Serafina and the Twisted Staff. Robert Beatty
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the maid said, but instead of then leaving, she froze, transfixed, as she studied Serafina’s streaked hair and odd clothing.
‘Was there something else?’ Serafina’s pa said to the maid.
‘Oh no, I’m sorry, pardon me,’ the maid said as she pulled herself out of her stare, curtsied in embarrassment to Serafina and then quickly excused herself from the room.
‘Well, what’s it say, then?’ Serafina’s pa said, gesturing towards the note.
As Serafina carefully opened the small piece of paper, her hands trembled. Whatever it was, it felt important. As she read Braeden’s words, the first thing she understood was that her pa had been wrong. She wasn’t receiving an invitation to a dancing party or a formal dinner. The note dealt with a far darker subject. Just the first sentence tightened her chest with fear. Suddenly, she remembered seeing the black-cloaked Mr Thorne falling dead to the ground, killed by her and her companions. Then another image flashed through her mind: her and Braeden at the gallows, hanging by their necks for the crime of murder. But, as she read the frightening note, there was another emotion as well. She glowed with the knowledge that it was Braeden who was telling her these words. At long last, it was her old friend and ally.
S,
A murder investigator has arrived at Biltmore. He’s the strangest man I have ever seen. You and I have been summoned at 6:00 p.m. for questioning about the disappearance of Mr Thorne. Be careful.
B.
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