Serafina and the Twisted Staff (The Serafina Series)

by Robert Beatty

  ‘You go on ahead,’ she said. ‘I’ll stay here awhile.’

  After he had started down, she wondered why she had let him go without her, why she had decided to stay here in the darkness. She’d accused him of not caring about their friendship, but he’d turned round and accused her right back. Maybe there was more truth in his accusation than hers. Mr and Mrs Vanderbilt knew who she was now. She could live openly at Biltmore if she wanted to. She might not have an invitation to dinner, but she could go out there with him into the house. Still, she didn’t. Why? She sat in the darkness and thought about it for a long time. She had lived in the darkness all her life. This was where she felt most comfortable.

  Her momma had said that she belonged with the folk at Biltmore, and perhaps that was true, but it still didn’t change who she was.

  Sitting there for a long while, she barely noticed the time passing. She knew that elsewhere in the house the Vanderbilts and their guests must have eaten their dinner and gone to bed. The house was quiet and dark.

  All her life, she had napped here and there for short periods throughout the day and night, so to her there were no separate, distinct days – time was continuous. She wondered what it would be like to sleep for a long period when the sun went down and wake up new each morning.

  It was only the starlight now that filtered down through the pinprick holes in the rooftop, but to her eyes the starlight-filled holes created a constellation of new stars all their own.

  She stood and walked among the rafters in the attic, hopping across the void from one joist to another, the darkness her domain.

  But, at that moment, she heard something out of the ordinary and stopped.

  She stood in the darkness and waited, listening.

  At first, all she could hear was the gentle beat of her own heart. Then she heard it again.

  It was a scratching noise, like long claws or fingernails being dragged slowly along the inside of the wall.

  She swallowed.

  She almost couldn’t believe what she had just heard.

  Serafina looked all around her, up at the ridge of the roof and along the edges of the walls, but she couldn’t see anything that shouldn’t be there.

  Then she heard a tick-tick-ticking sound, followed by a long, raspy hiss. Someone’s hot breath touched the back of her neck. She startled wildly and spun round, ready to fight. But there was no one there.

  What’s going on? she thought desperately, looking around her, but even as she did so the pinprick stars in the roof above her began to go out.

  She frowned in confusion.

  It was like the holes were being blocked by something.

  What’s happening?

  There was something . . . or many somethings . . . crawling on the ceiling.

  Suddenly it was nearly pitch dark. Even she couldn’t see.

  Frightened, she ran along the top edge of a girder towards the ladder. A single misstep and she’d fall to her death, but she had to get out of here.

  Some sort of small living creature struck her head with a hard thump. She ducked down, her arms protecting her head, and kept running. Another creature landed in her hair, twisting wildly and screeching. When she tried to grab it with her hands, she felt its razor-sharp bite in her skin. Then a third creature hit her in the face, and she lost her balance and fell. She plummeted into the darkness.

  As Serafina fell through midair, she reached out and grabbed desperately. She caught hold of the girder’s edge just in time, stopping her fall. She hung down into the darkness above the chasm, clinging to the girder by her fingers. The black void loomed below her like a giant mouth waiting for her to drop into it. The cold, gritty, sharp edge of the steel girder felt like it was going to cut her fingers off, but letting go would be the end of her. All the while, hundreds of creatures flew around her, hissing and clicking, swarming through the attic like a black tornado. Gritting her teeth, she swung her legs and wrapped them round the girder. She hung there upside down. She pulled herself up onto the top edge of the girder, then crouched down to defend herself from the flying creatures.

  The hissing grew in intensity. One creature struck the side of her head with a thump, clinging to her scalp and hair, its wings batting. Then another struck her in the face, and she swatted it away. Three more clung to her back. Another struck her throat and bit into her skin. Snarling in pain and anger, Serafina grabbed it against her neck and crushed it in her hand. Then she looked at the dead body she held.

