by Jacob Grey
Caw felt like he’d waited his entire life to hear this.
“So Caw’s a bird feral?” said Lydia, leaning forward.
“Just crows,” said Crumb, flashing her a fierce look. “The pigeons, they’re mine.” His tone softened. “But it’s not always birds …”
Pip clicked his fingers and two mice poked their twitching noses from his coat pocket.
“Cool!” said Lydia.
Pip blushed. “You can stroke them,” he said. “These two don’t nip.”
Lydia reached forward to pet them and the mice chirruped happily.
“So Jawbone, Mamba and Scuttle – they’re ferals too,” said Caw.
“Powerful ones,” said Crumb, his face sombre. “And evil.” He tipped the last of his soup down his throat. When he set down his mug, Caw saw some drops in his beard. Crumb wiped his chin with the back of his sleeve.
“Where are the others?” said Caw.
“All over the city,” said Crumb. “Some I know of, some I don’t. A long, long time ago, ordinary people knew all about ferals. They let us be, living in harmony with the natural world. But then things changed. It started with accusations of witchcraft and sorcery. A few ferals were rooted out. Others went into hiding, but some fought back and that only made the problem worse. Many feral lines were … ended. After that, the survivors learnt to keep their powers a secret. Their gift became a curse.”
“Feral ‘lines’,” said Caw. “What do you mean?”
Crumb helped himself to more pumpkin soup. “A feral’s powers come from their mother or father,” he said. “When the parent feral dies, the gift passes on to the eldest child.”
The room seemed to dim. Caw’s mind stirred and focused. “So one of my parents …”
Crumb cocked his head. “You really don’t know?”
“Know what?” said Caw.
After a pause, Crumb spoke again. “It was your mother,” he said. “She was the crow talker before you.”
Caw let the words sink in. If what Crumb was saying was true, it could only mean one thing. “But I have the powers now, so she must be …”
Crumb and Pip shared a glance, then Crumb nodded solemnly. He placed a hand on Caw’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. Your mother died a long time ago. I thought you knew.”
Caw looked at the mug in his hands, so they couldn’t see the tears misting in his eyes. “I guess I did,” he said. But he’d always hoped, all these years. That one day she would come and get him.
“She was a brave woman,” said Crumb. “Impressive.”
Caw’s heart lurched. “You knew her?”
Crumb shook his head. “No, but I saw her a couple of times. When I was young. I didn’t even dare to say ‘hello’.”
Questions flocked into Caw’s mind. He stared at his crows. Only Milky was looking his way, blind and direct at the same time. Screech and Glum had averted their gaze.
“You knew too, didn’t you?” he said quietly to the crows. Suddenly it made sense – the crows carrying him away in his memory. His mother had commanded them to, just like he had commanded them himself today. “You must have known,” he repeated, louder. He couldn’t stop the tears rolling any more. Lydia looked at him sadly.
Finally Glum lifted his beak. We heard, he said. The story passed on to us. Years passed too. It never seemed the right time to tell you. We were doing fine and you were safe.
“But …” Caw sniffed and fought back the tears. “But you could have told me. All this time, I never understood. I thought they abandoned me, Glum.”
They sent you away for your own safety, said Glum. He came for them.
The room felt suddenly ten degrees colder. An image burned into Caw’s brain, bold and terrifying at the edge of his mind. A body marked with an M, and eight creeping legs …
“The spider feral,” he said.
It was Crumb’s turn to look surprised. “How could you—”
“He was in a dream I have,” said Caw. “I think he had something to do with Miss Wallace being killed too.” He swallowed, sickened by guilt.
“The woman at the library?” said Crumb.
Caw told Crumb what he had seen – the graffiti outside the fire exit and the mesh of webbing over the librarian’s mouth.
Crumb’s face was ashen pale beneath all the dirt. Pip, Caw noticed, was shaking. “Jawbone and the others,” said Crumb, “they were his followers when he was alive. But painting his mark on the wall of the library …”
“What do they want?” asked Lydia.
