The White Widow's Revenge

by Jacob Grey

  Caw’s pulse quickened as a huge shape drifted through the trees to their left. An eagle alighted on the edge of the fountain. Then Lugmann paced into the clearing with a panther at his side.

  “Fivetails,” he said.

  One by one, more of the enemy ferals emerged. Monkeys clambered over the stone nymphs, chattering excitedly. The dreadlocked centipede feral, who Caw hadn’t seen since the battle against the Mother of Flies, came from behind a tree. His body appeared to squirm as his creatures threaded in and out of his clothes and hair. Then, riding on her bison’s back, came the shaven-headed woman. Gradually, dogs, snakes and huge bulbous toads arrived. A mountain lion. Dozens of men and women and their beasts. The leaves in the trees shook with screeches until the scrapping animals were commanded to part.

  They’re all here, thought Caw. The White Widow’s army.

  Too many for me and Lydia to take on alone.

  “OK,” said Johnny. “Let’s put this plan into action.”

  Lugmann rubbed his hands together. “They won’t know what’s hit them.”

  Johnny headed off at a jog through the trees, towards the park gates.

  “We need to warn the others,” said Lydia.

  “Go back the way we came in,” Caw replied. “When you’re out of earshot, call your mum. Tell her everything – that Johnny is working against us and that the convicts are here.”

  Whatever their enemies were planning, it had to be stopped.

  “What about you?” said Lydia.

  Caw gritted his teeth. I’m going to settle a score, he thought.

  “Caw?”

  He brandished the Crow’s Beak, which gleamed darkly. Caw didn’t want to hide anything from Lydia, but it was better if she didn’t know what he was planning. “I’m staying here.”

  Lydia looked uncertain. “But you haven’t got your crows. If you’re found … Why don’t you come with me and help me explain?”

  Caw shook his head. “They don’t trust me any more,” he said. “But they’ll believe you. Say you came here looking for me, but found Johnny instead. Please, Lydia, just go.”

  She bit her lip, hesitating. “Just be careful, OK?” she said, then turned and ran off through the trees.

  Caw waited until she was out of sight then skirted round the edge of the gathering. Peering between bushes, he saw Johnny slip through the front gates of the park and jog into the street beyond. Silently, Caw went after him.

  As he tailed the traitorous feral, Caw realised the extent of Johnny Fivetails’ scheming. He had been playing the good ferals from the start, and now he knew all their secrets. Johnny had been at Pickwick’s bank because it was part of the plan to convince them that he was on their side. It had been his idea to hit the sewing factory, and he’d engineered Caw’s meeting with the White Widow. All to make Caw look bad and put himself in charge.

  Caw watched Johnny’s back with growing hatred. Whatever the coyote feral was planning now would fail. Caw wasn’t going to be manipulated again.

  Johnny Fivetails cut into an alley between an old printing works and the high wall of the prison. Caw waited a few moments, then followed, keeping to the shadows. The coyote feral was speeding up and Caw quickened his steps. The alley was a dead end.

  A blood-curdling animal cry stopped Johnny in his tracks. Caw slipped behind a large rubbish bin so he couldn’t be seen, then waited for the sound of Johnny’s steps to continue. Instead he heard a low growl. Caw’s neck hair pricked up and he saw a coyote enter the alley behind him. It padded slowly forward.

  “What’s that you’ve found, Victor?” asked Johnny with amusement in his voice. “A cowering crow?”

  There was no use hiding any more. Caw stood up and stepped out. Johnny was grinning, twenty paces away. With his enemy in front and the coyote behind, Caw had nowhere to run.

  “Now where have you been?” said Johnny. “We’ve been looking all over for you.”

  “I’ve been discovering the truth,” said Caw. “About you.”

  Johnny spread his arms. “And what do you think you know about me?” he said.

  “You’re working for the Spinning Man. You’ve betrayed everyone who trusted you.”

  The coyote’s throat rumbled. It lowered its head and showed its teeth.

  “We both made our choices,” said Johnny. His eyes flicked up to the surrounding rooftops, and Caw realised he was looking for crows. “I chose to side with the winners.”

  “Just like that?” said Caw. “But in the Dark Summer you fought against the spider feral.”

