When Caw and his companions emerged, the clouds above the graveyard were thicker than before—swollen a deep and ominous indigo against the black sky. His crows surged from the ground in an inky torrent, settling across the graveyard again, an army exhausted by battle. Many carried broken wings, or bled onto the pale stones. A few rats scurried out as well, aimless and confused now that their pure animal natures had returned. Caw wondered if there would ever be another feral to guide them, and whether he or she would use them for good or for evil.
There was no sign of the moth feral. “Shimmer—take a few crows, get up there and look for Mr. Silk,” said Caw. “He can’t have gone far.”
The wiry crow flapped away, followed by several others. They fanned out across the sky, heading in the direction of the city.
Caw heaved the tombstone back into place, sealing the worm feral’s home. Then, closing his eyes, he drew his crows to him. Those in the graveyard cracked their wings and launched from their perches, and more still came in waves from the sky. “Get ready to fly,” Caw told Selina and Lydia.
Lydia lifted her arms, and Selina copied her. The crows took up their positions, clinging onto the girls’ clothing, their bodies jostling. Caw’s heart swelled with pride. Even against the odds they faced, and reeling from the battles already fought, their silent loyalty was absolute.
Glum and Screech gripped his own shoulders.
“Not you, Screech,” said Caw. “You need to rest that leg.”
It’s fine, said Screech, with a fierceness that brooked no argument. Let’s go get ’em!
Once more into the breach, said Glum.
As his feet left the ground, Caw felt the first drop of rain fall, a fat, warm splash on his skin. Shimmer came circling back. He’s in a white car! she said. Heading back toward the city.
“Then we go after him!” said Caw.
With a rip of thunder, the sky released its deluge.
Caw hardly noticed. The crows rose in jerks, over the graves, then up as high as the steeple. Wind made Caw’s body sway in their grip, and Blackstone was an indistinct blur of smeared light and silhouetted buildings through the steel rods of rain. Caw looked at his companions, already sodden, and saw their faces set with determination.
Shimmer flew in front, and the three of them followed in the grip of the birds. It wasn’t long before Caw saw a car speeding along a winding road below. It had to be Mr. Silk. It was some sort of old-fashioned vehicle, with a growling engine; completely white with huge chrome fenders. Its headlights shone golden streaks on the slick blacktop.
Caw didn’t know what to do. The car was moving too fast for him to drop down on the hood, as he had when he’d rescued Quaker.
Tunnel ahead! said Screech.
Caw looked up and saw they were heading for a dark mouth as the road entered a low hillside. The crows began to lift him higher, to carry him over the top of the tunnel entrance.
“No!” he said. “Keep on his tail!”
They dipped again, while those carrying Lydia and Selina continued to rise out of harm’s way, above the hill. The car shot inside. Caw willed a cluster of crows to follow with him. They swept him into the brightly lit tunnel, his feet barely a meter above the road surface.
“Get in his path!” he shouted. “Distract him!”
The crows who weren’t carrying him accelerated past, sweeping like a black veil toward the car. Caw saw the reflection of Mr. Silk’s face in the side-view mirror watching him, and with a roar the vehicle sped up.
But the crows were faster. Inch by inch they overtook the car, then closed formation in front of it, blotting out the moth feral’s view.
Caw heard the blare of a horn, and his eyes filled with light. The crows jerked him sideways as another car whipped past in the opposite direction. His heart was thudding like a jackhammer.
Mr. Silk tried to outmaneuver the crows, veering left and right in the tunnel to find clear road. Caw willed the birds to close in on the windshield. The car’s front wheels locked with a sudden screech of brakes, streaming smoke. Its rear end slid out as if on ice and slammed into the central barrier, and a windowpane exploded outward on the driver’s side. Caw told his crows to bring him level as the car straightened and accelerated once more.
As he drew alongside, Caw saw Mr. Silk gripping the wheel in both hands, peering over the top to try to see the road through the barrier of birds. He looked right, and his eyes locked onto Caw. Then he reached down and brought up his gun.
Bang! Bang!
Two shots cracked from the barrel, and Caw twisted away. The crows lagged back, hauling him out of range.
They were reaching the end of the tunnel, where the road emerged again. Caw let the car go first, following through the downpour and out into the city. Lydia and Selina were waiting suspended beneath their crows.
“We’ve got to stop him!” Caw shouted.
The three of them swung through the sky as Mr. Silk’s car raced along, swerving to avoid the few other vehicles out on the roads, mounting curbs and throwing up spray. It bounced over a traffic island, and a hubcap spun off one of the wheels. A horn sounded somewhere down the street. Caw couldn’t stay hidden—he only hoped the weather would conceal him from any normal citizens of Blackstone who were up at this hour.
Mr. Silk reached a set of red lights and didn’t slow, forcing a truck driver to slam on the brakes and skid to a halt. They were traveling alongside the river now—on the opposite bank rose the buildings of the financial district and the apartment where the Mother of Flies lurked with her army-in-waiting. If the moth feral reached it, the chase was over.
