Authors: John Owen Theobald
These Dark Wings (31 page)
She loved you.
I take Timothy Squire’s hand in mine. Together we turn the corner where the new roost, in the soft morning light, shines with a fresh beginning.
I will take him to Warwick Avenue, to see my house, check on the magnolia tree. Perhaps tomorrow we will go.
A commotion sounds at the front gate.
Timothy Squire releases my hand, marches proudly towards the entrance. Ready to show that he is up for it. Mr Thorne the Watchman has stopped a man from entering. A too eager tourist?
Voices grow louder. Timothy Squire turns back, casts me a protective look.
If only you knew.
Whoever the unwanted visitor is, he is not a Nazi leader.
I still cannot see the man, yet his voice reaches me, loud and haggard. A drunken officer, late for a ball?
‘Residents only,’ the Watchman is saying.
‘Let me through.’
I squint, trying to see the figure. I cannot make out the exchange.
‘I don’t give a damn if he’s on death’s door,’ the voice comes again. There is something – familiar – in the accent, the stern tone. ‘Send out Gregory Oakes so I can shoot the bastard myself!’
A horrible chill seizes me.
The German.
It is the same voice as the man from Traitors’ Gate. He has come to kill Oakes.
Oakes, oblivious as always, chooses this moment to appear.
‘What is it? What is going on here?’
He looks at me and his eyes travel to the fracas at the gate.
‘Anna. Get back to your room. Now.’
‘No, Mr Oakes, sir – you mustn’t.’
But he is racing ahead and I follow. Faster, I slip through the arch before him.
The Watchman has raised his gun, and Timothy Squire stands poised between joining in and running for it. At the sight of the German between them, his hands held up and no weapon drawn, I stop dead.
He is the same – thinner, wilder, but the same man I have glimpsed across the Green. He is not wearing a hat. His hair, thick and ruffled, is pale as moonlight. His ears stick out.
Oakes breaks into the circle.
‘Coward,’ the German spits. ‘She is not in Yorkshire. What right do you have? To hide her from me? Where is she, you snivelling—’
The German, feeling me watching, turns his gaze on me and falls silent. Everyone falls silent. I stand rooted, my mind reeling, flustered by the inconceivable, catching on nothing. Yet certain of the impossible truth.
The German’s eyes are locked on mine. There is nothing else in the world.
I don’t have to say the word out loud; everyone hears it.
Father.
~
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For their generous support, I am indebted to the Arts Council England.
My thanks to Bridget Clifford at the Royal Armouries Museum, Tower of London, for being so generous with her time and knowledge. For championing the idea and helping to bring it into the world, I am extremely grateful to Alex Drago, Megan Gooch, and Ceri Fox at Historic Royal Palaces.
For her wonderful artwork and willingness to tackle the most absurd deadlines, my thanks to Sarah Carter. To my copy editor, Helen Gray, for her insight and efficiency. To Nic, Henry, Suzanne, Clemence and the great team at Head of Zeus, for their enthusiasm and professionalism.
To my agent, John Richard Parker, for his patience, tenacity, and good humour.
My heartfelt thanks to Bill and Jill, for their encouragement, support, and grace. To my Mom and Dad, who just can’t seem to give up on me.
My love and gratitude to Nana, whose stories of life during the Blitz (like all her stories) crackled with a little mischief.
Most of all, to my wonderful wife Jackie, who inspired it all.
These Dark Wings
After her mother is killed in the Blitz and her father in the Western Desert, 12-year-old Anna Cooper is sent to live with an uncle she has never met – the Ravenmaster at the Tower of London.
Amid the Tower’s old secrets and hidden ghosts, the ravens begin to disappear and Anna must brave the war-torn city to find them.
With Nazi forces massing on the other side of the channel, the fate of Britain might be at stake, for an ancient legend foretells that ‘the Kingdom will fall’ if the ravens ever leave the Tower.
Born and raised in Eastern Canada, John Owen Theobald moved to the UK to study the poetry of Keats, and in 2009 received a PhD from the University of St. Andrews. He lives in London, England.
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The story starts here.
First published in the United Kingdom in 2016 by Head of Zeus Ltd
Copyright © John Owen Theobald, 2016
The moral right of John Owen Theobald to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN (E) 9781784974299
ISBN (HB) 9781784974312
Map and feather © Sarah Carter
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