pendant.”
Marcus held his gaze. “I promise, Devon.”
The reality of his life came flooding back to him then, and he stood up, breaking contact with Natalie. “Listen, you guys, this was all really cool and everything,” he said. “But maybe you all ought get going. Rolfe is going to be here soon, and stuff is going to happen. Things might get nasty.”
“All the more reason to stick around and watch,” Marcus said, grinning.
“No, it wouldn’t be cool,” Devon said. He turned and faced Natalie. “Thanks for my birthday cake. Why do I figure it was you who brought it to school?”
She smiled. “I was hoping maybe you could come over to my house tonight and I’d bake you a real one.”
“More cake?” Devon laughed. “After all this?”
“Well, then we can just hang out,” Natalie said. “Watch TV …”
Devon sighed. “I’d like to. I really, really would. But this stuff between Rolfe and Mrs. Crandall … it could get pretty intense. I need to be here.”
She smiled. How understanding she was. She reached up and gave Devon a quick kiss on cheek. “Okay. Then maybe tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” Devon promised. “Let’s plan on tomorrow.”
D.J. and Cecily were already in the car. “Tell Mother that D.J. is taking me to the movies,” the red-haired girl shouted from the car window as Devon, Natalie and Marcus walked outside. “I’ll be home later.”
“Yeah, okay,” Devon said, figuring the less people in the house the better.
“Oh, and happy birthday, Devon,” Cecily said.
“Thanks, Cess.”
Their eyes held. Devon felt terribly confused. What were his feelings toward her? Toward Natalie? He was a Sorcerer of the Nightwing. But he had no powers over teenage hormones.
“Oh, and did you deal with Crazy Lady?” Cecily asked. “I really don’t feel like getting burned in my bed tonight.”
Devon sighed. “We’re safe for now, I guess.”
“Good.” She nodded crisply, then rolled up the window.
He waved goodbye to his friends before turning and walking forlornly back inside.
Maybe he’d get to move in with Rolfe if Mrs. Crandall threw him out. That would be cool, and it would make sense, Devon figured, if Rolfe was seriously going to be his Guardian. But would Mrs. Crandall ever sign over legal rights to Rolfe Montaigne? Devon doubted it. Dad had left him in Mrs. Crandall’s care. It would be up to her to determine where he would go if she decided to kick him out of Ravenscliff. And Rolfe was the last person she’d send him to.
Truth was, Devon didn’t want to leave. As freaky as this place could get, it was home now. This was where Devon’s past lay, and his future, too. He was sure of it.
Of course, if Mrs. Crandall went to jail—and she just might, if Rolfe could prove she perjured herself and then kept Clarissa a prisoner all those years—then there would be no telling what would become of Devon. Or Cecily. Or Alexander.
Or Ravenscliff.
But the fact was, Clarissa was gone. Devon could feel it, and his Nightwing intuition confirmed it. She was free. Finally and truly free. Flying on her own. What he just told Cecily was true. They were safe, until Clarissa decided to come back.
And without Clarissa around, Rolfe would have a hard time proving that her body wasn’t washed out to sea. No charges against Mrs. Crandall would stick.
That wouldn’t stop Rolfe, however, from making them.
“How dare you walk into this house?”
Mrs. Crandall was on the landing on the top of the stairs, looking down with wide, outraged eyes at Rolfe Montaigne, who was standing with Devon in the foyer.
Devon had answered the door when he heard Rolfe knock, hoping to ease into the clash he knew was inevitable. But Mrs. Crandall had apparently seen his Porsche from her window upstairs, and she was not pleased by his arrival, to say the least.
“As ever, Amanda,” Rolfe said, looking up at her, “you’re especially beautiful when you’re angry.”
His flattery only ratcheted
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