Mr. Crankshod.
She hadn’t noticed him before, but the assistant coachman was just a skinny boy with a mop of curly hair. He stood no taller than the shoulder of the lead horse and had thin arms and legs, bony knees and elbows, and a coltish skittishness about him. He wore a coachman’s jacket, but it was several sizes too big in the shoulders and the sleeves were too long. His black coachman’s top hat seemed ridiculously tall on his little head. The boy couldn’t have been older than ten. He ran to the rear of the carriage, opened the wooden storage box, and grabbed the ax, which looked huge in his hands.
“That’s Nolan,” Braeden said, leaning toward her. “He’s actually one of the best carriage drivers we have, and he takes very good care of the horses.”
“Give it to me,” Mr. Crankshod barked as he grabbed the ax out of Nolan’s hands and stomped over to the fallen tree.
“I can help, too, sir, I can,” Nolan said, tagging along behind him with a small hatchet.
“Naw, ya can’t. Just stay out of the way, boy,” Mr. Crankshod shouted. He seemed irritated that Nolan was even there.
Mr. Crankshod heaved the ax behind him in a great, sweeping swing and slammed the blade into the center of the trunk. The leaves of the tree shuddered with the force of the blow, but it hardly made any dent at all in the thick bark.
He swung the ax again and again, and finally cut through the bark. The wood chips began to fly. Serafina couldn’t help but notice the brute strength of the man, but it was hard for her to tell if this was the same type of strength the Man in the Black Cloak had possessed.
“At this rate, we’re gonna be ’ere all night,” Mr. Crankshod complained, and just kept chopping.
“I’m sure I can help, sir, I’m sure I can,” Nolan said enthusiastically, standing by with his hatchet ready.
“I’m sure you can’t! Now just get back and stay out of the way!” Mr. Crankshod shouted. “You’re no use to anybody here, boy!”
As the grumpy Mr. Crankshod made war on the tree, Serafina noticed Braeden looking around them, trying to figure out if there was a way to navigate the carriage around the obstacle. But the trees of this wicked forest grew so closely together that a man could barely get through them, let alone a carriage with a team of horses.
“Where are we?” Serafina asked.
“I think we’re about eleven or twelve miles from the estate, a place called Dardin Forest,” Braeden said. “There used to be an old town nearby.”
“Haven’t been any people living in that village for years,” Mr. Crankshod grumbled as he chopped at the tree. “Nothin’ but ghosts and demons left in these woods now.”
Serafina scanned the forest, filled with a sense of foreboding. It felt like they were being watched, but she couldn’t figure out why she couldn’t detect who or what was out there. Her ears twitched with nervousness. The trees slowly swayed back and forth in the wind. They were covered in strange gray lichen and strung with grayish-white moss, which hung down like the thin hair of an old dead woman. The branches buffeted and creaked, as if anxious in their plight. It appeared that many of the trees were dying.
She walked along the length of the fallen tree. She thought it was peculiar that the tree still held its red leaves this late in the year, but it was what she saw at the base of the trunk that truly disturbed her.
“Come look at this, Braeden,” she said.
“What have you found?” he asked as he came up behind her.
“I thought the tree must be an old snag that had rotted and fallen over in the last storm, but take a look.…”
The stump of the tree didn’t appear rotted, and it didn’t have the fibrous appearance of a trunk that had been snapped by high winds. It was difficult to tell, but it almost appeared as if it had been gnawed by giant teeth or cut down with an ax.
“Look at the angle here,” Braeden said, gesturing at the side of the stump in anger and confusion. “Someone purposely felled this tree so that it would block the road.”
Gidean barked and made Serafina jump a mile. As the dog kept barking, Braeden knelt at his side and put his hands on the dog’s back. “What’s wrong, boy? What do you smell?”
“If it’s all right with you,” Mr. Crankshod said gruffly, “we’re not gonna wait around to find out.”