  “I sided with the winners then as well,” said Johnny. “Honour, loyalty, courage – they’re just words, Caw. Words winners use to create their lies. Survival is the only word that matters. It’s a shame you’ve only just learnt that. Black Corvus knew it well.”

  “He was a monster,” said Caw. “I’m nothing like him.”

  “I know,” said Johnny. “That’s why it ends here for you.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Caw. “I can call a thousand crows to fight you.”

  Johnny looked around again.

  With every second that passed, fear gripped Caw harder.

  Johnny smiled. “Interesting. Where are they then, Caw?”

  “They’ll be here,” said Caw. “Don’t force me to take you on.”

  Johnny laughed. “You’re a terrible liar, Caw. Even if you could summon your crows, Victor will be on you in five seconds and you’ll be dead in ten.”

  Caw glanced sideways. There was a drainpipe attached to the crumbling wall. If he could get to it, perhaps he could climb out of reach and gain some kind of advantage.

  “Cool your boots,” said Johnny. “The White Widow ordered me not to kill you. It’s a shame – I would have liked to fight you, to see what all the fuss is about.”

  Caw gripped the Crow’s Beak tightly. “You’re coming with me,” he said.

  Johnny didn’t look the slightest bit troubled. In fact, there was a glint in his eye. “Of course, I could always claim self-defence. Unlike you, I have a certain gift for telling lies.” He nodded beyond Caw. “He’s yours, Vic.”

  The coyote sprang forwards, eating up the alley in huge strides.

  “Wait!” said Caw, backing away.

  As the coyote launched itself into the air, Caw swung the Crow’s Beak, bracing himself for impact.

  aw heard an ear-splitting yowl as he fell and several parts of his body exploded with pain. The coyote was lying on top of him, its neck and head hanging over his shoulder. His face was inches from its bared teeth. But its eyes were closed, and its flanks rose and fell rapidly. Then with one last shuddering exhalation, the coyote went still.

  Caw heaved it off, wriggling his legs from beneath its dead body. His jacket was covered in blood and so was the blade of the Crow’s Beak.

  “Vic?” said a shaky voice. Caw saw Johnny Fivetails standing at the end of the alley, open-mouthed. “What did you do to Victor?” he said.

  Caw was shaken. “I didn’t mean to,” he said, lowering the sword.

  Johnny snarled. “You little rat!” He charged and ploughed into Caw’s stomach, shoulder first. They both fell and sprawled on the ground.

  The Crow’s Beak rattled away across the tarmac. Caw felt a hand clawing his face, fingers scratching at his eyes. He clamped his teeth over Johnny’s wrist and bit down hard.

  “Ow!” yelled the coyote feral. He shoved Caw off, sending him crashing into the bins. Johnny stood up, yanked his jacket straight and inspected his bleeding wrist. “You’ll pay for that,” he said. He drew back a foot and kicked Caw in the gut.

  Caw’s breath went out of him, leaving a hollow of pain. He gasped, but managed to clamber up on one knee. Johnny backed up then ran in again for another kick. Caw swung out a foot and tripped the coyote feral mid-swing. Johnny hit the ground with a thump.

  Caw crawled towards the Crow’s Beak, still struggling to draw a breath. He felt Johnny grab at his ankle, but pulled free. His fingers found the
hilt of the sword, and he whipped round to face his attacker.

  Johnny raised both hands in surrender, breathing hard. Caw scrambled to his feet, keeping the blade steady and the point levelled at Johnny’s heart.

  “You haven’t got it in you,” sneered the coyote feral.

  “Haven’t I?” said Caw, firmly grasping the hilt of the Crow’s Beak.

  “Look, let’s work together, Caw,” said the coyote feral. “I know all his plans. What d’you say?”

  “Tell me where Selina is,” said Caw, “and I’ll let you live.”

  Johnny shook his head. “You don’t get it, do you? She’s the White Widow. There’s nothing—”

  “Where is she?” said Caw again.

  “She’s probably dead already,” said Johnny. “The Spinning Man only needed her until he was strong enough without a vessel. He’s coming back, Caw. Nothing can stop him. And when he’s here, it won’t matter how many ferals Velma can scrape together for her little army.”