The car skidded around a corner and onto an empty bridge. There was only one thing for it. Caw swooped forward, positioning himself over the roof of the car. He was just about to drop when a single black shape darted down in front of him.
With perfect timing, Shimmer dived through the open car window, straight at the moth feral. Caw couldn’t see what was happening inside, but he heard Mr. Silk’s cries. The vehicle jerked, first one way, then the other. The moth feral lost control completely, and the back end spun a half circle. It hit the crash barrier at the edge of the bridge and bounced off. The wheels on the right side left the road.
Shimmer! cried Screech, as the car flipped over.
With a horrible squeal of grinding metal, the car slid along on its roof, showering sparks. Wheels spinning, it smashed into the barrier on the opposite side, buckling the metal railings there and sliding over the edge. Broken glass scattered into the river below as the car lodged in place, upside down, half-suspended over the water.
Caw’s crows swooped lower at his command, and he dropped the last six feet to the ground and ran to the stricken vehicle. It wobbled precariously over the drop. Oil was dripping from a puncture in the tank, and the smell of burned rubber filled Caw’s nostrils.
From inside, he heard someone groaning.
Shimmer flapped out of the broken window and hopped across the underside of the car. He’s all yours, she said.
That was incredible! said Screech. You stopped him single-wingedly.
Caw edged closer to the broken crash railings. The door of the car swung open over the drop, and a bloodied hand emerged. Caw saw that Mr. Silk’s face was bruised by the crash. Moths fluttered anxiously across his crumpled suit. He sagged forward, hanging out of the car, but his seat belt held him firm. His eyes found Caw.
“Crow talker!” he growled.
“Give me the stone,” said Caw.
“I don’t think so,” said Mr. Silk. He reached across his body, and Caw readied himself to duck in case it was a gun. But he heard only a click as the seat belt released. Mr. Silk clambered to the edge of the door. And at the same moment, the car tipped.
The moth feral leaped for the edge of the bridge with a cry of terror as the car groaned and then slid out over the drop. Mr. Silk caught a piece of the crash barrier as the vehicle plummeted into the river with a tremendous splash. It floated a few yards in the current, then disappeared out of sight.
Mr. Silk’s features writhed in fear as he hung over the water. He gritted his teeth and pulled, but his arms weren’t strong enough to heave himself over the edge to safety. “Don’t let me drown!” he said.
Caw knelt over him. “Give me the stone and I’ll help you up.”
Mr. Silk closed his eyes, as if trying not to think about the river swirling below.
“I promise I won’t let you fall,” said Caw, “but you have to give me the stone.”
He held out his arm.
Mr. Silk opened his eyes again. “It’s in my pocket,” he said. “I can’t give it to you without letting go.”
Lydia had arrived at Caw’s side. “Don’t trust him,” she said.
“Please!” said Mr. Silk. “I give you my word as a gentleman.”
His fingers were slipping.
Caw reached down and grabbed the moth feral’s left arm with both hands. “I’ve got you!” he said. He braced himself to take Mr. Silk’s weight.
“Pull me up!”
“The stone first,” said Lydia. “Use your other hand.”
“Quickly!” said Caw. “I can’t hold you for long!”
Mr. Silk’s right hand rooted in his pocket, and he took out the Midnight Stone. At the same moment, the moths lifted away from him like a shadow and flew away. He watched them go, face twitching in terror.
“Here!” he said. “Take it!”
As he reached up, a single black spot landed on his hand. Lydia was leaning over the edge to take the stone, but Mr. Silk paused. “No . . . ,” he muttered. “Oh no!”
The air filled with buzzing, and more flies swarmed over his hand and arm.
“No, please!” he shouted, flailing. With each jerking movement, Caw’s grip loosened.
Flies spread across Mr. Silk’s body, piling on top of one another in a solid bulk. Then, before Caw’s eyes, they became Cynthia Davenport. She was hanging on to the moth feral’s back, wrapping her limbs around him. Caw’s arms screamed with the extra weight.
“Hello, Mr. Silk,” she said, leaning close to his ear. “I believe you have something for me?”
She reached along his arm and pried his fingers from the Midnight Stone. He was cringing in fear, his eyes clenched tight.
“I didn’t mean to . . . ,” he said. “I was going to bring it to you, I promise.”
Caw couldn’t hold on any longer. His fingers slipped off Mr. Silk’s sleeve, and at the same moment, the Mother of Flies transformed back into her insects. Her swarm seemed to hold the moth feral, suspended in the air.
“No, you weren’t,” whispered her voice. The cloud of flies turned its head toward Caw. “Act wisely, crow talker. Run from Blackstone while you have the chance.”
Her swarm exploded from Mr. Silk’s body, and his eyes opened wide. He fell with a scream, his body disappearing into the river, as the swarm of flies dissolved into the night.