by Jacob Grey
Beyond it was a set of stairs leading down into darkness.
“Lydia! Down there – now!” Caw cried.
Lydia took the stairs, followed by the crows, then Caw slammed the door behind them. The horizontal line of light below the door filled up with spiders in seconds.
“Come on!” said Lydia.
The air in here was colder, and musty like a cellar. Caw followed her, feeling his way with his fingertips along the rough stone wall.
At the bottom, it was pitch-black and he heard Lydia stumble.
All he could hear above them was the soft rustle of the spiders coming under the door and cascading down the steps.
I don’t like this, said Shimmer.
“Can you see anything?” said Caw. Crows’ eyes were much better than his own, especially at night.
Just a low corridor, said Screech. Door at the end.
Caw felt for Lydia’s arm, and they shuffled along. He could sense the low ceiling just above their heads and moisture on the air. It felt as though they had been walking in darkness forever.
You’re almost at the door, said Screech.
Caw sheathed the Crow’s Beak then reached out a hand, touching wooden panels studded with metal. The door creaked open.
Oh dear, said Glum.
“What?” said Caw.
Dead end. There’s a light switch, on the wall to your left.
Caw felt for it, and suddenly was blinded. He blinked and squinted, then his heart sank. They were in a room, no bigger than six feet square, with peeling bare plaster over crumbling red brick. The light was coming from a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. But it was the picture on the wall that really drove fear through him. Someone had painted a mural in smeared black daubs. A gigantic spider.
They had made a terrible mistake.
The spiders were approaching along the corridor in waves, tripping over each other in their rush to reach Caw and Lydia.
“Caw, transform,” said Lydia quietly. “Go and get help.”
Caw could feel Lydia’s arm trembling next to him. And he felt fear quickening into power in his gut. He could make himself a crow and fly to safety. But then what? He gripped her hand in his.
“I’d never get back here in time,” he said.
They pushed themselves up against the far wall as spiders filled the doorway. Caw followed their train right back along the corridor and up the stairs. He’d never seen so many before, except in the Land of the Dead. Every spider in Blackstone is here, he thought. All coming for us.
Then the creatures stopped, like troops forming up in perfect ranks, a solid line spanning the doorway as if afraid to cross the threshold.
“Why aren’t they attacking?” said Lydia.
“I don’t know,” said Caw. He drew the Crow’s Beak, holding it out in front of them.
The spiders began to move again – not forwards, but upwards, climbing the door frame, clambering over one another. They began to dangle off threads of silk from above. Caw could only watch as thousands of strands intersected across the door in a ghostly skein of complex webbing.
The spiders flooded across the strands, clinging to the silk and to each other, a solid mass of arachnid flesh. The surface flexed and bowed, and all the moisture left Caw’s throat as he saw a shape materialising. Hollows for eyes, protuberances for ears and nose and lips, all supported by the web. Caw knew at once who he was looking at. A mouth opened among the mass of spiders and a whispering voice emerged.
“Hello, crow talker,” said the Spinning Man.
Keeping one hand in Lydia’s, Caw brandished the Crow’s Beak.
“I killed you,” said Caw.
The spiders rippled across the face, and soft laughter filled the tiny room. “You cannot kill me, Caw, any more than you can kill an idea. My soul is undeniable. I have been watching you.”
Caw’s fingers tightened on the hilt of the sword.
“How do you like this place?” asked the man made of spiders.
Caw looked around the room. It wasn’t like any other part of the asylum. It looked old and forgotten, like something from another time.
“I wanted you to see it,” hissed the voice.
“Why?” said Lydia.
The face lost definition for a second as spiders tumbled to the ground. It looked like the whole structure could collapse at any moment. But more spiders joined, and the features hardened once more.
“Long ago,” said the creature, “a spider feral died in this room. It was a madhouse then, as it is now – not that she was mad.”
“Then why was she brought here?” asked Lydia.
