it!” cackled Pinkerton. “She wants it. She wants it.”
She? thought Caw. Who is she?
He felt a stinging pain in his ankle, and cried out. A rat hung by its teeth. Another clambered over his foot and on to his trousers, chattering horribly. The rest followed, swarming up his legs. Caw felt them sink their jaws into his flesh as one and he screamed, thrashing. More rats scrambled over his back. An endless stream. There was only one way out now. He raised himself up – fighting the weight of the squirming bodies clinging all over him – and he leapt off the boat’s edge into the freezing water below.
It swallowed him, and for a moment all he could see were bubbles in the blackness. His clothes dragged at his limbs, but then his head broke the surface and he sucked in a breath.
Panic gripped his heart. His head went under again and water choked him. He splashed back to the surface, coughing. There were rats in the river too, their bodies bobbing all around. The bank was only a few feet away, but he couldn’t reach it. He sank once more.
This time his feet touched the gravelly bottom of the Blackwater. He pushed off with his toes, lunging, just managing to grab a rope holding the boat against the bank. Sucking in rapid breaths, he heaved his sodden body out of the water.
Mr Silk was already standing on the riverside path. His moths fluttered all around him, then settled as one, forming a seamless camouflage over his jacket. Caw shot a glance at the boat and saw that the cabin’s back door was open. At least Selina had got out.
“You cannot escape us,” said Mr Silk calmly. “She wants the stone and she will have it.”
Caw hesitated. He didn’t even know what the stone was, but it had been entrusted to him by his mother. The one thing she’d left him. No way would he hand it over without a fight.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. His crows were nowhere to be seen. He looked around for Selina, but he couldn’t see her anywhere. Then he felt something digging into his back. Of course! He had another weapon.
Caw threw off his sodden jacket and drew the Crow’s Beak from its harness.
Mr Silk looked at the sword calmly as he held out one arm, chivalrously, to help Pinkerton disembark. The tide of rats followed her.
“Please,” he said. “There’s no need to be uncivil.”
“Get away from him,” said another voice.
Caw spun around and saw a small shape coming along the path. His heart plummeted as he realised it was Pip, with a huge swarm of mice at his heels.
“Get out of here!” said Caw. Pip shook his head. With a thrust of his arm, he sent his mice charging past Caw towards the new ferals.
The rats met the mice in a seething battle, bodies tipping over each other with horrible sounds and squeals as the rodents bit one another. Seeing that Mr Silk had disappeared, Caw took his chance and jumped over the scrapping mice and rats, launching himself at Pinkerton. She backed away, flapping her arms, until she tripped and landed on the ground. Caw brought the tip of the Crow’s Beak to her neck.
“P-p-please …” she said. “Don’t kill me!”
“Call off your rats!” he said.
The nattering teeth and the screeching died down, leaving silence. “Pip?” Caw called out, looking behind him.
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