cruel wind whipped across the rubbish dump, tugging at Caw’s freezing, sodden clothes and ruffling the feathers of his crows. He cradled Screech in his hands – a dead weight. The young crow’s head hung limply and his talons were curled. His eyes had already taken on a milky vagueness within their black depths, like a premonition of the Land of the Dead.

Glum had turned away, unable to look. Shimmer was talking to the older crow in a low voice that Caw couldn’t hear. The other crows watched their master with unblinking eyes.

Caw sat heavily, sitting cross-legged with the body laid in his lap, and he began to cry.

Screech had been with him since almost the start. He was the first crow Caw had really understood, the first who had brought him half a sandwich instead of a wriggling worm. They had grown up together, like brothers, and while Caw had gone from a five-year-old to an adolescent, Screech had stayed the same – funny, smart, reckless and loyal. Caw had always known that Screech would have flown into fire for him. He would have given his life.

And now he had.

Screech had never once shied from danger. He had followed Caw everywhere, even when Caw had asked him not to. He was always at his master’s side.

“He can’t be gone. He just can’t.”

Oh, Caw, said Shimmer.

Caw hadn’t realised he’d spoken aloud. Shimmer skipped on to his knee and lowered her head to press it against Screech’s. They hadn’t always seen eye to eye, but their rivalry was a fond one. Screech had liked to show off, and Shimmer enjoyed putting him in his place.

The crows are saying he rescued three others before the spiders overwhelmed him, she murmured.

Caw managed to suppress the sob that rose up at her words. He kept expecting Screech’s wings to flutter, to hear his irrepressible voice – Fooled you!

But Screech didn’t even look like himself any more.

Caw wiped his eyes and looked over at Glum. The old crow was staring vacantly into the distance. “Glum?” he said.

Glum turned, his shoulders hunched. I told you we couldn’t do this alone! he said. Screech tried to tell you as well.

Caw was taken aback. “I didn’t know this would happen. I … I thought we were safe here.”

Glum shook his beak angrily. We’ll never be safe from the spiders, he said. You thought because you beat the Spinning Man once, you could beat him again. Alone.

“No!” said Caw. “I just wanted to help Selina.”

Glum made a disgusted sound. Your arrogance killed Screech.

Glum, that’s not fair, said Shimmer. Caw—

But Glum was already hopping away across the rubbish.

“Glum, wait!” said Caw.

Let him go, said Shimmer. Give him time.

Caw sighed. If Screech had been like his brother, then the young crow had been like a son to Glum. Crows didn’t have family like humans, but the deep love Glum had for Screech had been poorly disguised in his good-natured grumbling.

And he did have a point.

If Caw had done things differently, would Screech still be alive?

Don’t listen to him, said Shimmer, as if reading Caw’s thoughts. He’s just upset.

Her words did nothing to soften the pain. Caw wondered if Shimmer really thought the same thing as Glum, deep down. And what about the other crows? For years he’d grown up with only three at his side, and no idea he could command the whole flock. The changes had happened so fast that Caw realised he sometimes took them for granted. Would the crows always follow him blindly or did their loyalty have limits?

He looked back to the window through which he’d chased the pale figure. “I think she was here – the White Widow,” he said. “Watching.”

Then why didn’t she finish us off? said Shimmer.

Caw’s sorrow hardened. “The Spinning Man is punishing me,” he said. “He’s not happy just to kill me. He wants to hurt me too. That’s why the spiders went after Screech.”

Shimmer was quiet for a moment. You should let the crows look after him now, she said. They have a place they can take him.

Caw nodded mutely.

It was one of the strange things about the crows that they never left their dead to the elements. It was practically unheard of to find a dead crow on the ground. Where they took them was a mystery, and one that Caw understood he was not supposed to question.

He laid Screech on the ground, and slowly a circle of crows gathered round.

Wait! said Shimmer. What’s that?

The crows stepped back.

Caw peered in. “What?” he said. Despite everything, he dared to hope they’d made a mistake – that by some miracle Screech was still alive.

But the body was completely still.

In his talons, muttered Shimmer. He’s holding something.

