by Jacob Grey
“Find ’em!”
“This way!”
Caw swung open the door and charged through. It was just another corridor lined with doors. He tried the first and it didn’t open. He ran to the second, which did. He skidded to a halt, as animal sounds assaulted his ears.
Howls and barks, hisses and chirrups and squawks came from cages lining the walls, stacked on top of one another and arranged into rows. What was this place? An owl watched them from a perch, and some sort of wild dog snarled above it. Caw crept forward along one of the aisles, keeping well clear. There was a black panther prowling back and forth, staring with emerald green eyes. A giant toad swelled its throat and watched them impassively. Two different kinds of monkey hung off a set of bars, gripping with furry fingers.
“Selina?” Caw asked. “What is this?”
Selina shook her head, her mouth slightly open in shock. “I have no idea.”
They turned a corner and Caw paused at a tank containing a large wriggling centipede. Emily’s creature. The rest of the row mostly seemed to be dogs, cats, snakes and rodents. A lizard, three feet long, tasted the air with a purple forked tongue.
The next cage was huge and empty, but the last one shook, and a deep growl came from inside. Caw brandished his sword as a bear pressed its snout against the mesh. It seemed almost unreal. How had Cynthia Davenport even got it into the building?
“Quick! They’re coming!” said Lydia. The shouts and footsteps outside were getting closer.
There was nowhere to hide. Except …
Caw opened the empty cage door and they all piled in, pressed close. His heart throbbed and his grip was sweaty on the hilt of the Crow’s Beak. He’d use it if he had to, but how many could he take on before they were overwhelmed?
The voices stopped as the convicts reached the door to the room. “They’re not in here,” said Lugmann. “Keep looking.”
As soon as the convincts had gone, they all stepped out of the cage again.
Caw went back to the door and looked out. The convicts were moving on down the passage, and had almost rounded the corner at the far end when one of them turned back. His eyes settled on Caw.
“There they are!” he shouted, grinning.
Selina, Lydia and Caw raced out of the room and along the corridor to the walkway, then back down the steps and into the main area of the apartment again. When they arrived, breathless, Mr Silk had gone, along with Lydia’s parents.
“Where are they?” cried Lydia, desperately.
Caw ignored her, looking at the glass of the window, splintered by Mr Silk’s bullets.
He crossed to the coffee table and picked up a heavy bronze sculpture of a fly that squatted there, as big as his head. He hefted it to his shoulder. Then he closed his eyes and sent out his summons into the night. He wasn’t sure how many he’d need. If the crows didn’t hear him, they were all dead.
The air prickled with crow energy. They had heard, but they were distant.
Caw took a deep breath. Then he hurled the sculpture at the window. The entire pane of glass smashed outwards, and glittering fragments tumbled into the abyss. A fierce wind whipped through the apartment.
The convicts burst through the door above and spread out on the walkway. They clutched knives and guns, metal bars and baseball bats.
“Hold fire,” said Lugmann. “They’re trapped.”
Caw thrust the Crow’s Beak through his belt, and felt for Selina and Lydia’s freezing hands. He stepped forward, leading them to the edge of the empty space where the window had been.
“You’re going to have to trust me,” he said quietly.
“Erm … What are you going to do?” said Selina.
“Ready?” said Caw.
“What are you going to do, jump?” laughed Lugmann. The other convicts joined in gleefully.
Lydia gripped Caw’s hand harder. “I hope you know what you’re—”
Caw leapt, dragging the two girls with him, his eyes searching the sky for a saviour.
His stomach flipped as they plummeted.
He couldn’t see a single bird.
aw’s body flailed and twisted and the world spun, flashing glass, then streaking city lights, then star-filled sky. Fear sucked at his insides. He was aware of Lydia and Selina falling too, but their hands were no longer in his.
