The Shadow Wing Read online

  The Shadow Wing

  Crow Investigations Book Six

  Sarah Painter

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organisations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental.

  * * *

  Text Copyright © 2021 by Sarah Painter

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Published by Siskin Press Limited

  Cover Design by Stuart Bache

  Also by Sarah Painter

  The Language of Spells

  The Secrets of Ghosts

  The Garden of Magic

  * * *

  In The Light of What We See

  Beneath The Water

  The Lost Girls

  * * *

  The Crow Investigations Series:

  The Night Raven

  The Silver Mark

  The Fox’s Curse

  The Pearl King

  The Copper Heart

  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

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Thank you for reading!

  Acknowledgments

  Love urban fantasy?

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Maddie looked different. Partly because she was wearing a red bobbed wig over her brown hair and heavy-framed glasses with, Lydia assumed, clear lenses, but also because there was a calm stillness that she didn’t associate with her cousin. After another second, Lydia realised another reason she felt so alien; there was barely a wisp of Crow. She reached out her senses, giving Maddie a virtual pat-down, but came back empty. There was the smallest taste of feathers and, with concentration, she could feel the warm lift of a thermal current as she lifted and flew…

  ‘Stop it,’ Maddie said sharply.

  Lydia stopped. She shifted her balance, wondering what sort of weapon Maddie would be carrying and whether she was going to chat before she killed her. She felt strangely calm. In some ways, it would be comforting to die at the hands of somebody familiar, rather than a stranger. Keeping it in the family.

  ‘What’s funny?’ Maddie said.

  Lydia realised she was smiling. ‘It’s nice to see you. I mean,’ she tried again, ‘not nice, exactly. It would be. If we weren’t on this roof and if you hadn’t been sent by Mr Smith to kill me, but still. You look well. I like your glasses.’

  Maddie didn’t move.

  The sky was clear and, behind Maddie, the Houses of Parliament were bathed in morning light. There was warmth from the spring sunshine, which helped to counteract the coolness of the breeze. Up high, the traffic was quiet and, if it hadn’t been for the assassin opposite, Lydia would be grateful for the view.

  ‘I didn’t know it was you,’ Maddie said after a moment of silence.

  ‘You threatened my best friend,’ Lydia said, feeling a surge of pure anger.

  ‘It was in the packet.’ Maddie waved a hand. ‘I was told the target would come running if I sent that message.’

  ‘And here I am,’ Lydia said, spreading her hands. ‘I thought you weren’t taking orders anymore?’ At that moment she felt her legs begin to move. She took one step toward Maddie, her body lurching and off balance, and then another. She hadn’t told her body to move, it was simply doing so. Which was terrifying. She tried to push back, to regain control of her muscles, but it made no difference. It was as if the connection between her mind and her body had been completely severed.

  When she was inches away from Maddie, close enough to wrap her hands around her throat or throw a punch, Maddie said: ‘That’s better. Now we don’t have to shout.’

  ‘How did you do that?’ Lydia’s mouth flooded with saliva and she thought she might be sick.

  ‘You like my party trick?’ Maddie’s tone was playful, but her eyes were flat and lifeless. They reminded Lydia of Charlie’s shark eyes, but only if the shark had been dead for hundreds of years. And hated other sharks.

  ‘It’s incredible,’ Lydia forced herself to say. The fear was pounding through her now, and her traitorous legs were liquid. It was one thing to be killed, quickly and neatly by a professional, but to have her body taken over, forced to do things while she was fully awake, that opened a whole chasm of terrible possibility. ‘Is this why you’re so good at your job?’

  Maddie tilted her head. ‘You’re being very agreeable. Do you think if you flatter me, I’ll let you go?’

  ‘I’m just surprised, that’s all. You didn’t seem the professional type. You were always so…’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Scatty. Undisciplined. Childish.’

  Lydia’s lungs squeezed and the air whooshed out. She couldn’t move her muscles in order to refill them and the panic was instant.

  ‘You’re trying to annoy me into finishing this quickly,’ Maddie said, her voice even. ‘Dangerous tactic.’

  Lydia’s head was pounding with the lack of oxygen and her panic was beating its wings wildly against the inside of her chest. Just when dark speckles appeared in her vision and she knew she was close to passing out, Maddie released her diaphragm and allowed her to drag in a breath. If she had been in control of her body, she would have slumped down, but she wasn’t so she stood, back straight, and pulled in air until her head cleared. After a few breaths, she managed to speak. ‘Just making conversation.’ Lydia’s lungs felt like they were on fire and Maddie was still keeping her spine unnaturally rigid, but she struggled on. ‘Do your parents know you’re back in town? Do they know you’re contracting for the government? I bet they’d be very proud.’ In the middle of her last sentence, when she thought Maddie was as distracted as she was going to be, Lydia threw as much of her power as she was able. Maddie took a stumbling step back as it hit, and Lydia felt Maddie’s control over her body loosen. She had been ready and threw a punch into the side of Maddie’s head, knocking her out.

  At least, that was the idea.

