When they reached the gymnasium, Milo was the first to see the Dark Acolyte perched up in the corner of the ceiling.
“Dad, look!”
The creature resembled a man in every way except for its porcelain skin and a set of pitch-black wings folded behind its shoulders. It was looking down at the stage, where a girl wearing black tights leaped and twirled through the air, a lone ballerina perfectly in sync with the music.
The dancer was Emma.
The audience watched in rapt silence as Emma danced with a passionate elegance Milo had never seen before. Each step, twirl, and jump was executed as if she had been practicing since birth for this moment.
But when had she ever studied ballet? Milo had only ever seen her dance to pop and hip-hop music. Her blonde hair was up in a tight bun, and her eyes were closed. The music accompanying the dance was an electronic track that combined moody rhythms, the epic soaring of a synthesizer, and the operatic voice of a girl in the background, one who sounded like an angel. Emma’s dancing matched the music perfectly; she jumped, then sank to the ground, then threw herself across the stage like water splashing, then twirled and jumped up several feet and landed upright on her toes with her head thrown back. It was unlike anything Milo had ever seen.
He was so stunned he almost forgot about the black-winged figure lurking overhead. Searching the ceiling, he noticed two more, watching and waiting. His father pulled him up the aisle to where Alexandra was sitting. Though it was dark in the gymnasium, Milo could see the admiring look on his mother’s face.
“Zandra,” his father said. Heads turned in the crowd, but only briefly. They all seemed hypnotized by Emma’s performance.
Alexandra blinked at her husband and son. Seeing their terrified expressions, she jumped out of her seat and began to squeeze her way toward the aisle. “What’s wrong?”
“Dark ones,” Max said. “They’ve found us.”
Alexandra looked up at the ceiling. When she saw the Dark Acolyte perched above her daughter, the scream she let loose was so loud it drowned out the music. People in the audience turned with audible gasps.
The Dark Acolyte dropped like a spider. Before it could land on Emma, Max jumped and went sailing over the crowd. The two fighters met in midair and landed hard enough to shake the floorboards. Emma stopped and blinked up at the lights like someone coming out of a dream.
“Get the car,” Max shouted as the Acolyte’s wings curled around them both.
Alexandra pulled Milo out of the gymnasium, through the double doors in the back, and into the parking lot. The night air was cool and moist.
“We have to go back,” Milo said, pulling his mother back toward the gym.
“We can’t, Milo.” She pulled the other way in a tug-of-war. His mother won. “Dad’ll take care of her. We need to get the car ready for when they come out.”
They ran past rows of vehicles until they came to the minivan. Milo was struck by the idea that if he got inside, he’d never see his father or sister again. His steps slowed.
“We’re not leaving them behind,” Alexandra said. “Your father has dealt with these men before. They’re afraid of him.”
“But what if they don’t make it out?”
Milo crawled into the back, readying himself so he could open the sliding door for his father and sister. Alexandra started the engine and slammed her foot against the gas pedal. The tires screeched. She drove past rows of cars, taking the corners so fast that Milo thought the minivan would tip over.
“They’ll come,” she said, “and when they do, make sure the door is open so we can get the heck out of here!”
There was chaos up ahead. Parents and grandparents poured out of the gymnasium, screaming and dropping program sheets as they struggled to make sense of what was happening. They crashed into the minivan and smacked their hands against the glass.
“They’ll come,” Alexandra said. “They’ll be here soon.”
Milo held his breath, aware of the furious beating of his own heart. Then he saw his father emerge from the sea of faces and allowed himself to breathe again. Max had picked up Emma and was holding her in one arm, using the other to maneuver his way through the crowd.
Milo pulled the door handle with both hands, causing it to slide open with a bang. His father winked at him before tossing Emma inside. She crawled all the way in, flinching as people bumped against the side. Max climbed in after her, closed the door, and then crawled up the middle of the van and into the front seat.
“Drive,” he told Alexandra.
“I can’t.”
