The Swarm Descends. Jacob Grey

yours to bear alone.”

      Caw turned and saw a pigeon flap out of a window at the rear of his parents’ house. One of Crumb’s birds. It flew away like a grey shadow.

      He closed his fist around the stone. He was dimly aware of the crows making noises, but he was too focused on the strange feeling of the stone throbbing in his palm. Maybe it was just the pulse of his blood?

      When Caw looked up again, the stranger was gone. Screech landed on his shoulder and gave his ear a light nip with his beak.

      “Ow!” said Caw. “Why’d you do that?” He slipped the stone into his pocket.

      Because you weren’t listening, said Screech. Are you OK?

      Caw nodded slowly. “Let’s get back to the church. And … we’ll keep this to ourselves, all right?”

      Screech chuckled. Who are we going to tell? It’s not as if anyone else understands crow, is it?

      “Good point,” said Caw.

      

      aw woke to a grey pre-dawn light coming through a hole in the church rafters. He heard a sizzle and a smell filled him with a sudden pang of hunger.

       Sausages …

      He rolled over, scattering the pile of books stacked beside his mattress. At once, the memory of the night rushed back. The stone, the stranger.

      Crumb was a few metres away, leaning over his brazier, with his back to Caw, turning spitting sausages in a skillet. Pip sat beside him, letting a mouse run up and down, under and over his sleeve. He was wrapped in an army jacket at least three sizes too big for him and his scruffy fair hair needed a good brush. He looked longingly at the pan.

      “They must be ready by now!” said the mouse feral.

      “Patience,” said Crumb.

      On one of the roof beams, a pigeon cooed.

      “Awake, is he?” said Crumb. “I’m surprised after all that sneaking around last night.”

      Caw realised that Crumb was talking about him, and blushed, remembering the pigeon from the night before. What exactly had it seen? He sat up and his three trusted crows fluttered down from a window arch, landing at his side. He felt annoyed with himself, first for not being more careful in covering his tracks, but second for being embarrassed. He’d done nothing wrong.

      “I had to look,” he said. “What’s wrong with trying to learn about my past?”

      “And did you find anything?” said Crumb, finally turning to him. He was wearing a red cap marked with a tiger’s face – the mascot of Blackstone’s baseball team – and his long hair poked out on either side. His beard and moustache grew in wispy patches. Caw remembered the first time they’d met in an alleyway. He’d assumed Crumb was just another homeless vagrant living on the streets of Blackstone. But since then, Crumb had become like an older brother to him.

      “No,” said Caw. His hand went automatically to his pocket, where the dark stone lay, but he disguised the movement by fiddling with his zipper.

      “You’re lying,” said Crumb. “Bobbin said there was someone else in the house.”

      What’s he talking about? said Glum.

      “A young lady, he said. He got in through a window to see what you were up to. Isn’t that right, Bobbin?”

      The fat pigeon on the rafter twitched its head, and Caw remembered thinking he’d seen something up on the landing as he entered the house. It must have been Crumb’s bird, watching him.

      “It was just a girl,” said Caw, sulkily. “Sleeping rough. You don’t have to spy on me.”

      “And you don’t have to lie to me,” said Crumb. His face looked suddenly older than his twenty-something years. He laid sausages, dripping with fat, into three bread rolls. “We’re supposed to be your family, Caw.”

      You gonna tell him about the weirdo outside? said Shimmer.

      Caw shook his head as Crumb offered him a roll on a plate. It didn’t sound like Bobbin had seen the pale man, so there was no reason to tell Crumb. It would only lead to more questions about the encounter, and Caw remembered very clearly what the “weirdo” had said – the stone was his to bear alone. Until he knew what it was, it would stay that way.

      “Well?” said Pip, through a mouthful. “What girl?”

      “Her name is Selina,” Caw said. “She’s a runaway.”

      Crumb nodded, biting into his own sandwich and chewing thoughtfully. “You should stay clear of her. No good comes from mixing with humans.”

      Caw felt an itch of irritation. Crumb couldn’t tell him what to do. Just because he was a few years older. “But—”

      “Caw, you have responsibilities now,” said Crumb. “As a feral. You can’t let people know what you are. Humans can’t be trusted.”

      Caw wasn’t so sure. Crumb thought everyone was out to get him. Besides, Caw’s friend Lydia was a normal girl. True, he hadn’t seen her in the two months or so he’d been living with Crumb. But that wasn’t because he didn’t want to. It was because he knew her mother didn’t want him hanging around with her. Her father Mr Strickham didn’t even know about the ferals. They had their own life. A normal one.

      “You going to eat that?” said Pip hopefully, pointing at Caw’s roll. His own plate was already empty and a couple of mice were polishing off the crumbs.

      “Yes,” said Caw, drawing the plate closer to his chest.

      “You’d better,” said Crumb. “We’ve got training this morning, remember? Then your reading lesson.”

      Caw groaned. He enjoyed the reading bit, but Crumb insisted on training with their animals three times a week, and that tended to be a lot more painful.

      “Do we have to?”

      Crumb rolled his eyes. “How many times, Caw? The Spinning Man might be gone, but we don’t know how many of his followers are still on the loose, waiting to strike.”

      An image flashed through Caw’s mind – the white spider he had seen scuttling through the graveyard after he had destroyed the Spinning Man. But he’d only seen it for half a second – surely it was his tired mind conjuring up phantoms. He shook off the thought.

      “Without a leader—” Caw began.

      “There will always be a new enemy,” Crumb interrupted sternly.

      Before Caw could protest more, a pigeon flashed past, snatched the sandwich from his plate and fluttered above, just out of reach.

      “Very funny,” said Caw, rolling his eyes. The pigeon dropped the sandwich and Caw caught it. “I’ll train twice as hard tomorrow. How about that?”

      Crumb gave him a hard stare and Caw couldn’t help but look away, embarrassed. After all Crumb had done for him, maybe he did owe the pigeon feral more respect. But a part of him bristled still. Crumb was always telling him what to do. He’d only given Caw a watch so that he could make him show up for meals on time. Surely Caw didn’t have to tell him everything. “I can’t force you,” said Crumb. “But remember, this afternoon is Emily’s funeral.”

      “Of course,” said Caw. He’d only met the elderly centipede feral once. She’d been a sad old lady, haunted by the deaths of her children in the Dark Summer. “Is it true she has no heir?” he asked