  Maddie ducked and the blow glanced off her temple. Lydia felt the syrupy sensation of her limbs being taken over, and she fought against it, trying to grapple with Maddie. With a twisting motion, Lydia found herself grasped in front of Maddie, a knife at her throat. Maddie seemed utterly unaffected. ‘That was fun,’ she said, her breath tickling Lydia’s ear. ‘Hardly anybody dances with me anymore.’

  ‘We’ve got all day,’ Lydia said, trying to match Maddie’s tone.

  ‘Sadly, you do not.’ Maddie walked Lydia toward the edge of the roof.

  ‘Why are you working for Mr Smith?’ Lydia kept talking to try to mask her fear. If she pretended she wasn’t terrified, maybe she could make it so. The breeze seemed stronger here, at the edge of the building, and the traffic noise louder. Lydia could glimpse the street
below. Far below.

  ‘I don’t know who that is,’ Maddie said.

  ‘Government spook. Nice suits. Why are you taking orders at all? You’re a Crow.’

  Maddie stopped moving.

  ‘How much do you know about the department that gives you orders? I know Mr Smith has been rogue himself or, at least, head of a very hush-hush department. The kind that gives the government full deniability.’ Lydia was speaking quickly, trying to find a way in now that Maddie seemed to be listening. ‘And I’m the head of the Family, now. You know that, right? Have you asked yourself why they want me dead? I’ve been working on forming alliances, keeping the old truce from breaking. If I’m murdered, all hell will break loose.’ Lydia had no idea if this was accurate. It was entirely possible that Aiden, or even Maddie, would step neatly into her place and Maria Silver would do a dance on her grave.

  ‘The thing is,’ Maddie said, after a moment. ‘I know I warned you about this. I told you to fly.’ And with that, she pushed Lydia so that she was hanging over the edge of the roof. Her body was under the control of Maddie, both physically and magically. Her tiptoes scrabbled for purchase on the stone edge and her mind slowed with the mortal fear. Every single impression, the feel of the wind on her skin, the sounds of the city, the harsh call of a crow. Many crows, in fact, as a group flew into view. A murder of crows, Lydia thought. How appropriate. It was possible that she was being hysterical. Losing her mind. She heard laughing a moment before she realised that it was hers.

  ‘What’s funny?’ Maddie’s voice was almost interested and Lydia could detect a neediness beneath her words. The neediness of a girl who had felt left out. Maybe not the coolest in her gang of friends, maybe marginalised, overlooked. Or maybe Lydia was still grasping at straws.

  ‘I knew they’d played me, but I thought you’d got away. But here we are.’

  ‘I did get away,’ Maddie said. ‘I make my own choices.’

  ‘Not how it looks,’ Lydia said. Then, taking a gamble, ‘Charlie’s still using you.’

  Lydia felt a jerk of movement and closed her eyes. This was it. She was going to plummet to the concrete. She thought of Fleet and felt a deep throb of sadness.

  Instead, she landed on her backside on the roof. The jolt sent a spike of pain up from her tailbone through her spine and into her neck, but she wasn’t free-falling toward a pavement, so it was a definite win.

  ‘What has Charlie got to do with this?’ Maddie was standing over her and she hadn’t even broken a sweat. The controlled power of the woman was breath-taking. And terrifying.

  Lydia had no idea what Mr Smith had told Maddie, or even if he was her official handler. She tried to weigh up what would most offend Maddie. ‘Charlie is working with the government. The spook who has been trying to recruit me teamed up with him last year.’

  ‘Your Mr Smith?’

  ‘Yeah. I named him.’

  ‘Imaginative,’ Maddie said. She was poised on the balls of her feet, but was clearly thinking.

  For a moment, Lydia allowed herself to imagine a scenario in which she walked away. ‘I didn’t take Charlie’s place just to start taking orders from somebody else.’ She tried to keep her voice steady, to match Maddie’s strength. It wasn’t easy as her whole body hurt and her mind was still a tangle of fear.

  Abruptly, the tension in Maddie’s body shifted. Lydia tensed. This was it.

  ‘You look tired,’ Maddie said. ‘You should check your vitamin D level.’ And then she turned away.

  Lydia twisted to watch her leave. She walked, casual and unhurried, back to the entrance to the stairwell. At the door, Maddie glanced back, and Lydia tried to read her expression. Was she going to change her mind? Come back and finish what she had started? She found herself raising a hand, half goodbye wave and half salute. Maddie smiled and then left. Lydia lowered her hand, unsure whether she had been in control of it.

  * * *

  Walking from the hospital to Westminster Bridge, Lydia was in a daze. The colours of the day were too saturated, and the morning air felt like tiny needles on her skin. Her legs were wobbly, but she could still feel the adrenaline in her system, the urge to run or fight. Anything, in short, other than walk sedately past the South Bank lion. There was a Nando’s next to the statue, and Lydia felt suddenly ravenously hungry. She pictured chicken in a pitta bread with a pile of chips on the side and saliva flooded her mouth. It was before nine in the morning and she didn’t even like Nando’s very much. It was a reaction, Lydia told herself. Near-death experiences made her hungry, apparently.

