Sorcerers of the Nightwing (Book One - The Ravenscliff Series) (13 page)

“I think you’ll do fine with us,” he said. “Cecily told us you were cool. She also said that you were mysterious.” He looked over at Devon, his brown eyes twinkling. “That, of course, just made us all the more determined to find out your secrets.”

Devon laughed. “Well, whatever you find out, let me know, because I want to find out, too.”

The bell rang and they hurried to class. For Devon,
the day passed in a haze. Classes, seat assignments, and a pile of new books. Meetings with teachers, interviews with guidance counselors, summaries of lessons. Starting in the middle of the semester was no fun, but the day did give Devon a break from the thoughts that had consumed him since his arrival at Ravenscliff. It gave him the opportunity, for a few hours at least, to be just an ordinary
kid.

His mind was still swimming when the last bell rang and he made his way back to his locker. Cecily was there waiting.

“All the girls are asking about you,” she announced.

Devon smiled, a little embarrassed by the attention. He began fiddling with the lock, the combination of which he was trying to commit to memory.

“45 … 15 …”

“I told them you were gay,” she said.

Devon
whipped his head around to look at her. “Why would you tell them that?”

“To keep them away from you. I’ve already got to deal with Nate coming on to you.”

Devon shook his head and went back to opening his locker. “You’re a very funny girl, you know that, Cecily?”

“I called Simon and told him D.J. would bring us home,” she said. “This way we can hang at Gio’s for a while.”

“What’s Gio’s?”

“A pizza place,” Marcus told him, suddenly appearing at the next locker. “Everybody from Misery Point hangs there after school since most everything’s closed down in our town this time of year.”

He looked over at Cecily.

“And by the way, Cess,” he added, “I straightened out your story about Devon, so to speak.” He grinned over at Devon. “I told all the girls who were asking that you were
straighter than a yardstick.”

“Marcus!” Cecily whined. “Why’d you do that?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t mind if Devon was gay. I’d like to find a boyfriend myself before sophomore year is over. But fair’s fair, Cess.”

Cecily pouted.

“Thanks,” Devon said to Marcus. “But I don’t really care what people say about me.”

Marcus gave him a look. “That’s because you
do
have a secret,
I suspect,” he said in a low voice. “But it’s not that you’re gay.”

Devon smiled. “Yeah, nothing as simple as that.”

He was pleased that his new friend didn’t press him. They slammed their lockers shut and headed out into the parking lot.

D.J., being sixteen, had his driver’s license. He’d been kept back a grade in junior high. He was leaning against his car as they came upon him. Devon watched as Cecily and Natalie suddenly turned on the charm to him now that he was giving them a ride.

“Thank you, Deejie sweetums,” Cecily purred.

Natalie gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You’re the best, Deej.”

Devon walked around the
classic red Camaro. “Awesome car,” he said to D.J. “What year is it?”

“She’s a ‘79,” D.J. replied, still seeming unsure of whether he liked Devon or not. He slid in behind the wheel and started the engine, the car humming to life. The music snapped on as well. Aerosmith.

“Hey,” Devon said. “Aerosmith rocks.”

D.J. beamed. “Finally,” he called to the other kids, who were climbing into the
backseat of the car. “Somebody who has some taste in music.” He looked over at Devon, who had slipped into the passenger seat upfront. “These guys are all about those stupid British boy bands.”

Devon shuddered. D.J. laughed and clapped him on the back. Suddenly they were best friends.

Heading out of the school parking lot and out onto Route 1, D.J. gave Devon a detailed description of the
Camaro’s engine, its horsepower, its history of different paint jobs. Devon’s father had worked on cars so he had some understanding of what D.J. was talking about. “I just painted the white stripe down her side,” D.J. told him. He’d named the car “Flo,” he told Devon, after his grandmother, who’d given him the money to buy it.

For the first time since leaving Coles Junction, Devon felt as
if he might just fit in here. His friends back home had all seemed to move on without him. But now he had some new friends—friends who, according to Marcus, had each other’s backs. Never mind for the moment all the creepy mysteries that were waiting for him back at the old house on the cliff. For Devon, almost as important as finding out about his past was finding a group of friends, people he liked
and could trust, people who could help him forget how much he missed his old life. Maybe in time he wouldn’t miss it as much.

D.J. was singing along to “Walk This Way.” He was tall and lanky, pierced and scruffy. Devon realized that D.J. was usually pretty laid-back, but he came alive when something really got him excited—like his car or the music of Aerosmith. In his black jeans and black
t-shirt, D.J. seemingly hadn’t a care in the world except for keeping his Camaro waxed and shined. Devon envied him; he couldn’t imagine the luxury of such a wonderfully ordinary life.

At Gio’s, they piled out of Flo and scrambled into the pizza place, which was already packed with kids. On their way inside, D.J. slapped the backs of the guys who were hanging out in front smoking cigarettes.
One kid who was leaning against his motorcycle D.J. called “Crispin.”

A heavy aroma of garlic assaulted Devon’s nostrils as he made his way inside the small space, where the walls were festooned with American and Italian flags. Natalie stopped at a booth to exchange giddy gossip with some other cheerleaders while Marcus air-kissed a couple of girls sitting on stools at the long counter and
shouted an order for a pepperoni pizza into the kitchen. Cecily spoke to no one. She was busy tweeting their arrival. “I have to get in all my social media needs while we’re outside Misery Point,” she told Devon. “Mother is so obstinate about not getting a cell phone booster for the house.”

