Hollowpox The Hunt for Morrigan Crow - Jessica Townsend Page 0,112
at the newspaper twenty minutes after it had swung into her life like a wrecking ball. ‘Why did they have to print the photo in colour?’
‘Is that really the most pressing issue?’ Jupiter asked in a mild voice.
‘I have mushy peas on my face!’
He shrugged. ‘Makes you look less dangerous than the headline suggests. That’s something?’
‘It makes me look like I’ve got a bogey!’ she said, glaring up at him.
Morrigan was mortified by the photo, but in truth it wasn’t nearly as bad as the accompanying article on page two.
MORRIGAN CROW:
A New Threat to Nevermoor?
Friday’s terrifying fireblossom mystery has been solved today with the shock revelation that the Wundrous Society has been secretly educating a Wundersmith for almost two years. Morrigan Crow, aged thirteen, is believed to be responsible for setting the rare arboreal species ablaze using an unknown and uncanny ability that even senior members of the Society don’t understand.
According to an anonymous source inside Wunsoc, Crow is in fact a citizen of the Wintersea Republic who was brought to the Free State illegally to participate in trials for the Wundrous Society. Her membership provides immunity from deportation.
The source claims the High Council of Elders had no choice but to admit Crow, lest she put the public at risk.
‘Who knows what she’d get up to outside our walls? She’s what we at Wunsoc call a “dangerous entity”. Nobody knows exactly what she’s capable of, but she’s already seriously injured another student.’
The news has come as a shock to many who believed there were no more Wundersmiths after the last living Wundersmith, mass murderer Ezra Squall, was driven from the Free State over one hundred years ago and never seen again. It is not known whether Crow could be descended from the late Squall, or if these abilities have emerged spontaneously. Neither is it known precisely what the nature of Crow’s sinister powers might be, or what they might become.
What is known is that the Wundrous Society has been harbouring a dangerous, potentially lethal weapon for nearly two years, and this publication believes that citizens of Nevermoor have a right to know and respond.
Crow’s patron, the renowned Captain Jupiter North, owner and proprietor of the Hotel Deucalion and an officer in the League of Explorers, could not be reached for comment at the time of print.
‘Couldn’t be reached for comment! I can always be reached for comment, I’m extremely reachable,’ Jupiter growled. Morrigan raised an eyebrow at him. ‘All right fine, I’m not always reachable. But the fact is they didn’t try to reach me because they knew the Elders would kill the story. Oh, and it’s interesting how the fireblossom mystery’s suddenly “terrifying”. Yesterday it was a miracle! You know, I should—’
In a sudden fit of temper, Morrigan rolled up the paper and tossed it into the fireplace, where it blackened and curled satisfyingly. The hearth in her bedroom had been growing bigger and bigger while Morrigan paced the floor, reading furiously. It now took up half the wall, its fire burning brighter and crackling louder, practically begging her to hurl the offending item into its blazing maw.
‘Quite right,’ said Jupiter with a nod, clearing his throat. ‘Good show.’
‘Thank you. Do you have another copy?’
‘Dozens. Bought every one I could find before anyone else did.’ He glanced sideways at her. ‘We can burn those too, if you like.’
‘Maybe later.’ Morrigan collapsed into her octopus armchair. Its tentacles twitched and rearranged themselves around her, offering silent support. ‘I don’t understand. How do they know? I thought nobody saw me! Who’s this inside source they’re talking about?’
‘An absolute fool with no regard for anyone but himself and his own gain.’
‘You think it was Baz,’ Morrigan said simply.
‘I absolutely know it was Baz.’
‘How?’
Jupiter’s expression was dark. ‘I know Baz.’
Morrigan pressed a hand to her stomach. She felt sick. There was a horrible, creeping familiarity about all of it. This was what she’d grown up with, after all. This was the life of a child on the Cursed Children’s Register in the Wintersea Republic: always the dangerous one, always the untrusted one. Always the one to blame when bad things happened. Was this her fate in Nevermoor too, then? Forever fearing what she might be accused of next?
‘Mog, listen,’ Jupiter perched on the end of the bed, ducking his head to look her in the eye. ‘It’s going to be all right. I promise. This was bound to happen sooner or later. It’s quite a bit earlier than you or I or the