She nudged Screech’s balled claws with her beak, and Caw saw something white wriggle inside. A spindly leg poked out.

“It’s a spider!” he said.

The rest of the crows stalked menacingly.

Kill it! said one.

Let’s rip it to pieces, added another. One leg at a time.

Caw put his hand over Screech’s body. “No one touches it.”

He gently prised Screech’s talons apart, and the spider dropped on to the ground on its back. It was bone-white and Caw’s blood ran cold.

It rolled over and began to scramble away.

I want it! said a crow and stabbed with its beak.

Caw brushed the crow aside. “I said leave it alone!”

The spider didn’t seem sure which way to go as each time it darted one way a crow blocked its path.

Why are you protecting it? said Shimmer.

It poisoned Screech! said Krak. It’s a killer.

The spider lifted its front legs and spread its fangs defiantly. It was bigger than the last time Caw had seen it, several weeks before, but he somehow knew it was the same one. It was the bone-white spider he’d first spotted in the graveyard where his parents were buried, outside Blackstone, not long after his fight with the Spinning Man in the Land of the Dead.

The crows bustled, their eyes greedy and bright. Caw noticed an old plastic bottle lying on the rubbish heap nearby. He reached over, grabbed it and unscrewed the lid. Holding the open neck beside the spider, he used the lid to coax it inside.

What are you doing? said Krak. That’s the enemy.

Caw stood up, screwing on the lid and inspecting the spider now trapped in the bottle. It was Quaker who had first told him that unnaturally white creatures, like Caw’s old crow Milky, were those that had somehow come back from the Land of the Dead. Could this spider be one of those?

The crows were watching him, and for the first time he felt a twinge of dislike in their black stares.

“Take care of Screech,” he said, unable to keep an edge of anger from his voice.

The crows shuffled around the dead body, and some of them placed their talons carefully on Screech’s wings, lifting him like coffin bearers. With a couple of flaps, the body was airborne, and the other crows followed in a tight formation.

With Shimmer standing beside him, Caw watched them disappear into the clouds.

He pushed away his grief. The time to mourn his friend properly would have to come later.

“I need to speak to Quaker again,” he said. “If we hurry, we might catch him.”

Shimmer cocked her head. You sure he’ll be happy to see you?

Caw could only shrug. What choice did he have?

Oh great! said Shimmer. Foxes.

Caw saw them – a pair of russet shapes on the next roof over from Quaker’s place. He sensed the weariness in the crows’ wings as they banked, carrying him closer to the building. Whether it was because of the battle at the dump or the loss of so many, he couldn’t tell. They had obeyed him – flocking as normal to lift him skywards – but he wondered what they were thinking now. How far he could count on them to follow.

They swooped over the skylight, and Caw caught the tiniest glimpse of a person in the room below. It was Johnny Fivetails, rifling through Quaker’s meagre possessions. So the good ferals had tracked Quaker down too. If they were here, it meant they were looking for Caw.

What do we do? asked Shimmer.

Caw wondered if Lydia was there, or even Pip.

His thoughts brought back the painful memory of the confrontation at the car park. Lydia’s mother had sided with Johnny Fivetails, hadn’t she? They were old friends. They had history.

Caw spotted a dead cat, lying against the side of the building, the white fur of its throat bloodied.

Oh no … muttered Shimmer. You think a fox did that?

“Or a coyote,” said Caw.

Either way, Johnny and Velma Strickham clearly weren’t just paying Quaker a friendly visit.

“They’ll try to take the Midnight Stone again,” said Caw.

So where to? asked Shimmer.

Caw’s head was spinning. He commanded his crows to take him to the only place he could think of.

Blackstone Library was a shadow of its former self, its huge grand windows boarded up and the grass verges outside overgrown. Scraps of rubbish littered the steps and graffiti scrawls covered the walls. A ribbon of yellow crime-scene tape tangled in the branches of a young tree nearby. It was a reminder of the horror Caw had witnessed inside, only a few weeks ago.

They landed at the side of the building, beside the steps that led down to the bathroom window. It was covered with boards, but Caw managed to tug them free. He climbed through and Shimmer followed.

“No one will look for us here,” he said.

