Savant (The Luminether Series)

by Richard Denoncourt

  Milo whipped his head around to see if anyone else was in the yard. His pulse quickened.

  “Who, Emma? Who was here?”

  “The Sky Man. I saw him from my window. He flew down on black wings and asked me to come outside. He said he wanted to show me something.”

  The expression on Emma’s face was one of fearless wonder. Milo looked up at the whispering trees, expecting to see a winged man hanging there, but the trees were no more than dark outlines—impossible to see what hid among the branches.

  “And you came down by yourself? Emma, you must be crazy. You can’t talk to strangers like that—especially if they have wings.”

  Emma’s face went back to normal. She hugged herself and shivered.

  “Milo? What happened?”

  “It’s OK.” He took her hand and guided her across the yard toward the back door. “I think you were sleepwalking.”

  “But the Sky Man,” she said. “I remember seeing him from my window, and then I was standing here with you.”

  “Don’t think about it,” he said. “It was just a dream.”

  “A dream. Like Dad said.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Her eyes went wide with guilt. “I was listening in on you and Dad, when he was showing you that book. I know I was supposed to be in bed, but I heard the two of you talking. And then I heard him say a name.”

  “What name?”

  “Aliara.”

  Milo’s breath caught in his throat. He remembered his father’s words.

  Aliara, goddess of light and harmony.

  “I’ve been hearing that name a lot,” Emma said. “In my dreams.”

  She was shaking, and Milo couldn’t tell if she was afraid or cold. He put his arm around her shoulders.

  “We should go inside.”

  Emma went along but kept her face turned up to the sky, as if she were searching for the winged man. “I’m scared, Milo.”

  “It’s OK. I’m here.”

  Milo thought he heard a flapping sound as he opened the door. He turned and saw a strange shape flying above the trees, very small and black against the purple sky. It could have been a bird or a bat. Sometimes he saw bats flying around at night, eating insects and doing whatever else bats do. He watched until the figure became a speck and disappeared among the stars.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he said.

  Emma nodded, and together they entered the house, making sure to lock the door behind them.

  Chapter 13

  Emma changed after the night she saw—or thought she saw—the Sky Man.

  Flyers for the school’s annual talent show began appearing around Dearborn Elementary. Having ridden his bike that day, Milo decided to pay his sister a visit at his old school. It was right next to Dearborn High, within biking distance, and he thought a trip down memory lane would be nice. He and Emma were walking across the parking lot, Milo holding his bike upright next to him, when they saw a girl taping a flyer for the talent show to the back entrance.

  Emma skipped over to her.

  “Can I have one, please?”

  The girl rolled her eyes at Emma, said, “Here,” and dropped a whole stack of them into her arms. Milo watched his sister run back, so excited she could barely catch her breath.

  “Look, Milo”—she slapped one of the flyers against his chest—“this year’s talent show is next week. Oh, I can’t wait. I’ve been working on this routine that I…”

  “Wait a minute.” Milo held up one hand as if to slow an approaching car. “Since when you do you get excited about talent shows? You hate being onstage.”

  “I know,” she said, practically squirming with excitement. “But something’s different. I can’t explain it. I just feel—oh, I don’t know how I feel, I just know that I can’t wait to show off my moves.”

  She executed a little dance in the parking lot, thrusting out her arms and spinning and tapping her feet. The flyers scattered all over the place, leaving just one in her hand. When she was finished, she looked at Milo, smiling and out of breath. Milo stood with his mouth ajar and said nothing.

  “See? I don’t know what it is, but I’m not afraid anymore!”

  Milo laughed a little. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Mom and Dad are going to be so happy to hear this.”

  They walked to the end of the parking lot, where their mother usually picked Emma up. Emma skipped the whole way there, as bright and excited as a scribble of sunlight on water.

  “Milo?” Their mother said as he stuffed his bike into the minivan’s back area. “Nice of you to visit your sister.”

  “Yeah, I thought I’d swing by and see how the old place was doing.”

  He sat in the front seat. His mother leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

  “Aw, Mom,” he said. “Not in the parking lot.”

  “You’re such a boy,” Emma said behind him.

  Alexandra laughed. Her laughter, like her voice, was high and musical. She looked back at Emma and winked. Milo reached into the backseat, plucked the talent show flyer out of Emma’s hands, and showed it to his mother.

  “Emma wants to be in the talent show,” he said. “You should hear her go on about it.”

  Alexandra let out a delighted gasp. “Is it true?”

  Emma smiled, closed her eyes, and gave a little nod. Alexandra clapped and bounced a little in her seat.

  “That is such good news,” she said. “Are you going to dance? Or sing? Or maybe both!”

  Emma shrugged and looked out the window.

  “Maybe I’ll fly,” she said.

  Milo frowned when he heard this.

  The evening of the talent show came sooner than he expected.

  Milo had been spending his days after school in the Dearborn library, scouring the shelves for any books dealing with winged men and ancient gods fighting a war over the fate of mankind. Most of what he found was familiar but not quite what his father had described. He asked the old librarian if she had ever heard of a place called Astros, or if there were any books dealing with a war known as “the Cataclysm.” But her meticulous search came up with nothing—the library’s electronic archives bore no mention of anything even remotely similar to Milo’s request.

  That night the gymnasium was filled with parents and teachers waiting to watch the show. Milo sat with his mother and father in a row of fold-up chairs near the back. The lights dimmed and the crowd hushed. Milo’s science teacher, Mr. Kamato, approached the microphone and thanked everyone for coming. In the audience, tiny squares of light flashed on as mothers and fathers turned on digital cameras and camcorders.

