aw took a deep breath as he fought to understand what was happening. Our enemies, right here.

“It was a trap,” he said quietly.

Mr Silk tipped his hat. “A trap you fell for – hook, line and sinker.”

Caw glanced at Cynthia Davenport, expecting her to drop the act. But there was no triumphant smile. She looked bewildered. Afraid, even.

Whatever was going on, the Mother of Flies wasn’t part of it.

Caw closed his eyes and tried to summon more crows. If they could get through the hatch on the roof …

“Don’t bother,” said Mr Silk. “We locked the door at the bottom of the stairwell. No one’s coming to help you. We dealt with the guards too.”

“But the flies at the hospital …” said Lydia.

The skinny ratty-haired woman sniggered, revealing gappy, rotten teeth. She drew out a matchbox from her pocket. Pushing it open, she tipped half a dozen dead flies on to the floor.

Cynthia scrambled off the bed, falling to her knees. “My darlings! My creatures!” she cried, scooping up the dry husks in her palm. “Oh, my sweet children, what have they done to you?” Her eyes streamed with tears.

Caw didn’t understand. Why would they bother planting dead flies in Selina’s hospital room? And why hadn’t Mr Silk attacked him at Blackstone Hospital in the first place? There was no reason to bring them out here to the asylum. Was there?

Mr Silk lifted his chin and looked down his nose at his former boss, cowering on the floor over her beloved flies. “What a pathetic sight,” he said. “To think I was once afraid of you.”

With a twitch of his hand, moths burst from his cuff and flew at Cynthia’s face. She squealed and flapped as moths drove her back until she was pressed against the wall beside Caw and Lydia. As quickly as they had appeared, the moths rustled back to Mr Silk and vanished inside his cream jacket.

In the midst of Caw’s whirling thoughts, a question crystallised. If it wasn’t the Mother of Flies leading the convicts, who was?

He glanced down at Crow’s Beak, which lay on the ground beside the bed. Lugmann or the panther would get to him before he could do much damage, but it might give Lydia time to escape.

“Before you do anything rash,” said Mr Silk, “we’re here to deliver a message.”

Caw glared at Mr Silk.

“An old friend is back,” said Mr Silk. “He wants you to know that—”

“Enough of this,” said Lugmann suddenly, shoving Mr Silk out of the way. “I want my fun.” He snatched up the Crow’s Beak. “Gutted with his own blade,” snarled the convict, his savage gaze fixed on Caw. “How fitting.”

Caw’s crows squawked desperately, but they couldn’t help him.

“I’d hold back if I were you,” said Mr Silk. His head twitched towards the door, and then Caw heard it too.

Something was coming. Something rustling along the corridor.

An unexpected look passed over Lugmann’s face – of sheer terror.

The monkey feral backed out of the door. Her creatures released the crows and sprang after her. “I told you to do what he said,” she snapped. “Come on, let’s go.”

Lugmann tossed the blade on the bed and ran from the room, followed by the panther.

Mr Silk touched the brim of his hat. “Looks like he’ll be delivering the message himself, after all,” he said. “Good day.” He ambled backwards from the room then strode out of sight.

The rustling grew louder, sounding like a distant waterfall. Caw grabbed the Crow’s Beak and stepped into the corridor with Lydia and his crows.

Cynthia remained, crouched beside the dead flies. She looked up, her face racked with despair.

“He’s here,” she said, her voice hoarse. “Run, children. Run!”

Then Caw saw a great mass of black spill round the corner of the corridor, and it was like his nightmare come to life.

Spiders – thousands of them.

But how could it be him? thought Caw, backing away down the corridor.

“We killed the Spinning Man,” Lydia whispered, echoing Caw’s thoughts. “Didn’t we?”

We have to get out of here, said Screech, hopping from talon to talon.

Caw was about to run when he realised he’d left the cell door open. He lunged back towards it.

Caw, no! said Shimmer.

“I can’t let them get to her!” he said.

As he swiped the key card over the sensor, he got a final glimpse of Cynthia Davenport, cradling the dead flies in her hands. The airtight door closed, just as the first spiders crashed against Caw’s feet. He shook them off and ran after Lydia, the crows flying ahead.

As they rounded the corner, Caw saw a guard sprawled on the ground, his neck broken. Lugmann’s work. Caw couldn’t remember which way they’d come, but with the spiders on their heels there was no going back. Lydia gasped as the arachnids swarmed across the floor, covering the guard’s body.

At the next junction, the crows turned left.

This way, said Glum.

Caw followed, but then skidded to a halt as more spiders swept towards them from up ahead. He grabbed Lydia’s arm and tugged her back in the opposite direction.

The groups of spiders coalesced and scurried after them.

As they ran, Caw’s mind throbbed with a question. How can he be alive?

Caw sensed they were heading deeper into the asylum. At any moment he expected to see the spider feral himself, like a monster from his nightmares. They turned several corners – left, right, right again – then more spiders blocked the way. Caw slowed his steps.

“He’s toying with us,” he said.

The crows flapped, struggling to stay aloft in the confined space. Glum landed beside Caw. Sending them to attack would be pointless.

“Leave us,” said Caw. “Get out.”

No way, said Screech.

Two huge masses of spiders began to approach slowly from either side. Lydia clutched his arm. “Caw?” she said, as if willing him to do something.

Caw backed up to the wall and realised they were against a door – a wooden one, with a handle. Unable to believe their luck, he tried it. His hope flared as it opened.

Beyond it was a set of stairs leading down into darkness.

“Lydia! Down there – now!” Caw cried.

Lydia took the stairs, followed by the crows, then Caw slammed the door behind them. The horizontal line of light below the door filled up with spiders in seconds.

“Come on!” said Lydia.

