by Jacob Grey
Black Corvus clenched his fists and pulled them towards his chest. Crows flooded through the open hatch into the barn, a shrieking stream of flapping feathers and snapping beaks. They descended on one man below. Mary’s screams mixed with those of her husband as he writhed on the ground, blood streaking down his hands. The rest of the gathering looked on, flinching, or turned away. Only Black Corvus stood still, unblinking eyes fixed on the horrifying spectacle.
To his relief, Caw felt himself rising out of the barn, haunted by the ever weaker sounds of the assaulted man. At last there was a silence, broken only by the woman’s sobs.
Black Corvus came out of the barn and his crows ascended to the sky, their terrible duty done. The rest of the ferals followed, the last two dragging the shuddering, semi-conscious spider feral from the scene.
“Take her to the asylum,” said Corvus. “No one will believe her crazed stories there.”
Caw watched the ferals set off along the track, back towards the town. Only Black Corvus stayed behind, holding a torch, half his face bathed in red light.
Was this the injustice the Spinning Man had referred to, back at the psychiatric hospital, when he spoke to Caw and Lydia? He’d told them that a spider feral had died in that ancient brick-walled cell – a spider feral who wasn’t mad.
Black Corvus tossed his flaming torch into the barn. Caw saw orange flickers as the fire caught hold, and smoke began to billow out of the door. It wasn’t long before flames licked up the timber walls.
There are many shades of good and bad, Quaker had said.
Caw rose again, but a crow blocked his path. Suddenly there were hundreds of them, coming at him from every side. Each way Caw turned, he was buffeted by wings, knocked this way and that. He tried to climb, but the murder of crows forced him lower. The ground rushed towards him and he struck it hard, tumbling several times then coming to rest on the dusty earth.
As he turned over, he saw Black Corvus standing above him. Caw tried to scramble away, but Corvus seized him round the throat and hauled him upright. Caw’s spirit had taken human form at the worst possible moment. Strong fingers cut off his airway and he couldn’t breathe. Black Corvus lifted Caw off the ground, his face full of hate.
“What are you doing here, Jack?” he snarled.
he burning barn vanished and in its place Caw saw a fire blazing in a hearth. Black Corvus released him, and he dropped to timber floorboards in a heap. They were back in Corvus’s study.
Every sense told Caw he was in danger – the very air seemed laced with threat.
“You killed that man,” said Caw, massaging his throat. “Why?”
Corvus picked up a thick glass decanter from his desk and poured amber liquid into a glass. “You are in no position to question me,” he said. “You have been communing with the spider line. They brought you here.”
“I wasn’t communing with anyone,” said Caw. “A spider bit me.”
Corvus swigged his drink and stabbed a gloved hand at Caw. “I told you, Jack. They’re evil.” He shook his head. “If only I could have found her child, we would have stopped the spider line forever that night.”
“Mary – that woman – she didn’t look evil,” said Caw. “It looked like … like you were just jealous.”
Black Corvus’s eyes flashed darkly. “Careful what you say, Jack,” he snapped. He took another sip and blinked slowly. “You are young and naive. She revealed our secret. She endangered all of us.”
“She only told her husband. Why shouldn’t she?”
“Because he was one of them!” spat Corvus. “How can you not understand? They despise us. They always have. Do you know how many ferals have been lynched or beaten or burnt alive?”
“But what you did – that’s just as bad,” said Caw. “Your crows … they tore him to pieces.”
“I don’t have to explain myself,” said Corvus. “Humans are weak creatures. We need them to continue our lines, but those who learn the truth always come to fear us or to envy our powers. If all of humanity knew we existed, we ferals would soon be slaughtered. They are our enemies.”
Caw stared at Corvus. “You sound like the Spinning Man,” he said.
Black Corvus threw his glass at the hearth and it exploded into fragments. He advanced on Caw, who backed away, raising his arms to defend himself. But Corvus stopped short, face red and sweating.
“I will forgive you that, Jack, because of the blood we share, but do not push me.”