Crumb shifted a little. “Good ferals work in harmony with their animals,” he said, “but bad ones force their will. The spider feral was the worst. He called himself the Spinning Man.”
Something clicked in Caw’s brain when he heard the name. Lydia in the library, sketching out the picture of the spider. She had said that the spider’s body was shaped like an S, and in the middle of it, the spiky M shape. The Spinning Man. Spinning his web of death.
Caw shivered. “Tell us everything.”
Crumb went on. “The Spinning Man wasn’t content to stay hidden among normal humans. He wanted power. So he gathered other renegade ferals and tried to take over the city. It happened eight years ago.”
“The Dark Summer!” said Lydia.
Crumb shuddered visibly. “I wasn’t much older than you are now. He made it his mission to find all the good ferals and … and wipe them out. He almost managed it too. Perhaps your mother suspected he was coming for her. If the Spinning Man had found out about your existence, he would have killed you as well as them.”
“What about my father?” said Caw.
“He was found with her,” said Crumb. “He stood by her and … and he paid the price.”
“Oh, Caw,” said Lydia in a whisper. “I’m so sorry.” She slipped her hand into his and squeezed it tight.
Caw felt utterly drained. The hope that his parents were somehow alive had been snuffed out for good. Each revelation threw new, painful light on the past. Suddenly his parents weren’t just figures dimly imagined in a dream, faces fading to nothing as the crows carried him away. They were real people who had loved him and who had given their lives to save him. Caw’s heart felt ready to burst.
“The history books say the Dark Summer ended abruptly,” Crumb went on. “The truth is that the Spinning Man was killed. That’s what finally put a stop to the bloodshed.” He suddenly sat up straighter and his face hardened as he glared into the fire of the brazier. “We fought with everything we had – those who remained – and at last one of our number killed him. It took all our strength, and many died.” His eyes seemed to be staring right through the flames.
“Of course, the authorities in Blackstone just called it a crime wave. They blamed it on mass hysteria. Without their leader to guide them, the Spinning Man’s followers became careless – the Blackstone Police managed to catch a lot of them. Others fled and went into hiding. Peace returned, until now …”
“Hang on a minute,” said Lydia. “You said the good ferals killed the Spinning Man. But then why are his followers still using his symbol? What about the graffiti? What does it all mean?”
“He is dead, isn’t he?” asked Pip. He suddenly sounded very young indeed.
“Oh, he’s dead,” Crumb replied, “but …”
“But what?” said Lydia.
At his side, Caw spotted Milky looking agitated, ruffling his feathers.
“I’ve seen the Spinning Man’s symbol too,” said Crumb. “Scratched on a park bench. Sprayed on a car bonnet. Scrawled on the wall of a warehouse near the river. His followers must be gathering again. That’s why we ran into you behind the takeaway, Caw – we’ve been out watching the city, making sure our old friends are safe. Now I’m sure they’re not – none of us are.” He paused. “I’ve had strange dreams, just like you, Caw. Dreams of spiders. I’m not sure why.”
Caw sensed he wasn’t telling them something – something important. “But you have an idea, don’t you?”
“Yes, it is,” said Lydia. “You’re either alive, or you’re dead.” She looked across at Caw, her face lit up by the brazier. Her eyes shone fearfully.
“Perhaps,” said Crumb. “I hope so.”
Caw thought about his parents, killed by the Spinning Man and his followers. Anger flooded his body. If he couldn’t have revenge on the spider feral himself, Jawbone, Scuttle and Mamba were still at large. They had to pay.
“We need to stop them!” he said. “We have to fight back.”
“They belong in prison,” said Lydia.
Pip giggled, breaking the tense atmosphere. The mouse feral clamped a hand over his mouth.
“What’s so funny?” demanded Caw.
“Nothing,” said Pip. “It’s just … well, you haven’t got a chance.”
“What do you mean?” Caw hated the smirk on the younger boy’s face.
“Pip …” said Crumb in a warning voice.