  She ducked into a chain coffee shop just before Parliament Square and bought a cheese and ham toastie and a pain au chocolat. She was gripped with the realisation that she had never tried an iced coffee. She had always meant to, but hadn’t got around to seeing what all the fuss was about. She could have died and then she would never have known. Iced latte in one hand and a fragrant paper bag in the other, Lydia headed for a seat in the square. She passed the statue of Winston Churchill looking, as ever, like a grumpy egg in an overcoat, and perched next to Millicent Fawcett instead.

  She ate the toastie without really tasting it. After licking the grease from her fingers, she pulled out her phone and stared at the screen. She wanted to call Fleet. Not just for the comfort of hearing his voice, but because he was the person she wanted to tell. Things seemed both more real and more manageable when shared with him, which was probably what all the love songs and poetry had been bleating on about.

  But he was still a copper. If she told Fleet about Maddie, he would call in the cavalry. He would have to. It was probably a public health issue or something. There would be protocol. Guidelines. A handbook of some kind. And if the police started marching around the place, making a fuss, Maddie might take it poorly. And take it out on Lydia. Or Emma. Hell Hawk.

  Lydia lifted her drink, surprised by the coldness of the cup. She had forgotten that she had bought an iced coffee in a moment of madness. If she couldn’t tell Fleet, what could she do? How could she protect Emma? It was terrible timing. Emma was probably rushing to get the kids ready for school, but she pressed dial anyway.

  ‘Hey hey!’ Emma’s voice sounded happier than Lydia expected. Lin Manuel Miranda was singing in the background, Archie joining in enthusiastically, if not accurately.

  ‘Shush a minute,’ Emma said, and the music dipped in volume. ‘Mummy can’t hear Lydia. Sorry. You all right?’

  ‘Fine,’ Lydia said. ‘Is this a bad time?’

  ‘We’re in the car,’ Emma said. Her voice took on a theatrical tone. ‘We’re going on an adventure.’

  Emma’s next words were drowned out by excited cheering.

  Lydia felt tears in her eyes as she heard Maisie and Archie and Tom whooping and squealing, Emma dissolving into delighted laughter. ‘Sorry, sorry. Tom and I are delirious, we’ve been up since three so that we could pack in secret. We didn’t want to tip them off early.’

  ‘Where are we going?’ A chanting had started and Emma shushed them again, without much success.

  ‘We’re back on Sunday. Shall I call you then? We can catch up properly.’

  ‘Great,’ Lydia said. ‘Have a good time.’

  After hanging up, a WhatsApp pinged from Emma.

  Sorry about the chaos. We’re taking the kids to Center Parcs. V excited.

  They were heading out of London. That could only be a good thing, even if it was a temporary reprieve. Lydia tapped out a quick reply and then took a slurp of her coffee. It was like milkshake. Not unpleasant, but not coffee. She ate the pain au chocolat and felt a little better. She still wanted to phone Fleet, but the urge was manageable. And now that the fear had subsided a little, clear thoughts were breaking through.

  The ten-shilling note that Mr Smith had slipped into her coat was tucked into the inside pocket of her leather jacket. She unfolded it carefully, feeling the softness of the old paper. This was a method used by Charlie, something he had used to show people they were marked. Mind g
ames and menaces. Typical Charlie, in other words. Still, it was Crow business, twisted and used against her. Now she saw that it was a symbol of the greater betrayal to come. Mr Smith had ordered a Crow to kill her. Her own cousin.

  Lydia drained the cup and stood to put her rubbish into the bin. Millicent Fawcett was carrying a banner. It said: Courage calls to courage everywhere. She stared at it for a moment. Was Millicent telling her to call for help? Or to make a stand and inspire others? Or just to remember her courage? That was good. She had courage. And in that moment Lydia realised that she had something else… Fury.

  Chapter Two

  Lydia wanted to do something. Take immediate and decisive action. Ideally something destructive. Unfortunately, there was nothing physical she could burn down. She had linked Mr Smith to JRB, a corporate entity that had been trying to stir trouble between the Families, and it was entirely possible that he was the man at the top of that particular tree. But the only physical location for JRB was a deserted rented office which was used as a postal address and nothing more. And she knew as much about the organisation and its key players as when she had first heard of them, which was, practically speaking, nothing.

  What she did know didn’t make her predicament easier or more comfortable. Mr Smith was on the payroll of the British government, running a super-secret shadow department which sat somewhere between MI6 and MI5. She couldn’t exactly storm the hulking fortress of MI6 to demand a reckoning. And if his activities went beyond his official capabilities, the service might not even be aware of what he was doing. Worse still, this might be the way the secret service routinely operated. It was secret, after all, and Lydia imagined there were plenty of black-ops-style shenanigans that the powers that be couldn’t officially sanction, but for which they, nonetheless, gave tacit approval. Her head hurt with the sheer weight of things she didn’t know.