Hollowpox The Hunt for Morrigan Crow - Jessica Townsend Page 0,148

so tired. ‘Doesn’t it? It thinks … I’m its master.’

He tilted his head to one side. ‘So then. How do you unmake it?’

She made her brain stretch back to what he’d told her earlier. The Hollowpox was one enemy, he’d said, one monster in many bodies. You can command all by commanding one.

‘I have to … tell it to do something?’

‘Clearly and unequivocally.’ He looked at her. ‘You have to mean it, Miss Crow. If it doubts the will behind the words, it won’t listen.’

Some of the Wunimals were stirring. She could hear them murmuring to each other, dazed and bewildered. The great white bearwun grumbled mildly as he heaved himself into a sitting position.

Morrigan felt something soft, warm and furry come to stand beside her, propping her up just as she felt she might topple over with exhaustion. Fen’s enormous grey head bumped her shoulder gently.

‘I can’t do it,’ she whispered.

‘Yes, you can,’ said Fenestra and Squall in unison.

The lights came closer, watching her. Waiting.

She’d thought it would feel good to destroy the Hollowpox once and for all, to know she’d helped prevent Nevermoor’s total devastation. She hadn’t anticipated the strange undercurrent of guilt. It hadn’t asked to be created, after all, but now this thing – this disease, this monster, this whatever it was – was waiting for her judgement.

‘You have to go,’ she said quietly. ‘I want you to go.’

‘Clearly and unequivocally,’ said Squall.

Morrigan thought of Sofia and turned her voice to steel. She felt a rush of power, at once sickening and intoxicating. It was the best and worst feeling she’d ever had.

‘You have to die.’

The Hollowpox listened. Hundreds of green lights blinked out all over Courage Square, one by one. Everything turned black.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Bed Rest

‘Did you have any idea?’

‘What, that she was capable of—’

‘Yeah.’

‘Gosh, no. I don’t think anybody knew. I don’t even think she knew.’

The conversation came to Morrigan through a haze of sleep. Just sounds at first, like tiny little taps on a window, demanding her attention. Formless whispers resolved into words before she was fully awake, and suddenly without meaning to, she was eavesdropping.

‘What about that mad patron of hers?’

‘If Captain North knew, he’s done an awfully good job of pretending. Hey – how do you have this many library books out at once?’

‘Perks of the job.’

Morrigan’s eyes cracked open, just a little, and she saw Miss Cheery bustling around a neatly made bed across from her own. On the end of it sat Roshni Singh, holding on to a pair of crutches and watching Miss Cheery’s movements, a bemused smile on her face.

‘You don’t need to do that, Maz. I can—’

‘You can sit exactly where you are and hush up about it. And stop wriggling about so much, they won’t let you go home today if you pull at your stitches again.’

‘I’m barely moving!’ Roshni said, laughing. She reached for Miss Cheery’s hand and pulled her closer, straightening up to plant a quick kiss on her mouth. ‘Fusspot.’

Morrigan was still feigning sleep – she didn’t want them to know she’d overheard – but it was hard not to grin when Miss Cheery dropped the bossy matron act and swooned theatrically onto the bed beside Roshni, the pair of them giggling like children.

That felt like the right moment to ‘wake up’. Morrigan made a show of stirring, stretching and yawning loudly before fully opening her eyes.

Miss Cheery leapt up and rushed over to Morrigan’s side.

‘Oh my days. You’re awake! You’re actually awake.’ She dropped her voice to a whisper, glancing over her shoulder at the only other occupants of the ward – a lady who was asleep and violently snoring, and an older gentleman who was deep into his crocheting. ‘How are you feeling? Are you all right? Talk to me. Morrigan, say something!’

‘Maybe try letting her get a word in, Marina?’ Roshni suggested.

‘Hi.’ Morrigan’s voice was dry and croaky. ‘I’m fine. Just tired.’

‘No doubt! You’ve been asleep for two days,’ said Roshni.

Bursts of memory came to Morrigan, filtering through her fuzzy, freshly woken brain.

‘Fenestra!’ she said suddenly, trying to sit up and failing (her muscles hadn’t quite woken up either). ‘Where’s Fen? Is she okay? My friend, our housekeeper, she’s a Magnificat—’

‘Oh, you mean that GIANT FLOOF?’ Roshni’s eyes lit up. ‘She’s the one who brought you here! You could tell the hospital staff didn’t want her hanging around because she’s not a Society member, and because she’s bigger than the doorway, and – well – does she always have that