It was cold inside the main hall and the only light came from a couple of grubby windows high up in the dome that topped the building. The shelves were almost empty. Only a few books remained, scattered across the floor among discarded paperwork. The whole place smelt musty and decayed.

Caw hadn’t visited the library since the day he and Lydia had found Miss Wallace, the librarian, murdered by the Spinning Man’s thugs. She wasn’t a feral, she had played no part in their war – she was just a kind woman who had taken pity on Caw, lending him books and giving him the occasional cup of hot chocolate.

Caw took off his jacket and emptied the pockets. He placed the spider bottle on a reading desk and then paused, staring around at the empty shelves. A pang of grief flooded his body. When Miss Wallace had been in charge, the library had been warm and cosy, hushed and peaceful, with everything in perfect order.

But now she was dead. Another innocent victim who had suffered because of Caw.

He had done this. Just like Screech. Just like Lydia’s dog Benjy, killed by one of Mamba’s snakes. Everywhere Caw went, death followed, and he just kept running away. He was no better than Quaker. No – he was worse. Quaker had no choice, but Caw did. The solution was staring him in the face. Corvus had tried to tell him, but as usual Caw had tried to avoid the truth.

He looked at his hands, blue with cold and covered in throbbing spider bites. He flexed them, then let them curl into fists, squeezing so tight he felt the pulse of his blood right through to his fingertips. A throb of anger and hate.

Time to take control.

End this.

“Corvus was right,” he said.

Shimmer cocked her head. What do you mean?

Caw took a deep breath. His chest felt warm, his skin on fire. “About the White Widow,” he said. “Enough is enough. She’s the spider feral now. That’s all that matters.”

From the bottle, the trapped spider watched him with its white stare. And a thought hit Caw like a truck.

Maybe it’s been watching me all along.

He hesitated, frowning.

What’s up? said Shimmer.

Caw’s skin prickled as he began to piece it all together. Was that what the Spinning Man had meant in the psychiatric hospital? Caw had barely paid attention at the time, but it made sense.

And what about when he had first seen the spider: in the graveyard, the day after he and Lydia had returned from the Land of the Dead. Caw had thought it was only the two of them who came back into the real world. But a small spider could easily have crept through as well.

He’d never have noticed.

That had to be it.

Following him. All this time.

At the Church of St Francis, where Crumb had lived. At my house. On the roof of Cynthia Davenport’s apartment …

The spider watched defiantly, its tiny body radiating malice that hit Caw in waves.

Earth to Caw! said Shimmer.

“Johnny Fivetails was right,” Caw muttered. “The Midnight Stone made Selina the way she is. When she was on the apartment roof, she was holding the Stone. But it wasn’t just any spider that touched her.” He pointed at the bottle. “It was that one. He’s inside it. The spirit of the Spinning Man.”

Caw grabbed the bottle, his heart racing.

Caw, wait! said Shimmer.

“I should have listened to the crows,” Caw shouted, unscrewing the lid. “I should have let them kill you!”

Caw tipped the bottle upside down and shook it hard. The spider dropped on to the floor. Caw lifted his boot and brought it down with a thud that echoed in the cavernous library.

Well, that’s one way of dealing with it, said Shimmer.

Caw’s rage began to subside, but he felt no satisfaction. He raised his foot to look at the broken body.

It wasn’t there.

“Where’s it—”

He felt a stab of pain on his ankle.

Where’s the spider? said Shimmer.

Caw reeled as a wave of dizziness swept over him.

Caw, stay still! said Shimmer.

He saw a chair and stumbled towards it, but his feet seemed to belong to someone else and he couldn’t feel the floor beneath them any more. His legs folded and he fell to one knee.

Caw? said Shimmer.

“Help me,” mumbled Caw, and his fear spiked as he struggled to breathe. His throat was tight and burning. He clawed at his neck, feeling the pressure build in his chest.

Am I having a heart attack?

As Caw fell flat on his face, he saw Shimmer in front of him, flapping and squawking. “Help …” he croaked again.

His fingers slid into the pouch round his neck and closed over the Midnight Stone. Then his vision darkened and the world shrank in.

Everything went black.