Hollowpox The Hunt for Morrigan Crow - Jessica Townsend Page 0,16
single sapling fir sprouting from the black-and-white chequerboard floor. The tree shot straight upwards, splitting the marble with ease, spilling broken rubble from the base of the trunk and frightening the life out of poor old Kedgeree, who’d been minding his own business at the concierge desk nearby.
By the next morning, the sapling was all grown up, nearly to the full height of the room. It stopped just beneath the sparkling black bird chandelier, which had turned silver for the occasion and looked a bit like an angel perched on top of a Christmas tree, if you squinted sideways at it.
A mere three weeks later, the entire lobby was a wintry evergreen forest, filled with birdsong and the earthy smell of fir trees, their branches dusted with snow.
It wasn’t real snow. But that was part of what made it so magical. The thick, sparkling blanket of white on the lobby-forest floor never melted, never turned ice-slick or went to slush. Day after day it was crisp and glittery, powder-soft, dry to the touch … and so satisfyingly crunchy to stomp through in boots.
After the first few days, Dame Chanda Kali – opera singer extraordinaire and Dame Commander of the Order of Woodland Whisperers – had decided she’d quite like to see some wildlife among the trees, so she threw open the Deucalion’s front doors and sang her favourite carol (‘The Yuletide Hymn’) until a cohort of enamoured woodland creatures gathered in the lobby, drawn irresistibly to the sound of her voice, and made themselves at home among the trees. Morrigan’s favourite was a friendly red robin who greeted her each morning after breakfast and left tiny little tracks in the snow.
Kedgeree the concierge took to wearing his coat, scarf and mittens indoors, and he and Charlie the chauffeur had to dig out a few fire pits here and there so that the guests could gather round them for warmth while waiting to check in or check out. But these minor inconveniences aside, staff and guests alike were altogether delighted with the transformation. Jupiter was so full of Christmas cheer, he began studding his prodigious ginger beard with tiny bells and fairy lights every morning.
‘As if he wasn’t noisy enough,’ grumbled Fenestra the Magnificat, the Deucalion’s head of housekeeping, every time she heard him jingling down the halls.
But even cranky Fenestra, who like most cats wasn’t terribly fond of cold weather – or change in general – was eventually taken by the holiday spirit.
‘I actually saw Fen frolicking today,’ Martha, the young housemaid, whispered one evening as Morrigan drew a bath in her talon-foot tub. ‘Frolicking! In the snow! Like a playful little kitten!’
‘What?’ Morrigan’s eyes had shot up from the dresser, where she was choosing an elixir. In her shock, she managed to knock over her favourite pink rose bubble oil, splashing half the bottle into the water. The bubbles turned into floating rosebuds, and within seconds the bath was in full bloom – hundreds of flowers spilling out of the porcelain and onto the marble floor. ‘Fen? Are you sure?’
Since Fenestra the Magnificat was roughly the size of an elephant and scornful of most things that brought others joy, Morrigan found this hard to picture in her mind.
‘On my life, I did.’ Martha held a hand to her heart, her face utterly solemn. ‘She swears she was chasing a hare through the trees, but I know a frolic when I see one.’
The only person who hadn’t been overly pleased about the festive decor was Frank the vampire dwarf. The Deucalion’s resident party planner was rather put out that his chosen theme for the annual Hotel Deucalion Christmas Soiree had been vetoed by the hotel itself.
‘I had everything planned!’ Frank moaned, when it was becoming clear the forest was here to stay for the season. ‘I’ve got the invitations all ready to go out. Now I’m going to have to do them again. I was going for dark glamour this year – all black and gold and dripping red. Tuxedos and evening gowns. Diamonds and dim lighting. It’s impossible to do dark glamour with a bunch of big-eyed woodland unnimals hopping around, looking cute. I try to bring a touch of class to this place and look what it gives me in return. Bunnies and badgers.’ He downed a full teacup of eggnog in dramatic fashion, then wiped his mouth and stared miserably at a little bluebird singing on a branch. ‘My talents are wasted again.’