Hollowpox The Hunt for Morrigan Crow - Jessica Townsend Page 0,113

Elders would have preferred, but it’s nothing we can’t deal with. A few newspaper headlines, a bit of unwanted attention for a couple of days, and then everything will die down. You’ll see.’

Morrigan had never known her patron to be so wildly mistaken.

By the end of the day everyone in Nevermoor must have known the name Morrigan Crow, because it was all over the evening papers. A handful of reporters showed up at the Hotel Deucalion, lingering in the forecourt and trying to catch a glimpse of the dangerous Wundersmith, shouting Morrigan’s name, trying to draw her out. The precious anonymity Holliday had so kindly preserved for her had been ripped away with a single camera flash. Just like that.

Morrigan’s racing, circular thoughts made it hard to fall asleep on Sunday night, so she woke late on Monday morning and almost missed Hometrain. It didn’t help that her bedroom’s usual wake-up cues – her lamps slowly brightening like the sunrise, and the gentle sound of birdsong – were entirely absent. It was dark and silent.

‘Why didn’t you wake me?’ she asked Room 85 irritably, then caught herself and gave the wall a little pat. ‘Not your fault. I like those new curtains! Are they, er, seaweed? Smells … lovely.’

Hometrain was already at the platform when Morrigan arrived. As she ran on board every face of Unit 919 shot up, looking guilty (except for Anah, who was snoozing on a beanbag). Francis reached out to turn the volume on the wireless radio all the way down.

So, they’d heard.

‘Morning, Morrigan. All right?’ Miss Cheery called from the front of the carriage, radiating warmth as always without having to say much at all. Morrigan nodded, tight-lipped, and the engine rumbled into life. ‘Good. Let’s get moving, then.’

‘Morning, Snotface,’ said Hawthorne merrily.

She scowled, taking a seat on the sofa next to Lam. ‘It was mushy peas.’

‘I’d stick with that story, too, if I were you.’ He gave an exaggerated wink, and even though Morrigan was still furious about the photograph, she almost laughed. Almost.

‘Shut up.’ She threw a cushion at his head, then nodded at the wireless. ‘Well? What are we listening to? Is it about me?’

With an apologetic grimace, Francis turned up the volume.

‘—but no, of course the High Council isn’t going to comment, Alby, because it’s all lies!’ said a deep, posh voice over the airwaves. ‘Who is this Morrigan Crow? Where has she come from? And if she is what this inside source claims she is, where’s the proof? Come on, Alby. The Wundersmith was exiled from Nevermoor over one hundred years ago! And now, what, we’re supposed to believe he’s some little girl?’

‘That’s not what they’re saying, though, is it, Mr St James? They’re saying—’

‘St James?’ said Morrigan. ‘Is this—’

‘Yeah, from the Concerned Idiots of Nevermoor,’ said Cadence. ‘Shhh, listen.’

‘If you ask me,’ St James barrelled over the top of the host, ‘this is a deliberate intimidation tactic from the Society. The Concerned Citizens of Nevermoor protested at Wunsoc on Friday, and by Saturday night there’s a “leaked story” from an “anonymous source”. This is the Society trying to send a message: keep in line, don’t challenge us, because look what happens when you do. We’ll set our imaginary Wundersmith on you!’

‘Then you believe the whole thing is a fabrication?’

‘I believe,’ he said with an impatient little huff, ‘that I want to hear it from the Wundrous Society themselves. No – I want to see it. Let’s see this so-called Wundersmith in action. If it’s not true, then is the Society simply telling lies to threaten and silence their critics? If it is true, then … well. That is a serious problem, and it needs to be dealt with.’

At that declaration, Morrigan felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

Was that what she was? A problem that needed to be dealt with?

The host cleared his throat. ‘If you’re just tuning in now to Good Morning Nevermoor with Alby Higgins, we’re discussing the issue on everyone’s radar this morning. Is there really a new Wundersmith, or is it all a hoax? Let’s take some calls from our listeners—’

Cadence reached out and turned Alby Higgins off. ‘I bet it was Baz who leaked it.’

‘That’s what Jupiter says.’

‘I’ll get it out of him. He always forgets what my knack is. He’s at Proudfoot House today for the meeting. I’ll make him tell me after that.’

‘I’ll pretend I didn’t hear you plotting to mesmerise your own patron, shall I, Cadence?’ Miss