eaves were falling rapidly from the trees as Caw pressed through the forest, and soon he was crunching through a carpet of brown. Instead of flying ahead, Milky perched on Caw’s shoulder as he walked between the looming trunks. Caw didn’t need the crows to guide him now. His feet seemed to know the way.

“Are you scared?” asked Caw.

Only a fool would not fear what awaits us, said Milky.

Before long the trees were completely bare, their trunks twisted, black and diseased. Their skeletal forms reached up from the earth, clawing at the infinite starless dark of the night sky. The fallen leaves had dissolved into a murky, foul-smelling mulch that sucked at Caw’s feet.

A cold wind stirred through the trees like a voiceless whisper that urged him to turn around and run, run while he still had the chance. It stroked his skin and slipped its fingers around his heart, squeezing like a chill fist. He ignored its warnings.

Caw’s breath caught in his throat as he saw a figure emerge from behind two trunks. It was Jawbone – his slab-like features grey as ash, and covered in scars; the remnants of his injuries in the real world. His smile was a joyless split in his tattooed face, but his eyes were the most terrible of all – tiny black dots for pupils in irises pale like frost.

Have no fear, said Milky. He is too weak to harm you in this place.

Caw hardened his resolve and walked right up to the dog feral. The pinpricks of Jawbone’s eyes glittered. “Greetings, crow talker,” he said.

“I’m looking for the Spinning Man,” said Caw.

Jawbone grunted and turned, throwing out an arm to show the way. “He can’t wait to meet you.”

As they walked side by side, Caw sensed other presences moving through the darkness among the trees, keeping pace. He made out dim shapes and felt the hatred of their stares.

Disciples of the Spinning Man, said Milky. Those who died in the Dark Summer.

“You look scared, boy,” said Jawbone. “What kind of feral are you with only one crow to protect you?”

“One more than you have dogs,” said Caw.

Jawbone’s face fell. “Think you’re brave coming here?” he said. “You’ve made a mistake, crow talker. The Spinning Man will make you wield the Crow’s Beak, and finally return to the Land of the Living.”

“Unless I stop him,” said Caw, trying to sound sure of himself. He’d known the risks of coming here, but hearing Jawbone’s taunts made it ten times worse.

Jawbone chuckled. “You were just a baby in the Dark Summer – I was there. I saw so many of your kind die, caught in his webs. Each a greater feral than you. The Spinning Man shows no mercy.”

“I don’t expect any,” said Caw. “I’ve come to get my friend.”

“The fox talker’s brat?” said Jawbone. “Oh, she’s quickly become quite a favourite of my master. He’ll not release her.”

“Then I will fight him,” said Caw.

“And we’ll watch,” said Jawbone. “I hope the shades of your parents are listening when your screams fill this land.”

Caw saw a dim light ahead between the trees.

“We’re here,” said Jawbone, his face full of awe. He stopped in his tracks and Caw walked on alone.

The trees fell away on either side to reveal a clearing in the forest. Light was coming from an elaborate network of thick luminous strands stretching from the surrounding branches. They joined in the centre to form a throne of web.

Caw planted his legs and willed them not to tremble. In the seat of silken threads was the man from his nightmare, swathed from neck to feet in a black robe wrapped tightly over his body. Only the skin of his hands and face was showing, white and stretched so tightly over his skeleton Caw could see every knotted joint of his long fingers and each jutting bone of his face. His black nails were like talons, and on one finger he wore the bulky gold ring engraved with the spider symbol. In his other hand he clutched the Crow’s Beak like a sceptre. He was older than in the dream, and scars crossed his face where Caw remembered it being smooth. There were streaks of white in the otherwise black shanks of his hair. In this world of shades, he looked more solid and real than anything around him.

“Hello, Jack,” said the Spinning Man. His voice was soft and rasping. “I’ve been expecting you.”

“Where’s Lydia?” said Caw. Fear and anger threatened to overwhelm him, but his words were firm.

“Patience,” said the Spinning Man. “I have waited eight long years for this. Eight years in this place, with only these sad pathetic shadows for company, preparing for my return. So many have faded away, while my determination has only grown, and with it my strength. You must have felt it, even in the Land of the Living. Jawbone did. So did Mamba and Scuttle. I wonder, Caw, did you dream of me?”