Corvus spun on his heels and strode to the window, surveying the town outside. “I have lived with this reality, this persecution, my whole life,” he said. “I have seen what humans are capable of, Jack. Our enemies must be dealt with … firmly. Now, have you killed the White Widow yet?”
Caw thought about the horror in the barn. If that was what Corvus meant by dealing with his enemies firmly, he wanted no part of it. Mary and her husband had done nothing wrong. And the other ferals had simply stood by, obeying Corvus without even a hint of defiance, swallowing his twisted logic. But Caw saw through it. For all Black Corvus’s talk of evil and justice and noble struggle, Caw now knew it was hatred that had driven him. Petty, jealous hatred.
Caw had almost fallen for his ancestor’s act himself. He had almost given up on Selina. He had almost followed Black Corvus’s command without questioning it.
“Well, boy?” snapped Corvus.
“No,” said Caw. “And I never will.”
Black Corvus turned round slowly, his eyes flashing with fury. “If you cannot kill her, you are not worthy to call yourself my heir. You are like your mother, a pitiable weakling and an embarrassment to our blood.”
Caw felt his cheeks heating with anger. “You’re the embarrassment,” he said. “I’m ashamed to be descended from you.”
“Get out!” growled Corvus, his voice dead and cold.
Caw frowned.
Corvus smashed a fist down on the table and roared so loud Caw felt the floorboards tremble. “Get out of my sight!”
Caw descended the steps, opening the door on to the street. The cold twilight air received him. Blackstone was dark – not a single candle glowed in any of the windows. The only illumination came from the moon, and even that was shrouded by cloud, like a face hidden behind a veil.
Caw began to walk along the centre of the street with no idea where he was heading. The ground squelched under his feet as he slipped in the mud. He knew he had done the right thing. Corvus was not the man he’d believed him to be. He was no hero at all. Caw looked left and right. The street seemed narrower than earlier.
“I’ve got to get home,” he said aloud.
Silence.
The last time he’d been here, it was Quaker who’d brought him back to reality with a slap to the cheek. Caw closed his eyes and pinched himself on the arm, hard. But when he opened them again, he was in exactly the same spot.
The sign over the haberdashery creaked on its hanging chain. Caw sensed a shadow pass overhead and glanced up. It was Black Corvus, gliding smoothly across the sky, supported by crows. He landed in the middle of the road ahead.
“I’ve made up my mind, Jack,” he said. “This ends now.”
The sky blackened over the town, as thousands of birds swept in from all directions. Caw watched them alight on the buildings on either side of the street. He hadn’t summoned them himself, which could only mean one thing. Caw reached out with his mind, searching for any birds that might heed him.
“Let’s see what you’re capable of,” said Black Corvus.
He reached towards the general store and beckoned with one hand. The crows on its roof lifted. He pointed to the other side of the street, and the birds there did the same. Then Black Corvus thrust both hands towards Caw and the crows flew straight at him.
Caw called out to more of the crows and was relieved as a flock shot past him to meet the attack. The two murders were heading straight for each other, neither backing down.
Caw held his birds steady. But at the last
moment, his crows scattered and Corvus’s birds shot through the gap. Caw tried to stop them with his mind, to slow them down, but he sensed the immense power of his ancestor behind their headlong rush. He threw up his arms and turned as crows crashed into him in an unstoppable wave. Talons and beaks ripped at his clothes, and Caw fell to the ground. The birds flew away and he peered out to see them ascending into the skies again.
Corvus laughed. “Pathetic,” he said.
Caw gritted his teeth and sent out summons once more. He felt his scattered crows coalesce behind the town’s bank and swing round as Corvus strode towards him.
“To think how my mighty line has fallen,” said Black Corvus, shaking his head.
Caw pretended he couldn’t stand, struggling on his knees as his crows levelled off in a low flight, behind Corvus.
“What you do not understand,” said Corvus, “is that feral power is easily gained, but hard to keep.”
