Hollowpox The Hunt for Morrigan Crow - Jessica Townsend Page 0,120

about it. ‘Greed trumps fear.’

The power of greed was underlined on Thursday morning, when Morrigan heard on the radio in the Smoking Parlour that Scumbag St James had doubled his reward.

‘One hundred thousand kred?’ Jack shrieked.

Morrigan raised her eyebrows. ‘He must be getting desperate.’

‘Desperate for more attention, yeah. The Concerned Citizens have been in the headlines every day this week. I bet that’s worth more to someone like him than a hundred thousand kred.’ He paused to think. ‘Morrigan, how about I film you doing something Wundrous and we split the reward money, sixty-forty?’

‘Am I sixty or forty?’

‘Forty. Obviously.’

She pretended to consider it. ‘Seventy-thirty. I’m seventy.’

‘Hmm. How about ninety-ten? I’m ninety.’

‘How about I get back to you never?’

He held out a hand, and they shook on it. ‘Pleasure not doing business with you.’

Jack had arrived home unexpectedly the night before with an impassioned speech for Jupiter about how he ought to take the rest of the week off school ‘in solidarity with Morrigan’. (Morrigan happened to know he had a physics exam on Thursday afternoon that he hadn’t studied for, but she didn’t rat him out.) After two full days away from Sub-Nine and her friends, she was so bored, and already his company was making her exile from Wunsoc slightly more bearable. They were having such a pleasant morning, she could almost ignore the distant sounds of the crowd in the forecourt shouting her name.

By afternoon, however, news of the doubled reward quadrupled the crowd outside the Deucalion, making them much harder to ignore. They’d given up asking questions. They’d even stopped shouting Morrigan’s name.

Now they were simply chanting one word over and over, like a magic spell that might make her appear.

WUNDERSMITH.

WUNDERSMITH.

WUNDERSMITH.

There was another surprise visitor later that day. Not a pleasant surprise.

Morrigan, Martha, Jack and Charlie had spent the afternoon playing boardgames in a peaceful, pinky-orange haze in the Smoking Parlour (peach smoke: to evoke sweet memories of summer), but they were drawn to the lobby by the sound of raised voices.

‘There’s no need to fuss, Chanda, I just want to speak with her.’

‘It’s Dame Chanda to you. And Jupiter has already told you, repeatedly, the answer is no—’

‘I’d like to hear that from Morrigan herself, if you don’t mind.’

‘But that’s just it, we do mind!’

In an emerald green three-piece suit and gold leather boots, with her shiny black hair piled high on her head, Holliday Wu looked like the pages of a fashion magazine brought to life. She was surrounded by half a dozen others, all dressed in black and hauling various kit – including a lighting rig, an enormous camera, and an entire rack of clothing in Morrigan’s size. They were facing off against Dame Chanda, Kedgeree, Frank and Fenestra, who stood at the bottom of the spiral staircase like a team of bouncers, blocking the way.

‘Where is Jupiter?’ demanded Dame Chanda. ‘Does he know you’re here?’

Holliday gave a casual shrug, examining her fingernails. ‘I believe he had an important meeting with the Hollowpox task force.’

‘How convenient.’ The soprano narrowed her eyes. ‘I might remind you that you’re also on the Hollowpox task force, Holliday. Why aren’t you there?’

‘Because I have an important meeting with— ah! There you are. Time we sorted this mess out, don’t you think?’ said Holliday, her eyes on Morrigan descending the stairs.

Dame Chanda whipped around. ‘Morrigan! You do not have to do this.’

‘Do what?’

‘Okay, you lot start setting up, I want everything in place before we open those doors.’ Holliday clapped her hands twice and her crew jumped into action, setting up what looked like a small film set, right in front of the Deucalion’s closed double doors. ‘Lizzie, I’ve changed my mind about the red dress. Too aggressive. Let’s go for a nice baby blue – play up the harmless-little-girl thing. Hair out please, Carlos, but pin the front back, we want them to see her face. Maxine, let’s powder out that shiny forehead and get a touch of blush on those cheeks, she’s far too pale.’

There was a sudden flurry of movement around Morrigan as dresses were held up against her, a gigantic powder puff dusted all over her face until she sneezed, and a brush yanked through her messy hair. Morrigan was so shocked she didn’t even bat them away.

‘All right, so. What’s in your repertoire?’ Holliday asked her. ‘The fireblossoms were fab, but we need something fresh. Bold. But not dangerous, we don’t want anyone out there feeling threatened. Or maybe we do, a bit –