Chapter 9 Seraphine

Chapter 9 Seraphine

Days passed achingly slowly in House Armand, while the Order of Cloaks tried to come to terms with Griffin's sudden death, and how it had happened without a word of explanation from Dufort and his assassins.

For a Dagger to kill a Cloak unprovoked broke an age-old truce that was already on shaky ground. But now it was clear the Daggers had gone rogue, which meant no one in Fantome was safe.

Then there were the rumours, though they were surely too strange to be true. And yet, as whispers of monster sightings circulated, the entire city ground to a halt, merchants closing their shops long before sunset, while children were locked inside their homes, their sticky hands pressed against foggy windows as they watched the world fall still.

Sera laughed off the rumours with Bibi and Val, but in quiet moments when she didn't have to pretend, her thoughts turned to the monster she had glimpsed that night last year in her back garden – the rabid thing that had burst from Fig's little body, pulling the darkness around it like a shroud. She could still hear its howl in her mind. This thing Mama had made. There and gone, in a spark of light.

Could it somehow be related to what was happening now? Or was fear stoking her paranoia?

Sera wondered if the rumours had made their way to the plains, to the people she had left behind. She thought often of the burnt shell of her farmhouse… the burnt shell of her life. She wondered whether she should write to Lorenzo, to let him know she was safe… to ask why he hadn't come to look for her at the one place he knew she'd be. But something always seemed to stop her.

More and more, she wanted to return to the plains to find out why Mama had been killed, to untangle what she had been doing while Sera slept in those dark hours between midnight and dawn, when she sat half-slumped and murmuring at her workbench, as though brewing something still deadlier than the black poison that kept them afloat.

But that visit would have to wait. Madame Mercure had placed a moratorium on all official Cloak activity while she investigated what exactly was going on in Fantome. And so, for the two weeks following Griffin's murder, nobody dared to venture outside.

Sera made sure her time at House Armand was not wasted. The moratorium afforded her a chance to better acquaint herself with Theo, who, as the resident Shadowsmith, was a most useful – and not at all unpleasant – person to befriend. She had quickly come to learn that the artificer kept unusual hours at House Armand, staying up for days at a time whenever he was working on some new innovation, often falling asleep at his workbench or on the couch in the rec room, or once, in his bowl of porridge at breakfast.

That spark inside him – of ingenuity and curiosity – reminded Sera of her mother, and she found that she liked being around him, even when he was half asleep or daydreaming.

The moratorium also gave Sera precious time to learn precisely how to be a Cloak.

After defence lessons with Albert each day, Sera, Bibi and Val took over the recreation room on the third floor to practise the art of pickpocketing. At first, Sera was woefully bad, bumbling and stuttering and far too obvious, but she was a quick learner. By the end of the first week, she managed to pilfer a gold butterfly clip from Bibi's hair and take Albert's watch from around his wrist.

‘Nice work, farmgirl,' said Val, as she watched her. ‘Ten silvers if you manage to swipe my nose-ring.'

Sera didn't dare. But her competitive streak meant she sure as hell thought about it.

Even Pippin was improving. One morning, he managed to steal Madame Fontaine's pipe while she was napping in the library, earning him such a scolding from the old woman that he had to sleep it off in front of the fireplace.

Theo didn't often join in with their lessons, but he was still drawn to their group. Perhaps it was because of all the Cloaks at House Armand, the four of them were closest in age, or maybe it was the sound of their laughter echoing through the halls that drew him out of the cloakroom most days. When he came, he preferred to sit by the window, chuckling into his coffee as he watched them. Sera tried to pretend his presence didn't unsettle her, but every time she caught a glimpse of his slanted smirk, her cheeks burned.

‘ Don't fall for those pretty eyes,' said Val, one rainy evening when they were all dressed in their cloaks. They had been flitting from shadow to shadow in the drawing room, immersed in a heated game of chase. ‘He's like that with every new recruit.'

‘I don't know what you're talking about,' said Sera, leaping from a shadow on the wall to catch a sliver by the window. She welcomed the cool slick of darkness, pleased at how quickly she had got used to it.

Val lunged, catching her by the hood before she disappeared entirely. ‘Yes, you do.'

Sera shook her off, folding herself between the drapes. ‘Nope.'

Val huffed, losing sight of her. ‘You are hopeless.'

‘Who's hopeless?' said Theo, stepping out from a nearby table lamp.