We’re dead. I’ve killed them …
Then impacts shook his body. Feathers and flashing beaks surrounded him. Pairs of eyes, steady and fearless. His own descent began to slow, but not fast enough. He was falling front-first, his legs gripped from behind, his jacket pulling against him as the crows tugged at his back. The ground rushed unstoppably towards him, and he tried to cover his face, but he couldn’t move his arms as the crows had them too. The wind drove its thumbs into his eyes and tugged at his cheeks as he fell towards the ground, splayed, in the shape of a cross.
He felt the birds heaving and he heaved with them, his desperation working through their wings. He closed his eyes.
His final thought swallowed everything else.
Pull!
The world tipped again and suddenly Caw’s downward plunge curved into a shallower trajectory, fighting against gravity. As he opened his eyes he saw the concrete rush past beneath him as, at last, they began to climb.
He glanced across and saw Lydia and Selina dangling in the crows’ grip too, a mixture of terror and triumph on their faces.
They steered in convoy, climbing steadily now. Caw looked back up to the apartment and saw the convicts standing at the open window, furiously clutching their weapons, and he felt his lips twitch into a smile.
Caw willed his crows to head northeast. They left the financial district behind and climbed higher into the clouds. Below, the city lights dipped in and out of sight.
“Where are we going?” called Selina over the wind. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes shining.
“The park,” said Caw. He just hoped they weren’t too late.
Away from the city centre, the lights became more sparse. Here, in the outskirts, Blackstone slept.
The crows flew tirelessly, wings slicing through the air in perfect synchronicity. Lydia hung mutely in their grip, but Caw could see from her haunted expression that her mind was restless, thinking of her parents. He wanted to comfort her and tell her that they’d be all right, but he knew his words would sound unconvincing. The problem was he didn’t believe it himself.
When they neared the park, Caw saw that the gates were open. A bad sign. He commanded his crows to keep a distance from the bandstand as the flock carried them over the park’s perimeter, and Caw saw the trees and small lakes wheel below. From a couple of hundred feet away, he could see there were bright lights around the bandstand already, and several police cars, and his heart sank.
“She beat us to it,” Lydia said.
“We need to get closer,” Caw replied. “Hold on.”
The crows obeyed his thoughts, dipping sharply. Selina gasped as the flock swept over the ground, slaloming between the trees, so low Caw’s feet almost brushed the grass. He trusted the birds, but Lydia pulled up her legs, tucking her knees to her chest.
Tilting their wings, the birds banked and rose towards the branches of one of the tallest trees in the park – one that Caw knew well. He saw his old abandoned nest, its collection of timbers coming apart, the tarpaulin torn and dangling over the side. The birds hovered for a moment a couple of feet above, then dropped the girls inside. Lydia staggered and caught herself against the edge of the treehouse. Selina landed more neatly, bending her knees.
Caw’s crows set him down gently, then flocked away into the branches. He focused on one – a small male with a slender beak – and called out to him.
Me, boss? it said.
“I need you to find out what’s happening at the bandstand,” said Caw. “Stay hidden if you can.”
Sure thing, said the crow, puffing out its chest, then springing upwards. Caw watched its black shape flap away until it fold
ed seamlessly into the night.
“What is this place?” Selina said, gazing around.
“This is where I grew up,” said Caw. He felt a flash of pride.
“We can’t just sit around,” said Lydia. “My parents are in trouble!”
“She won’t really kill them,” said Selina, reaching to touch Lydia’s arm.
Lydia slapped her hand away. “What do you know?” she said. “Wake up, will you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Selina.
“It means,” said Lydia, “that your mum’s a psycho. And how do we really know you’re any better?”
“Now isn’t the time for this,” said Caw.
“Why not?” said Lydia. She jabbed a finger towards Selina. “We should have left you there. I swear, if she hurts my mum and dad, I’ll …”
“You’ll what?” said Selina, drawing herself up.
Lydia fell silent, glaring. Her cheekbones were tinged with red.
The crow fluttered back to the nest’s edge. The ground by the bench is all dug up, it said. The police are leaving now.
