Serafina and the Twisted Staff (The Serafina Series) (14 page)

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.

A
s 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 silver-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.

G
idean 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.