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

by Geoffrey Huntington

  Devon nodded. “That’s what the creep at the pizza joint said.”

  “Of course, Jackson would use them to his own advantage, as I imagine he’s doing now. Being dead is only a minor inconvenience for him … especially now that there’s a new Nightwing at Ravenscliff.”

  Devon looked up at Rolfe. “He’s got Alexander in his power now.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “At first I just thought it was Alexander being the malicious kid everybody said he was. But not anymore. Now I know Jackson’s working through him. I saw him, on this weird TV show Alexander watches—”

  “TV show?” Rolfe barked. He rushed over to Devon and grabbed his shirt. “What TV show?”

  “Hey, take it easy,” Devon said. “It’s called Major Musick …”

  “Dear God,” Rolfe breathed. “Not again.”

  “What do you mean, not again?”

  Rolfe glared at him. “When I was a teenager, the Madman tried the same thing. It was a few years after his death. We discovered this television show one day and became hooked. Only later did we realize that it was a televised version of the magic show Jackson used to put on for us in the parlor when we were kids.” He looked sternly at Devon. “Have you seen this program? Have you watched it?”

  “A little,” Devon admitted.

  “Don’t. And you’ve got to prevent Alexander from doing so ever again.”

  “It’s too late for that. He’s already in Jackson’s power.”

  Rolfe shook his head. “If Alexander’s still here, it’s not too late.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If he’s physically still here. The Madman’s plan is to bring him inside.”

  Devon looked astonished. “Inside the TV? How crazy is that?”

  “Inside the Hell Hole, Devon. The TV screen is just like a monitor into the depths of hell.”

  “Whoaaa …”

  “Yeah, whoa all right.” Rolfe bit his lower lip, contemplating something. “I’ll tell you a story, Devon. I imagine Thaddeus never told you he had another son—a son of his own.”

  “No,” Devon said.

  “His name was Francis. We called him Frankie. He was about my age. He came to Ravenscliff with Thaddeus. We all hung out together: Eddie Muir, Frankie, myself. It was the three of us who started watching Major Musick. Every day we watched it faithfully, and none of the adults suspected a thing. None of the adults who were always on the lookout for the Madman’s return—Mr. Muir, my father, Thaddeus. They just saw three boys watching a clown. How innocent was that?” He paused. “How devious of Jackson Muir.”

  “What happened?”

  “One day Frankie disappeared. We searched everywhere for him but he wasn’t found. Poor Thaddeus was so distraught.”

  Devon thought of his father with another son. There was a small twang of jealousy, but it dissolved under the realization of the pain Dad must have felt. Devon remembered once when he got lost in a department store. He was maybe five or six. Dad had been far more upset than Devon, throwing his arms around the little boy when he spotted him, saying over and over again, “Thank God you’re all right! Thank God!”

  He understood now why his father had been so upset. He’d been through it before.

  “Was Frankie ever found?” asked Devon.

  “Oh, yes, he was found.” Rolfe paused. “Do you know where?”

  Devon swallowed. “Tell me,” he said, dry-mouthed.

  “Sitting in the bleachers of The Major Musick Show. There he was, just sitting there. Blank-eyed and vacant. I remember sitting in front of the TV and recognizing him. Just a slight kid, covered with freckles …”

  Devon felt as if a cold hand had just touched him on the shoulder. “I’ve seen him!” he shouted. “I’ve seen him on the show!”

  Rolfe grimaced, running his hand through his hair. “Poor Frankie. All this time in the Hell Hole.”

  Devon still felt the icy grip. “That’s what he wants to do to Alexander? Bring him in there? Why, Rolfe?”

  “Because he wants you to come in and try to save him,” he said.

  “Me? He wants me to go—in there? Through the bolted door?”

  Rolfe nodded. “Just as poor old Mr. Muir was forced to do. The last of the Nightwing.” He looked sadly at Devon. “He never came out.”

  “Mrs. Crandall’s father? He died in the Hell Hole?”

  Rolfe sighed. This was clearly dredging up long-ago, painful memories. “And he wasn’t the only one who died in that struggle.”