The crows were almost on him. Caw willed them to fly faster, to close the gap …
“It must be earned,” said Corvus.
And with a wave of his hand, the crows at his back banked sharply to either side of him, two streams flitting harmlessly past. They fell across Caw’s body instead and he was hoisted into the sky. The crows bore him higher, until he was at least twenty feet up in the air.
Black Corvus, alone in the middle of the street, stared up.
“This is the boy who let so many of you die at the hands of the spider feral!” he called. “He is a traitor to our line – a shameful stain on the honour of all crows. Show him how we treat traitors!”
Caw tried to reach into the crows’ minds, but he sensed only a black and impenetrable wall. They carried him high above the buildings, until he could no longer see Black Corvus’s face clearly. He could feel his ancestor’s spirit – the crows throbbed with his malevolence.
Then the crows holding Caw’s left arm unhooked their talons and he lurched downwards.
“No!” Caw cried. “Please!”
“I will show you the true power of the crow talker!” roared Black Corvus.
And, as one, the remaining crows holding Caw aloft let go and he plummeted through the air. He twisted as he fell, trying to find his crow form, but it simply wasn’t there. The roof of a building rushed towards him and Caw closed his eyes, bracing himself for the impact …
Caw jerked upright into a sitting position. The library shelves loomed all around him. Shimmer flapped and squawked. A wave of nausea made his head spin and he tried to stand, but his legs buckled. As he fell to his knees, pain gripped his insides and twisted. He retched.
It’s poison, he remembered. The spider’s venom.
He saw the white spider hanging from a bookshelf on a thread of silk, spinning slowly. He snatched for it then fell flat on his face. More pain racked his shaking body as the spider scrabbled against his palm.
With his face pressed against the filthy carpet, he saw a white-haired figure flitting between the shelves. The White Widow. She paused and stared at him, smiling, then vanished.
Feet appeared at eye level and faces leered down.
Mrs Strickham.
Crumb.
Johnny Fivetails.
“He’s lost,” said Crumb.
“No hope for him now,” added Lydia’s mother.
“The last of the crow line,” said Johnny. “And to think we all believed in him.”
Caw tried to speak, but couldn’t form any words.
The heads of the ferals began to distort then vanished.
Caw rolled on to his back and the room blurred horribly out of focus. Shimmer hopped on to his chest, looking down.
“Help me …” Caw managed.
Shimmer cocked her head and looked at him strangely. Sounds were coming from her beak, but no words. A bolt of despair struck Caw in the heart.
“Shimmer?” he said. “I can’t understand you.”
She squawked again and flew off.
“It’s over, boy,” intoned Black Corvus’s voice from somewhere in the distance. “I’ve taken them from you. You are the crow talker no more.”
Jack Carmichael felt his mind untether, and he drifted into nothingness.
aw?”
His mouth tasted stale, and his eyelids were heavy, but he felt a coolness across his forehead.
“Caw, wake up.”
It took a few seconds to place the voice.
He opened his eyes and saw Lydia leaning over him. In her hand was a damp cloth. He wondered if it was another vision. The room swam in and out of focus.
“Where am I?” he said.
“In the library. Glum led me here. Everyone’s been looking for you, Caw.”
Caw sat up, his head throbbing. Lydia placed a hand behind his back to support him.
“Glum?” he said. “Shimmer?”
“They’re right here,” said Lydia. “Where’s Screech?”
It all came back in a rush that made Caw draw a shuddering breath.
“Caw, are you OK?”
Moisture sprang up in Caw’s eyes. “Screech is dead,” he said.
Lydia’s hand shot to her mouth.
Caw blinked away the tears. “Spiders got him.”
Lydia lowered her hand, and he saw that her lip was trembling. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I … I don’t know what to say.”
Caw heard a crow call and saw Shimmer and Glum sitting on the desktop. The old crow opened his beak and warbled.
Caw shook his head. “No …”
“What is it?” asked Lydia.
