by Jacob Grey
One of the cops came running up. “Sir, there’s some sort of huge bird over there. We think it’s an eagle.”
Mr Strickham sighed. “Nothing would surprise me tonight.” He turned to Caw, his voice businesslike. “Now scram, you two. No more loitering in the park. Got it?”
“Got it,” Selina and Caw said in unison.
As they headed towards the east wall, Caw caught sight of Lugmann staring from a cage in the back of a police van. The convict threw himself at the mesh, making it shudder. “You!” he shouted. “Come here! I’ll rip you apart! I’ll—”
But his shouts were muffled as an officer slammed the door shut. Caw turned away.
They crossed the shadowy grass, leaving the glare of the police lights behind them. Caw saw a moth fluttering on the ground, trying to take flight. One of its wings was broken. He stooped and picked it up, glancing around into the trees.
“Mr Silk?” said Selina.
Caw realised he hadn’t seen his old enemy being arrested with the other convicts.
“Perhaps,” he said. “But if he’s out there, he’s on his own – he’s powerless.” Caw held open his palm and the moth fluttered into the air, flying lopsidedly away. “Let’s find the others.”
At last they came across a group of ferals crowded beneath the east wall. Lydia sat with her back against the wall, her face deathly pale. Mrs Strickham was kneeling at her side, tending to a wound on her daughter’s arm.
As Caw began to run towards them, some of the other ferals looked up and Pip cried out, “It’s Caw!”
Racklen caught hold of Caw’s arm as he passed. “She’s all right,” he said. “One of Lugmann’s panthers clawed her arm, but she’ll be fine.”
Mrs Strickham’s eyes widened as Caw approached, but then he realised she was staring past him at Selina, who had hung back, as if afraid.
“The Spinning Man is gone,” Caw said.
“Can that be true?” said Madeleine. In the branch above her, squirrels began to squeal in excitement.
With an effort, Lydia smiled up at Caw. “You killed him, didn’t you?”
Caw nodded. “For good this time.” He turned and gestured for Selina to come closer. Hugging herself nervously, she stepped among the ferals.
“I know you might not trust me,” she said, “but …”
As Mrs Strickham stood up and walked over to her, Selina seemed to lose the power of speech. Caw had a moment of panic. But then Mrs Strickham took Selina’s hand gently and turned to the others. “We all need to learn a thing or two about trust,” she said and glanced at Caw. “We were taken in by our enemies. And when we broke our faith in one another, they almost prevailed.”
Racklen lowered his gaze. “I’m sorry, Caw,” he said. “We should never have doubted you.”
Caw felt odd with the huge man practically bowing in front of him. “It’s OK, I know why you did,” he said. He thought about Black Corvus and how his own beliefs had been shattered.
Lydia came to her mother’s side and leant against her, clutching the bandage over her injured arm.
A pigeon zipped past, cooing, and Crumb stepped out of the crowd. “Police heading this way,” he said. “We need to go.”
As animals and ferals began to scramble up the walls and slip away into the trees, Mrs Strickham and Crumb stayed by Caw. “It’s good to have you back, Caw,” said the pigeon feral.
“It’s good to be back,” said Caw. He smiled, and Crumb smiled too.
“We must find my husband,” said Mrs Strickham. “I have a feeling he’ll be furious about all this.”
Caw shook his head. “I’ve got a message from him. He said he’d see you at home. He said … he said he loved you both very much.”
For a moment, Mrs Strickham looked as though she was about to cry. Then she drew herself up and smiled, and Caw saw her arm tighten round Lydia. “Thank you, Caw,” she said.
“I’ll see you soon, OK?” said Lydia. “Really soon, please.”
“I promise,” said Caw.
Lydia and her mother hurried off between the trees with Crumb, followed by foxes.
It was only when they were out of earshot that Selina muttered in a low voice, “Mr Strickham didn’t really say that, did he?”
“No,” replied Caw, “but I think it’s what he meant.”
t took two days to salvage the wreck that was Caw’s house. It wasn’t just the spiders’ webs covering every room – the harder Caw looked, the more damage he found. But with Lydia and Selina and Pip helping out, they’d made steady progress. Ali had brought round paint and brushes, and Zeah and Madeleine had rehung the front door on its hinges and replaced Caw’s bedroom door entirely. Racklen had removed several jeep-loads of rubbish, including the charred remains of the tree-house nest. Caw was surprised that he hadn’t felt sorry to see it go, but he realised that it was a past he didn’t need to hold on to any more.
“There!” said Lydia, climbing down from a stepladder by Caw’s bedroom window. Her arm was still bandaged from the panther attack. “What do you think?”