  “Your father, too?” Devon ventured.

  Rolfe nodded, his eyes shining with tears now. “The Madman won. Which is why sorcery became forbidden at Ravenscliff. Why the spells were cast to renounce their Nightwing heritage. The ravens left one bright afternoon, flying up into the air all at once, obscuring the sun for several seconds before disappearing forever.”

  “But Jackson has returned,” Devon said.

  “Yes, and I suspect you were the catalyst. He sensed another Nightwing had arrived. He wants that portal opened, Devon. He wants the demons released so he can harness their power.”

  Devon ran his hands over his face. He felt staggered by all this information. “Rolfe, it’s just so hard to—make sense of it all—”

  Rolfe frowned. “I understand, Devon. There’s so much you need to know, so much you need to learn, and I’m not a Guardian. I was meant to be, but my father died too young to teach me everything he knew.”

  “I need to know about the Nightwing, Rolfe. What I am.”

  “Yes, Devon, you deserve to know your own history, the heritage of the Nightwing.” Rolfe shook his head. “But not now. We don’t have time for all that. We have to move quickly if we’re to save Alexander.”

  Devon looked at him with some alarm. “What do you mean?”

  “We need to go to Ravenscliff and confront Amanda.”

  “Why? Confront her how?”

  Rolfe sighed. “I’m not sure how much she knew about the specifics of that television program. Her father kept a good deal from her. But she was there. She certainly remembers Frankie’s disappearance and what happened to her father and mine as a consequence of it.” His jaw set in determination. “No matter our own personal antagonism, she’s got to listen to me when I tell her Alexander is in danger.”

  “Well, she insisted to me he wasn’t,” Devon said.

  “She thinks they’re protected from the Madman. She thinks because they’ve renounced their family’s heritage that Jackson is gone for good.” Rolfe looked at Devon. “Perhaps because she doesn’t know of your powers. If she did, she might be more wary.”

  “So I should tell her?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I’ll try talking to her first. Come on. Who knows how much time we have left to save the boy?”

  Devon considered something. “Rolfe, I think it’d be better if we don’t show up together. It might antagonize Mrs. Crandall to see us arrive in the same car.”

  Rolfe nodded. “You’re a sharp kid. Okay, I’ll drop you back at Stormy Harbor.” He laughed. “Reminds me of the night I brought you in from the train station.”

  How long ago now that seemed to Devon. And how much more he now knew. Not that he understood all of it fully—

  His mind was spinning. So much information in such a short time. It seemed utterly fantastic and yet so right somehow. As if he already knew everything that Rolfe had told him, somewhere deep down within his soul. As if the knowledge were embedded in his psyche, in his genes.

  They headed back up the spiral staircase. Roxanne was at the table, going over old manuscripts. She and Rolfe just exchanged knowing smiles as Rolfe grabbed his coat from the rack and headed outside. Devon wondered what their relationship was.

  “Goodbye, Devon March,” Roxanne said.

  “See ya later,” he said, managing a smile. “And thanks again for the food.”

  He and Rolfe spoke very little in the car heading back to the village. What could they say? Devon
felt talked out. His head struggled to absorb all the new information.

  I’m a Sorcerer of the Order of the Nightwing, he repeated over and over again to himself. And Dad was a Guardian …

  Over two hundred years old …

  He waved so long to Rolfe as the Porsche crunched the gravel driving out of the Stormy Harbor lot. Then Devon sighed, looking up at the dark sky, grateful that the rain had eased for his climb back up the hill to Ravenscliff.

  “I can’t believe you, Devon,” came a voice.

  It was Cecily. She was standing next to D.J.’s car, parked a few yards away.

  “Cecily,” he said. “What’s the matter?”

  “I saw you get out of Rolfe Montaigne’s car,” she said.

  “I had to talk to him—”

  She was furious. “Devon, I’ve tried to understand you. I really have. I know you want to find out why you are the way you are. But you’ve gone too far, Devon.”

  He approached her, extended his hand, tried to touch her face. But she recoiled from him.