Spooked by the dog and apparently convinced that he’d cut through enough of the trunk, Mr. Crankshod dropped the ax, braced his heavy boots against the earth, and grabbed hold of the branches. He tried to drag the tree off the road, but it was far too large for him to budge.
Braeden and Nolan ran forward and tried to help. The whole time, Gidean just kept barking.
“Somebody hit that dog and shut it up!” Mr. Crankshod shouted, spittle flying from his mouth.
“Mr. Crankshod, I think we should turn the carriage around and go back the other way,” Braeden said sharply, obviously perturbed by his comment about the dog.
Mr. Crankshod agreed, but at that moment, a loud cracking sound filled the forest air. Serafina crouched, prepared to spring. A great shattering of wood erupted into an explosive crash as a large tree fell across the road behind them.
The horses squealed in panic and went up rearing and striking, pulling on their leather harnesses and dragging the carriage across the ground even though the brake was engaged and the wheels wouldn’t turn. Their instinct was to run, whether they were free of the harnesses or not.
Braeden ran forward to help them.
“No, Braeden!” Serafina cried as she reached to stop him. The boy seemed determined to get himself killed by a horse kick.
Braeden leapt in front of the horses. He was able to calm them with a few soft words and quickly got them under control. Seeing that he was safe, Serafina scanned the forest in the direction of the fallen tree. That’s when she realized that the worst had happened: the carriage, its four horses, the four humans, and the dog were now trapped on a section of road between two trees.
Mr. Crankshod, gripping the ax, stomped to the back of the carriage and shouted furiously into the darkness, “Who’s out there? Show yourselves, you rotten, filthy swine!”
Serafina looked into the darkness waiting for an answer to come, but Mr. Crankshod’s words drifted out into the black nothingness without reply.
“Mr. Crankshod,” Braeden said firmly, “we need to go back to cutting the tree in front of us. The safest course now is to press on to Asheville.”
“I just hope we can get there,” Mr. Crankshod carped beneath his breath, stomping back.
As Mr. Crankshod, Braeden, and Nolan worked on the tree, Serafina couldn’t help but look behind the carriage where the most recent tree had fallen. Gidean was looking in that direction as well, his eyes black in the starlight.
“What do you think, boy?” she whispered as she crouched beside him and peered into the darkness. “Is there something out there?” She and the dog were on the same side now.
She wondered about the second fallen tree. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Someone was deliberately blocking them in so that they could not escape.
She scanned the forest. She had good senses, but she knew she couldn’t smell nearly as well as Gidean, and he seemed to smell something right now. He wasn’t barking anymore, but was staring intently into the forest, waiting for something to appear. For all his faults as a dog, he was a brave defender.
But she hated this: the looking, the waiting, feeling like a trap was slowly surrounding them. She couldn’t stand it. She didn’t know how to defend; she knew how to hunt. And right now, it felt like they were the ones being hunted, and she didn’t like the feeling one bit.
She took a few steps forward into the trees to
see how it felt. Her skin crawled with equal parts fear and excitement. She was drawn into the forest. Her instinct was telling her to go deeper.
She took a few more steps.
Gidean looked at her and tilted his head as if to say, Are you crazy? You can’t go in there!
But then she padded quietly into the trees and ducked into the underbrush. She wanted to move, to prowl, to see what was out there, whatever it was. She wanted to be the hunter, not the hunted.
Leaving Gidean to guard the carriage, she crept deeper and deeper into the darkness of the forest, the very same black forest that her father had told her never to enter, the very same dark forest that Crankshod had said was filled with ghosts and demons.
But she was calm. She was in the right place. She figured if her mother could move through the forest at night, then so could she.
Suddenly, she heard the sounds of footfalls in the brush in front of her, as clear as a rat’s footsteps in the basement, but much louder, much larger, moving through the leaves and the dirt. She wasn’t sure whether it was an animal or a human.
As she crept closer to the sound, she crouched down but kept moving slowly forward. Sound and sight and feeling and smell—her whole body felt alive with sensation. With all her senses working, all her muscles in play, she stalked so slowly, so quietly, that she didn’t make a single sound.
