Free The Crowfield Demon by Pat Walsh

too heavy for him to move by himself.
    â€œHelp!” he yelled desperately. “Quickly! Help me!”
    He could see Brother Mark’s right hand protruding from beneath the door. The fingers twitched and clutched at the air, and then went still. William heaved and pushed at the door. It shifted slightly, grating against the rubble on the floor beneath it.
    The monks, hearing the commotion, came running to see what the matter was. Brother Gabriel rushed forward to try and help. William stumbled as Shadlok elbowed him aside. Brother Gabriel stepped hastily out of the way as the fay leaned down and hooked his fingers under the door. He lifted it easily and pushed it away from Brother Mark. It slammed to the floor, sending up a choking cloud of dust.
    With an anguished wail, Brother Gabriel dropped to his knees beside the fallen monk. William stared down in horror at Brother Mark’s bloodied face.
    Shadlok knelt down and put his fingers on the side of the monk’s neck. “He is still alive.” He glanced at the shocked faces above him. “Fetch the prior,” he said, giving William a push toward the church door.
    William did as he was told, stopping briefly in the doorway to look back. By now the other monks were crowding around to lift Brother Mark from the rubble.
    William climbed over the fallen stones in the south aisle. He stared around in shocked disbelief at the scene of devastation in the church. A huge hole in the recently repaired nave roof let in the dusty daylight and rain. More light came through a gaping hole in the roof of the south transept. Where the tower should have been, there was just gray sky. The beautifully carved chancel screen lay smashed to rubble under a pile of stones and broken timbers. William could see one of the bells, still attached to a part of the bell frame, lying on the nave floor. The choir stalls were badly damaged and a flow of stones filled the south transept. Part of the cracked north wall of the chancel had come down, too, but as far as he could see, St. Christopher’s chapel had not been damaged.
    Something white swooped through the hole in the roof and settled on a heap of rubble in front of William. It was Fionn, Dame Alys’s crow. It strutted sideways along the stones and turned its head to fix William with its fierce stare. William looked around. He knew that if Fionn was here, the woman wouldn’t be too far away, and sure enough, he saw her standing just beyond the floodwater outside the hole in the chancel wall. Her hands were folded over the top of her walking stick, and there was a look of triumph on her face.
    Fionn cawed harshly and lifted into the air. He wheeled away through the church and glided in a low swoop past the old woman. She turned to follow him, giving William a smile that chilled him to the bone. On impulse, he snatched up a stone and flung it after her. Anger speared through him. How could she take pleasure from such devastation? Did she really hate the monks that much?
    Two figures moved through the gloom like ghosts.
    â€œPrior Ardo!” William called as he scrambled over the stones toward them. “Come quickly. There’s been an accident. Brother Mark is badly hurt.”
    The two monks stopped and turned.
    â€œWhat are you talking about, boy?” the prior said harshly. “I saw him just minutes ago and he was perfectly well then.”
    â€œThe sacristy door fell on him.”
    â€œOh, dear God!” Brother Snail said softly, crossing himself with a shaking hand.
    The prior clambered over the pile of rubble in the crossing, not seeming to care where he put his feet. Stones slid and rattled away, and the prior slipped a couple of times, but he didn’t slow down. He didn’t even glance at William as he ran for the church door. His face and habit were streaked with dust. The grit-sharp air eddied around him as he passed by. It caught in William’s throat, making him cough.
    Brother