Hollowpox The Hunt for Morrigan Crow - Jessica Townsend Page 0,119

Miss Cheery had gathered from some of Morrigan’s teachers, and every day Morrigan ignored it in favour of trawling through the very worst headlines. Nevermoor’s major newspapers couldn’t seem to decide if they were more interested in the Hollowpox, or Morrigan.

REWARD OFFERED! WUNDERSMITH

SPOTTERS HOPE TO CASH IN

‘WE CAN’T COPE!’ SAYS HOSPITAL CHIEF

Royal Lightwing’s Record Night Of Wunimal-Inflicted Injuries

SQUALL AND CROW: PARTNERS OR RIVALS?

ESCALATION OF WUNIMAL ATTACKS PROMPTS BIGGER POLICE PRESENCE

MYSTERIOUS MORRIGAN:

Where Did She Come From And What Does She Want?

THE CONCERNED CITIZENS OF NEVERMOOR NEED TO KNOW

‘She wants to be left alone,’ Morrigan muttered as she tossed the broadsheet into the fireplace.

Meanwhile, life inside the Deucalion was becoming claustrophobic. People just kept arriving, swarming to the hotel like bees around a hive. They camped out all day and overnight in the grand forecourt. It felt like being under siege. Thankfully the shabby service entrance on maze-like Caddisfly Alley was still in operation, or they’d really have been marooned. (Kedgeree was clever enough to take the small, faded HOTEL DEUCALION sign off its hinges.)

Morrigan was forbidden to go outside anyway. She stayed away from the lobby as much as possible, spending most of Tuesday and Wednesday in her bedroom. She told everyone she had schoolwork to do, but actually she was just tired of hearing strangers shout at her. Her fourth-floor windows looked down onto the forecourt, but she drew the heavy curtains closed. Room 85 seemed to take the hint and muffled all remaining sound from outside.

She finally emerged from hibernation on Wednesday afternoon, hoping Jupiter would return triumphant from Wunsoc having convinced the Elders to unlock her station door. Instead it was Fenestra who was triumphant, trotting down the spiral staircase carrying a man in her teeth by the scruff of his neck like a large, ugly kitten. Martha and Kedgeree jumped up immediately to shield Morrigan from his view.

‘Let go of me!’ he bawled. ‘I’ll have you arrested. You ripped my shirt! This is assault!’

Fenestra tossed him onto the chequerboard floor with a look of disgust. ‘Found this maggot creeping around on the seventh floor; says he paraglided in through the window. I’m making a citizen’s arrest. Kedgeree, fetch the handcuffs! Clap this brigand in irons!’

Kedgeree gave a weary sigh. ‘I told you already, Fen, we’ve not got any handcuffs.’

‘What, still? What kind of lousy concierge doesn’t have – oi, don’t let him go!’

But Kedgeree was already creaking open the front doors and shoving the terrified trespasser out. With Martha and Charlie’s help he quickly slammed and locked the doors again, but not before Morrigan caught a glimpse of the crowd outside … and she thought one or two of them might have caught a glimpse of her, too, because the noise seemed to suddenly swell.

‘WUNDERSMIIIIIIITH!’

‘MORRIGAN CROW IS A FRAUD!’

‘THAT’S HER! I SAW HER!’

‘IF YOU’RE REALLY A WUNDERSMITH, WHY DON’T YOU PROVE IT?’

Morrigan took a deep breath, resisting the urge to press her hands to her ears.

‘What was that, then?’ asked Charlie. ‘Number five?’

‘Six!’ said Martha. ‘Let’s see, there was the fake plumber, and the fake mailman, and the one who claimed to be Jupiter’s long-lost cousin—’

‘—and the one who claimed to be Morrigan’s long-lost aunt,’ added Charlie.

‘Oh, and the one yesterday who claimed he was here for a job interview!’

‘Martha offered him a position on a trial basis,’ Charlie said, grinning proudly. ‘Made him iron three hundred cloth napkins, then kicked him out.’

Martha looked pleased with herself. ‘He was a big help, Jerry was.’

Morrigan tried to smile. She knew they were making a joke of it for her sake, so she wouldn’t be scared. She just couldn’t bring herself to find the idea of intruders in their home very funny.

At least these ‘chancers’ were trying to be clever about it, she supposed. That was more than she could say for all the people camped out on the doorstep, hoping she would suddenly appear in a flurry of … of what, she wondered? Did they want her to come out in a long cape with a shrieking, maniacal laugh and set an army of monsters on them, like the legend they’d constructed of Ezra Squall? What exactly were they hoping for?

The simple answer was, of course, fifty thousand kred.

But if they believed the money really was on the table, they must believe Morrigan truly could be a Wundersmith, and everyone knew Wundersmiths were dangerous … which made her wonder why they dared come anywhere near her.

‘Folks’ll do more for money like that,’ Kedgeree said when she’d asked him