  “I know Rolfe can be cool,” she said. “I don’t hate him the way Mother does. But the fact remains that he wants to hurt my family, and there you are sneaking off to meet with him. I’m telling you, Devon, in your search for the truth, you’ve gone too far. Alexander’s not possessed; he’s just a brat. And Rolfe isn’t your friend; he’s just using you to get at my mother!”

  “That’s not true, Cecily. If you knew the stuff I’ve just found out—”

  “I don’t want to hear any more of it. It’s madness!”

  She turned away sharply, her hair flying, rushing to the other side of the car and sliding in beside D.J. Devon heard the engine kick in.

  “Cecily!”

  He ran after the car as it started to move. D.J. looked out from the driver’s window.

  “Hey man, no hard feelings, okay,” D.J. said. “Guess Cess just decided she liked me better.”

  The car accelerated. And in that last instant before the Camaro gunned out of the parking lot, Devon saw D.J. grin—shiny pointed fangs in the dark, flashing a thumbs-up sign with a hooked, yellow talon.

  The Light in the Tower

  “Cecily!” Devon shouted—but the car screeched off down the road.

  Guess Cess just decided she liked me better.

  A demon posing as D.J. The same one, Devon thought, that had assumed the shape of the boy at Gio’s. What would it do to Cecily?

  Flo’s red taillights were vanishing in the darkness.

  I’ve got to save her. I’ve got to—

  Without even consciously willing it, Devon found himself airborne—thrust forward in a single leap at a speed that left him gasping for breath. Within seconds he was on top of the Camaro, looking down through the glass roof at the two figures within.

  The demon looked up and roared, exposing its true face.

  Cecily, suddenly aware, screamed.

  A taloned hand came crashing up through the glass, trying to grab Devon. Darting out of the way, he managed to stay attached to the car—almost as if he had suction cups on his hands. The Camaro swerved across the road into the oncoming lane. Ahead, a tractor-trailer barreled towards them.

  “Oh noooo!” Devon shouted.

  The truck leaned on its horn. The demon was driving with one claw, its other still trying to grab hold of Devon’s legs through the smashed window of the roof. It was laughing maniacally now, the same laughter Devon had heard when the thing had tried to run him and Rolfe off the road.

  Devon concentrated on Flo’s steering wheel.

  With his mind he wrested control of it away from the creature who was driving. With just one thought, he managed to turn the wheel abruptly. The car swerved out of the truck’s path and off the road into a grassy embankment. It came to a resounding thud against a tree.

  “Hope you remembered to buckle up,” Devon called, jumping off the roof of the car and opening the passenger-side door.

  Cecily had, indeed. She was dazed but unhurt.

  “Cecily, get out,” Devon commanded, unhooking her seat belt. She obeyed, tumbling out onto the grass.

  Meanwhile, the demon, still dressed in D.J.’s clothes but looking like its true self—scaly, reptilian, hissing smoke through its flaring nostrils—had jumped out of the other side. It laughed at them over the hood of the car.

  Cecily gasped. “Devon—that thing—”

  “Run!” he shouted, and she did, sprinting off into the woods on the side of the road just as the demon leapt, landing on Devon, pushing him down into the mud.

  You should have just opened that door, the creature hissed in Devon’s mind. You should have just let them out. Such power you’d have then …

  “I have power now,” Devon bellowed, thrusting the thing off him. It flew through the air, landing on its back not far from where Cecily was hiding between a tree, splashing her with mud. She screamed.

  “I’m stronger than you,” Devon shouted at the creature, but it paid him no heed, getting back on its feet and leaping again, its face now a snout full of fangs.

  You will be ours, the demon told him. You will come over to our side.

  “A doubtful scenario, I think,” Devon cried, hauling off and socking the thing smack in the face. It recovered quickly, its long arms swinging back at him. Talons made contact with his skin, cutting Devon across his face.

  “Listen, ugly,” he cracked, “you keep this up and you’re gonna really start hurting my feelings.” Without even knowing he could do it, Devon threw himself feet first into the thing’s belly, toppling it over. It roared in pain.