Alexandra blasted the horn at the mass of people ahead. The minivan was surrounded on all sides by parents looking to reclaim their children, grandparents trying to make sense of the commotion, and teachers trying to calm everybody down. An old woman was screaming, “It’s the devil! The devil himself!”
Milo looked out the window and saw two Dark Acolytes emerge from the back doors, looking pale and miserable against the oily darkness of their wings. Both appeared to be men, yet they possessed more effeminate features with straight, black hair that fell around their shoulders. One saw the minivan and elbowed his partner, and then both were pushing their way through the crowd.
“They’re coming.” Emma covered her face with both hands. “I can feel them.”
The minivan sped forward, its horn sounding to clear the way.
“Hang tight,” Max said. He reached back to pat Emma’s knee. “We’re going to make it.”
The minivan hiccupped over a speed bump. A moment later, they were barreling down the road, away from the school.
The Dark Acolytes had broken into a run after the minivan. Once they reached the street, they extended their wings and took flight, rising up toward the sky until they were no more than distant silhouettes.
“It’s the Sky Man, isn’t it?” Emma said, gripping Milo’s arm.
Max turned to her. “What did you say?”
“The Sky Man. I saw him the other night in the backyard. He was calling to me.”
Alexandra spoke. “What is she saying, Milo?”
“She’s seen them before. I didn’t know they were dangerous or I would’ve said something. I thought it was my imagination, like you said.”
His father closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the seat. “It’s my fault,” he said. “I didn’t get us out quick enough.”
Alexandra was hunched over the wheel. “I really wish you kids had told us about this.”
“Sorry, Mom,” Milo said, turning his attention back to the dark road behind them. “I thought I was imagining things. I didn’t want you to…”
“You didn’t want us to worry,” his father said. “Our fault for lying to you.”
“Why did you?” Milo said.
His father looked back at him. “The plan was to leave tomorrow. I found what I was looking for, but it would have been hopeless to leave sooner. Telling you kids would have made it more difficult to control the situation. I’m sorry.”
Alexandra screamed. The minivan swerved. Milo gripped the front of his seat as adrenaline shot through his body. A slender, pale form flashed in front of the headlights.
“A deer,” Emma said. “It’s just a deer.”
Alexandra regained control of the vehicle, chuckling nervously. “We’re going to make it,” she said, sounding more like she was reassuring herself and not her kids. “We’re going to make it.”
They got on the highway. The engine roared as Alexandra took the minivan up to eighty miles per hour.
“Slow it down, Allie,” Max said.
“They can’t fly this fast, trust me.”
“These are Dark Acolyte fighters, my love. It’s been a long time since we…”
“I know my own brothers and sisters.” She glared at her husband, and then turned her attention back to the road.
“Fine,” he said. “Stay south. There’s no way we can go back for our things. Not that we would have packed for this trip, anywa
y.”
The words struck Milo like a punch to the stomach. Did his father really just imply that they would never see their house again? That all the things Milo had ever loved about home—the tree-lined streets of his neighborhood, his bicycle, his computer—were gone for good?
“Dad, what do you mean?” he said. “We’re not going home?”
“It’s not safe. They know where we live now. I can’t believe I waited this long.”
“Stop, Max,” Alexandra said. “It’s been twenty years since we settled here. There’s never been any hint that they even knew we were still alive.”
Emma spoke in a shrill voice. “Who? Who’s chasing us?”
“The people from my story. It’s real. Astros is real. They’ve been hunting us since before you two were born.”
Alexandra lost control of the wheel and almost sideswiped a truck.
“Honey, let me drive,” Max said.
“I’ve got it.”
“Now, Zandra.”
Milo was stunned. He had never heard his father command his mother like that. The name Zandra was foreign to him, as well.
Alexandra glared at her husband. Max clamped his mouth shut, and then said, “Sorry, old habit.”
“You want to drive? Fine. I’ll pull over.”
