The Swarm Descends. Jacob Grey

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СКАЧАТЬ from him. It was oddly satisfying to have one of his own – even if it was only something small.

      They had just reached the end of the front lawn, when a figure stepped out ahead of them.

      Caw was gripped with an icy panic. He gasped, and the crows took to the air with wild cries. He backed up, tripped and fell on to his backside. Every fibre of his muscles wanted to run, but he felt completely unable to move.

      The man thrust his head forward. “Jack Carmichael?” he said. His voice was soft but urgent. Caw noticed with a wave of revulsion that the man’s teeth were sharp shards of enamel jutting from his gums.

      You know him? said Screech.

      Caw managed to shake his head. It was the man with the white face that he’d seen from his bedroom window. Up close, Caw saw that his features looked pale too – bloodless lips, a squashed little nose and wide, unblinking eyes staring out from behind small tinted spectacles. His face was skeletally thin, with dark hollows beneath his cheekbones, and he had no hair and no eyebrows at all. He wore a long black coat tightly buttoned up.

      Shimmer leapt into a branch above the man and let out a harsh shriek.

      “I mean no harm,” said the man, casting rapid glances to either side. “That’s if you are Jack Carmichael? The crow talker.”

      “Who are you?” said Caw, picking himself up. “Why are you spying on me?”

      The pale figure reached into his coat and Caw bristled. He saw Glum spread his wings, ready to swoop down. But what the man drew out wasn’t a weapon. It was a stone, about half the size of Caw’s fist and polished to a jet-black shine.

      “This is from Elizabeth,” said the stranger, holding it in front of him. “Elizabeth Carmichael.”

      Caw felt the words tugging at his heart. “My mother? You knew her?”

      “Perhaps,” said the man. He hesitated. “I suppose I must have. Once.” His mouth twitched into the ghost of a smile that vanished just as quickly. “Closer to her than ever now, of course.”

      Er … what’s that supposed to mean? said Shimmer.

      Caw stared at the stone sitting in the man’s hand. The harder he looked, the harder it was to focus on its edges. It wasn’t completely black at all – in its depths, swirls of colour seemed to shift and blur. Caw drew back and the man stepped after him, thrusting the stone towards him.

      “It belongs to you, young man. To the crow feral. Take it. Take it.”

      It might be a trap, said Screech.

      Caw could hear the desperation in the stranger’s words, but somehow he felt sure it was the truth. The stone was his. He knew it, deep in his soul. He extended a hand and the man dropped the stone into his palm. It was lighter than Caw had expected and oddly warm.

      “What is it?” asked Caw.

      Instead of replying, the man jerked his pale face upwards and shrank back into the darkness. “I must go,” he said. “I want nothing to do with it, crow talker. It is yours to bear alone.”

      Caw turned and saw a pigeon flap out of a window at the rear of his parents’ house. One of Crumb’s birds. It flew away like a grey shadow.

      He closed his fist around the stone. He was dimly aware of the crows making noises, but he was too focused on the strange feeling of the stone throbbing in his palm. Maybe it was just the pulse of his blood?

      When Caw looked up again, the stranger was gone. Screech landed on his shoulder and gave his ear a light nip with his beak.

      “Ow!” said Caw. “Why’d you do that?” He slipped the stone into his pocket.

      Because you weren’t listening, said Screech. Are you OK?

      Caw nodded slowly. “Let’s get back to the church. And … we’ll keep this to ourselves, all right?”

      Screech chuckled. Who are we going to tell? It’s not as if anyone else understands crow, is it?

      “Good point,” said Caw.

      

      aw woke to a grey pre-dawn light coming through a hole in the church rafters. He heard a sizzle and a smell filled him with a sudden pang of hunger.

       Sausages …

      He rolled over, scattering the pile of books stacked beside his mattress. At once, the memory of the night rushed back. The stone, the stranger.

      Crumb was a few metres away, leaning over his brazier, with his back to Caw, turning spitting sausages in a skillet. Pip sat beside him, letting a mouse run up and down, under and over his sleeve. He was wrapped in an army jacket at least three sizes too big for him and his scruffy fair hair needed a good brush. He looked longingly at the pan.

      “They must be ready by now!” said the mouse feral.

      “Patience,” said Crumb.

      On one of the roof beams, a pigeon cooed.

      “Awake, is he?” said Crumb. “I’m surprised after all that sneaking around last night.”

      Caw realised that Crumb was talking about him, and blushed, remembering the pigeon from the night before. What exactly had it seen? He sat up and his three trusted crows fluttered down from a window arch, landing at his side. He felt annoyed with himself, first for not being more careful in covering his tracks, but second for being embarrassed. He’d done nothing wrong.

      “I had to look,” he said. “What’s wrong with trying to learn about my past?”

      “And did you find anything?” said Crumb, finally turning to him. He was wearing a red cap marked with a tiger’s face – the mascot of Blackstone’s baseball team – and his long hair poked out on either side. His beard and moustache grew in wispy patches. Caw remembered the first time they’d met in an alleyway. He’d assumed Crumb was just another homeless vagrant living on the streets of Blackstone. But since then, Crumb had become like an older brother to him.

      “No,” said Caw. His hand went automatically to his pocket, where the dark stone lay, but he disguised the movement by fiddling with his zipper.

      “You’re lying,” said Crumb. “Bobbin said there was someone else in the house.”

      What’s he talking about? said Glum.

      “A young lady, he said. He got in through a window to see what you were up to. Isn’t that right, Bobbin?”

      The fat pigeon on the rafter twitched its head, and Caw remembered thinking he’d seen something up on the landing as he entered the house. It must have been Crumb’s bird, watching СКАЧАТЬ