“You’ll be here forever!” said Caw. “Where is my friend?”

The Spinning Man smiled. Gone was the dazzling white grin from Caw’s dream – his teeth were black and filed to points.

“So much like your mother,” he said. “And yet even she was choking with fear when she died.”

“Shut up!” said Caw. “Don’t talk about my mother!”

The Spinning Man waved a long hand dismissively. “You’re right, Jack. The past is the past. It’s the future that matters now. Let’s get to the matter in hand, shall we?”

He reached for a strand of webbing and plucked it. The silk trembled along its length and Caw’s eyes followed. Where it met a branch there hung a spun cocoon of white stickiness. Caw gasped in horror as he made out the shadow of a body trapped within. Lydia’s face was only just visible through a thin layer of silk – her eyes were open and full of fear. “Lydia!” shouted Caw.

The web coffin quivered as she struggled.

“Quite a gift,” said the Spinning Man. “The daughter of the one who sent me to this place. My spiders can make her suffer so much.” He smiled wickedly. “Even in the Land of the Dead, there can always be suffering.”

“Let her go!” said Caw.

“Of course,” said the Spinning Man. He leant forward on his throne and whispered. “On one condition.” Caw knew what it would be before the Spinning Man spoke the words. “Return me to the Land of the Living.”

“Never,” said Caw.

“You sound very sure,” said the Spinning Man. “What if I persuade you?”

Caw heard a chattering sound and glanced sideways. The forest floor at the edge of the clearing was moving. He shuddered as he realised what he was looking at. Spiders – white ones of every size and shape – scurrying towards him, closing in. Others hopped up on to the strands of webbing and crawled towards Lydia.

“You have two choices, Jack Carmichael. Either cut the veil and take us back to the Land of the Living – you, me and the girl. Or stay here, where both of you will know only agony for all eternity.”

Spiders swarmed over Lydia’s cocoon.

“I’ve waited for eight years,” said the Spinning Man, as a spider walked across Lydia’s face. “I am stronger now than ever, and I won’t wait any longer.”

Caw focused on his friend, trying to keep his eyes off the pale face of the Spinning Man. What would his mother have done? She had given her life to save his. But would she have allowed Lydia to be tortured, in order to save the Land of the Living? Or would she have taken her chances and let the Spinning Man return?

Caw thought about Mrs Strickham, Crumb and Pip and Felix Quaker. He thought of the few ferals who’d come to listen to his pleas for help, only to walk away. They wouldn’t stand a chance against the Spinning Man. The dark times would happen all over again. Blood would flow into the Blackwater and stain the streets. Blackstone would perish in the onslaught.

He glanced at Lydia. Perhaps that price was worth paying. But she didn’t deserve any of this.

Maybe there was another way. An idea had sparked in his mind, and he struggled to keep his eyes from betraying it.

“I’ll do it,” he said quietly.

Caw, no! said Milky.

The Spinning Man smiled and lowered the Crow’s Beak to the ground. He rested it gently on the backs of the spiders, who carried it towards Caw’s feet. Caw stooped to pick it up. The blade was light in his hand.

If you cut the veil, all is lost, said Milky. The Spinning Man will bring a rule of terror to the Land of the Living.

“Cross me now,” said the Spinning Man, “and your friend will feel my spiders’ fangs in a heartbeat. She will suffer pain beyond imagining, and you will watch.”

“I’m sorry, Milky,” said Caw. “I have no choice.”

“Do it!” said the Spinning Man.

Caw closed his eyes and spoke to Milky with his mind instead of his voice. You said I can’t control the crows here, but they’ll listen to you. I need them now.

Caw felt a slight pressure on his shoulder as Milky took flight. Without a word of farewell the crow’s white shape receded into the darkness between the trees.

“Ha!” said the Spinning Man. “Even your oldest friend has forsaken you. Now, cut the veil.”

Caw lifted the Crow’s Beak and its power surged along his arm. He sensed the fabric that separated the Lands drawn to its blade as he looked up at Lydia. She was shaking her head, a spider poised beside her cheek. Caw’s eyes followed the thread that linked her with the throne. His grip tightened over the hilt and his heart beat faster.

