The Crowmaster Read Free

childhood instincts screamed at me to pull the covers over my head and hide, while my more grown-up ones ordered me to sit up and face whatever was with me in my room.
    In the end I came up with a compromise. I kicked off the covers and rolled out of bed, pushing myself into the corner of the room and as far from the source of the sound as possible.
    A small, frail figure stood watching me from the gloom. Her flowing white dress was caked thick with dried blood. In her hands she clutched a dirty porcelain-faced rag doll. Raggy Maggie’s single eye bored into me as the girl waved one of the doll’s stubby arms up and down.
    â€˜Peek-a-boo,’ sang Caddie. ‘I see you!’

Chapter Two
OF MONSTERS PAST
    S ilence filled the room like a void. Caddie was still standing at the foot of my bed, still making the doll wave at me. Her dark eyes watched me, unblinking, but she made no attempt to move closer.
    A thousand thoughts crashed together in my head. I reached out and plucked one at random.
    â€˜How did you get here?’
    She didn’t answer.
    â€˜What are you doing here?’ I demanded – more loudly, but not loud enough to wake anyone up.
    â€˜She doesn’t want to play with us any more,’ the girl spoke softly.
    I hesitated, trying to figure out the meaning behind her words, if there even was one.
    Caddie looked just like she’d done four days ago. The smear of lipstick was still a red blur across her lips. Her face was still a rainbow of badly applied eyeshadow and blusher and whatever other names they give to make-up. Beneath it all her skin was still as pale as bone, and her lifeless stare still gave me the willies.
    â€˜ Who doesn’t—’
    â€˜Oh, you remembered,’ she said. Her face broke into a wide smile.
    Again I paused. ‘Remembered what?’
    â€˜She won’t play any more,’ Caddie said, apparently fighting back tears. ‘We were having so much fun, but then she just wouldn’t play.’
    Confusion had taken over from terror now. I had no idea what the girl was talking about, although there was something about her words that seemed familiar.
    â€˜S’not fair,’ she muttered. ‘Every time I find a new friend to play with they get broken.’
    Broken . A circuit connected in my brain and I realised why I felt like I’d heard this before. I had heard it before. Caddie was repeating everything she’d said to me in the school canteen – the first time I’d seen her here in the real world. I remembered Mrs Milton, my head teacher, lying on the floor. Sobbing and babbling. And broken.
    I ran back over the meeting in my head. If I could remember what she said next then I could prove to myself I was right. What was it she’d said? What had I said? Something about Billy.
    â€˜Not telling,’ she spoke.
    Of course , that was it.
    â€˜I told you, silly, I’m not telling,’ I blurted out, as quickly as I could. She started to speak before I was half finished.
    â€˜I told you, silly,’ she giggled. ‘I’m not telling!’
    It was as if I was looking at a recording. Every word, every inflection of her voice was exactly like it had been in the school. Any second now she’d ask me if I wanted—
    â€˜Tea?’ she enquired.
    And now I thought about it I realised it wasn’t just Caddie. When Mr Mumbles appeared on Christmas Day I’d first seen him in front of the living-room window. He’d stood there, hat pulled down, coat swishing in the breeze, beady eyes boring holes in mine.
    He’d looked exactly the same when I saw him again tonight. The same stance in the same position in the same room. It was as if my encounters with both him and Caddie were being somehow replayed or re-enacted.
    I detached myself from the corner of the room and cautiously moved towards the bed. Caddie’s eyes followed me, but she made no other movement. She was still talking