‘ You, ' said Val, pulling her hood back. She combed her fingers through her hair, fluffing out the purple curls. ‘Aren't you supposed to be working?'

He grinned lazily. ‘Isn't this work?'

‘This is practice ,' said Bibi, twirling out of the fireplace. ‘You never practise with us.'

‘Maybe I've got rusty.'

‘You haven't,' said Val. ‘And you hate thieving.'

‘Maybe I want to broaden my horizons?'

‘You don't,' said Bibi flatly.

Sera peered out from between the drapes. ‘Is anyone else hungry?'

‘Starving,' said Bibi and Val, in unison.

‘Me too.' Theo looked between them. ‘You wouldn't deny your faithful Shadowsmith some company at dinner, would you?'

Val rolled her eyes. ‘You can come, but keep the flirting to a minimum.'

‘All right,' he said, dipping his chin. ‘I solemnly swear not to flirt with Pippin.'

Sera laughed, before she could help herself.

‘Hopeless,' Val sighed, as she swept out of the door.

Later that night when the rain finally sputtered out and the new moon peeked through a tuffet of clouds, Madame Mercure summoned Sera, Bibi and Val to her office in the high tower of House Armand.

When they arrived, she was standing by the window in a long indigo robe with flared sleeves. Even from the side, Sera could see that her face was drawn, her mouth pinched at the corners. ‘Good evening, girls,' she said, turning to greet them. Her eyes fell on Sera. ‘I've got a job for you.'

Sera drew in a breath. Her test had come at last, and she was surprised by the thrill of excitement in her stomach, her eagerness to prove herself worthy of the welcome she had found here, and the friends she had made.

The moratorium on theft was over. But the threat of danger remained. The Daggers had continued to kill regularly and sloppily, at all hours of the day and night, leaving broken bodies strewn like petals across the streets of Fantome. There were just as many unexplained disappearances, although most of these new horrors seemed to be concentrated down near or inside the south quarter.

This gave Madame Mercure just enough confidence to resume business. The coffers at House Armand were running low, leaving her little choice but to cede to a need still more urgent than that for caution: money. She had an Order to run, patrons to satisfy. And more than that, they couldn't afford to appear afraid of Gaspard Dufort, even if they were. It was bad for business.

And so, the Order was returning to work. It was time for Seraphine to don her cloak and earn her place at House Armand.

The job was at Villa Roman, a palatial manor on the north bank of the Verne, which had, up until recently, belonged to Pascal Loren. The largest gambling den in Fantome was finally calling in its debts and had hired Madame Mercure to help.

Tonight, they were hunting for the Rizzano tiara. Over one hundred and fifty years old, the tiara had been a gift from the King of Urnica to Pascal's great-grandmother, Edith Loren, with whom he had fallen hopelessly in love. According to Mercure's sources, the headpiece had been sitting in the safe at Villa Roman for years, gathering dust, forgotten even by Pascal himself. On today's black market, the tiara would be worth somewhere in the region of eighteen hundred gold sovereigns. Sera's share alone would be more than enough to cover her stipend five times over.

Madame Mercure had managed to procure a detailed map of the property, which was folded up in the inner pocket of Val's cloak.

‘It's a soft Heist,' Val told Sera as they made their way north along the banks of the Verne. She must have noticed that Sera hadn't uttered a single word since they'd set out from House Armand just before midnight, or could sense that her excitement at becoming a true Cloak was starting to curdle into dread. Dread of stealing. Dread of failing. ‘With Pascal dead, Villa Roman is low-hanging fruit. And it's as far from the harbour as you can get. She's making this easy for you.'

‘We'll be in and out in less than twenty minutes,' said Bibi, confidently. ‘I bet we could even do it without our cloaks.'

Val shot her a warning look. ‘We still need to be careful. There could be Daggers about.'

‘Or monsters,' whispered Bibi.

‘Is there any difference?' muttered Sera, who had been so busy steeling herself for the Heist, she had momentarily forgotten all about the Daggers.

In the distance, she spied the firelight of the Aurore shining steadfastly over Fantome. A soaring three-tiered tower of pale stone, each lined with troughs of flames, the Aurore had watched over Fantome for over nine hundred years. It had been built by the people here, raised up from the rocky earth as a monument to the lost saints of Valterre. It was a tribute and a silent, burning plea. The Aurore had been a call to those long-dead saints and the magic that once blessed the people of Valterre to come back. Come back to us.