  He stood over it. “I send you back to your Hell Hole,” he uttered in a voice that seemed alien to him—a deep, strong, adult voice. The thing on the ground quivered, then screamed. Suddenly it was whisked away, as if by some giant unseen vacuum, across the night sky.

  Devon just stood there, breathing heavily, in and out, for several seconds.

  “Devon?” came Cecily’s little voice behind him.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, turning to her.

  “Am I okay?” She touched the wound on Devon’s cheek, which stretched across the bridge of his nose. “Are you okay?”

  He flinched a little at her touch, then reached up to examine the wound himself. “Nasty thing drew blood,” he snarled. “I hate that.”

  “Devon, what is happening?”

  She began to cry. And shake uncontrollably. Devon wrapped his arms around her.

  “It’s okay, Cecily. It’s gone.”

  She looked up at him. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I’m sorry for everything. I’ll believe anything you say now.”

  He smiled a little, kissing her forehead.

  “Oh, Devon,” Cecily cried. “It’s like I always knew something would happen. Something would force the truth to come out.” She managed a small laugh. “Not that I could have expected anything quite like this. But I knew something—something was out there.”

  “It’s okay,” he soothed her.

  She buried her face against his chest. “Ever since I was little, I’ve known it. I’ve seen the lights in the tower, too, Devon. I’ve heard the sounds, seen the figures, felt the presences. All of my mother’s reassurances couldn’t push away the truth. I knew it was out there.”

  “Look, we can talk more later. Right now we’ve got to get back into town.” Devon looked over at the Camaro with its fender mangled up against the tree. “Poor Flo. Poor D.J.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Cecily. “Who’s gonna tell him?”

  Devon realized something. “You know, if that stinking thing was masquerading as D.J., then where’s the real one?”

  Cecily looked at him dumbstruck.

  “Where did you meet up with Ugly?” Devon asked.

  “At Stormy Harbor. I went down there looking for you. I saw D.J. sitting in his car—what I thought was D.J. anyway. A few minutes later you showed up.”

  Devon nodded. “Then the real D.J. is probably back there somewhere, a
nd he may be hurt. We’ve got to go find him.”

  They looked at each other. True enough—but just how were they going to get there? They were at least a mile out of town.

  “I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to repeat the stunt I pulled getting here,” Devon said.

  Cecily looked over at Flo. “Think she’s still drivable?”

  “Maybe.” He grinned sheepishly. “But Cecily, even if she is, I don’t know how … to …”

  She smirked. “Oh, so you can fight off demons but you don’t know how to drive a car? Well, I didn’t necessarily mean you, Indiana Jones. I’m not just a helpless female cowering in the woods, you know.”

  She slid in behind the wheel.

  “Jeez, the thing sure left a stink in here,” Cecily said, scrunching up her face. She turned the ignition. The engine kicked in. “Ah,” she purred. “Flo’s still got some life left in her.”

  Devon got in the passenger side, careful of the glass showered all over the interior. “But you’re too young to have a driver’s license,” he said.

  Cecily gave him a look. “For a kid who can wrestle down demons, you’re pretty naïve, Devon.” She put the car in reverse and backed it up on to the shoulder of the road. “D.J. taught me a long time ago. And when you’re Cecily Crandall, the police don’t pull you over.”

  She sped back into town, skidding into the parking lot of Stormy Harbor. “He was parked over there,” Cecily said, pointing to the far end of the lot.

  Sure enough, when they investigated, they found D.J. behind a clump of bushes, just in his underwear, bound and gagged and shivering—but otherwise okay.

  They untied him.

  “You should’ve seen it, man,” D.J. said as soon as the gag was removed. “Claws and fangs—”

  “We know, D.J.,” Cecily replied.

  “You okay, buddy?” Devon asked.

  The other boy realized his nakedness in front of Cecily. “Oh, crapola,” he murmured.

  Devon doffed his coat and threw it to D.J., who speedily wrapped himself in it.

  “Yeah, I’m okay,” he said. “But that thing, man. It took my car.”