him pick up the chart hanging off the end of her bed, then put it back. He’d already read it twelve or thirteen times – excessive, Morrigan thought, considering all it said was ‘BED REST’ in large capital letters.
‘Jupiter,’ she said firmly. ‘Sit down, please. I want to ask you something.’
He came over and yanked her pillows out from behind her head to fluff them up for the millionth time. ‘Of course. Just let me fix—’
‘SIT. DOWN. PLEASE.’
She said it so loudly that even hard-of-hearing Mr Schultz at the other end of the ward jumped with fright, his crochet hooks clattering onto his lap.
Jupiter finally, reluctantly, dropped into the chair beside Morrigan’s bed, looking as if he’d quite like to leap back up again and rearrange her many flower-filled vases. She gave him a pointed look, and he sat on his hands.
‘By all means,’ he said magnanimously. ‘Ask away.’
She looked him in the eye. ‘The infected Wunimals. The ones here in the hospital. They haven’t recovered, have they? They weren’t cured when the Hollowpox died. They’re still …’ She lowered her voice. ‘They’re still unnimals, aren’t they?’
He rubbed the back of his neck, taking a moment to respond. ‘Dr Bramble is—’
‘Don’t say it,’ she snapped. ‘Don’t say she’s getting closer to a cure every day, Jupiter. Not unless you mean it. Not unless it’s true.’
She glared at him, waiting, while his face transitioned through the argument inside his head. It was clear he wanted to stick with defiant optimism, but he seemed to realise that wasn’t going to fly any more.
‘They’re … Yes. They’re still unnimals,’ he conceded. ‘The ones that are awake.’
‘And the others?’ she asked, thinking of Sofia. She curled her hands into fists around the blankets. ‘What will happen to them when they wake up? Will they be … hollow?’
‘We don’t know for certain.’
‘But if you had to guess?’
Jupiter didn’t answer that. He didn’t need to. They sat quietly for a while, feeling the weight of the conversation settle.
‘I wasn’t lying to you,’ he said at last. ‘Those other times. Dr Bramble really was close. Or at least … she thought she was.’ He paused, looking up at the ceiling for a moment, collecting himself. ‘We’re not giving up, Mog. We’re going to bring them back.’
When he met her gaze, his bright blue eyes were wide and earnest, but she could tell he was trying to persuade himself as much as her. She nodded and gave a small, tight-lipped smile that she hoped was convincing.
‘I have something for you, too, by the way,’ he said, glancing at the things surrounding her bed. ‘Not quite as extravagant as Dame Chanda’s bouquet, but I think you’ll like it. I had to become a burglar to get it.’
Morrigan raised an eyebrow. ‘You what?’
‘Mmm.’ He ruffled up his hair and shrugged, obviously trying to look casual. ‘Decided to try it last night. Something different.’
‘You decided to try … becoming a burglar,’ Morrigan repeated, and she couldn’t keep the scepticism from her voice.
‘Yeah, just this one time. Won’t be making a habit of it,’ Jupiter said, sniffing, then added, ‘Mind you, I was exceptionally good.’ As he spoke, he hopped up lightly and ran to fetch his coat, reaching into an inner pocket and retrieving something Morrigan had thought she might never see again. He held it out to her.
‘Emmett,’ she whispered, taking the old, battered-looking toy rabbit with both hands.
Something squeezed in her chest.
Emmett. Her friend.
Morrigan looked up at Jupiter. ‘You went all the way to Jackalfax. And broke into Crow Manor.’ Her voice cracked. It was hard to swallow past the lump in her throat. ‘Just … just to steal him for me?’
Jupiter smiled a little sheepishly. ‘Well, technically I didn’t steal him. He belongs to you.’
Morrigan was silent for a moment. She stared at the rabbit, blinking fiercely, and cleared her throat. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome. Dear old thing, isn’t he?’ Jupiter reached out to tug at one of Emmett’s floppy ears, but stopped when Morrigan instinctively snatched the rabbit away. He held his hands up. ‘Sorry.’
‘No, it’s fine, it’s just …’ She floundered for a moment, suddenly embarrassed. ‘He’s so old, that’s all. He’s falling apart.’
‘May I have him for a moment?’ Jupiter asked, and hastily added, ‘I’ll be gentle.’
Morrigan hesitated. ‘Um … all right.’
Jupiter took Emmett from her with tender care. He cradled the rabbit, studying its seams and stitches, the patches where his yellowing white fur had been worn away by too much love, the orphaned thread