by Jacob Grey
Quaker smiled weakly. “I had this in my collection for years,” he said. “Never knew if it was really genuine, but I suspected.”
Caw frowned. There was a piece of this puzzle that didn’t fit. He remembered the other vision in Bootlace’s lair, the one in which his mother had brought the stone to Bootlace for protection. Her words were still so clear and fresh.
The spider feral has learnt of its existence.
But how? Unless …
His blood went cold.
“Felix,” he said, “did you tell the Spinning Man about the Midnight Stone?”
Felix straightened proudly. “I certainly did not!” he said. “I may not be the bravest feral in Blackstone, but I am no traitor!”
“Sorry,” said Caw. “I shouldn’t have …”
“No, no,” said Quaker. “I understand why you might say that. The truth is, I don’t know how he found out. If I had known, I would have warned your mother he was coming for her. She was … a good woman.”
He lowered his head and silence fell over the room, broken only by the sound of the life-support machines.
“I buried them, you know,” mumbled the old man, lifting his head. Tears were welling in his eyes.
“What?” said Caw.
“It was me who found your parents,” said Quaker. “Well, the cats did. I took their bodies to the cemetery and dug their graves myself. Right beside Henry Wythe.”
Caw felt as though his heart was struggling to beat. “Thank you,” he said hoarsely. “And for the message on Freddie’s collar. We wouldn’t have found Bootlace without your help.”
Quaker nodded briskly, wiped his eyes and sniffed, then seemed to notice Selina properly for the first time since entering the room. “And this is her daughter, is it?” he asked. “The heiress to the fly line.”
Caw walked to the end of the bed and tugged out the clipboard. He scanned the writing, but most of the long words meant nothing to him. “They say they don’t know what’s wrong with her. Some sort of poison in her blood.”
Quaker twitched, suddenly alert. “Poison? I thought she was shot?”
“She was,” said Lydia.
Quaker frowned. “Well, medicine isn’t my field, I’m afraid.” He seemed back to his old self. “I will leave you, if I may. My house is in need of some care after the barbarities of our city’s constabulary.”
“Of course,” said Caw.
“Goodbye, Felix,” said Lydia, rolling her eyes behind his back.
“Farewell,” said the cat feral. He spun on his heel and left.
When he’d closed the door, Lydia came to Caw’s side and touched his arm. “Are you OK?” she said. “Y’know, about your parents?”
Caw shrugged. “It was a long time ago, wasn’t it?”
Lydia smiled softly.
“Can you give me a moment alone?” he asked.
Lydia hesitated for just a second before nodding. “I’ll see you outside.”
After she had gone, Caw eased his aching body into the chair beside Selina’s bed.
It was a long time ago. He remembered nothing of his parents when they were alive and even the memory of meeting them in the Land of the Dead was fading like a photograph bleached by the sun. But he could never forget the sacrifice they’d made so that he could live. And he would never take lightly the feral powers handed down to him. If they were watching him now, he knew they’d both be proud.
Caw let his hand rest over his pocket where the Midnight Stone remained, wrapped in his handkerchief. He wouldn’t touch it again, and he wouldn’t let anyone else touch it either. The crow line had not failed. He had not failed the pledge that Black Corvus had made hundreds of years before.
He looked at Selina, lying as still as a corpse in the bed. A victim of the war between the ferals, as so many had been before her. There would be more too, he realised. The Spinning Man was dead, the Mother of Flies had lost her creatures and would never see freedom again. But Crumb was right – evil rested, yet never died. And when it woke again, Caw and his crows would be ready to face it.
He placed his hand over Selina’s.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
The only answer was the soft electronic bleep of her heartbeat.
With special thanks to Michael Ford
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