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First published in Great Britain by
HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2016
HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd,
HarperCollins Publishers
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
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Ferals: The White Widow’s Revenge
Text copyright © Working Partners Ltd 2016
Cover illustration © Jeff Nentrup 2016;
Cover design © HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2016
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
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Source ISBN: 9780007578566
Ebook Edition © 2016 ISBN: 9780007578573
Version: 2016-06-29
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Acknowledgments
He pulled up his collar, even though he was already soaked to the skin, and looked out across the street. It was quiet because of the awful weather, but a few people still went about their business. A man in a dark suit ate a sandwich under a dripping canopy. Cars swished across the slick road. A boy, holding hands with his mother, rushed into a shoe shop to get out of the downpour.
It had been raining for days, but the low grey clouds showed no signs of being empty. The streets were saturated, and puddles dotted the rooftop on which Caw stood. He looked down at the second-hand sneakers he’d found at a clothing bank. Water had long ago seeped through the fabric, and his toes squelched, but he’d been wet through enough times in his life that it didn’t really bother him. Growing up in the nest in Blackstone Park, he’d survived many storms which had blown through the city and ripped the tarpaulin cover loose. If they couldn’t fix it, Caw and his crows just huddled down, lashed by the wind and rain. He had hated it, but he always knew it would pass.
I’ve forgotten what the sun looks like, said Screech. The youngest of Caw’s crows was sitting on the roof parapet with his feathers puffed out to protect him from the rain. The other two birds perched beside him.
Maybe we should go home, said Glum hopefully. His beak rested on his chest and his eyes were shut.
Shimmer cocked her head. Quit complaining, she said. A bit of water won’t do you any harm.
To anyone in the street below, the three crows would have looked completely unremarkable, Caw thought. But then, nobody but a feral would realise he could understand what they were saying.
“Crumb wants us to wait here while he checks out the bank,” said Caw, nodding at the building across the street.
There are twenty banks in Blackstone, said Glum. The chances of them hitting this one are pretty slim.
Caw shrugged.
I can go down and take a look if you want, said Shimmer, hopping restlessly.
Caw thought about it. Their enemies could be down below, and if they saw a crow acting strangely, it might spook them.
He wondered if he should send Shimmer to the hospital instead, to check on Selina. At least that would give her something to do. She would obey him, though she wasn’t exactly crazy about the daughter of the Mother of Flies. No one was, really, apart from Caw. But Selina Davenport was in the hospital because of him – she had taken a bullet to save his life.
In the two weeks since the battle on top of Commissioner Davenport’s apartment, Selina had lain unconscious in a Blackstone Hospital bed. The doctors didn’t know why she wasn’t waking up. They thought it might be some sort of infection. Caw’s friend Crumb, the pigeon feral, said it might be better if she never woke up. Caw couldn’t reply to that. Despite what everyone else thought, Selina was his friend. She’d stuck by him when it mattered most.
Hello? said Shimmer. What do you say, boss? I can scan the block. No one will even see me.
“OK,” said Caw. “Just be careful.”
Shimmer took off, spreading her wings in a low glide and dipping out of sight.
Caw would ask Glum to take on hospital duty later. Any day now, there must be good news.
He heard a squeak and turned to see Pip, the young mouse feral, and the lanky Crumb climbing up from the fire escape.
About time, said Glum.
Crumb was