‘Nanny, please.’
‘I want you to know what you are, but I can’t let you remember this. I’m sorry.’ As she brings the flame to the photos and notebook pages, crow calls fill the air and she pauses.
A black shape swoops in towards Nanny Bet and she ducks.
Needle-like claws dig into my shoulder as a crow lands on it; oily wings brush against the side of my face. I gasp and drop the glass and mug. As they smash on the ground, I hear someone call out my name.
‘Michael!’
Meg runs into the garden towards my nan.
I wince and close my eyes as the crow on my shoulder cries out. When I open them, I see Meg trying to wrestle the photos and papers from Nanny Bet.
‘Get the camera!’ Meg shouts at me.
‘Let go!’ shouts Nanny Bet, and she brings the lighter to Meg’s arm. Meg releases her grip with a gasp and falls to the grass.
‘Trust me, son,’ says Nanny Bet as she brings the lighter to the pictures. As the flame begins to lick their edges, the crow on my shoulder digs its claws into my flesh and screeches.
The trees seem to scream in reply and the branches shake. Then the air around us fills with crows, a heaving swirl of black feathers.
I can’t see Nanny Bet any more.
The crow on my shoulder screeches then flies high into the sky, its calls deafening. All the crows scream in unison. It’s her – the Morrigan – shrieking in rage.
Amid the storm of birds, I see Nanny Bet clutching the photographs and papers that have started to burn. A crow on her arm is pecking at the hand holding the lighter. Blood streaks down her fingers, but she refuses to let go.
I run towards her then stop as a shrill, terrified sound cuts through the air. Like the wail of a baby.
I see Fergal slash out a paw at a crow as they surround him, circling above. The birds descend on the cat and he howls in pain.
Nanny Bet dives towards Fergal. The photos and papers flutter to the ground as she waves her arms in a desperate attempt to push the birds away.
Meg stamps out the flames and picks them up. ‘We have to get out of here.’
I snatch up the camera and my bag.
Nanny Bet is lost in the dark cloud of feathers now. I smell blood as sharp beaks and claws tear into flesh and fur.
More crows above call out.
The voice of the Morrigan screams at me to run.
Without looking back, Meg and I race from the garden.
Chapter Eighteen
We stop by an empty playground. My fingers are tingling as I lean against the fence to catch my breath. I think of my nan holding the lighter to the photographs. The recovered memory of her burning my memories a few days ago. The crows attacking Fergal.
Did they…?
‘You all right?’ Meg says, breaking into my thoughts.
I take a steadying breath, trying to block out the image of the cat. ‘What the hell was that?’
Meg says nothing. She’s holding the flame-licked photographs and papers. Her face is calm. Unreadable.
‘Were you spying on me?’
