White Crow Read Free Page A

sight, she is still strange-looking; there’s something elfin about her. Everything ends in points; her nose, her eyes, her chin, her lips, her fingers, the spikes of her long tresses of black hair.
    ‘Are you okay?’ she says.
    Rebecca’s still too muggy to think clearly.
    ‘You were singing,’ Ferelith remembers.
    Rebecca gets to her feet gingerly.
    ‘Careful. It was the shock.You don’t want to get light-headed again.’
    ‘Why are you standing so near the edge?’ Rebecca asks.
    ‘Same reason as you,’ Ferelith says. ‘It’s irresistible, somehow, isn’t it? To stand on the edge. Don’t you think so?’
    Rebecca listens to the curious way Ferelith speaks. Somehow old-fashioned and posh, but not posh-sounding.
    ‘Who are you?’
    ‘Ferelith. I told you that. But maybe you didn’t hear because . . . You know, because.’
    She gestures at the spot where Rebecca’s sixteen years nearly ended.
    Ferelith smiles. Rebecca notices more pointyness about her; her teeth, not quite a vampire’s, but not far short. Already Rebecca feels there’s something odd about this girl, though she wouldn’t be able to put it into words. More than odd. Something darker than that, maybe.
    ‘I saved your life!’ Ferelith exclaims, dramatically, like a line from a bad film.
    Rebecca doesn’t smile.
    ‘Why were you singing?’
    ‘I’d better be going,’ Rebecca says, not looking at Ferelith, more upset now by the embarrassment than the fact she could have been killed.
    ‘Why? Where is there to go?’
    Rebecca stops short. The girl has put her finger on something that she can’t disagree with.
    ‘That’s a strange name,’ she says.
    ‘Ferelith? Why do you think so?’
    ‘Well, not strange, then. But I haven’t heard it before.’
    Ferelith nods. ‘Uncommon. That’s what you meant to say. It means “stone bringer”. It’s Greek.’
    Rebecca frowns.
    ‘Your name means to tie or to bind. It’s Hebrew.’
    Rebecca frowns some more, and Ferelith moves away from the edge now.
    ‘How do you know my name?’ she asks.
    Ferelith doesn’t seem to feel the need to answer this.
    ‘I like your crucifix,’ she says instead. ‘Who gave it to you?’
    ‘How do you know anyone gave it to me?’ Rebecca asks, but again Ferelith changes the subject.
    ‘Why were you singing that? Dorothy?’
    Rebecca shrugs.
    ‘It popped into my head. That’s all.’
    ‘Do you know it almost got cut from the film? The most famous song in it, and they nearly left it out. Can you imagine that?’
    Rebecca doesn’t know what to say, finding the whole conversation too convoluted to understand.
    ‘It’s my favourite film. Is it yours? Or do you just like singing?’
    ‘I played Dorothy at school,’ Rebecca says before she knows what she’s doing.
    ‘You’re the policeman’s daughter, aren’t you?’
    Rebecca stiffens, wondering what the girl knows.
    ‘You’re his daughter, aren’t you? I suppose you’ve just come here for the summer. That’s okay. Lots of people do that. Do you like it here? There’s not much to do.’
    ‘Not much? You can say that twice.’
    Rebecca smiles.
    ‘That wasn’t so hard,’ Ferelith says, and before Rebecca can ask what she means, adds, ‘Yes. Very little to do. But I could show you some things, some places, if you like. We could be friends.’
    She takes a couple of steps towards Rebecca, who stiffens again.
    ‘No, I don’t think so,’ she says carefully. ‘Thanks. Thanks for seeing I was okay.’
    She turns, pushes through the bushes, and walks quickly back towards the village.
     
    On the way back up The Street, she passes the pub. She looks at the sign, and where there was an angel, there is now a devil.
    Another handsome figure, he’s holding a black pitchfork, the tips of which are glowing red, the same colour as his skin. Though he’s only visible from the waist up, the end of his forked tail curls behind him, and the fires of Hell rage all around. And unlike the angel Rebecca saw