Caw felt like curling into a ball and wailing with frustration. But what good would it do? If the police were going, it could only mean that the Mother of Flies had found the Midnight Stone.
“She’s got it, hasn’t she?” said Selina.
Caw nodded.
Why the long faces? said another crow voice. Glum landed in the nest.
“Glum!” said Caw. “Where’ve you been?”
Screech flew in too, and settled beside Lydia. Here and there, he said. Who’s this? he demanded, jabbing his beak towards the crow who’d scouted the bandstand.
Just helping out the boss, said the crow.
“Where’s Shimmer?” asked Caw.
She’s lagging behind a bit, said Glum. Got her talons full.
Caw frowned. “What do you mean?”
Screech started hopping excitedly and Glum looked particularly smug.
“What are they saying?” asked Lydia.
“Come on,” Caw said. “Spit it out.”
When we saw you on the tracks, and the fly feral wanted to know where the Midnight Stone was … began Glum.
… well, we had an idea, added Screech.
Maybe we’d move the stone, said Glum.
“You didn’t?” said Caw, fighting the urge to smile.
Shimmer swooped overhead, flapping her wings hard. Something glinted in her talons. Why’d I have to do all the heavy lifting? she called down. Here, catch!
She dropped the Midnight Stone and it landed in the nest, clattering to rest on the wooden boards.
Shimmer flopped down next to it, wings spread. Phew. I’m done!
Caw took the handkerchief from his pocket and picked up the stone. Just holding it filled him with relief. He hadn’t failed. But it was more than that. It made him feel strangely … whole.
“I could hug you all!” he said.
It was Shimmer’s idea, said Screech, pointing his wing.
Suck-up, muttered Glum.
“So what now?” said Lydia. “Do we offer her a trade?”
Caw’s fist closed over the stone. “We can’t,” he said.
“Why not?” said Lydia. “That’s all she wants – that stupid stone.”
Caw looked at his friend. “Exactly,” he said. “Remember what your mother said. It’s all she wants. Our lives mean nothing to her.”
“Caw’s right,” said Selina.
Lydia glared at her. “No one asked what you thought.”
“Lydia, we can’t risk it,” said Caw. He saw her face twitch slightly and he knew she was wavering. “Think about it. What’s really changed?” he asked. “She has what we want. We have what she wants.”
“Stalemate,” said Selina.
Lydia tore her eyes from Selina back to Caw. “Maybe you’re right. But we can’t just sit up a tree doing nothing.”
Caw lifted the stone in front of his face. He looked again for some clue in its surface, but there was nothing.
“Maybe it’s time to find out what this thing is,” he said. “What it really is. No more secrets.”
“My mum didn’t know anything about it,” said Lydia.
“My mum seems to be the only person who does,” said Selina.
“There’s someone else,” said Caw. “Felix Quaker.”
Lydia looked unconvinced. “You really think he might be able to help?”
Hah! said Screech. He couldn’t get away fast enough last time he saw it.
“We’ve got to try,” said Caw. “He won’t be at his house though. He was terrified. The police were looking for him.”
“Typical,” said Lydia. “For a man who’s supposed to have nine lives, he doesn’t like to put himself in harm’s way, does he?”
What about all his books? said Glum. Surely there’ll be something in one of them.
“Good thinking,” said Caw. “Let’s go.”
He stepped to the edge of the nest, motioning for Selina and Lydia to join him. His body ached, but a fire still burnt somewhere inside him. He reached out his arms and summoned his crows once more.
he crows flew low and fast. Quaker’s place was a long shot, but Caw remembered how it had been stuffed with artefacts and books, like a museum. Glum was right – there had to be a clue there somewhere.
As they approached Gort House, Caw’s hopes evaporated. The gates were still hanging open and now police tape was stretched across.
The crows set them down in the driveway. Caw ducked beneath the tape slowly, and crept towards the house, the girls following behind him. All the lights were off.
