you don’t have to lie to me,” said Crumb. His face looked suddenly older than his twenty-something years. He laid sausages, dripping with fat, into three bread rolls. “We’re supposed to be your family, Caw.”
You gonna tell him about the weirdo outside? said Shimmer.
Caw shook his head as Crumb offered him a roll on a plate. It didn’t sound like Bobbin had seen the pale man, so there was no reason to tell Crumb. It would only lead to more questions about the encounter, and Caw remembered very clearly what the “weirdo” had said – the stone was his to bear alone. Until he knew what it was, it would stay that way.
“Well?” said Pip, through a mouthful. “What girl?”
“Her name is Selina,” Caw said. “She’s a runaway.”
Crumb nodded, biting into his own sandwich and chewing thoughtfully. “You should stay clear of her. No good comes from mixing with humans.”
Caw felt an itch of irritation. Crumb couldn’t tell him what to do. Just because he was a few years older. “But—”
“Caw, you have responsibilities now,” said Crumb. “As a feral. You can’t let people know what you are. Humans can’t be trusted.”
Caw wasn’t so sure. Crumb thought everyone was out to get him. Besides, Caw’s friend Lydia was a normal girl. True, he hadn’t seen her in the two months or so he’d been living with Crumb. But that wasn’t because he didn’t want to. It was because he knew her mother didn’t want him hanging around with her. Her father Mr Strickham didn’t even know about the ferals. They had their own life. A normal one.
“You going to eat that?” said Pip hopefully, pointing at Caw’s roll. His own plate was already empty and a couple of mice were polishing off the crumbs.
“Yes,” said Caw, drawing the plate closer to his chest.
“You’d better,” said Crumb. “We’ve got training this morning, remember? Then your reading lesson.”
Caw groaned. He enjoyed the reading bit, but Crumb insisted on training with their animals three times a week, and that tended to be a lot more painful.
“Do we have to?”
Crumb rolled his eyes. “How many times, Caw? The Spinning Man might be gone, but we don’t know how many of his followers are still on the loose, waiting to strike.”
An image flashed through Caw’s mind – the white spider he had seen scuttling through the graveyard after he had destroyed the Spinning Man. But he’d only seen it for half a second – surely it was his tired mind conjuring up phantoms. He shook off the thought.
“Without a leader—” Caw began.
“There will always be a new enemy,” Crumb interrupted sternly.
Before Caw could protest more, a pigeon flashed past, snatched the sandwich from his plate and fluttered above, just out of reach.
“Very funny,” said Caw, rolling his eyes. The pigeon dropped the sandwich and Caw caught it. “I’ll train twice as hard tomorrow. How about that?”
Crumb gave him a hard stare and Caw couldn’t help but look away, embarrassed. After all Crumb had done for him, maybe he did owe the pigeon feral more respect. But a part of him bristled still. Crumb was always telling him what to do. He’d only given Caw a watch so that he could make him show up for meals on time. Surely Caw didn’t have to tell him everything. “I can’t force you,” said Crumb. “But remember, this afternoon is Emily’s funeral.”
“Of course,” said Caw. He’d only met the elderly centipede feral once. She’d been a sad old lady, haunted by the deaths of her children in the Dark Summer. “Is it true she has no heir?” he asked quietly.
Crumb nodded. “With her passing, the centipede line will end forever.”
A silence fell. Feral powers passed from parent to child. There was no other way.
So, if we’re not training, what are we doing? said Shimmer. She was eyeing up his sandwich too, Caw noticed. He tore off a piece and tossed it to her.
“We’re going out,” he said.
“Can I come too?” said Pip, jumping to his feet.
Caw managed to disguise his grimace as a smile. Sometimes it was fun having Pip around, but other times he followed like a shadow, making Caw feel desperate to be on his own.
“Why don’t you stay and train with Crumb?” Caw said. “You’d just be bored with me. Crows are really dull, you know.”
Charming, croaked Screech.
Pip looked disappointed, but nodded.
Caw unrolled the blanket he used as a pillow and took out a slim, dark blade – the Crow’s Beak. He slid it inside the scabbard he’d made from old leather and slung its straps over his shoulders. Crumb’s eyes widened with curiosity. “Expecting trouble?”
Caw shook his head. “Like you said. You never know who’s out there.” He headed for the stairs and his crows followed.
Boring, are we? said Glum.
Caw waited until they were out of earshot, then whispered, “I didn’t want any eyes on us today. Not where I’m planning to go.”
Ooh … a secret mission! said Shimmer.
“Just keep a lookout for pigeons,” said Caw. “I’ll explain on the way.”
Blackstone was a city with a lot of history. Crumb had told Caw all about it over several nights – how it had begun hundreds of years before as a settlement by a swampy river, how it had grown when the river was dammed and diverted to irrigate fields for crops. How it had become an important staging post at the crossing of two large trade routes. In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, buildings of wood had been razed for those of brick. The city had prospered through the industrial revolution that swept across the country. The river had been widened and rerouted further, with bridges spanning its course.
With each generation, new waves of people came and settled, bringing their cultures and ideas. Steelworks and factories had been replaced by the world of finance and technology. The population boomed and spread. Blackstone had seemed to be on an unstoppable trajectory of progress.
Until the Dark Summer, when the feral war had ripped the city apart.
Eight years had passed since then, but Blackstone had not recovered. It was like a wounded animal – unable to climb to its feet, but clinging to life.
Caw saw the city differently from the normal people – the ones who stayed on the ground, navigating by street names and landmarks. He knew the sections that were quiet and calm, and the ones that were always crowded. Places of safety and danger. Areas where he could scavenge or where the pickings were meagre. Where he could pass unseen through darkness or where security lights might reveal him. He measured distance not in miles, but in time. Ten minutes to cross from the abandoned train station, via the disused tracks, to the cathedral. Twelve if he took the detour over the rooftops of the old rubber factory.