Glum warbled again. Caw’s heart pounded with a fear and sadness more profound than anything he’d felt before. It can’t be true. I can’t have lost them. But even Glum’s eyes seemed different. Emotionless. Distant. Empty.
“Please, no,” said Caw.
“You’re frightening me,” said Lydia. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
Caw looked into her face. How could he tell her? Even the words on the tip of his tongue were enough to make his heart shudder. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a wail. He buried his face in his hands.
“What’s the matter?” demanded Lydia, her voice severe and afraid at the same time.
Caw looked through his fingers. Things would never be like they were before. “I … I can’t understand them,” he said.
“Who?” said Lydia, but she must have known because she glanced at Shimmer.
The crow chirped softly and the sound was like a kick to Caw’s gut. I’ve lost her. I’ve lost them all.
“Caw,” said Lydia, gripping his arm, “tell me what’s happening so I can help.”
“Black Corvus,” said Caw quietly. “He took away my feral powers.”
“How?” said Lydia, eyes wide.
“I don’t know,” Caw said. He could hardly look at her. Shame forced his gaze down.
“That doesn’t make sense,” said Lydia. “Black Corvus is your ancestor, your friend.”
Caw shook his head. “He’s not like we thought at all.”
In faltering sentences, he tried to explain about the visions he saw at Quaker’s, about entering the Midnight Stone. Lydia listened patiently, and when he finished Caw was close to crying.
Lydia put her arm round him. “It’ll be all right,” she said. “We’ll get them back.”
But Caw knew they couldn’t. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this – a feral only lost their powers when they died. He felt like a blind man who’d found his sight only to have it snatched away again. He couldn’t bear it. What was he without the crows? Nothing. He’d lost himself.
“What’s wrong with your hand?” asked Lydia.
Caw looked down and saw that his right hand was still balled in a fist. He flexed his fingers painfully and something fell out to the floor.
“Urgh!” said Lydia.
It was the white spider, its legs tucked up. Caw must have crushed it to death.
“Where did you find that?” Lydia asked.
Caw s
hook his head. “Screech caught it, before …” He took a deep breath. Lydia put a hand on his shoulder. “Actually, I think it might have found me. It’s from the Land of the Dead.”
“Are you serious?” said Lydia.
Caw explained about the Spinning Man’s spirit, and how it had found its way into Selina on the rooftop.
“And you saw all this … in a vision?” said Lydia.
Caw nodded, suddenly feeling very tired. He realised that he hadn’t slept since the night before last, when Pip’s mice had brought them the information about the upcoming bank raid. Since then his world had been turned upside down. The good ferals had pushed him out and he was fighting an enemy he’d thought was long dead. He glanced at Shimmer and Glum and felt a wave of despair. Even the crows – his oldest friends – were abandoning him. It was all happening just as the Spinning Man had promised.
Caw stood up and felt the Midnight Stone shifting against his chest. It gave him an idea. A shred of hope. He took a step towards the desk and Glum, holding out his hand.
Glum flapped in alarm and his wingbeats stirred dust on the table. The crow took off.
“Come back,” Caw pleaded.
Glum alighted on a high shelf out of reach. A moment later, Shimmer joined him. She watched Caw quizzically.
“Please,” Caw said. He looked around and saw a stepladder. If he could just touch one of them and the Midnight Stone at the same time, maybe he could …
Both crows flew towards an upper window that was slightly ajar. They squeezed through the gap and vanished without a backwards glance.
Caw sagged against the edge of the desk. “It’s all fallen to pieces,” he said.
For a time, there was silence. Every so often Caw looked at the window, praying his companions might reappear but knowing they would not.
Then Lydia cleared her throat. “Listen, Caw, the White Widow is still out there. I heard Mum and the others talking – they’ve got their animals scouring the city. We’ll find her. If we all stick together, we can defeat her. I know we can.”
“I can’t,” said Caw. “Don’t you see? I’m nothing now. The crows—”
“Don’t say that,” said Lydia fiercely. “I can’t control any animals, but I’m not nothing, am I?”