“Wait.” Max turned to face the back. “Milo, look outside. See if we’ve lost them.”
Milo searched but saw only the night sky and the dark road behind them, the occasional headlights in the distance. The men chasing them could easily blend against that sky, so what was the point of searching? Before he could share the news, his sister’s voice filled the car. It was slow and measured, as if she were in a trance.
“They’re going back to their masters. They have winged horses with eyes like fire—and carriages that fly through the night.”
Emma’s eyes were distant, turned inward as though surveying some frightening inner landscape.
“Emma,” Alexandra said. “What do you see?”
“What, Mom?” Her voice had returned to normal. She frowned at her mother’s eyes in the rearview mirror.
“I don’t believe it,” Max said to his wife. “You think she’s a Seer?”
“I don’t know.” Alexandra’s knuckles were white over the steering wheel. “Honey, I think you should drive now.”
“Let’s do it.”
She pulled over and slammed the shifter into park. Then she and Max rushed out of the vehicle and switched sides. Max floored the gas pedal, and the minivan jolted forward.
“I hope you kids have your seatbelts on,” he said, “because it’s a long way to where we’re going.”
CHAPTER 17
“Wake up,” Emma was saying. “Milo, come on. Get up.”
Hands shook him awake. Milo blinked groggily at his surroundings. He was in the backseat of the minivan, Emma sitting next to him, his parents in the front seats. Beyond the windows, the sky was the foggy orange of dawn. The dream had been about home, but home was just a memory now.
“What is it?” he asked his sister.
They were somewhere in open country. Empty fields rolled away toward low-slung hills in the distance. The early morning glow made the world appear empty and strange.
“Mom says we should eat something.”
“Here, kids,” Alexandra said.
She reached between her feet and came up with a water bottle, which she gave to Milo. The water was warm and tasted like plastic, but he drank deeply anyway. It slid down his throat like warm silk.
“Emma,” his father said, looking at the rearview mirror.
“Yeah, Dad?”
“Now that Milo’s awake, we need to talk.”
“While you eat,” Alexandra added. She began to unwrap labeled sandwiches that looked as if they had been purchased at a gas station. Milo’s was labeled Ham ‘N’ Cheese Doubledecker and Emma received a BLT Special. The twins glanced knowingly at each other and switched meals.
“There’s a place near here where we can find a means of escape.” Max picked up an old-fashioned, folded map. He had drawn an X on a broad, featureless section of the state, somewhere out in the country. “Once we get there, we’ll try contacting some old friends of mine who can help us out.”
“I don’t feel so good,” Emma said.
Alexandra turned in her seat. “What’s the matter, hon?”
Emma shrugged. “I guess I’m not prepared for this. For one thing, I’m still wearing my tights from the talent show.”
“We’ll find you better clothes,” Alexandra said, patting her knee.
“Again, I’m sorry,” Max said. “Your mother and I are to blame for all of this. We used our powers by accident. That’s how they find us. They wait for us to slip up and do something impossible for a normal human.”
“If you’re not human,” Milo said, “then what are you?”
“Demigods,” his father said, “as are the two of you. My real name is Maximus, son of Sargos, and your mother is Zandra, daughter of Aliara. We were born when the father-gods of Astros were still around, over ten thousand years ago.”
Milo and Emma gave each other wide-eyed looks, too stunned to speak.
“That’s impossible,” Milo said.
“Is it?” said his father, staring at him in the rearview mirror. “Hand me the tire iron. You know, the one in back I keep forgetting to put away.”
Milo reached over the seat and grabbed the tool. It was hard and heavy enough to bash someone’s skull in, maybe even break through a wooden wall. He handed it over to his father, who took it in a firm grip. He held it in the center of the ring formed by all four of them.
The twins watched in silent wonder as Max placed the pad of his thumb against the metal, then—using only his thumb—proceeded to bend the tool as if it were no more than a pipe cleaner.
“Whoa,” Milo said.
“Unbelievable,” said Emma.