“You’d better ask Jack that,” said the voice.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Caw.
“But you will,” said the Spinning Man. More of the spiders toppled off, and the whole face sagged an inch or two. “Consider this the start of your education, crow talker. You will be going on a journey.”
Caw kept the Crow’s Beak raised. “A journey where?”
The spider creature sighed and its lips turned down in a sneer. “To the depths of despair and beyond,” said the Spinning Man. “I will take everything from you. Everything you hold dear.”
Caw sensed Lydia stiffen.
“Before you die, you will pay for the crimes of your ancestors with your happiness. The spiders will have their revenge and they will feast on crow flesh, even in the Land of the Dead.”
The words sounded like a prophecy, but despite the dread that prickled over Caw’s skin, he pointed his blade at the creature’s face.
“What have you done with Selina?” he said.
The figure’s lips curled into a smile. “Selina is mine now,” he said.
The certainty of the words chilled Caw to the bone. “Where is she?” he shouted.
“She is just the beginning, crow talker.”
Caw’s rage boiled over. He thrust the Crow’s Beak deep into the mass of spiders, and began to rip the blade back and forth. Spiders scattered as the web disintegrated.
“Prepare yourself, Jack,” said the muffled voice. “I am coming.”
With those words, all of the spiders toppled into a shapeless mound. Caw watched with a sick feeling as they retreated like an ebbing tide through the door, along the corridor, and up the stairs.
What was that all about? said Glum. Why didn’t he kill us?
I thought he was dead, said Shimmer.
Caw’s heart was beating so fast it was almost painful. He shook his head. “Maybe it was his … soul … or something. He said he wants me to suffer.”
Before he kills you, added Screech helpfully.
“Let’s get out of here,” said Lydia.
Caw nodded then glanced around the room. It looked like a prison cell. Was the Spinning Man telling the truth about a spider feral dying here years ago? But what could that possibly have to do with him?
One thing was clear. He couldn’t deal with this on his own. Caw sheathed the Crow’s Beak and started striding back along the corridor. “We have to get back to the house and tell the others,” he said.
He tried to sound determined, but he couldn’t ignore the ball of fear sitting heavy in his gut. The Spinning Man could have killed him – easily – but had chosen not to.
And he had Selina.
Which meant she was running out of time.
e need to get an ambulance out here,” said Lydia. “And the police.”
Caw and Lydia had hurried back through the psychiatric hospital and were now clambering out on to the roof. No one had tried to stop them – the guards and orderlies were left lying unconscious or worse, thanks to Mr Silk and his friends.
All this just so that the Spinning Man could deliver his message.
But how was that even possible? The white crows had torn the spider feral to pieces, back in the Land of the Dead. Caw had seen it with his own eyes. And yet that … creature, down below, was him. Caw was sure of it.
He summoned more
crows, and told them to take Lydia home at once. “Wake your mother,” he said. “Tell her to come and meet me with the others.”
“What are you going to do?” asked Lydia, as the crows began to land on her outstretched arms.
“I don’t know,” Caw said. “I have to figure it out.”
As he watched the birds carry his friend off into the black, starlit sky, he held out his arms, and his creatures lifted him from the hospital roof and began flying in the opposite direction. Soon they were crossing over the outskirts of the city.
There was something in the distance up ahead: a pale smudge of smoke, billowing into the night. Caw felt a twinge of unease rising in his chest. In response, the crows flew faster. The anxiety swelled into panic.
The smoke was coming from his neighbourhood.
It was coming from his house.
As they shot overhead, Caw saw with huge relief that the house itself was fine. But the huge tree in the backyard wasn’t. The branches were black and bare, the tips still glowing like burning embers.
“No …” he cried.
The nest! said Shimmer.
Caw’s tree house was a charred shell.
Johnny Fivetails was in the garden with Crumb and Pip at his side, half-empty buckets of water at their feet.
