Serafina knew it was a fair question. But as she had been talking to Rowena, she felt more and more relieved that she was finally able to interact with someone. Whether she wanted it to or not, her hatred for Rowena was slowly fading behind her into a past that seemed so long ago.
“No,” she said to Rowena. “I didn’t follow you here to kill you. To be honest, after the battle for the Twisted Staff, I thought you and your father were already dead.”
“We’re not easy to kill,” Rowena said.
“But I don’t understand what’s happening. Is Braeden on your side now?”
“No,” Rowena said.
“But I saw him with the Black Cloak…”
“Where did you see him?” Rowena asked quickly, her voice filled with so much interest that it made Serafina reluctant to answer.
“I don’t understand,” Serafina said. “Where did the Black Cloak come from? I destroyed it on the angel’s sword the night we defeated Mr. Thorne.”
“We remade it,” Rowena said. “The silver clasp is the core of its power, not the fabric.”
Serafina frowned in aggravation, regretting she hadn’t found the clasp and melted it down when she’d had the chance. Rowena seemed to have so much more knowledge than she did, so much more capability, and yet there was something about her…a hopelessness in her, a feeling of resignation, of giving up. And there had been fear in her, too. She’d been frightened of something, telling it to go away. Who or what was she hiding from deep in this forest bog?
“The truth is,” Serafina said finally, “I have no wish to harm you, Rowena. With the way I am now…I’m just right glad to know that I’m not just a gust of wind.”
“A lot has happened since I fought against you,” Rowena said, her voice somber and weary. It was clear to Serafina that she, too, had suffered.
“What do you mean?” Serafina asked, moving toward her. “You’ve corrupted Braeden, haven’t you? You’ve pulled him to your side.”
“No,” Rowena said again, her voice edged with fierceness. “I haven’t.”
“But he’s not who he was before,” Serafina said.
“None of us are,” Rowena said.
“He no longer cares about his animals, he’s lying to his aunt and uncle, and I told you, I saw him wearing the Black Cloak! You’ve taken him!”
Suddenly, Rowena turned, looking around her toward an accuser she couldn’t see. “You think you know him?” she snarled. “You think you can see what’s inside his heart, whether he’s good or bad, strong or weak? You don’t know anything about any of us, cat. You’re such a little fool!”
“But I don’t understand!” Serafina screamed at her in reply.
“You think you’ve lost your friend? Is that it?” Rowena scoffed. “You don’t even know what friendship is!”
“And you do?” Serafina snarled.
“I’ve seen it!” Rowena hissed.
“What are you talking about?” Serafina cried in confusion.
“Sometimes you’re blind, cat, with more teeth and claws than sense,” Rowena shouted as she grabbed a flask from her cache. “I will show what I’ve seen!”
Rowena hurled the glass flask toward the sound of Serafina’s voice. It crashed against the trunk of a tree and exploded with a great blast of whirling smoke and a bright, blinding haze. Then Rowena threw another flask and it shattered against the ground, its darkened blue contents rising up in a great swirl. Then she threw another, and the whole world felt as if it were shifting beneath Serafina’s feet. Serafina felt cold air all around her, and then the world disappeared.
Suddenly, Serafina found herself standing inside Biltmore, the air strangely cold. The French doors to the Loggia were open, the sheer white curtains glowing with the light of the full moon and fluttering in the cold winter breeze.
It’s the night I was attacked, Serafina thought.
She stepped slowly out onto the Loggia, the long, beautiful outdoor room with its carved columns and sweeping archways looking out onto the forest and the mountains and the radiance of the stars above.
These aren’t just my memories…It’s like I’m here, living through it all again.
This was her home, her place in the world. She was Biltmore’s Guardian, watching over the people she’d sworn to protect.
She ran her eye along the Loggia’s stone railing looking for any sort of creature that might be hiding there. She checked the vaulted ceiling sweeping over her head, looking for shadows that didn’t belong. And then she gazed out across the canopy of the forest, her eyes scanning for danger in the distance.
But then she sensed a presence with her on the Loggia. The hairs on the back of her neck rose up as a dark shape emerged from the shadows behind her. She heard a tick-tick-ticking sound followed by a long, raspy hiss. She turned just in time to see something coming toward her.
She ducked and leapt aside, then shifted into panther form. Her lungs filled with air and her muscles bulged with power. Her claws sprang out. She roared into an attack even as the hissing folds of the Black Cloak swept over her head and plunged her into darkness.
She twisted her spine around and bit into the attacker’s shoulder with her long fangs. Her panther heart hammered in her chest, driving her with dire strength. She clawed viciously at the attacker’s side. She couldn’t see his face, but she could feel him fighting to capture her in the cloak, pulling it over and around her. An ice-cold darkness soaked into her bones. The awful stench choked her. She fought through the dark rippling void as the Black Cloak engulfed her. She could feel her sharp panther claws slashing through the fabric, shredding it. The sound of the ripping cloth filled her ears. She kept twisting and swiping and striking, swatting wildly with her paws, fighting for her life, like she was drowning in cold black water. The slithering cloak wrapped itself around her, tightening like a coiling snake, even as it wrenched her soul away from her body and sucked her into its dark folds.
She saw inside the cloak a black, swirling, horrible world, but then it all began to change. Her claws had slashed through the cloak’s fabric. It could no longer hold what it had captured. The ruptured cloak hurled the inner reaches of its dark void out into the world, and her soul with it.
A boy came running on two strong legs out onto the Loggia and charged toward the attacker. As the attacker turned, the hood fell away and Serafina saw the face. The attacker wasn’t Braeden. And it wasn’t Uriah. It was Rowena.
Barking a vicious snarl, Gidean leapt upon Rowena, knocked her to the ground and tore into her neck. Braeden, fighting strong, grabbed her and tried to hold her down.
Serafina had already wounded Rowena, but she was still far too strong. The sorceress threw wicked spells, one barrage after another, that gashed Braeden’s face, tore at his legs, and threw him against a column.