That was when Devon realized he had some texts that he’d missed. One was from Suze. She hoped that Devon
wasn’t mad at her since he hadn’t replied to her last message. Devon frowned. How was he supposed to reply to a message telling him he’d been replaced not more than two days after he’d left? Then there were two texts and a photo from Tommy. The texts were brief, just saying “hey” and “what up.” The photo was of Max sprawled out on Tommy’s bed, which broke Devon’s heart. He chose not to reply to
any of the texts.

Instead, he slid into a booth beside Cecily and Marcus, as D.J. and Natalie sat opposite them. What an eclectic little group his new friends were. Cecily was the rich girl. Natalie was a cheerleader. D.J. was a gear head, and Marcus was gay.

“So what brought you guys together?” Devon asked, as Gio, a barrel-chested man in a grimy apron, dropped a steaming pizza in the middle
of their table. “How come you guys hang out with each other? I mean, you’re all so different.”

They looked at him as if it they didn’t know what he was talking about. “Different?” D.J. asked. “We’re not different. We’re all strictly non-bullshitters, you know? We do and say what we mean.”

“We just don’t quite fit with any other group,” Marcus added, lifting a slice of pizza in the air, its
cheese dangling in a long string. “According to conventional wisdom, I should hang out with the theater crowd. But I’m not that—well, theatrical.”

“And me,” Natalie said, cutting her pizza with a knife and fork. “I could hang with the cheerleaders if I wanted. But who wants to do that? Like I want to talk about shaving my legs all the time?” She paused. “Some of the time, sure—but not always.”

Devon was smiling. “And what about you, Cecily?” he asked, looking at her. “What puts you in this little group?”

A small grin played with her lips. “I think it’s mostly because these losers put up with me, and none of the others will.” She looked over at D.J., then at the rest of them. “I can be pretty demanding, can’t I?”

A chorus of affirmative replies followed. “All right, all right,”
Cecily said. “You don’t have to agree so strongly.” She paused. “But you know what else? It hasn’t been easy growing up at Ravenscliff, the way people talk about the place. The ghosts. The legends. The scandals. A lot of the kids don’t want anything to do with me, or they just want to get to know me so they can get a free pass into Ravenscliff. Now this sorry lot”—she gestured around at the other
four kids in the booth—"isn’t impressed with any of that. In some ways—”

But suddenly she was cut off by a noise. There was commotion up front. A fight. They all turned to look. Two boys were tussling. Gio was shaking his fists at them.

“Who’s fighting?” Cecily asked.

D.J. bounded out over the back of the booth, landing on his feet. “Looks like Crispin,” he said.

Indeed, the guy being
pulverized was the same who’d been leaning against his motorcycle earlier. D.J. ran to help his friend.

“D.J.!” Cecily called after him. “Be careful!”

All at once Devon felt the heat. A vibration began high in his ears as the pressure seemed to close in on him.

That’s no kid that started that fight,
the Voice told him.

Devon slid out of the booth. He felt unsteady on feet.

“Devon?”
he heard Cecily ask, but it was as if she were miles away. He took a few steps in the direction of the scuffle, but the heat was making him dizzy. Other kids were gathering around now. Devon pushed through them, wending his way to the heart of the fight.

D.J. was trying to lift the kid who was pummeling his friend into the floor by gripping the back of his denim jacket. From where Devon stood,
the attacker looked like any other kid. Blondish hair, small frame, jeans, Nike sneakers.

But when D.J. managed at one point to pull the kid up by the back of his jacket, Devon saw the truth: those were talons instead of hands, clenched into terrible fists as they pounded the boy below.

“Get back to hell,” Devon growled, leaping forward and grabbing ahold of the demon’s shoulders. He lifted
it off of Crispin with strength he didn’t know he possessed. D.J., stunned, took a couple of awkward steps backward. Holding the creature by the shoulder with one hand, Devon hauled back with his other and landed a punch square in the thing’s face, sending the brawling demon flying out of the open door.

“Holy shit,” D.J. breathed.

The other kids looked at Devon in awe.

Outside on the
sidewalk, the demon-that-looked-like-a-boy stood and hissed.

You’re the one I was looking for,
it said to Devon.
Figured this would get your attention.

Devon stared at him. He knew he was the only one who could hear the creature’s words.

Open that door!
the demon roared, yellow saliva dripping from its mouth.
Let them free!

Never
, Devon replied.

The thing hissed again, then turned
and ran off down the road.

“I didn’t do nothin’,” cried Crispin, sitting up and rubbing his face. “That freak just jumped me!” Several girls were crowding around him. Gio hurried over with a cold cloth to press against his head.

“Did you see his hands?” Crispin asked.

“I’m going after him,” D.J. announced.

“No,” Devon said. “He’s long gone!”

“I called the police,” Gio told the assaulted
kid. “They’ll be here for you to file charges.”

“I was just standing by my bike, doin’ nothin’,” Crispin said. “He comes up and throws me down, starts whaling at me. Man, did you see his hands?”

It appeared no one but Crispin and Devon had gotten a clear view of the talons.

“You ever see him before?” Gio was asking Crispin.

“No. Never.”

The general consensus among the crowd was
that he wasn’t from around here. Devon laughed to himself. That was for sure.

“Hey.”

Devon looked up. D.J. was standing next to him. Behind him were Cecily, Natalie and Marcus. All wide-eyed.

“How’d you get to be so strong?” D.J. asked, awestruck.

Devon felt his face redden. “I don’t know. Adrenaline, I guess.”

“You were awesome,” Natalie gushed.

“Yeah,” agreed Marcus. “Did you
go to fight school or something? Karate?”

“No. Just lucky, I guess.”

Cecily sidled up next to him. “Lucky doesn’t begin to describe it.” She reached up and put her arms around his neck. “You’re a superhero, Devon March.”