  Caw hated the look in Johnny’s eyes. Not because it was malicious, but because it was so certain. Like there was no hope at all for a different future.

  “Just tell me where I can find Selina,” said Caw.

  A slow smile spread across Johnny’s face. “Don’t worry, Caw, you’ll see her soon enough.” His eyes flicked over Caw’s shoulder. “In the Land of the Dead.”

  Caw turned and saw three coyotes padding down the alley. Then he felt the Crow’s Beak shoot from his grasp as Johnny struck, knocking the blade aside.

  “Let’s see how you do without a weapon,” said Johnny, grinning gleefully, as Caw backed away.

  There was no way out. Behind Caw was the dead end of the alley. He could die cowering or fighting, but either road led to the same place.

  He raised his fists.

  Then, with a sudden flapping, two crows dropped from the sky and landed at his side. A plump male, feathers dull black and beak stubby, and a wiry female. Caw could hardly believe it.

  Glum and Shimmer!

  In that moment, he could have cried. “Thank you,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

  The crows just ruffled their feathers in response.

  “Three against three,” laughed Johnny. “Not exactly a fair fight though.”

  The coyotes began to run with loping strides and the two crows took off, squawking. Caw was filled with a new energy. He lurched to one side, gripped the drainpipe in both hands and began to climb.

  “After him!” yelled the coyote feral.

  The coyotes sprinted forwards and the lead animal pounced. Caw swung his body out of reach and heard the scrape of claws down the brick wall. Surging panic helped him scramble higher as the three creatures snapped and lunged below.

  Johnny Fivetails grabbed another drainpipe further along the building and began to climb with unnerving speed. But Caw was faster. Years of scaling the roofs of Blackstone and the hundreds of trees he’d climbed gave him the edge.

  He reached the top of the building and rolled over the parapet on to the roof. His jeans caught on something and as he tore free, pain lanced through his leg. He winced and saw that a rusted prong of metal had gashed his calf. Blood dripped into the alley below and as he peered over, Caw saw the coyotes watching him with hungry stares.

  Then a scrabbling much closer drew his attention, and he saw Johnny clambering on to the roof. Caw realised that they were on top of the old prison. He remembered that there was a series of exercise yards on the other side of this roof, enclosed by the outer walls.

  Johnny peered over the edge. “Long drop, Caw,” he said. “And look what I found.”

  He reached behind him and drew the Crow’s Beak from his belt.

  Glum and Shimmer circled and landed at Caw’s side. Still loyal, despite everything.

  Caw backed away as Johnny Fivetails advanced with the blade. He glanced over his shoulder and saw he was getting close to the edge by the prison yard. In the past, he would have used his feral powers to transform into a crow, but he had no doubt that Corvus had taken that option away from him too.

  “Tell you what, Caw – here’s a choice,” said Johnny. “Either you can jump or I run you through.”

  Caw tried to breathe steadily. Backwards meant certain death – nothing Glum or Shimmer could do alone would save him. So he could only go forwards. If he could somehow avoid the blade, he might have a chance. But Johnny Fivetails looked deadly. He wouldn’t miss.

  But perhaps there was another way.

  “Wait!” said Caw. “I’ve got something for you.”

  “There’s nothing you have that I want,” said Johnny. “Stop stalling.”

  Caw reached up to his neck. “What about the Midnight Stone?” he said.

  He heard the breath catch in the coyote feral’s throat. “You’re lying. You don’t have it,” he said.

  Caw drew out the Stone, still wrapped in its pouch.

  Johnny’s eyes gleamed and he licked his lips. “Give it to me,” he said.

  “And you’ll let me live?” said Caw as he unlooped the cord from his neck.

  Johnny shook his head. “Nice try.”

  Caw tossed the pouch backwards over his shoulder.

  “No!” said Johnny, lowering the blade as he watched the Midnight Stone plummet over the edge.

  It was all the distraction Caw needed. He dived forwards, aiming to punch Johnny in the face. But the coyote feral grabbed his arm and they toppled over, landing in a heap on the roof. They rolled as one and Caw had no idea how close they were to the edge. His hands found Johnny’s throat and he squeezed. The coyote feral clenched his chin to his chest and broke Caw’s grip. Then he lifted his head and – smack! – drove his forehead into the bridge of Caw’s nose.