She heard the footsteps ahead of her more closely now. Feet crunching through autumn leaves. Walking at first and then breaking into a run. A man running through the underbrush. Some fifty yards out into the woods. She ran toward the sound, knowing that when a rat was moving, it couldn’t hear nearly as well as when it wasn’t.
When the man suddenly stopped, she stopped as well and remained perfectly still, holding her breath.
She knew the man must be listening for her, but she made no sound.
As soon as he started moving again, she moved as well, shadowing him.
But then something happened. The footsteps stopped. She felt a swooshing sensation of air on her face and head, like the beat of a vulture’s wing. And then suddenly she heard a second set of footsteps behind her, between her and the carriage. How was that possible? Were there multiple attackers?
The forest erupted in a cacophony of sound. Leaves crashing. Sticks breaking. The rush of rapid movement. Her muscles exploded to life. It was an attack coming in from all directions.
In the distance, Gidean started barking and snarling and gnashing his teeth as if he were facing down Satan himself.
The carriage, she thought. They’re attacking the carriage. She turned and sprinted toward it, heedless of the sound she made. She glimpsed a flash of movement surge past her in the darkness but could not tell what it was. As she ran toward the carriage, she could see Braeden and Nolan. But where was Crankshod? He was the strongest person in their group, the man who was supposed to be protecting them.
“Look out, Braeden!” she shouted in warning. “They’re coming. Look out!”
Hearing her call, Braeden turned just in time to dodge the flashing shape of the incoming attacker. But then, in a startling movement of whirling black shadow, the attacker turned and was upon him again. Gidean charged in, snarling and biting. Nolan punched and kicked. Fighting, shouting, striking—all was confusion in a swirl of motion and battle.
Just as Serafina came within striking distance, a large black shape floated past her. She flinched so hard that her back hit a tree. Giant centipedes poured out of logs. Worms oozed up out of the earth. The Man in the Black Cloak had come. He was here in these woods. There weren’t multiple attackers. There was only one. He seemed to float on the violence of the battle, his decaying, blood-dripping hands reaching outward as he came upon Braeden. It was clear he wanted the boy in particular. Serafina leapt forward to defend her friend. Gidean charged as well, but it was little Nolan, in a desperate act of shouting courage, who threw himself in front of the young master and blocked the attack.
The Man in the Black Cloak opened his arms and pulled Nolan to his chest. The slithering folds of the cloak wrapped around the boy. Nolan’s shouts turned to screams. The gray smoke filled the forest. The rattling shook the trees. And then Nolan disappeared.
It took her breath away to see it again. “No!” she cried out in anguish, anger, and frustration.
Then the shaking came, and the glowing, and the terrible stench that followed. Every leaf on every tree around them suddenly fell to the ground, drenched with blood, and the ground itself became a stinking, horrific mud.
Expanded in size and now seemingly more powerful than ever, the Man in the Black Cloak advanced, heading straight for Braeden once more.
Braeden needed to fight or flee, but he stood frozen in shock by what he’d just seen happen to Nolan. He stared at the Man in the Black Cloak, unable to move.
Without thinking, Serafina charged forward and pounced on the man’s back. She caterwauled a wild and crazed screech of anger. Her hands and feet clawed at the man with snarling ferocity.
The Man in the Black Cloak had no choice but to turn and fight her. He tried to pull her off his back and wrap her in his voluminous black cloak like he had the others, but Braeden pulled back a mighty swing and slammed the man’s head with a large branch. Gidean lunged forward and bit the attacker repeatedly. Serafina tore herself free, rolled to the ground, spun, and leapt back into the battle. All three of them pressed the attack.
The Man in the Black Cloak, his eyes still glowing with power, levitated upward. Three against one now, he had lost the element of surprise. He snapped the billowing folds of the Black Cloak with his arm, and a great explosion of air knocked Serafina off her feet. She went tumbling backward as the Man in the Black Cloak withdrew into the forest and then was gone.