She’d hung a pair of curtains on the rail above it – they were blue, with white polar bears dancing across them. Apparently they’d been hers when she was younger.
“I kind of like them,” said Caw, putting down his paintbrush. He drew them back, letting sunlight into the room. Glum and Shimmer were perched on the ledge outside.
Couldn’t you get drapes with crows on? said Shimmer.
Caw felt a pang of grief. “That’s exactly what Screech would have said.”
Glum’s beak hung sadly to one side.
I miss him, said Shimmer.
“He’s with Milky now,” said Caw.
Glum bobbed his head. Probably winding him up too, he said cheerfully.
Caw smiled, and thought of the white crow he had seen in the forest, the ghostly form of Screech. One day he would see his companion again.
Footsteps sounded, coming up the stairs. “OK, OK,” Selina was saying. “Just wait a minute.” She ran into the room, laughing. “Pip wants to show you his trick,” she said. “Come on to the landing.”
Caw followed Lydia and Selina out of the room. Instead of her normal black clothing, Selina was wearing a sleeveless blue top with a picture of a tortoise lying on its back on a sunlounger, and above it the words LIFE IN THE SLOW LANE. It must have belonged to Lydia. He smiled to himself – finally it looked like the two of them were becoming friends.
Pip stood on the stairs below, looking up through the gaps in the banister railings. “Ladies and gentlemen, are you ready?” he said.
“We’re ready!” said Lydia.
Pip beamed from ear to ear. “Then witness the amazing contortions of Pip the mouse talker!”
He slotted an arm through a small gap in the railings, up to his shoulder.
So far, so unimpressive, muttered Glum.
Shush, said Shimmer. Give the kid a chance.
Pip pushed his body as far as he could between the vertical wooden posts. Then the mouse feral took a deep breath, swelling his chest and then breathing out slowly. As he did so, his ribcage seemed to depress further than was natural, almost like it was made of putty. It followed his arm between the railings then expanded on the other side.
Lydia gasped. “That’s amazing, Pip!”
“Wait!” he said, his head still on the other side. “I’m not done yet.”
Yeah, he’s stuck, chuckled Glum.
Pip breathed out deeply again, and Caw had to blink in astonishment as his friend squeezed his head through as well. “Ta-da!” he said. “My mice have been teaching me!”
“Weird,” said Selina, wincing a little. “But cool too!”
“What do you think, Caw?” asked Pip eagerly.
“I think …” Caw began. “I think I’m jealous. Why can’t I be a mouse feral?”
Hey! said Glum, batting Caw’s leg with a wing. I’ll remind you of that next time I’m carrying you.
Pip beamed. “I reckon I could squeeze through a
keyhole if I keep trying,” he said. “Perhaps we can train together, Caw.”
“Of course we—”
A knock at the door interrupted him.
“That’ll be Mum and Dad,” said Lydia. She checked her watch. “Guess what – the Strickham family is going to the theatre tonight. Together!”
The joy in her face was clear, and though Caw couldn’t have been happier for her, he still felt a wave of loneliness. He would have given anything to see his parents again, even if just for a few minutes.
But it wasn’t Mr and Mrs Strickham at the door.
“Hope I’m not intruding,” said the cat feral.
“Of course not!” said Caw, as he came down the staircase.
Felix Quaker wiped his shoes on the mat and stepped inside. “Gosh, it’s been a long time since I came here.”
“Sorry about the mess,” said Caw, indicating the bags of rubbish still waiting to be taken away.
“Not at all,” said Quaker. “You’d be surprised to know how little it’s changed.”
He whipped out a small package from behind his back, neatly wrapped in paper.
“What is it?” said Caw.
“A house-warming gift,” said Quaker. “Nothing special, I’m afraid.”
Caw tore off the paper and saw a metal tin inside. The words FINEST EARL GREY were written on it.
Quaker fished in his pocket and pulled out a lemon. “I didn’t bother to wrap this.”
“Erm, thank you!” said Caw as he took the lemon.
Quaker looked a little uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot. “I tell you what – why don’t we have a cup now? There’s something I need to talk to you about.”
When Caw had brewed the tea – closely overseen by the cat feral – Felix, Caw, Lydia and Selina sat round the dining-room table. The Carmichaels’ house was no longer the feral headquarters and the other ferals had returned to their homes. This house belonged to Caw again.
Quaker held his mug in both hands, staring intently into its depths.
“I want to talk to you about the Dark Summer,” he said, “and about the Midnight Stone.”
Caw sipped his drink. The weight of the cat feral’s words hung between them.
“You have it still?” said Quaker.