  She couldn’t believe it. It made no sense. They were chimney swifts! These flying creatures were akin to bats in many ways, but they were actually dark, scaly, hissing little birds. They spent most of their time in the air at dusk, but when they landed they couldn’t perch. Instead they clung to the inside of chimneys and caves with their tiny, sharp feet. Their tails were not feathers but spines. The swifts had filled the attic, thousands of them coating the girders and the walls, like a grey, spiny-feathered, hissing, chattering skin.

  Suddenly, the sibilation of the swifts rose into a crescendo of rasping sound, and they all burst into the air inside the attic. A great swirling cloud of them swarmed around her. They hurled their bodies against her, clinging at her with their tiny scaly feet, pecking at her with their sharp beaks, their spiny tails digging into her face, their wings batting and tangling up her hair.

  The torrent of swifts was so thick around her that she could not hear or see. She would soon lose track of her position. She wanted to hunker down, curl into a ball and cover her face and head, but she knew if she did that she’d never get out. So she kept fighting, flailing her arms, and pulling the creatures off her. Eyes almost closed for protection, she desperately looked around for an escape. Seeing a girder between her and the ladder, she took a leap and managed to just land on it. From there, she pushed her way along the girder through the cloud of birds. She finally came to the ladder and climbed down as fast as she could, fighting the attacking birds all the way.

  At last, she pushed her way through the panel at the back of the cabinet and came rolling out, breathless and terrified, into the third-floor corridor. She spun round and slammed the panel shut with her shoulder, closing the swifts in behind her.

  For several seconds, she just lay there, catching her breath, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Chimney swifts were strange, crepuscular little creatures, but they were normally harmless. She’d seen them flying their cheerful, chirping, mosquito-catching acrobatics above Biltmore’s roofs at sunset many times. Why did they now swarm and attack her? She’d been living in this house, crawling in these passages her entire life, and they’d always left her alone. Why was this happening now? Was the house itself turning against her?

  She looked around her. The house was dark and quiet. It was well after midnight, and everyone was asleep.

  Still feeling scared and shaky from what had happened, she got up onto her feet. She stood unsteadily for a moment, recovering. Then she brushed herself off and pulled the feathers and dead swifts out of her hair.

  When she heard a creak in the distance, she stopped, half in a panic that the attack was going to start all over again, but nothing came.

  She started walking through the darkness. She followed the corridor and passed through the living hall with its sofas, chairs and tables. Earlier, several of the guests had been enjoying their tea here, but now it was eerily dark, empty and still. It was like they had all disappeared. A terrible chill went down her spine. What if Braeden was gone, and Mr and Mrs Vanderbilt, and all the guests? What if they were all gone? Maybe she was the last one, the only one to survive the attack. What if everyone else in the house was dead?

  She heard another sound. It wasn’t a creak this time, but a footstep, and then another. Somewhere in the house, someone was awake. It felt like someone was following her, lingering in the shadows behind.

  When she reached the top of the Grand Staircase, moonlight shone through the rising cascade of slanting, leaded-glass windows, casting si
lver-blue light across the wide, gently arcing steps and the filigreed railing that spiralled up through Biltmore’s floors. Attached to a copper dome at the very top of the staircase, an ornate wrought-iron chandelier hung through the centre of the magnificent spiral. As she headed down, the black shadow of her body in the moonlight moved along the outer wall like a strange, crawling animal. Then she heard something coming up the stairway towards her.

  She stopped, uncertain of what she was hearing. Her heart beat faster, and her breaths grew shorter and more intense. It wasn’t a small noise or a single step or two. Someone was definitely coming up the stairs. Her muscles jittered, preparing her for battle. Her mind kept telling her to get a hold of herself – it could be one of Biltmore’s guests or a servant. But then she realised that her instincts were telling her something: the sound wasn’t human. She sucked in a breath and crouched down, ready to leap.

  Whatever it was, she could hear the creature’s feet clicking and scraping on the limestone steps.

  It had four legs.

  And claws.

  Her chest pulled in air at a steady, rapid rate. She could feel every muscle in her body coming alive, ready to fight.