But the only magic here was Shade, and over time the shining tower had become the very thing people looked to when they found themselves afraid of the darkness and the creatures that stalked within it. The official symbol of Fantome – an ever-glowing flame – represented the light of the Aurore. The image of that flame hung in homes and taverns all across the city. A portent of good fortune, it had been embroidered onto wedding gowns and top hats, walking canes and baby blankets, and even carved into coffins. It had been painted and sculpted by hundreds of artists over hundreds of years. Some even wore the symbol on pendants around their necks, keeping that promise – that hope – close to their heart.

Mama never wore the symbol, but she wore the hope. Sera recalled the last time they had come to the city, bringing bread rolls and tomato soup to have a picnic under the Aurore.

Look how the flames glow all the way along the top , Mama had said, pointing high above them. Light always burns through the shadows, Seraphine. Her voice had wavered as she gripped Sera's hand tight, like she was trying to press the words into her skin. Whenever you feel lost, my little firefly, you need only look to the Aurore and remind yourself how high you can climb.

Sera had looked at her mother strangely, trying to interpret the quiver in her voice.

One day, we will be better than this life, darling girl. Better than Shade , Mama went on, determinedly. And when the time comes, you will rise far above this wicked city and become a flame in the dark. She had tipped her head back then, urging Sera to do the same. You will be the Aurore, Seraphine.

‘What are you staring at?' asked Bibi, jolting Sera from the memory.

‘The Aurore,' said Sera, tearing her gaze from it. ‘Who do you suppose lights the troughs?'

‘Who do you suppose cares?' said Val impatiently. ‘Stop chattering, you two. We're almost there.'

Soon, Villa Roman was before them. Although it was still occupied, it had become a tragic husk of its former self, the gold leaf peeling from its towering fa?ade, clouds of grime gathering across each window. Because of Pascal Loren's considerable gambling debts, parts of the roof had been allowed to fall into disrepair, and its magnificent gardens had begun to spill over the high stone walls. The fa?ade of pale stone was inlaid with a grand stained-glass window that looked out over the Verne like an all-seeing eye. A row of gargoyles perched along the roof gutter, scowling at the river as if it displeased them.

Sera followed Val and Bibi over the iron railings and through masses of shrubbery, until they reached the back of the building. The windows there were covered in spiderwebs and the heavy oak doors were locked. Sera frowned at the metal padlock.

Val jostled her aside. ‘Watch and learn, farmgirl.' She removed a pin from her hair and slid it inside the padlock as Sera kept a wary eye on their surroundings, spotting an owl watching them from a nearby tree, then a fox darting in the bushes. The back of her neck began to prickle but she told herself it was nerves, her destiny hanging on this one moment – this one lock. And the task that lay beyond it.

Hold your nerve.

She could do this. She had to do this.

But she couldn't stop her shiver, couldn't escape the feeling that there might be someone else here, watching them. She scanned the bushes, looking for a tell-tale glint of silver in the dark. The eyes of an all-too familiar monster…

Click!

‘We're in!' said Bibi, excitedly.

‘Get behind me,' said Val. ‘I've got the map.'

Sera stepped into the dusty dimness, turning all her nervous energy towards one simple, shining goal: the Rizzano tiara.

‘Do you believe in ghosts?' whispered Bibi as they made their way up the winding staircase.

‘Not usually,' Sera whispered back. But something about the spiralling dust motes made her feel like they weren't truly alone in here.

‘Those gargoyles outside used to give me nightmares,' Bibi confessed. Her short, shallow breaths made Sera wonder if she might be anxious too.

So Sera said with a wink, ‘I think the one on the far left is quite handsome. Did you see that exquisite bone structure?'

‘I suppose he does have nice horns.'

They broke out into nervous laughter.

Val stopped at the top of the stairs. ‘If you two don't shut up, I'm putting you outside like a pair of naughty cats.'

There was a sudden crash from the garden, followed by a strangled meow. They froze in place on the landing, Sera's heart thundering so furiously she could feel it in her throat.

‘What was that?'

Bibi swallowed. ‘A naughty cat?'

They hurried on, climbing one staircase and then another, spiralling up to the top of the house. Moonlight slipped through the windows, catching the ends of their cloaks. Up and up they went until they came to a room on the highest floor of Villa Roman. Val picked the lock in ten seconds flat. The door creaked open, revealing a beautiful library. It was bathed in a kaleidoscope of colour – blues and reds and purples and golds – the large stained-glass window casting strands of painted moonlight across the dust-laden shelves.