Springing into the air, he jumped sideways and brought the blade down on the silk strand, severing it with a single blow.

“No!” growled the Spinning Man, his eyes widening in shock. Before he could move, his throne, carefully balanced by the webbing, collapsed on itself, covering him in a tangle of threads. At the same time, Lydia’s cocoon plummeted, thumping into the ground and throwing spiders in all directions. Caw ran to her, trampling the brittle bodies. He tore at the webbing around her face, then tugged more from her upper body.

“Caw! Look out!” she cried.

He turned as spiders surged up his body and over his arm. They started biting, making him jerk and cry out. The Crow’s Beak tumbled from his hand.

“I warned you!” screamed the Spinning Man, rising to his feet.

Caw flailed as spiders covered his ankles and legs. It was his nightmare come true – the fate of his parents – and every time the spiders’ fangs stabbed into his skin he could feel the poison surging into his blood.

The clearing spun around him. He caught flashes of Lydia’s face, the Spinning Man, trees at strange angles. He fell to the ground and Lydia’s screams filled his head, mixing with his own desperate cries. It was more horrible than anything he could have dreamt. He felt spiders in his hair, spiders crawling into his mouth, his nostrils and his ears. He tried to brush them away, but as soon as he did, more covered him. He was growing weaker by the second. They were pushing open his clenched eyes and he knew he couldn’t stop them for long. A white blur filled his vision.

Then something brushed his skin.

It was a feather.

Then another.

“What?” shouted the Spinning Man.

Caw began to feel soft thumps all across his body. The screeching that came with it was the most wonderful thing he’d ever heard. The cries of the crows.

He opened his eyes and saw nothing but white feathered shapes flapping over his body, and darting beaks as crows snapped up the spiders, tearing them apart and throwing them aside. He managed to stand and staggered sideways, only to be caught by Lydia. Thick strands of silk still hung from her body, but she was free. The crows formed a circle around the pair of them, pecking at any spiders that came too close.

The Spinning Man stood across the clearing. “Not bad,” he said. “For a beginner. But can you do this?”

A fork of lightning tore the sky above, followed by thunder so loud it shook the trees. Branches split open with whip-cracks as the Spinning Man fell to his knees, howling. Under his dark robes his body buckled. Caw felt Lydia grip his arm and pull him back. “We have to run!” she said. “Where’s the Crow’s Beak?”

But Caw couldn’t drag his eyes from the horrible sight before him. The Spinning Man’s arms and legs were stretching under his clothes, becoming thinner still. Black veins broke out under his pale skin, then seemed to burst, spreading inkiness across his flesh. A fine black fur sprouted from his fingers as they fused together into paddle-like feet. The bones of his body were grinding together and snapping jerkily into new configurations. His waist narrowed as his torso swelled.

Across his back and sides, his robe tore open as four more legs emerged either side of his spine, snaking out and reaching towards the ground. As they touched the forest floor the Spinning Man’s head turned upwards. His face grew larger, elongating as the bones of his skull shifted. His hair fell in clumps around his front legs as his jaws stretched wide. Two of his teeth jutted into dripping fangs, then his cheeks split open to reveal two more eyes, then four, then six. As the transformation ceased, eight black orbs focused on Caw from the dark fur of a spider’s head. A giant spider that loomed as tall as Caw himself.

Lydia was scrambling through a mass of webbing on the ground. “It’s got to be here somewhere!” she said.

“What do you think, crow talker?” said the huge spider, in the voice of the Spinning Man.

Before Caw could answer, a flood of spiders appeared behind the giant form of their master. They poured across the clearing, overwhelming the crows. The birds thrashed and cried out in pain.

Run, Caw! shrieked Milky, from somewhere beneath the mess of flapping feathers.

Caw turned and seized Lydia’s hand. “Wait!” she cried. “What about the Crow’s Beak?”

He yanked her after him, sprinting for the edge of the clearing. He wasn’t sure where he was running to, only that to stay in the clearing with that thing would be a terrible mistake. As they plunged between the trees, shadows moved out of their path. He felt cold twinges as he brushed past the dead. Their voices followed him. Run mortal! He follows!

Caw glanced back and saw they were right. The giant spider’s feet thumped into the ground, then it crashed into a tree, shaking the trunk. Its mandibles flailed.