  She began backing slowly up the stairs until she reached the upper landing, making as little noise as possible.

  But it was coming fast, gaining on her. She could hear it growling now, getting faster.

  Its multi-legged shadow travelled up the outer wall like a giant spider.

  Just when she was about to turn and run, it came up onto the landing and into sight.

  But it wasn’t a spider.

  It was a black dog.

  The dog paused and then began to move slowly towards her, stalking her, its head low as it snarled and growled. She backed up as it came closer to her.

  As it approached, she realised it wasn’t one of the wolfhounds or some other dog. It was her friend Gidean.

  Much relieved, she let out a long breath. She smiled and relaxed. ‘Gidean,’ she said happily, thinking that he must have mistaken her for an intruder.

  But the dog snarled and kept moving towards her, his body tense and coiled, ready to spring. A new fear grew within her. Her chest tightened.

  ‘Gidean, it’s me,’ she said again, rising desperation in her voice. ‘Come on, Gidean – it’s me.’

  But Gidean did not recognise her.

  Her body flushed with heat.

  The large black dog with its pointed ears kept coming slowly towards her, snarling, its teeth bared now, its canines snapping. It was the most terrifying snarl she’d ever heard.

  Gidean burst into an attack, growling as he leapt into the air straight at her.

  He slammed into her body, biting into her shoulder and knocking her backwards off her feet. She hit the stone floor with a painful slam, hitting her head so hard that she nearly blacked out. Then she twisted and spun and punched her way out from under the dog’s legs.

  ‘Stop this, Gidean!’ she cried as she leapt away. ‘Gidean, it’s me! It’s Serafina!’

  But the dog jumped again, biting her arm and shaking her as he growled. The only other time she’d ever seen Gidean this fierce was when he was fighting the Man in the Black Cloak. It was like she had suddenly become the evil one.

  ‘Gidean, no! Stop!’ she cried as she smashed her fists into the dog’s face to get him to release her. She kicked and screamed and finally twisted away from him. He immediately pressed the attack, snapping at her legs as she scurried away. She ducked and darted, but wherever she went, he followed. He was incredibly fast. She kept dodging him, but she could not shake him. She didn’t want to fight him, but he just kept coming. He bit her again, his canines clamping onto her leg. With a ferocious tug, he pulled her off her feet, then charged in at her throat. She blocked her neck and rolled away, then leapt onto her feet, and he immediately struck her and took her down again.

  She didn’t want to hurt her friend, but she didn’t want to die, either. She couldn’t keep going. She couldn’t keep fighting him. He was an incredible warrior and filled with a terrific rage, the likes of which she’d never seen. Something had twisted him, deranged him, turned him into a rabid beast that did not recognise her. And he was wearing her down. She could tell that she wasn’t going to last much longer.

  She fended off one more attack and then turned and fled back towards the top of the stairs as fast as she could.

  Outraged by her attempt to escape, the growling Dobermann charged after her with shocking speed. Just as she reached the railing, the dog leapt through the air, his fang-filled mouth opened wide for the bite.

  Gidean slammed into Serafina’s body and took them both somersaulting over the railing, falling, falling, fifty feet to the marble floor below.

  As she fell through the open air, the shock of what had happened screamed through her mind, her limbs flailing, with nothing to grab on to. She was falling upside down, looking up towards the ceiling. She could see the floors of the house flashing by in the rings of the four-story-high chandelier. The domed ceiling at the top of the Grand Staircase kept getting smaller and smaller as she fell.

  She was going to die. When she hit the floor, her bones would break. Her head would crack open. Blood would splash everywhere. And she’d die.

  And there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

  She could not jump or bite or run or scream to save herself this time. No clever idea or special trick would save her. Her mother couldn’t save her. Her pa couldn’t save her. There was no trap she could set to defeat her enemy.

  And she didn’t even understand who her enemy was or why. Just as she’d feared, the claws of doom had reached down out of the sky and snatched her life away before she’d even known they were there.