Looks deserted, said Screech, skittering to a halt on the gravel.
The crow was right. If the police had been here again, it looked like they were long gone. “Let’s go in carefully,” he said.
The crows touched down silently across the ornamental gardens.
“Wait out here and keep your eyes peeled for flies,” he said.
No way – I’m coming in, said Shimmer, hopping ahead.
Not without me you’re not, said Screech, limping to keep up.
Well, I’ll do as I’m told, said Glum, settling on top of a bush.
There was more tape over the front door, which was hanging on one hinge from where the police had smashed it down. Caw remembered the cops’ brutality in arresting Quaker. Back then he’d thought they were just being heavy-handed, but now he realised it was personal – an order from the top.
“Is this guy some sort of criminal?” said Selina.
“More like an academic,” said Caw. “Quaker collects feral artefacts. Your mother must have thought that Quaker could help her find the stone. Or me, at least.”
He tore the tape aside. “Felix?” he called.
His voice echoed in the cold hallway and no one replied. Hardly surprising.
Inside, the wooden floorboards creaked slightly underfoot. A mahogany staircase rose then turned to the first floor. Dirty footprints muddied the once pristine carpet. To the left, Caw saw Quaker’s study – desk drawers hanging out and papers littering the floor. Ash and blackened wood was smeared across the rug in front of the hearth and a lamp lay smashed on the floor. The police had even torn the pictures from the walls.
Caw led the others down a narrow set of stairs towards the kitchen. As he descended, a curious feeling of loss swept over him. It was here that Quaker had told Caw about his parents and his true name – Jack Carmichael. It was the first time he had really ever felt a sense of belonging and connection to the city that existed around him.
He owed the old man for that, at least.
The kitchen was empty too, but a plate of chopped apples and what might have been cheese and bread lay on the table, half-eaten and growing a skin of furry mould across its surface. The teapot had been knocked over.
“Looks like he never came back,” said Lydia.
Caw cast a quick glance around. “He was obviously really scared. Let’s check the re
st of the place.”
“The study seemed promising,” said Lydia.
“OK,” said Caw. “Let’s start in there.
“I’ll go upstairs,” said Selina.
Lydia frowned.
“Seriously,” said Selina. “You honestly think I’m going to run?”
“Shout if you find anything,” said Caw, as Selina set off up the stairs.
Caw and Lydia went to the study. The police had obviously done a thorough job going through the place, but it was possible they’d missed something. They began to sift through the mess. A lot of the documents were handwritten notes, completely indecipherable, even for Lydia.
“This is hopeless,” she said, tossing a piece of paper aside.
“Just keep looking,” said Caw, checking the drawers.
But as the minutes passed, his despair grew. What was the chance, really, that they’d find anything?
“I’m going upstairs,” he said.
Lydia puffed out her cheeks. “OK,” she said, squinting at a page. “I’m not sure this is even in English!”
Caw trooped up the wide stairwell with Shimmer flapping ahead. More pictures had been taken down, their canvasses slit and their frames broken. Where Caw remembered display cases filled with curious objects, now there was only broken glass crunching underfoot. The whole collection was gone – years of work. If Quaker saw what they’d done, he would be inconsolable.
He came across Selina in what must have been Felix’s bedroom, which was just as ransacked as everywhere else. She was sitting on a bedframe rifling through a pile of papers on the dressing table. A chest of drawers had been dismantled and clothes were strewn across the floor. A wardrobe lay on its side and the mattress had been slashed apart. From the ceiling hung a bare light fitting and the carpet had been pulled up in places, revealing damp floorboards.
“Find anything?” he asked.
She shook her head, and Caw noticed suddenly that she was trying to stop herself crying.
“Selina?” he said.
What’s she got to be so sad about? said Shimmer.
Caw pointed downstairs. “Give me some privacy, will you?” he muttered.
As Shimmer flew away, he went into the room, and sat beside her on the edge of the bed. He saw that the papers were just old bills.