“No.” Pip’s tone was defiant. “I’ve been watching you, Caw. You skulk around the park, barely scraping enough to eat. You hardly ever dare come down from that nest. You live with three raggedy crows …”
Hey! squawked Screech and Glum.
“I’m tougher than you think,” said Caw, standing over Pip.
“Pip’s right,” said Crumb matter-of-factly. “You can’t control your powers.”
“I rescued Lydia and her dad,” said Caw. “Jawbone was going to kill them!”
“And his crows got us away from the police at the library,” said Lydia.
Crumb nodded. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that,” he said. “But against other ferals with all their animals? What if Jawbone had a whole pack of dogs with him? Or what if Mamba summoned a dozen snakes instead of one? You’re lucky we saved you when we did. Our best bet now is to stay hidden.”
Caw remembered his terror in the library, pinned by a slavering monster of a dog and completely defenceless. He felt his confidence seep away.
“You’re right,” he said.
“No he’s not, Caw,” said Lydia firmly. “You chased the snake from my house too. Don’t give up.”
Crumb cocked his head, looking at Lydia with a frown. “You remind me of someone I once knew,” he said. “Someone very brave indeed.”
“I bet he didn’t give up, did he?” said Lydia.
Crumb shook his head. “No, she did not.”
Lydia’s encouragement fired Caw’s heart. “Well, let’s fight then,” he said. “I summoned a whole flock today. I can learn.”
“Not fast enough,” said Crumb. “They’d kill you, Caw. Just like your mother.”
The words cut deep. “Let me try!”
Crumb and Pip looked at each other, and Pip shrugged.
“Listen,” said Crumb. “Let me show you what you’re facing. You and I – we’ll have a duel – a contest of powers. I’ve had a dozen years of practice, and I wouldn’t stand a chance against Jawbone, Scuttle or Mamba. When you see how easily I beat you, perhaps you’ll reconsider.”
“A duel?” said Caw.
“This is going to be funny,” said Pip.
Caw’s lip twisted into a snarl. They’re laughing at me, he thought.
“You can do it!” said Lydia, slapping him hard on the shoulder.
Caw felt Milky’s blind gaze on his face, and in that moment he knew he wouldn’t back down.
“You’re on,” he said.
aw stood with his back to the door, staring down the central aisle of the church.
You sure about this? said Screech. The crows were perched on a pew nearby.
“No,” muttered Caw, “but I’ve got to try.”
Crumb sat at the front of the church, under the white outline of the missing cross. He slouched on the bare altar table, legs dangling over the side. “Ready?” called the pigeon talker.
“Come on, Caw!” shouted Lydia from the gallery above.
“Teach him a lesson, Crumb,” yelled Pip from beside her.
“I’m ready,” said Caw.
Crumb whistled like he had at the nest, and there was a bustle of beating wings as hundreds of pigeons descended from the roof beams and landed around his feet.
Okay, that was impressive, said Glum, tilting his head.
I can’t look, said Screech, shielding his eyes beneath a wing.
Caw stretched out his arms, and willed the crows to come. He felt the same warmth building in the pit of his stomach as he’d felt earlier. He could do this.
Crumb flung out his left arm, and all the pigeons on that side took flight at once, their wings cracking like whips. They flew straight at Caw.
Caw’s concentration broke into panic. “Stop them!” he yelled.
Geronimo! cried Screech.
The three crows took to the air, but the pigeons swamped them in seconds. Amidst the mass of feathers and squawks, Milky, Screech and Glum were completely outnumbered. The pigeons forced them to the ground, and Pip’s high-pitched laugher filled the nave.
“That’s not fair!” said Lydia. “Caw didn’t have time to call his crows.”
Crumb was still seated on the altar table, looking very relaxed indeed.
“You think the Spinning Man’s followers will give Caw time?” he said. “You’re lucky it’s only a few friendly pigeons. Jawbone’s dogs would have torn those three crows to pieces.”
The crows continued to struggle helplessly against the weight of pigeons. Caw wanted to run and kick the vermin birds away, but he knew that would be giving up. Instead he forced himself to concentrate, to draw the crows to him once more.
