like they’re on a rollercoaster, yeah? Exhilarated, that’s the word.’
‘You want me to go out there and … and use the Wundrous Arts?’ said Morrigan, frowning. ‘In front of all those people?’
‘She’s not a performing monkey!’ said Dame Chanda.
But Holliday only had eyes and ears for Morrigan. ‘Laurent St James is out there talking about you all day, every day, and if we don’t respond, we are letting him control the narrative. You don’t know how this works. Nor does Captain North. But I do. The more you hide from these people, the more they want to hunt you.
‘According to St James, you’re either a myth or an attack dog. A made-up threat the Society is dangling over Nevermoor, or a real danger that needs to be dealt with. We need to change that conversation. We need to show people that having a Wundersmith in Nevermoor again can be a good thing. And we need to start by proving you really are a Wundersmith. Laurent St James has put a target on your back, Morrigan. I’m here to help you take it off.’
Morrigan shook her head. ‘You put a target on my back. The anonymous source in the Sunday Post was you, Jupiter already told me the truth.’
Holliday didn’t look even slightly embarrassed or sorry. She brought her face level with Morrigan’s, and spoke in a soft, calm voice. ‘Fine. You like truth? Here’s some truth for you.’
‘Madam, I think it’s time for you to leave,’ Kedgeree said firmly. Fenestra was flexing her claws and gazing at the rack of dresses as though she longed to shred them, and Frank was running interference on the woman with the lighting rig, blocking her every time she tried to set it down.
Holliday ignored them all. ‘You are a liability. Do you know what the Society had to do to contain that disaster at the Museum of Stolen Moments last Hallowmas?’ she asked. ‘Do you know the lies we’ve had to tell, the money and resources we’ve had to spend, the favours we’ve had to cash in, all to shield you from the consequences of that night?’
‘I …’ Morrigan blinked back the tears that were suddenly pricking her eyes. She clenched her jaw once, twice. ‘No. I didn’t know.’
‘Holliday, leave!’ Dame Chanda shouted. ‘Morrigan, darling, don’t listen—’
‘No. You didn’t know,’ Holliday said over the top of her. ‘As good as your intentions might have been, as brave and noble and whatever … you still swooped in where you didn’t belong, where you weren’t asked to be, and made a giant mess. It takes a lot to clean up a mess that big. Guess who got to do it?’
Morrigan’s eyes flicked over to the door and back again. ‘You.’
Holliday nodded. ‘And I did it gladly, because that’s my job and I’m good at it. Now you have a job. The Wundrous Society needs you. Hold your nose, put on a smile, and give us a show.’
She nodded at her assistants, and instantly one of them was there, fitting a microphone to Morrigan’s collar.
‘I – I can’t, I don’t know what to do—’
‘You’re a Wundersmith. You’re the Wundersmith.’ She placed her hands on Morrigan’s shoulders, spun her around, and gave her a little shove. ‘You’ll figure it out.’
And somehow, without having agreed to it, without even taking a moment to consider, Morrigan was walking towards the Deucalion entrance, and the enormous double doors were being opened. She paused, unable to make herself walk through them.
After their third morning of shouting for her to come out, the waiting crowd had settled into a quieter afternoon slump … but as soon as the doors were open, they perked up like a pack of hunting dogs on the scent of a rabbit.
‘THERE SHE IS!’
‘MORRIGAN, WHY HAVE YOU BEEN HIDING?’
‘ W U N DE R S M I T H . W U N DE R S M I T H . W U N DE R S M I T H .’
Morrigan flinched as the big lights came on, nearly blinding her.
The chant grew louder and more urgent, and the eyes and camera lenses in the crowd felt like hundreds of tiny spotlights, shining with greed.
Holliday’s camera operator held up three fingers … two fingers … one … and pointed at Morrigan, mouthing the word, ‘Go.’
‘W U N DE R S M I T H . W U N DE R S M I T H . W U N DE R S M I T H .’
Panic