Gasping to catch her breath, Serafina scrambled to her feet and readied herself for the next attack, but it never came.
The battle was over.
She looked at her hands. Her fingers were slippery with blood and her fingernails had torn at the Man in the Black Cloak’s rotting skin, but it was more than just the remnants of the battle. It was like the skin in the glove. He was disintegrating.
Through the darkness, she saw Braeden lying on the ground. Frightened that he’d been wounded, she ran over to him. “Are you hurt?” she sputtered.
“I’m all right.” He gasped as she helped him onto his feet. “What about you? Did he hurt you?”
“I’m all right,” she said.
“I…I…I don’t understand, Serafina. What was that thing? What happened to Nolan?”
“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head in frustration.
“I mean, where did he go? Is he…is he…is he dead?”
She didn’t know the answer to Braeden’s questions. Thinking about poor little Nolan made her sick to her stomach, angry, frightened. He was just gone. How could she help him? It was the second time she’d battled the Man in the Black Cloak, and the second time she’d lost a friend.
“Come on. We gotta go before it comes back,” she said, touching his shoulder.
“What happened to Crankshod?” Braeden asked as he and Gidean followed her back toward the carriage and horses.
“I never saw him,” she answered.
“Do you think it got him, too?” She could hear the fear and confusion in his voice.
“No, there’s a rattling noise when it does it, and there was only one rattle.”
“You know what it is,” he said, grabbing her arm and bringing her to a stop. “Tell me, Serafina.”
“I saw it last night,” she said. “It took Clara Brahms the same way.”
“What? What do you mean? Where? Does this mean that Clara’s dead? I don’t understand what’s going on.”
“Neither do I,” she said. “But we’ve gotta go.”
Braeden picked up a stick from the ground and looked out into the forest. “Whatever it is, it’s still out there…”
She knew he was right. They had fought it off, but it was d
efinitely still out there. She couldn’t forget the image of Nolan leaping forward to save his master. She could still see the terror-stricken look on the boy’s face right before he disappeared. As she looked at Braeden, she couldn’t help the terrible sinking feeling that crept into her mind.
“Whatever it is,” she said, “it didn’t come for Nolan. It came for you…”
“The ax is gone,” Serafina said as she and Braeden searched the area around the carriage. Without the ax or anyone to help them move the trees, they couldn’t clear the road in front of them or behind them. They were trapped.
“We can ride the horses,” Braeden suggested. But the trees grew so closely together in this part of the forest that the horses couldn’t pass between them, which was almost a relief to Serafina, because she couldn’t imagine clawing her way up onto the back of one of those stompers and expecting it not to kill her.
“We can walk,” she said.
“Eleven miles is a long way to walk in these woods,” he said. “Especially at night…”
He kept looking around, obviously frustrated, and she was, too; but there was something she liked about the fact that they were in this together. He was thinking of her as an ally. She’d never spent much time with other people, but she was beginning to see why people liked it. Although she was pretty sure that not everyone was as clever and kind as Braeden Vanderbilt.
“If we stay here, we can use the carriage for shelter,” he said. “My uncle sent a rider ahead to tell the Vances that I was on my way. When I don’t arrive, they’ll come looking for me. I’m sure of it. I think we should wait for help.”
She didn’t want to agree—she wanted to keep moving—but she knew he was probably right. She kept hearing the words he’d said to the horses: We’re in this together. We’re going to be all right. The words felt strangely reassuring to her as well.
She watched as Braeden unharnessed the horses for the night. The horses couldn’t go far because of the fallen trees blocking the road, but at least they could move around. He gave them hay and water from the supply that Nolan had stowed in the back of the carriage. Prior to this, she had only seen horses from a distance, and they had always seemed like terribly wild and unpredictable beasts, but as she watched Braeden working with them, talking to them, and caring for them, they seemed to be such good-hearted creatures, far more intelligent than she realized.
Serafina and the Black Cloak Page 8