The White Widow’s Revenge. Jacob Grey

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      Caw shook his head. He’d already begun to summon the crows as soon as he stepped off the bus. Now they started to arrive, a wave of dark shapes flitting overhead, joining Screech, Glum and Shimmer. Caw guessed they could sense the electric current humming through the second fence, because they landed only on the first.

      The guard looked up briefly then went back to reading.

      “Flies or not,” Caw said, “it’s the best way.”

      Lydia held out her arms. “Come on then, give me a lift.”

      The crows landed across their shoulders and lifted Caw and Lydia off the ground.

      His friend was grinning madly. “I love this bit!” she said.

      Caw directed his birds to swoop over the gates and the hospital itself. From above, they could see that the asylum was built round two central courtyards. Too out in the open. The crows carried them across the steeply pitched roof, and then he spotted something more promising. Caw steered them towards a flat section scattered with bulky chimney flues. The crows set them down lightly then gathered on the rooftop. There were no security lights or cameras up here.

      A light breeze gusted through his clothes as Caw picked his way between the chimney stacks. The turrets were huge up close.

      “I don’t fancy squeezing down a chimney,” whispered Lydia.

      Caw stopped by a metal hatch in the rooftop, with a simple looped handle. It looked newer than the rest of the building, and a couple of modern air vents had been fixed beside it.

      “Hopefully we won’t have to,” he said.

      He reached down and tugged on the loop. It opened half a centimetre, but then snagged. Caw pulled harder but it didn’t budge.

      “It’s locked from the inside,” he said.

      “Oh well, good try,” said Lydia. “I guess we go through the courtyard.”

      Caw peered down over the edge. There were more security spotlights mounted on the walls, but it looked like they were switched off.

      “Shimmer, do a sweep for any guards,” he said.

      The crow took off, diving down over the edge of the roof. As she approached ground level, several of the lights blinked on, casting the courtyard in silvery light. Caw heard an electronic hum and saw cameras rotating to focus on the empty space. Shimmer banked and flapped skywards again, rejoining them just as a guard wandered into the courtyard. Caw and Lydia ducked out of sight with their backs against the chimney flues. The crows were dark silhouettes, unmoving.

      “I don’t think that’s an option then,” said Lydia.

      Caw chewed his lip. There was no way they could break open the roof hatch without some serious metal-cutting equipment. And Lydia was right about the chimneys – they were too small.

      Too small for a human anyway …

      Caw scrambled to his feet. He edged back to the vents beside the hatch. They were about a foot across.

      “A crow could fit down there,” he said.

      “Good thinking!” said Lydia.

      Caw turned to Screech, who looked away as if he was suddenly very interested in something in the distance.

      “Screech,” Caw said, “can I borrow you for a moment?”

      The crow plodded over. Why me?

      “You’re the smallest,” said Caw. “Glum wouldn’t fit.”

      Yes, I would! said the old crow indignantly.

      Shimmer sniggered. Too many French fries. Hey – I’ll do it! She hopped excitedly from side to side.

      But Screech shook his wings. Go on then. Bring me back in one piece, OK?

      “Of course,” said Caw. He closed his eyes, and concentrated on his mental image of Screech. He felt his spirit detach from his body as it searched for the young crow. For a moment he floated on nothingness, then the crow body drew him in with a sort of feral gravity.

      As Caw felt his talons touch the ground, he opened his eyes and found himself perched among the other crows. Several regarded him with curiosity, as if they sensed a different aura about him. He saw his human body lying motionless beside Lydia, eyes rolled back in his head. He took a few steps, getting used to the new configuration of limbs. He opened his beak – Screech’s beak – and squawked.

      In truth, he’d chosen Screech because he was the easiest crow to control. Caw wasn’t sure why – perhaps because he was the youngest, or perhaps it was just because their connection was stronger – but Shimmer was definitely harder, and Glum almost impossible.

      “Are you in there?” said Lydia, crouching to look into his eyes.

      Caw bobbed his head up and down in answer.

      “That’s so cool,” said Lydia.

      Caw flexed his wings and hopped up to peer over the edge of the vent. Below lay a black abyss – even with his enhanced crow vision – curving downwards.

      Good luck, said Glum.

      I’m coming with you, said Shimmer. Her talons rattled on the steel alongside him.

      Caw stepped forwards and felt his claws skid for purchase. He tumbled into darkness.

      He flapped his wings in panic, but there wasn’t any room to extend them as he fell. He heard Shimmer cry out and felt her body buffeting against his. They crashed down on to more metal. Shimmer landed beside him in a tangle as dust filled his beak.

      You OK? Shimmer asked.

      I think so, replied Caw.

      He turned in the gloom, and saw a dim light to his left. He skittered down the shaft towards it. Three slats crossed the opening, but by flattening his wings he popped through to the other side. Caw was in a narrow stairwell with bare walls of patchy plaster. He guessed it was there to give access to the roof, for repairs. Shimmer flapped through too, scattering a loose feather. She was covered in dust and cobwebs.

      Up there, said Caw.

      At the top of the steps, a vertical ladder led to the underside of the metal hatch they’d seen on the rooftop. On this side, a simple rusty bolt was drawn across. He and Shimmer flew up. Caw twisted his head and took the bolt in his beak. He strained his neck and managed to shift it a fraction.

      Help out, will you? he said.

      Shimmer joined him, fastening her beak on the bolt as well. Together they succeeded in moving it across.

      Lydia, it’s open! Caw shouted, forgetting for a moment that he was talking in crow.

      But his friend must have heard the sound of the bolt shifting. The hatch swung open from above, СКАЧАТЬ