Caw jumped from his crows’ talons on to the garden path. He barely broke his stride as he ran towards the pigeon feral, eyes glued to what had been his nest – his home for so many years. Leaves crisped to ash fluttered on the breeze.
“What happened?” he said.
Crumb looked at him with wide eyes. “Where were you?” he said.
“I was … seeing Lydia,” said Caw.
“Thank goodness you’re safe,” said Johnny Fivetails. His face and arms were smeared with damp ash.
“The new eagle feral paid us a visit,” said Crumb. “With a Molotov cocktail. I tried to get buckets up there using the pigeons, but – I’m so sorry, Caw – it wasn’t enough.”
Look out below! squawked Shimmer.
They looked up to see sparks dancing as the remains of the nest shifted sideways then tipped over. Caw shoved Crumb out of the way as the burnt timber plummeted, smashing into the ground in a shower of ash.
Something struck Caw’s arm and, blinking through gritty smoke, he saw the cuff of his jacket was on fire. He beat at it with his other hand, then Pip sloshed water over the flames and they sizzled out. Caw winced as pain pulsed across his wrist.
“Let me see your arm,” said Crumb, coming close.
Caw gingerly peeled up his ragged sleeve, and saw that a small patch of his skin was red and glistening.
The pigeon feral whistled through his teeth. “Lucky,” he said. “But we’ll need to get a bandage on that.”
“I’ll be all right,” said Caw.
“Not if it gets infected, you won’t,” said Crumb.
Caw looked at the broken remains of his beloved nest.
“We can fix it up,” said Johnny. “The important thing is that no one’s badly hurt.”
Caw nodded mutely. It had been his sanctuary, and now it was just blackened wood.
“We should go inside,” said Crumb, touching Caw’s shoulder.
“Just give me a minute,” said Caw.
The others drifted inside. Caw waited until he was alone, then nodded to Screech. The crow knew what to do. He flew up into the dead branches, above where the nest used to be. A moment later, he called down, Don’t worry – it’s fine.
Screech flew back down to Caw, clutching the Midnight Stone by its cord. Incredibly, the Stone was completely undamaged, protected by the whorl in the trunk. Caw looped it over his neck and resolutely turned his back on the smoking wreckage.
He tried to tell himself that this attack on his tree house was just a coincidence. That it had nothing to do with the Spinning Man and what they’d seen at the psychiatric hospital. Their enemies – Mr Silk at least – knew where Caw’s house was. They were bound to attack it at some point. But why destroy the nest instead of attacking the ferals in the house? The nest had no value. Not to anyone except Caw.
The words of the Spinning Man came back to him at once.
I will take everything from you. Everything you hold dear.
Caw had a bad feeling this was just the start.
By the time Mrs Strickham arrived with Lydia, Johnny Fivetails was fastening a gauze bandage over Caw’s injured forearm.
“What happened?” said Lydia’s mother. “It smells like there’s been a fire.”
“Caw, are you OK?” said Lydia, rushing towards him.
“Just a small burn,” Caw said. “I’m fine now.”
His arm still stung, but it faded into insignificance alongside the thoughts tumbling over in his head.
“We need to hit back,” said Racklen. He and the other ferals were seated in the living room. It was four in the morning, but no one was sleeping. “Pip, have your mice heard anything else around the city?”
“We’re not safe here,” said a skinny man with a raccoon on his lap.
Several other ferals began to chatter anxiously in agreement.
Caw glanced at Mrs Strickham. She had dark circles under her eyes and he wondered if she’d slept at all. From the taut line of her jaw and the furrows in her brow, Caw guessed Lydia had told her about the spiders at the psychiatric hospital.
“It’s the Spinning Man’s doing,” he said.
He spoke the words quietly, almost to himself, but they silenced everyone.
Crumb put a hand on Caw’s shoulder. “Listen, Caw, you’ve had a tough time, but—”
“He’s back,” interrupted Caw. “I – we …” he nodded at Lydia, “met him tonight at Blackstone Psychiatric Hospital. Sort of.”