“You cannot escape me,” it said.

Caw’s feet flew over the ground in long strides, Lydia following close behind. There was nothing ahead but decayed trees, an endless gloomy forest.

“We should split up!” said Lydia, ripping her hand free of his grasp. She darted left. Caw ran straight ahead, and the breath tearing up from his lungs was sour, laced with fear. He looked around for his crows, but the dead branches above were empty. When he looked for Lydia again, she too had vanished.

He stumbled over a root, almost fell, but righted himself. He slid behind a tree trunk, back pressed against the bark, and tried to remain still.

The voice of the Spinning Man sounded distant when it broke the silence.

“This is my realm, Jack,” he said. “I bend it to my will. There is no point running, because all routes lead to me.”

Caw held his breath, but his heart thumped painfully in his chest.

“I can smell your fear, boy,” said the Spinning Man, closer now.

Caw wondered if he should make a run for it. The further he led the Spinning Man from the clearing, the more time he’d be able to buy Lydia. But he felt paralysed, as though his feet had put down roots like the trees around him. A long shadow moved to his left, and from the way it arced, he knew it was a spider leg. Then the bristling limb appeared, just a few feet away, treading lightly. The air was cold. He forced his body to move and ran.

“There you are!” hissed the voice.

Caw’s feet seemed to snag, and he tumbled to the ground. His face hit the mud, and some forced its way into his mouth. Caw squirmed on to his back and realised his legs were stuck together by some sort of slime. Terror made him breathless. It was webbing. The Spinning Man squeezed his arachnid bulk between the trees.

“You’re going nowhere, crow talker.”

Caw tore the webbing with grime-covered hands and managed to free one foot. He staggered upright, but the giant black spider arched its back and a fresh strand of silk shot out from a spike at the base of its abdomen. The sticky substance looped around Caw’s ankles and yanked him on to the ground again.

He felt his body dragged across the earth, as the Spinning Man brought him towards the clearing. Sharp roots dug into his back, but the spider pulled him effortlessly along. Caw rolled over and tried to slow himself with his hands, but there was nothing to hold on to. His ribs thumped into a tree and he gasped in pain. He raised his arms to ward off another blow and managed to grip a trunk, trying to tug himself free. He felt his nails catch on the bark, then a lancing agony as one of them tore away.

He slid helplessly into the middle of the clearing, where the white crows were still struggling against the onslaught of spiders. As the Spinning Man’s shadow fell over him, Caw rolled and saw the deformed mottled face of his enemy inches from his own. Two legs stabbed into the ground either side of his head and the black portions of the spider’s body heaved.

He tried to breathe, tried to stay calm. He closed his eyes, knowing he might never get another chance. He wasn’t ready for the end.

“Let him go!” yelled Lydia. “I have the Crow’s Beak.”

Caw twisted his neck and saw Lydia standing nearby. In her hand was the sword.

Why had she come back? Why couldn’t she have run? He had to do something. He’d only get one chance.

The power built suddenly inside Caw, like floodwater behind a dam. He felt a wind within him rise and flutter the tips of his ragged jacket. He released it, throwing out his summons. He felt its reach spread across the clearing and beyond. It sought every crow in the forest.

The Spinning Man laughed, and Caw felt spools of white fluid trickle on to his neck.

“The time for bargains is over, little girl,” said the spider. “I’ll get what I want in the end, but first he has to pay for his insolence. By the time I’ve finished, he’ll be begging for me to let him use the Crow’s Beak. And don’t worry, child – it’s your turn next!”

Come to me! Caw screamed with his mind. Please! I need you. The strength of his feral spirit clutched each of the crows in its talons. They gave themselves to him, and he felt the power of their beating wings and the anger of their stabbing beaks, threatening almost to overwhelm him. But the power was his. His consciousness seemed to burst free of the tethers in his mind. He became the crows and they became him. He saw the dark forest under the collective span of his wings. He saw the clearing and the eight-legged form lurking at its centre.

“Ready to suffer?” said the Spinning Man.

Caw opened his eyes to see the Spinning Man’s jaws gaping wide above his face.

Beyond, a thousand crows made the sky white.

“Now!” said Caw.

The sky fell as one.