  Milo couldn’t help his fidgeting. There was a cold feeling in his stomach. His father looked over.

  “Hey,” he said, and tapped Milo’s knee. “Everything OK?”

  “I’m fine.” Milo sat up straight, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the conviction that something bad was going to happen—tonight. “I just have to go to the bathroom. Be right back.”

  “All right.” His father frowned a little. “Are you sure you’re OK? You’re sweating.”

  “Really, I’m fine. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

  Milo speed-walked out of the gymnasium and made his way through the silent hallways to the bathroom, which was empty and filled with blinding, artificial light. A chemical smell invaded his nose. He turned on the sink and was about to splash water on his face when he felt the beacon crystal heat up in his pocket. It was vibrating.

  He turned off the water and looked up.

  The devil was grinning at him in the mirror.

  Milo spun around with a yelp. The man was standing by the urinals. He had a stooped posture that made him look like a vulture perched over its next meal, and his hands were bony and gray. And yet, unlike his withered body, his bright blue eyes had a fierce and youthful look, and seemed to crackle with energy.

  “Milo, son of Maximus,” he said. “A pleasure to meet you, finally.”


  “Who are you?” Milo backed up against the sink until it was digging into his back. He glanced at the door. The old man looked like he could barely walk, much less chase after him. Maybe if he ran fast enough…

  The man flicked a crooked finger at the door. The lock turned with a snap.

  “It doesn’t matter who I am,” he said. “I’m just here in this wretched underworld to pick up a package of sorts.”

  Milo tried to steady his breathing. The beacon crystal was hotter than it had ever been and was burning a hole in his thigh. “What package?”

  The old man stepped toward him. His wrinkled face was pockmarked, and Milo could smell the mud and grass on his boots.

  “Why, you and your sister, of course—a package deal. We were quite pleased when we heard there were two of you.”

  “You stay away from my sister.”

  “Really?” The man studied Milo through narrowed eyes. “Or what?”

  “Or my dad…”

  “Of course, your father. Maximus Banks. I’d like to see him try and stop us now.” His smile melted away and his face twisted into a scowl. “Listen closely, kid—you will follow me to a van I have waiting outside. If you make any attempt to escape, I will have my associates destroy this building and everyone inside it. Do you understand? I’ll kill them all.”

  He walked to the back of the room and touched one of the urinals. Then he stepped aside so Milo could watch as fine cracks appeared on the glossy surface. The whole thing began to crumble, exposing the metal pipes and mechanisms inside. The pine-scented urinal cake dropped, rolled across the floor, and bumped against Milo’s shoe.

  “You see, boy? If you care about the people in this building, you will come out quietly.”

  Milo nodded. “OK.”

  The man reached out to grab his arm, and as soon as his papery skin touched Milo’s, the beacon crystal heaved. Milo looked down and saw its greenish glow through the fabric of his pants. It felt like a burning coal against his leg. The man also noticed it.

  “Take it out of your pocket. Now.”

  Milo reached in and closed his fingers around the crystal.

  A violent explosion sent him falling back against the sink. Large chunks of the bathroom door flew everywhere and slid across the tiles. His father stood where the door had been, broad shoulders filling the frame.

  “Milo, get over here!”

  The magician stepped backward toward the stalls. His voice came out a hiss.

  “Speak of the devil,” he said.

  “Go get Mom and Emma,” Max said, and Milo nodded. “I’ll meet you by the car.”

  The magician let out a snort of laughter. He pulled a glowing blue crystal out of his cloak. A moment later, ribbons of dark gray smoke began to encircle his hands and wrists.

  “It’s too late, Maximus. There are Dark Acolytes all around this building. No more hiding, you wretched coward.”

  Milo watched, unable to move. Had the magician called his father Maximus? What kind of a name was that? And what did he mean by hiding?

  Max leaped toward the old man, fist pulled back, ready to spring. But he wasn’t fast enough. Black smoke rose around the magician’s body as he twisted to get out of the way. A moment later, the smoke became a spinning shaft that completely swallowed his crooked body, and then he was gone. Max tried to punch the magician before he disappeared but ended up punching the wall instead.

  KRRSH! When the smoke cleared, Milo saw a ragged hole where his father’s fist had gone through the wall and into the girls’ bathroom.

  Max took a deep breath and looked around.

  “Let’s go,” he said, grabbing Milo’s hand and leading him out into the hallway.

  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 was leaping and twirling 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? 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, romantic rhythms, the epic soaring of a synthesizer, and the operatic voice of a girl in the background, a girl that 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 being splashed, 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 blackwinged figure lurking overhead. 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 as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. 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 with a heavy thump. 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 toward the school.

  “We can’t, Milo.” She pulled the other way, their arms stuck in place 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 of the minivan, readying himself so he could open the sliding door for his father and sister. Alexandra started the engine, slammed her foot against the gas pedal, making the wheels screech, and drove past the 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 twisted around to look for their kids. 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’s face emerge from the sea of faces and allowed himself to breathe again. His father had picked up Emma and was holding her in one arm and 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 befor
e tossing Emma inside. She crawled all the way in, flinching as people slapped the windows. Max climbed in after her, closed the door, 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!”

  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, but they were taller, with more effeminate features and 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.

  Milo had been watching the Dark Acolytes. Both men—or creatures, whatever they were—had broken into a run after the minivan. Upon reaching 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.”

  Then 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 think they’d find us, so why warn you about it? Stupid of me.”