Max handed the misshapen tool back to him. Milo tested it, seeing if he could unbend it. Normally, such a thing would have been impossible without some sort of machine.
And yet, his father had done it with one hand. Like it was nothing at all.
“Okay,” Milo said breathlessly. “We believe you.”
Emma nodded fervently. “Yes. Uh-huh. Definitely.”
Over the next hour, they talked about people and events so fantastic in nature that Milo, smart as he was, could only attempt to comprehend most of it. They talked about what it felt like to be ten thousand years old—boring most of the time, but sad when you had to watch your friends die of old age. Then about the powers Milo and Emma had inherited from their parents, which had to be developed through years of training. They learned about empires and republics torn apart by war, and the armies Max and Alexandra had led to prevent further death at the hands of tyrants—too many battles to count, unfortunately. They admitted how they had ended up on Earth in the first place; the couple had faked their own deaths and become human citizens in order to protect Milo and Emma. They even revealed a startling fact about the pregnancy—it had lasted more than five years, which was common when giving birth to demigods.
Max identified the old man who had attacked Milo in the bathroom as Kovax Leonaryx, a low mage and member of an ancient priesthood, whose emperor cousin, Corgos, had taken over nations on two continents, using brute force and dark magic.
They talked about Alexandra’s father, Prestocles, son of Kenatos. He had been husband to Aliara, but only when she was in human form, which was, in itself, a mind-boggling concept. He had also been a legendary magician of great power, which was why the goddess had chosen him. Max opened up about his father, the god known as Sargos, and how he had never met him; about his mother, Cassandra, and how she had died under mysterious circumstances; about the foster family that had raised Max on a farm, unaware of his demigod heritage until he began to show signs that he was special, which attracted the first of many enemies over his incredible lifespan.
They spoke throughout the
day, stopping at gas stations for quick meals and bathroom breaks. The hours passed quickly as the twins sat in rapt attention. Max explained how rifts could be opened between the two realms using a beacon crystal or a very powerful spell that only a handful of magicians could cast. Beacon crystals were extremely rare, the fruits of an ancient order of spellcasters who had tried to unite the two realms and bring Earthborn humans and Godkin together. There were maybe a dozen of them in existence.
It was late evening when Milo’s father finally pulled the car over in the middle of nowhere. The sky was blood-orange dark, the sun having dipped behind the horizon. The grass rippled as a cold wind rolled across the plains.
“Is this it?” Milo said, getting out of the minivan and stretching.
Emma emerged, looking exhausted. “I could really use a shower and a warm coat,” she said, smoothing her tights and shivering.
“This way, kids,” their father said.
He led them across the field. The ground was wet, and their shoes squished in the mud. Milo wished he had brought a jacket, too.
They came to a patch of ground that looked no different from the rest of the field. Max tapped the X he had drawn on the map.
“This is it,” he said. “I can smell the metal. Our ticket out of here.” He crouched and ran his hands across the blades of grass. Milo sniffed the air but smelled nothing unusual. “You still have that beacon crystal, right, Milo?” his father asked him. “You didn’t leave it in the car?”
Milo felt his pocket and nodded. “Do you need it?”
“Not yet. Hold on to it.”
The wind tousled Max’s hair and made it tremble against his forehead. He didn’t seem to notice how cold it was, though Alexandra hugged herself and shivered.
In a single, swift motion, Max stabbed his flattened hand like a blade into the wet soil. The ground swallowed it up to the elbow. A normal, meaning human, man would have broken his fingers trying to pull a stunt like that.
He grabbed hold of whatever he was searching for and pulled. The ground shook as something moved beneath the surface—something big. The irregular patch of grass rose at an angle as a metal door emerged. He used both arms to toss it open, and the movement was so sudden and powerful that the topmost layer of grass—which had to be at least a foot thick—flew crumbling through the air. The door lingered upright for a moment, exposing its dark underbelly, before landing against the grass with a heavy thump.
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