Free Sorcerers of the Nightwing (Book One - The Ravenscliff Series) by Geoffrey Huntington

the room.
    Devon peeked intothe kitchen: no one. It was weird, as if he were the only one in the house, and it wasn’t even yet eight thirty. Cecily and Alexander, Devon assumed, were already off to school. It was Friday, after all, and although he wasn’t scheduled to start until Monday, school hadn’t stopped for the rest of the world. But where was Mrs. Crandall? And Simon, the servant?
    Devon shrugged and helped himselfto breakfast. He ate heartily, not having had much of a dinner last night, just a burrito from Taco Bell while he waited to change buses in Boston. He was wolfing down his food when Mrs. Crandall finally arrived, in a long paisley satin robe.
    “Good morning, Devon,” she said. “I trust you slept well.”
    He gave her a look. Even without the Voice to tell him, he knew it was best to reveal aslittle as possible for now. “Yes,” he told her. “I slept fine.”
    “Even with the storm?”
    Was she testing him? Devon just smiled. “Even with the storm. After all, I was pretty tired.”
    “I’m sure you must have been. Well, enjoy your breakfast. When you’re finished, come upstairs to the playroom. I’d like you to meet Alexander.”
    Devon looked up over his forkful of eggs. “Alexander? Isn’the at school?”
    A cloud passed over Mrs. Crandall’s lovely face. “I’m afraid that since he’s come to Ravenscliff, Alexander has not been enrolled at the public school. My brother and I are still discussing what the best course of action should be.”
    “I assume Mr. Muir is away traveling.”
    Mrs. Crandall nodded.
    “When does he return?” Devon asked.
    “I’m not sure.” She poured herself acup of coffee. “I’m never sure with my brother.”
    “And Alexander never sees his mother?”
    “I told you last night. She’s been institutionalized nearly all his life.”
    “Poor kid.”
    Mrs. Crandall smiled, balancing her cup of coffee and its saucer in her palm. “I do so hope the two of you become friends. Alexander needs a solid male influence in his life. As I said last night, he’s a troubledboy.” She paused. “And willful. Last night, I discovered him in the East Wing.”
    Devon’s eyes shot up at her. “But you said that’s locked,” he said.
    “A locked door has never kept Alexander Muir from where he wants to go.”
    Devon considered something. “Mrs. Crandall, might Alexander have … been outside my door last night?”
    “Why do you ask?”
    He shook his head. “No reason. I just thoughtI heard something.”
    “Well, if he disturbed you, I apologize.” She sipped her coffee as she headed out of the room. “Why don’t you ask him yourself? I told him you’d come up to the playroom when you finished breakfast. He’s expecting you.”

    Devon put away a couple of blueberry muffins on top of his eggs and cereal. Then, not sure what to do with his plates, he just left them there on the table for the seemingly invisible servant and headed upstairs.
    He wasn’t quite sure where the playroom was, but continuing on down the corridor past his room, he came upon a large door that was ajar. From inside, Devon could hear music coming,and the light shining out from the room was very bright. Peering inside, he saw books and toys scattered across the floor and on several tables: a cracked Buzz Lightyear doll, some messy piles of comic books, an overturned Scrabble board. He opened the door wider. At the far end of the room stood an old wooden rocking horse; leaning against the wall was an ancient, oversized Raggedy Ann doll.
    “Alexander?”
    The music was coming from a television set, turned to face an empty beanbag chair. It sounded like some kids’ show, with tinny voices and the repetitive crash of the laugh track.
    “Alexander?” Devon said again. “You in here?”
    Suddenly he felt something lunge at him, grab him around his shoulders. Damn it, he thought. I was unprepared. It’s back. The thing—
    Instinctivelyhe threw the demon, or whatever was on his back,