“It’s safe,” said Caw. “I swore a vow, remember?”
Quaker nodded. “So did your mother. A vow she broke.”
He spoke the words evenly, with no hint of accusation, but still Caw bristled. And suddenly he remembered the scene that he had witnessed in his vision, after the white spider bit him in the library.
“I saw something in a dream,” he said. “A clearing in the woods … My mother, but younger, showing the Stone to the Spinning Man.”
Quaker’s eyebrows lifted a fraction. “You know, then.”
Caw shook his head. “I don’t really understand.”
Felix gazed at him for a moment then said, “You’re ready for the truth, I think.”
“Tell me,” said Caw. “I’ve had enough of lies.”
The cat feral sipped his tea thoughtfully and then began. “Very well. You never met your grandfather, did you, Caw? He died before you were born. Your mother was around sixteen or seventeen at the time, I remember. On his deathbed, he told her what she would become and he gave the Midnight Stone to her. He told her to guard it always.” He paused, blowing on his steaming tea. “But his mind was clouding over, and he never told her the most important thing of all: to tell no one else about the Stone. Elizabeth had a close friend and his name was Gideon. Gideon Marshall. She confided in him. She had no one else, and I’m sure she was lonely.”
Caw suddenly realised where Quaker was going with the story and his throat felt tight. “He was the spider feral, wasn’t he?”
Felix cocked his head. “Gideon didn’t know his parents because he was abandoned as a baby. But what is certain is that one of them was the spider feral. And when he assumed his powers as a boy, the feral community took pity on him, your mother and grandfather most of all. It was the greatest mistake they ever made.”
“He became the Spinning Man,” whispered Selina.
Quaker nodded. “Years later, when you were born, Caw, Gideon came to your mother. He said he would take care of the Midnight Stone – he said it was too much of a burden with you to look after as well. She refused, but from that day onwards it was only a matter of time. Gideon Marshall became deranged and power-hungry. He had to have the Midnight Stone. He amassed allies and eventually he struck, and that was the Dark Summer.”
Caw sighed heavily. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?” he asked.
“Because I promised never to tell you,” said Quaker. “In the height of the Dark Summer, when it looked like we would lose, your mother made me promise.” He looked at Caw, his eyes brimming with tears. “She was ashamed of her terrible part in it, poor Lizzie. So today, I have broken a vow too.”
Caw let it all sink in, and Lydia rested a hand on his back. “Are you all right?” she asked gently.
“I think so,” he said. Pushing back his chair, he walked away from the table.
“Caw?” said Selina.
“Just give me a minute,” he said. “Glum, Shimmer, I need you.”
He went straight out of the back door, determination hardening in his heart. The crows followed him.
Caw pointed up at the tree. “Bring it,” he said.
What are you going to do? said Shimmer.
“Please, just do it,” said Caw.
She took off, flying into the blackened branches as Caw drew the Crow’s Beak from its sheath.
Shimmer returned with the Midnight Stone clutched in her talons. She dropped it on the ground.
Caw? said Glum.
He gazed at the jet-black stone in front of him. How could something so small have caused so much sorrow? It had pitted feral against feral; it had shed the blood of countless innocents.
My mother, my father, Screech.
Gideon Marshall and Cynthia Davenport.
Countless others he’d never even known the names of.
And for what? So that one man’s soul could prevail. Black Corvus had wanted to live forever, and that wish had rippled through the centuries, becoming a crashing wave that swept onwards and destroyed people’s lives.
Until now.
Caw sensed that the others had gathered by the kitchen window. He didn’t care if they saw. He held the Crow’s Beak high above the Midnight Stone.
He didn’t care about the vow Black Corvus had sworn.
He had never sworn that vow.
Caw was the crow talker, descendant of Black Corvus, but he was also much more than that. And he had seen enough horror.
It ended here.
He looked back to the window briefly and nodded to his friends. Then, with a grunt of effort, he brought the blade down on the Stone as hard as he could.
There was no flash of light. No great earthquake. Caw felt nothing more than the reverberation of the impact through his wrist. When he looked down, he saw the Midnight Stone had been smashed into several pieces. He sheathed his sword, closed his eyes and sent out a summons. In seconds, a murder of crows had landed in the garden.
“Take a piece each,” he said. “Fly away from the city and drop them. It doesn’t matter where – I don’t want to know.”
One by one, the crows flew in, scooping up small fragments and flapping away in different directions.
Jack Carmichael watched them disappear into the distance.
Then he turned and walked slowly back to his home.
Acknowledgments
With special thanks to Michael Ford
See how it all began …
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Caw battles the Mother of Flies in …
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