The air in here was colder, and musty like a cellar. Caw followed her, feeling his way with his fingertips along the rough stone wall.

At the bottom, it was pitch-black and he heard Lydia stumble.

All he could hear above them was the soft rustle of the spiders coming under the door and cascading down the steps.

I don’t like this, said Shimmer.

“Can you see anything?” said Caw. Crows’ eyes were much better than his own, especially at night.

Just a low corridor, said Screech. Door at the end.

Caw felt for Lydia’s arm, and they shuffled along. He could sense the low ceiling just above their heads and moisture on the air. It felt as though they had been walking in darkness forever.

You’re almost at the door, said Screech.

Caw sheathed the Crow’s Beak then reached out a hand, touching wooden panels studded with metal. The door creaked open.

Oh dear, said Glum.

“What?” said Caw.

Dead end. There’s a light switch, on the wall to your left.

Caw felt for it, and suddenly was blinded. He blinked and squinted, then his heart sank. They were in a room, no bigger than six feet square, with peeling bare plaster over crumbling red brick. The light was coming from a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. But it was the picture on the wall that really drove fear through him. Someone had painted a mural in smeared black daubs. A gigantic spider.

They had made a terrible mistake.

The spiders were approaching along the corridor in waves, tripping over each other in their rush to reach Caw and Lydia.

“Caw, transform,” said Lydia quietly. “Go and get help.”

Caw could feel Lydia’s arm trembling next to him. And he felt fear quickening into power in his gut. He could make himself a crow and fly to safety. But then what? He gripped her hand in his.

“I’d never get back here in time,” he said.

They pushed themselves up against the far wall as spiders filled the doorway. Caw followed their train right back along the corridor and up the stairs. He’d never seen so many before, except in the Land of the Dead. Every spider in Blackstone is here, he thought. All coming for us.

Then the creatures stopped, like troops forming up in perfect ranks, a solid line spanning the doorway as if afraid to cross the threshold.

“Why aren’t they attacking?” said Lydia.

“I don’t know,” said Caw. He drew the Crow’s Beak, holding it out in front of them.

The spiders began to move again – not forwards, but upwards, climbing the door frame, clambering over one another. They began to dangle off threads of silk from above. Caw could only watch as thousands of strands intersected across the door in a ghostly skein of complex webbing.

The spiders flooded across the strands, clinging to the silk and to each other, a solid mass of arachnid flesh. The surface flexed and bowed, and all the moisture left Caw’s throat as he saw a shape materialising. Hollows for eyes, protuberances for ears and nose and lips, all supported by the web. Caw knew at once who he was looking at. A mouth opened among the mass of spiders and a whispering voice emerged.

“Hello, crow talker,” said the Spinning Man.

Keeping one hand in Lydia’s, Caw brandished the Crow’s Beak.

“I killed you,” said Caw.

The spiders rippled across the face, and soft laughter filled the tiny room. “You cannot kill me, Caw, any more than you can kill an idea. My soul is undeniable. I have been watching you.”

Caw’s fingers tightened on the hilt of the sword.

“How do you like this place?” asked the man made of spiders.

Caw looked around the room. It wasn’t like any other part of the asylum. It looked old and forgotten, like something from another time.

“I wanted you to see it,” hissed the voice.

“Why?” said Lydia.

The face lost definition for a second as spiders tumbled to the ground. It looked like the whole structure could collapse at any moment. But more spiders joined, and the features hardened once more.

“Long ago,” said the creature, “a spider feral died in this room. It was a madhouse then, as it is now – not that she was mad.”

“Then why was she brought here?” asked Lydia.

“You’d better ask Jack that,” said the voice.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Caw.

“But you will,” said the Spinning Man. More of the spiders toppled off, and the whole face sagged an inch or two. “Consider this the start of your education, crow talker. You will be going on a journey.”

Caw kept the Crow’s Beak raised. “A journey where?”

The spider creature sighed and its lips turned down in a sneer. “To the depths of despair and beyond,” said the Spinning Man. “I will take everything from you. Everything you hold dear.”

Caw sensed Lydia stiffen.

“Before you die, you will pay for the crimes of your ancestors with your happiness. The spiders will have their revenge and they will feast on crow flesh, even in the Land of the Dead.”

The words sounded like a prophecy, but despite the dread that prickled over Caw’s skin, he pointed his blade at the creature’s face.

“What have you done with Selina?” he said.

The figure’s lips curled into a smile. “Selina is mine now,” he said.

The certainty of the words chilled Caw to the bone. “Where is she?” he shouted.

“She is just the beginning, crow talker.”

Caw’s rage boiled over. He thrust the Crow’s Beak deep into the mass of spiders, and began to rip the blade back and forth. Spiders scattered as the web disintegrated.

“Prepare yourself, Jack,” said the muffled voice. “I am coming.”

With those words, all of the spiders toppled into a shapeless mound. Caw watched with a sick feeling as they retreated like an ebbing tide through the door, along the corridor, and up the stairs.

What was that all about? said Glum. Why didn’t he kill us?

I thought he was dead, said Shimmer.

Caw’s heart was beating so fast it was almost painful. He shook his head. “Maybe it was his … soul … or something. He said he wants me to suffer.”

Before he kills you, added Screech helpfully.

“Let’s get out of here,” said Lydia.

Caw nodded then glanced around the room. It looked like a prison cell. Was the Spinning Man telling the truth about a spider feral dying here years ago? But what could that possibly have to do with him?

One thing was clear. He couldn’t deal with this on his own. Caw sheathed the Crow’s Beak and started striding back along the corridor. “We have to get back to the house and tell the others,” he said.

He tried to sound determined, but he couldn’t ignore the ball of fear sitting heavy in his gut. The Spinning Man could have killed him – easily – but had chosen not to.

And he had Selina.

Which meant she was running out of time.