‘How could Pascal neglect this place?' murmured Sera.

‘I guess he didn't care much for stories,' said Bibi. ‘Only coin.'

‘What a waste of a life,' said Sera, thinking longingly of those endless afternoons in the cosy labyrinth of Babette's House of Books.

‘You two are so easily distracted,' said Val, who had already found the safe under the desk, and was halfway through picking the lock. ‘I could have done this entire job by myself.'

‘Where's the fun in that?' Bibi drifted to the window. She pressed her palms against the coloured glass and peered out over the Verne. ‘This must be the best view in Fantome.'

Sera wandered over to the desk and found a beautiful silver letter opener, engraved with the royal insignia of Valterre. Two swords crossed beneath a rose in bloom.

‘Take it,' said Bibi, watching her admire it. ‘Your first souvenir.'

‘I don't even write letters,' Sera confessed as she slipped it into the pocket of her cloak.

‘I'll write to you,' said Bibi, pilfering a fancy fountain pen and a pot of ink.

There was a loud click , followed by the keening groan of the safe door and then the triumphant crow of Val's laughter. ‘I'm a genius! It didn't even take—'

Suddenly, a bell rang, the sound so deafening it reverberated around the room.

Sera snapped her head up. ‘What the hell is that?'

Val rummaged through the safe. ‘There must be a rope attached to the mechanism. The second I pulled it—'

She was interrupted by the sound of dogs barking. This time, from somewhere below.

‘Run!' shouted Bibi.

But Val was shoulder-deep in the safe. ‘I'm stuck!'

Sera lunged, yanking her out by the hood. Val reeled backwards with a sharp curse, and the tiara clattered to the floor between them. Sera snatched it up and jammed it onto Val's head, nestling it into the curls. ‘There! Let's go!'

All three of them scrambled to their feet. They ran for the door, spilling out into the moonlit hallway. There were footsteps coming up the stairs, too quick and too many to be human. Sera spotted a shape at the other end of the hallway, and her breath caught in her throat.

There was a huge black dog prowling towards them. And three more were coming up the stairs.

‘Guard dogs,' hissed Val. Villa Roman might have been neglected but its treasures had not been forgotten by the Lorens. The girls lunged for the nearest shadow, grasping for invisibility, but the dog came right at them, a menacing growl rumbling in its throat.

‘They're trackers,' Sera realized. ‘Lose your cloaks! Your gloves! They can scent Shade!'

‘We have to run for it!' Val ripped off her cloak and cast it over the first dog, temporarily blinding it. They made it to the second, and Bibi did the same thing. This way they managed to reach the stairs, where two more dogs were waiting for them. Sera grappled at her cloak but it was fastened too tightly and her hands were trembling wildly. In a fit of panic, she took off her glove and waved it in the air, desperately trying to distract the vicious creatures. Val and Bibi seized the chance, throwing themselves over the banister and landing on the floor below with a rattling thud.

Sera tried to follow them but one of the dogs caught her by the end of her cloak. She spun around, desperately swatting it with her glove. ‘Get off me!'

‘Sera!' Bibi called up in a strangled voice. ‘Val's twisted her ankle!'

‘Help her get outside!' she shouted back. ‘I'll be right behind you.'

The lie was shrill, echoing all the way down the stairwell. She wasn't even close to getting out of here. The dogs had caught her and for all his skill and patience, Albert had not prepared her for this in self-defence class. She was screwed.

Sera kicked out and the dog growled, releasing her cloak. She ran for the library. The dogs bounded after her. She shoved the nearest shelf, sending a shower of books toppling to the ground. It bought her five seconds. She clambered over the desk, then tipped it over, buying another five.

But there was no way out. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. She backed up against the stained-glass window, brandishing the letter opener.

‘Stay back!' she yelled.

The dogs started to bark again, the commotion so loud she could have sworn it would wake everyone in Fantome. It was only a matter of time before the nightguards came. They would find her body ripped to shreds in a puddle of blue moonlight, the stupid cloak still fastened at her throat.

The dogs prowled towards her.

Sera closed her eyes and gripped the golden teardrop around her neck.

Mama, help me.

Suddenly, she felt something against her back. A crack in the window – a point of weakness. And there, at her side, a toppled chair.

The only way out was out.

The drop alone might kill her.

But, maybe … whispered a voice inside her. Maybe it won't.

Sera didn't have time to think. She pocketed the knife, picked up the chair and swung it with all her might. The window shattered in a shower of colourful glass.