Hollowpox The Hunt for Morrigan Crow - Jessica Townsend Page 0,145

bracing yourself to jump off when the right moment – and the right landing spot – arrived. It was a peculiarly Nevermoorian experience, hitting just the right notes of exhilarating joy and absolute terror.

There was something extra terrifying about it, however, when you were gliding along a rail that didn’t exist five minutes ago and was building itself as you went, and you didn’t know where or when or indeed if you would ever land.

Morrigan tried to keep her eyes focused on following Squall and hoped he wasn’t leading her to her death. But she couldn’t resist a peek back at the menagerie of green-eyed Wunimals gaining speed behind her. They came out in numbers greater than she could have imagined, running and slithering and flying and galloping. It was just as Squall had described – she was a beacon guiding them onwards, drawing out the Hollowpox and leading its victims towards … towards what? Were they hunting her, or was she trapping them?

Only Squall knew.

She could at least take comfort from the fact that if his plan was to kill her, this was a spectacularly inefficient way to do it.

They sped through the city for a long time. Morrigan felt the strength in her arms start to give, and was just wondering how much longer she could hold on to her brolly when it became suddenly clear where they were headed.

Chasing Squall through the West Gate into Old Town, she flew past the Nevermoor Opera House and right down the middle of Grand Boulevard towards the centre of the city. Up ahead, Squall reached the golden fountain in the middle of Courage Square, alighted from his shadow horse and let it vanish into the Gossamer.

Morrigan dropped from the Brolly Rail with much less grace, her legs jolting painfully when she landed on the cobblestones. She stumbled a few steps but managed to stay upright … until she looked back the way she’d come, and her knees buckled.

Countless specks of green light were blinking into view, emerging from every street, alleyway and avenue that fed into Courage Square. Hundreds of them, hundreds and hundreds … an army of horns, hooves, talons and fangs, their glowing eyes all fixed on Morrigan as they closed around her and Squall.

The closer the infected Wunimals came, however, the warier they seemed. They snarled and snapped, slavered and growled, inching forward and then jumping back, each apparently waiting for some signal from the others.

Squall was right. She confused them.

‘What do I do?’ she asked him, shaking.

‘You destroy it,’ he said. ‘Mercilessly and without hesitation. But most of all, thoroughly. If Nevermoor is to be rid of the Hollowpox, truly rid of it, it must be finished off all at once. If you allow even one particle to survive, you give it permission to flourish. You must get this right the first time.’

‘Yes, but how—’

‘Wait,’ he said, holding up a hand. ‘Let them come closer.’

Slowly, they came near enough that Morrigan could see them as individuals. She thought she even recognised a few of them. She was sure she knew the great white bearwun who worked as a doorman at the Hotel Aurianna, a few blocks over from the Deucalion. And the lizardwun who played the upright bass in Frank’s favourite band, Iguanarama.

‘Think of them as one being,’ said Squall, as if he’d read her mind. ‘One enemy, one monster in many bodies. You can command all by commanding one. Do you understand?’

Morrigan swallowed. ‘Not really.’

What had Squall led them here for, exactly? When he talked about destruction, did he mean – did he expect her to kill them? She was supposed to be helping them, not luring them to their deaths.

A huge, brightly coloured birdwun swooped down on her head. Morrigan screamed and batted it away, trying to protect herself.

‘Wait,’ said Squall warningly.

‘Wait for what?’ she shouted. ‘Wait for them all to attack me?’

Squall kept his eyes on the circle of Wunimals rapidly closing around them. He seemed perfectly calm.

Of course he’s calm, she thought. He could disappear into the Gossamer at any moment. But not her. She’d followed his instructions blindly, laid herself out like bait and walked into what might still turn out to be the most obvious trap in the world. And now she was stuck.

Morrigan’s pulse beat loudly inside her skull. Her lungs heaved as if she couldn’t take in enough air. She felt like an utter fool. Was she really going to die here, in Courage Square? Nobody would ever