  It felt like it was taking an impossibly long time to fall, like every second was a hundred seconds long. She thought about prowling through the basement at night, and eating chicken and grits with her pa, and looking up at the stars with Braeden. She thought about all the mysteries that would never be solved. Why were the animals leaving? Who was the bearded man? Why had the feral boy helped her? From where would the danger come to Biltmore, and what form would it take?

  Then something peculiar happened.

  She didn’t think about it and decide to do it. It just happened. Her body snapped. She tucked in her arms, twisted her spine and flung out her legs, righting herself in midair. Then she stretched out her arms and pulled in her legs to stop her spin and position her limbs in the direction of her fall. It was an instinct, a split-second reflex, like snatching a rat the instant it tried to run away.

  She hit the floor hard but strong, bracing her landing with the bending, crouching muscles of her legs and arms until she was down low on her curled feet and extended hands, her body finally still and unharmed.

  She landed on her feet.

  But Gidean did not.

  His body slammed onto the floor beside her. She didn’t just see it and hear it; she felt the crushing blow, the crack of bones and the whimper of the dog. She knew immediately that the battle was over.

  Gidean lay beside her, his head down and bleeding, his body broken in a thousand places. He was nearly dead.

  Gidean had been Braeden’s constant companion and closest friend since Braeden had lost his family. The dog had walked at Braeden’s side wherever he went, ran with him when he rode his horse and guarded his door at night. There had been a time when she didn’t like dogs and dogs didn’t like her, but she and this dog had worked together, fought together and defended each other. Gidean had attacked the Man in the Black Cloak and saved her life. But now Gidean lay dying on the marble floor beside her.

  When a shadow moved across the moonlit floor, she thought it must be an owl or some other creature of the night outside the Grand Staircase’s windows. She turned and looked up. It was Rowena in a white nightgown, standing on the second floor, looking down at her in shock. Rowena’s hair was long, loose and unbrushed, her eyes wide with fear. She grippe
d what looked like a pencil in her hand, or perhaps a hairpin, brandishing it in front of her like a weapon.

  ‘Rowena!’ Serafina shouted to her. ‘Go get the veterinarian! Run!’

  Rowena did not move. She stared in horrified shock at the sight of Gidean lying on the floor in a pool of blood and Serafina standing over him with blood all over her hands. The girl did not seem to understand Serafina’s words. She did not run to get the veterinarian. Instead, she turned and slowly walked in the direction of Braeden’s room.

  What was she doing? What did she think she’d seen?

  When Rowena returned a few moments later, Serafina heard the rush of frantic footsteps, but it wasn’t the veterinarian. Braeden came running down the stairs.

  ‘What’s happened?’ Braeden screamed as he came. He was beyond distraught.

  He ran to Gidean’s side and collapsed to his knees at his dog’s side. ‘He’s badly hurt!’ he cried. ‘Serafina, what did you do?’

  Serafina was too overwhelmed to answer him.

  Tears streamed down his face as he hugged his dying dog. In all she and Braeden had been through together, she’d never seen him cry before. ‘Aw, Gidean, boy, please don’t go . . . don’t go . . . please, boy . . . no . . . don’t leave me . . .’

  Serafina burst into tears. But as she cried she tilted her head upward and saw Rowena standing there again. Rowena was just staring at her. She hadn’t retrieved the veterinarian; she’d gone to Braeden.

  Rowena slowly lifted her arm and pointed at Serafina. ‘I saw her,’ she said, her voice filled with trembling. ‘I saw her do it! She hurled the dog over the railing!’

  ‘That’s not true!’ Serafina shouted back at her.

  Guests and servants flooded down the stairs from the floors above. Mr and Mrs Vanderbilt came, utterly shocked by what was happening. The balding, grey-bearded elderly man she’d seen walking in the forest with Mr Vanderbilt made his way slowly down the steps with his cane, studying the scene. Mrs King came hurrying into the hall, along with Essie and many of the other maids, but no one seemed to know what to do.