  Caw was paralysed by pain. Johnny rolled him on to his back and pressed down with a great weight. Then there was a fist in Caw’s ribs and another crunching into his cheekbone. He tasted blood in his mouth and heard the panicked cries of the crows.

  Suddenly the weight lifted. Caw’s face throbbed from the blows. He glanced across the rooftop and saw that Johnny Fivetails had snatched up the Crow’s Beak again.

  “That was childish, Caw,” he said. “Childish and foolish. My coyotes are going to enjoy you as their next meal—”

  “Leave him be!” Johnny was interrupted by a new voice.

  Caw propped himself up on his elbows. There, standing on a peaked section of the roof, was a dark figure, with a black creature crouched at his ankles. For a moment, Caw thought his eyes were deceiving him.

  “Felix Quaker,” said Johnny. “I thought you were smart enough to stay out of this. That’s normally your style, isn’t it? Curl up in a ball somewhere and hope that no one bothers you.”

  Caw wiped the blood away from his cheek. His head was still spinning.

  Quaker picked his way to their level with surprising agility, his cat sticking close to his side. As they came into the light, Caw saw it was the same cat he and Lydia had met on the park wall.

  “Let’s just say you persuaded me otherwise,” said Quaker. Caw saw that Quaker’s face was swollen and purple on one side. “Cats are slow to anger, but we can be fierce. You shouldn’t have followed me, Johnny. You should have left me well alone.”

  More cats appeared, fanning across the rooftop to surround Johnny.

  “Sorry about the jaw,” Johnny Fivetails smirked. “You weren’t very helpful with my enquiries.”

  “Caw, are you hurt?” asked Quaker.

  “I’m OK,” said Caw weakly.

  “Not for much longer,” said Johnny.

  He spun without warning, raising the Crow’s Beak high above Caw’s head. But as he did so, Quaker’s black cat pounced on to the coyote feral’s arm. With a yowl, Johnny dropped the sword as he swung his arm wildly to throw the cat off.

  “Come on, Quaker,” yelled Johnny. “Let’s see how an angry tomcat fights!”

  As Caw staggered to his feet, Quaker and Fivetails circled each other. The cat feral
moved fast, hunched and low, his feet seeming to glide across the rooftop. Johnny Fivetails bounced on his toes, fists raised like a boxer.

  “You know, maybe we’re not so different after all,” said Johnny. “We both like to sit on the fence before joining the fight.”

  The cat feral charged, hands a blur. Johnny sidestepped and the older man barrelled past. He skidded, just managing to stop at the edge of the roof. Johnny ran at him, hands outstretched to shove Quaker to his death. But Felix spun round, bringing his arms up and grabbing hold of Johnny’s wrists. For a moment they strained against one another on the precipice.

  Then Quaker smiled. “I’m nothing like you, Fivetails,” he said. “You’d sell your soul to the highest bidder. Well, not any more.”

  And then Quaker stepped back into thin air.

  Johnny Fivetails screamed as they both went toppling over the edge.

  “Felix!” cried Caw.

  Gripped with horror, he crawled to the side of the roof. He didn’t want to look, but he had to know. He leant over, expecting to see two smashed bodies lying on the ground.

  But three storeys down there was only one body. Johnny Fivetails lay on his back, one leg folded at an awkward angle beneath the other, arms splayed out on either side.

  Felix Quaker was crouching a few feet away from Johnny, on his hands and knees. He stood up stiffly and craned his neck to look at Caw.

  It was forty feet down. Maybe more. Any normal person would be dead, for sure.

  “How …?”

  “We always land on our paws,” called Quaker from below.

  Caw smiled, despite everything. Then he saw Johnny’s arm twitch and his chest expanded with a heaving groan.

  Quaker jumped back in surprise. “Caw, you’d better get down here,” he said.

  With his leg still bleeding and his face beginning to swell round his eyes, Caw picked his way carefully down another drainpipe, hopped across the ledge of a barred window, then dangled and dropped the remaining way to the ground.

  Glum and Shimmer landed next to him, with the Crow’s Beak grasped in their talons. Caw was overwhelmed to have them at his side once more.

  “You came back,” he said. “I didn’t call you, but you came.”