The room erupted. Animals chirruped and screeched as their ferals began shouting in horror.
“I think you’d better explain things,” Mrs Strickham called out over the noise. “From the start.”
Caw felt everyone in the room turn to him. He didn’t know a lot of these people – they were newcomers, drawn out of hiding or back to Blackstone by the promise of safety in numbers. And here he was, telling them that the old threats were returning. He explained why they’d gone to see the Mother of Flies and the sorry state she was in. He tried to tell them about the face made of spiders and that the Spinning Man had kidnapped Selina, but struggled to find the right words.
“Caw, are you really sure?” said Crumb. “Maybe … well, it sounds scary as hell in there. Perhaps your mind was playing—”
“I saw it too,” Lydia cut in. “It was him. The Spinning Man.”
“So that’s who Mr Silk was talking about, when he mentioned ‘orders’,” said Pip in a quiet voice. “I never thought he’d let one of the convicts boss him around.”
“But how is it even possible?” said Ali. The bee feral, normally dressed impeccably in a suit, had loosened his tie and unfastened his top button. His white shirt had smoke stains on it. “You told us you defeated him in the Land of the Dead.”
Caw couldn’t help but hear accusation in Ali’s tone, and saw that several others nodded in agreement.
A woman with orange hair was stroking a lizard under the chin. “Yeah, that’s what he said. But maybe it didn’t happen quite like that,” she said darkly.
“I did defeat him!” said Caw. “At least … I thought I did.” They all stared and he was forced to lower his eyes. “Look, I don’t understand what’s happening. But this is my fight. It’s me he wants to punish.”
“And we’ll stand by you,” said Pip.
“Ha!” said the raccoon feral. “You think he’ll stop with you? We’re all in danger, especially if he’s got Mr Silk and the convicts working for him. We should get away now, while we still have the chance.”
Johnny Fivetails stood up. “Not so fast,” he said. “You’re right, Pablo, we are in danger. But that’s why we have to stand alongside Caw and fight.”
Caw’s spirits lifted a little.
“I’m with Johnny,” said Racklen. “We either fight as one, or we die as many.”
“You sound like Caw’s mother,” said Chen, shaking his head. “Look what happened to her.”
“Careful what you say about Lizzie Carmichael!” growled Johnny Fivetails. He marched over to the bat feral, bunching his fists. “She died so that others could live.”
From beside the stairs a wolf leapt up, getting between Johnny and Chen, and growling.
“Calm down,” said Racklen. “Fighting each other won’t help.”
Johnny backed away, and the anger left his face quickly. Caw was glad that someone was sticking up for his mother.
“So what do we do?” asked Ali. “They could attack any moment – and next time it might be a whole flock of eagles with firebombs.”
“We hit them first,” said Mrs Strickham with fire in her eyes. Lydia’s mother had sent the Spinning Man to the Land of the Dead the first time – this was personal for her.
Racklen cracked his knuckles then ran a hand through his wolf’s fur. “I like the sound of that. But where? The asylum? The place will be crawling with cops.”
Caw shook his head. “No, not there,” he said. “I don’t think what we saw was him exactly. Just his spiders.”
“He used to operate from the sewing factory, didn’t he?” said Johnny Fivetails.
Racklen nodded. “That area of the city is pretty much abandoned.”
“Sounds like a long shot to me,” said Mrs Strickham. “He knows that’s the first place we’d look.”
“Which means he’d see it as having the upper hand – he’s waiting for us,” Crumb added. “I can send some pigeons. Check it out.”
“Good thinking,” said Johnny.
Caw remembered the creepy sewing factory from his encounter with Mamba and Scuttle, the Spinning Man’s henchmen. He didn’t like the idea of going back there. But at least this time he’d have plenty of other ferals at his side.
“I can send out mice,” said Pip. “Summon everyone who’s not here.”