“Sorry about this,” said Crumb, standing up from the altar table and brushing his hands together like the fight was over. “But now you can see …”
Caw felt power swelling in his gut. He sensed the crows gathering. They’re coming, he thought with a smile.
The door burst open with a bang and Caw felt a rush of triumph at the shock on Crumb’s face. The older feral jerked to his feet as dozens of black shapes swooped past Caw and straight towards the carpet of pigeons. Caw waited until they reached them, then threw his arm towards Crumb. The crows steered in a dark wave to attack the pigeon talker, their wings snapping up and down.
“Go Caw!” shouted Lydia.
“Look out!” said Pip.
Crumb clapped his hands together and his remaining pigeons flew in a tight crisscross formation in front of him. Crumb disappeared completely behind the curtain of grey.
The crow attack parted the sea of pigeons straight through the middle, scattering them in all directions.
Then the pigeons dropped as one to the ground.
Crumb had vanished.
“What?” said Caw.
“Just a trick of the trade,” said Crumb’s voice in his ear.
Caw spun round to find the pigeon talker standing on the pew beside him.
“How did you do that?” he said.
“A little sleight of hand goes a long way,” said Crumb. He pulled apart his jacket and a dozen pigeons burst from inside. They swamped Caw, pecking and clawing, driving him along the pew until he hit the stone wall and couldn’t go any further. Their shrieks were so shrill he struggled to think. His arms flailed as he tried to cover his face and drive them off, but there were too many. He wanted to summon his crows, but he couldn’t even open his eyes to look for them. The world had shrunk to flapping wings and screaming birds and stinging scratches wherever his skin was exposed.
“Please …” he yelled. “Please, make them stop!”
In a heartbeat the pigeon attack ceased. Caw slumped against the wall, ashamed, as the pigeons flew back into the rafters. The other crows had gone, leaving only his three loyal companions perched on the pew, looking ruffled but uninjured.
“Woo-hoo!�
�� cried Pip. “Crumb wins!”
Crumb walked over and offered Caw his hand. “Forgive me,” he said. “I shouldn’t have started showing off.”
Caw could hardly look the pigeon talker in the eye, but he let himself be pulled upright. His hands and forearms were bleeding, but none of the scratches were deep.
Good try, Caw, said Screech.
A for effort, Glum added with a heavy hint of sarcasm.
Screech butted up against the older crow’s side. He did his best.
Caw snorted. “But my best was nowhere near good enough,” he said. Looking up, he saw Lydia staring at him, her eyes full of sympathy.
“No, it wasn’t,” said Crumb simply. “If you went up against the Spinning Man’s followers now, you would be dead, and so would your crows, and your feral line would be no more.”
Caw looked at Screech, Milky and Glum. They’d die for him, he realised, but they were only three birds. And however many he managed to call today still wasn’t enough.
“How do you summon so many?” he asked Crumb.
“Willpower,” said the pigeon talker. “And a lot of practice. I’ve been a feral for much longer than you, and I’ve always known the threats we face.”
“Then teach me,” said Caw.
“It would take months,” said Crumb. “No, years of intense training. There isn’t time.”
“I could learn quickly,” said Caw, trying to sound more confident than he felt.
Crumb smiled. “Even if you could, you’re not a fighter, Caw. The people we’d be up against – they’re brutal. They don’t have any mercy.”
Lydia and Pip joined them at the bottom of the stairs. Lydia’s lips were pressed in a determined line.
“We can’t give up,” said Caw. “We can’t just hide away!”
“Can’t we?” said Crumb. “Stay here, with us. We’ll be safe.”
“They’ll find us,” Lydia told Crumb, her voice hard. For a moment it felt to Caw like she was the adult, and Crumb the child.
“And how do you know that?” said Crumb defensively. “Pip and I have never been bothered here before.”
Lydia huffed. “Maybe that’s because no one’s come looking for you before. There are three of them out there. And who knows – they may join up with others too. You might be able to hide for a while, but it will only take one slip-up and they’ll strike.”
