“You’re going to try what?” Braeden asked, confused and frightened.
Serafina thought about how she had crawled from the grave and had been living in the spirit world, what she could and couldn’t do, who she could and couldn’t touch, what paths she could and couldn’t take. Dust and water and wind, she wasn’t long for this world. She thought about Braeden and Waysa fighting for her with all their hearts, and her pa with his deadened soul going through the motions of his life, and her mother who had lost all hope. She thought about Rowena’s father, the coming storms, the raging rivers, his lust for vengeance against the Vanderbilts. He would not rest until Biltmore was destroyed. Then she started thinking about everything she’d seen Rowena do, how they’d first met, all the tricks and betrayals, and all the battles they had fought against each other. Rowena had followed many paths, twisting and intertwining, and there were many ways she could turn.
Through all this, Serafina realized that maybe the most difficult thing wasn’t to trust your friend, or even your enemy, but to trust yourself. She had to trust that no matter how dark her future became, she was strong enough, that whatever happened, whether she passed away forever or somehow found her way through to the other side, she had to trust herself, trust her own soul, her own wisdom, her own strength, to pass through the darkness and unknown. She had to trust that she could become who she was meant to be.
Her hands were trembling. Her legs were shaking. Even her voice was unsteady when she spoke. “I have one last request,” Serafina said to Rowena. “If I agree to do this, I need you to give me your word that no matter what happens to me, you’ll protect Braeden and my pa and Waysa and everyone at Biltmore from your father. Give me your word.”
Rowena paused. There was no grimace, no smile, but a face as stone and immobile as the angel’s face in the graveyard.
Serafina studied her, trying to figure out what she was thinking. Was she reluctant to give her word? Or was she actually, in a strange way, satisfied with what Serafina was asking her to do? Had this been what she wanted all along, to join them, to have friends that would fight for her, and that she would fight for in return?
But if Serafina died, Rowena would have to defend all of Biltmore from her father. It was not a fight she could win on her own. She could barely hide herself in the bog to escape him. There was no way she could protect everyone at Biltmore. The friendship Rowena sought came with an almost impossible price, but without that friendship, what chance did Rowena have to survive?
“I need your word, Rowena,” Serafina said, but even as she pressed, she realized she didn’t know what Rowena’s word meant. This could all be a trick. But she could see no other choice. “If you don’t help me,” Serafina pressed her, “what will happen to you, Rowena?”
“I will survive alone,” Rowena said.
“You know that’s not true. Is that why you came to talk to me at my grave that night? Maybe you’ll survive for a little while against your father. Maybe you can keep hiding from him. But will you truly live? If we trust you to help us, then you have to trust us to help you.”
Rowena did not reply at first, but after a long moment, she nodded in agreement. “If you don’t make it through, I will do everything in my power to protect them. You have my solemn word.”
Serafina studied Rowena. She looked at her face, her eyes, the way she moved when she said the words. How do you know when someone’s lying to you, or if they will keep their promise?
“What’s going on?” Braeden asked. “What have you given your word to do?”
“We are running out of time, cat,” Rowena said, ignoring Braeden.
A cold, black fear like nothing Serafina had ever felt before vibrated through her body. The last thing she wanted to do in the world was to get sucked into the Black Cloak, but she knew she had to do it.
“I’m ready,” she said. “I trust you, Rowena. Tell Braeden and Waysa what we’re going to do.”
Serafina, Braeden, and Waysa watched Rowena work. The sorceress sat down in her lair and took the Black Cloak into her lap. The cloak’s dark folds roiled and seethed of their own accord when she moved the fabric with her hands, as if she were holding not a garment but a massive, living snake.
She drew out a long, thin needle of bone and began to sew, slowly stitching the tears of the Black Cloak’s torn fabric.
“The outside of the cloak is goat’s wool woven with the skin of timber rattlesnakes,” Rowena said, “so I’ve used a fine goat’s wool thread for the stitchings. But the lining of the cloak, where its most important power lies, is black satin made from the silk of black widow spiders.”
Braeden’s face wrinkled in revulsion. “Spiders? The Black Cloak is made from spider silk? How do you get usable silk from a spider?”
“It is very difficult,” Rowena admitted as she worked, “but it is possible if you know the spell.”
“A coercion spell…” Braeden grumbled.
“Yes, obviously, coercion is required,” Rowena said, annoyed at the accusation. “Black widow spiders aren’t the most willing allies, believe me, and their venom is exceedingly unpleasant. But their silk is much stronger than the silk of many other spiders. Spiders can make six different types of silk: strong silk for dangling, sticky silk for catching prey, flat silk for flying in the wind, and the others, each for their purpose. It takes all of the black widow’s silks twined together to create the thread we need. I use a coercion spell to make the spiders do what I need them to do, and a twining spell to spin the thread.”
“But isn’t a spider’s silk white or clear?” Braeden asked, appalled by it all, but beguiled by the gruesome details of the process. It seemed to fascinate him that spiders and other animals were part of the cloak’s construction.
“It is the twining process that turns the thread black,” Rowena said.
As hour after hour went by with Rowena clutching the twisting cloak, Braeden grew restless. Sometimes, he paced back and forth through the muck outside the lair, dragging his braced leg behind him. Waysa just watched and waited, his claws out, his tail flicking impatiently, as if he were more than ready should battle come.
Serafina watched Rowena carefully, determined to not let the sorceress trick her. She had to stay vigilant, but the truth was, she didn’t know how or at what moment Rowena might betray her.