Cherubim and Seraphim
By Mia S. Rijnbrand
Dedicated to Kitty Meowie - a steadfast companion
Prologue
Molly Shire, born an heiress, married her true love upon her graduation of finishing school, and that was that. She settled down with her husband and everybody crossed her off their mental lists of eligible young ladies. But her ex-suitor, Sargon, wasn’t finished with her yet. He, 20 years or more her elder, couldn’t have been a worse match for her. He was thin and sallow, with cruel black eyes and a wicked smile, while Molly was youthfully pretty and smelled like a fall breeze. But he had loved her from the moment he set eyes on her, if his emotion could be called love. She would be the perfect mother for his heir, and though she had denounced any claim he might have to her affections, he could wait.
And so he waited. He watched and listened as Molly bore her first- a son who looked and had the nature of a hungry snake. Sargon nodded with approval. This boy would grow up to have a nature as cruel and ruthless as Sargon, but he wasn’t Sargon’s heir. Sargon waited and watched.
All of a sudden, Molly’s husband died, and Molly, heartbroken, thought she would never love again, but she did. She married five more times, each husband living only long enough to see their child born. This is how Molly came to have six children from six different fathers. They all had a frosty and evil pride which haunted Molly. The children banded together and formed a gang, like wolves they knew they were stronger in numbers, but had no love for each other.
Sargon knew that Molly’s will was crumbling. He would propose again. He could be pretty persuasive when necessary he thought with a smirk as he turned to open the big leather volume on his disk.
When he and Molly had their first child, he took one look at the baby and his frosty triumph turned to cold hate.
His heir was a girl.
Chapter One
Seraphine brushed her dark hair with a ferocity that nearly pulled it out by the roots. The Snake had had an argument with Father and she had been beaten badly for it. The way that they saw it was that they could get back at Father if they punished her. She, after all, was the heir of both the estates, and so certainly Father would care somewhat.
But he couldn’t care less.
Ever since his first look at Seraphine he had given her the cold shoulder. Every now and again he would look at her, his eyes burning with a cold hate, which was worse, Seraphine admitted. The Snake hated Father and because The Snake was the leader of them Serphine was the object of the persecution.
How Seraphine wanted to be part of them! She wanted to band together with them and share their frosty pride and look down haughtily at all the other children like they did. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She had been looked down at with the reticent pride for too long to be able to do it to others, and besides, Seraphine wasn’t the frostlike type. She shined silver like the moon, but she couldn’t be frosty. Or snakelike. Or prideful.
“It’s very hard to be prideful and aloof when you don’t have anything to be it about.” Seraphine confided to her mirror. Virginia walked in. Second only to The Snake she was the frostiest and the haughtiest of the girls and could cleverly disguise her hatred and condescension in simple, sisterly sentences. But nothing could change her icy blue eyes. She never bothered to mask the hatred there.
“Mother will be worried about you, little Seraphine, if she catches you talking to yourself. She might think you have a fever, or such.” Virginia said. Seraphine translated this into: I shall tell mother that you have gone insane if you, filthy vermin, don’t stop trying to be one of us. She nodded meekly. Talking to Virginia was like poking a very hungry dragon in the eye. Anything you said could be manipulated into something dreadfully different. And she would get you, you could be sure.
“Good.” And with a cold smirk she walked off. Seraphine sighed and took out her book out of a secret pocket hanging from a belt inside her dress. None of them could get at it there. She had a feeling that it would not be above their frosty pride to read something as private as her book.
In it she scribbled:
Dear Book,
They have sent Virginia in here to talk to me again. At more and more frequent intervals they do it, now. I don’t think they know about you, dearest book, but they suspect something. I wear your belt day and night, but The Snake is smart and I can’t be sure that you will be safe.
Virginia has threatened to tell mother about talking to my reflection and is itching to get me in trouble. I’ve been lying low for quite a while and it is driving them insane. Mother might suspect something is up, but she isn’t the same anymore. I overheard one of their meetings and they said that mother has changed since Father came. Once they found out that I had heard one of their meetings, I went without meals for two days. It was the only thing that they and Father have ever agreed upon before, I think.
In other words, something is fishy and I thought you’d like to know.
I remain ever yours,
Seraphine
Seraphine closed her book and put it into her pocket as she heard feet run up the stairs. The door opened and Abigail smirked. “I hope you aren’t talking to your reflection again. “ She said with a cool, mocking imitation of concern. Seraphine shook her head. Surely nothing could be ill assumed with shaking her head, right? Abigail must have agreed, because she and Annabelle walked gracefully down the stairs.
That was another difference between the others with their unfriendly pride and Seraphine. They walked, their pride keeping them on their feet at all non-sitting times, while Seraphine stumbled. Her knees looked battered and bruised but it was nobody’s fault but hers.
They were above violence. Their frosty pride might’ve been all that they had, but Seraphine didn’t even have that. I have my book though, she thought, and turned her grimace into a smile.
