The shed barely stood; it had been in the garden since Jude was a little girl. Scale’s pawlike hand shook slightly as he turned the knob. He pulled the rickety door toward him.

Jude and Mick held their breath. Apple stood quietly, a beatific smile on her face.

The noise was sudden and massive. From the small confines of the shed, there appeared hundreds of black-and-white birds, their black feathers shining iridescent blue and turquoise in the afternoon sunlight. Their wings beat a tattoo, sounding like millions of gloved hands clapping, their chaw chaw chaw cries adding to the cacophony as they attacked Scale. The birds swooped, claws outstretched, beaks open. Already, they had knocked his trilby to the ground and his pointed ears were bloody with peck marks, but his sunglasses still protected his eyes. One bird, attracted by the glint of the silver frame, swooped down and swiped the dark glasses from Scale’s muzzle, revealing eyes the color of molten lava. He scrabbled on the luminous grass, useless feet slipping on the luxuriant turf.

Angelo and Vincent Spaghetti had retreated for the cover of the Hummer. Being covered in bird poo was not in their job description. Fearful for his eyes, Scale screamed for mercy, his scarf unraveling to reveal his dreadful face. There was little humanity left in the creature writhing on Apple’s bright green lawn.

“Call them off, witch!” he howled, just making himself heard above the beating wings.

Apple was no longer smiling. “Leave this place, you monster.” Her voice rang out strong and clear. “Know when you are beaten.”

Scale tried to stand up and regain his previous cool, which was difficult when covered in slippery, smelly guano. He pushed his snout into Apple’s face, and she tried not to flinch at his rancid breath.

“The Wolven belongs to Her Majesty’s government,” he hissed. “You will soon regret your actions, you mark my words.”

Apple was in no mood for marking Scale’s words or anyone else’s. She commanded the birds again. Once more, the air became dark with magpies.

“Stop!” shouted Scale. “Call them off!”

“Get out!” screamed Apple.

Blood dripped from Lucas Scale’s wounds as he staggered to his car. When it had disappeared, tires screeching down Camellia Lane, there was a stunned silence from all who had witnessed the attack of the magpies. It was broken by Jude.

“I think my parents have some information they need to share with us,” she told Bill Beechgood grimly, “and they had better hope that we find Nat and Woody before anyone else does.”

CHAPTER 20
EAST WOOD

“Get after them!” shrieked the guano-encrusted Scale. Vincent and Angelo glared at him with distaste through their polarized lenses.