Hollowpox The Hunt for Morrigan Crow - Jessica Townsend Page 0,22

and tried to scramble away. Morrigan felt fear grip her throat. She tried to swallow, but her mouth had gone dry. All she could do was tighten her hold on Baby Dave. Hawthorne stood in front of Morrigan, shielding his sister.

The lights of the next station suddenly came streaming in through the windows, and Morrigan breathed a sigh of relief as the train began to slow.

‘Let’s get off at this stop,’ said Hawthorne urgently. ‘We’ll catch the next train and meet everyone at Tucker Park Place. Mum and Dad will understand, and we’ll only be a couple of minutes behind them.’

‘Good idea,’ agreed Morrigan, keeping her gaze on the bizarre behaviour of the Wunimal as they made their way to the nearest exit.

But the doors were taking too long to open, and the leopardwun was stalking towards them, still sniffing the air like it was looking for something. An oblivious Baby Dave laughed happily as she yanked the scarlet ribbon in Morrigan’s hair.

The leopardwun grew still at the sound. Her eyes fixed on Baby Dave, who made another happy squealing sound.

It happened so quickly.

Morrigan saw the big cat’s eyes flash a bright emerald green, as though somebody had turned on a light behind them. It leapt up onto the windows, then onto the ceiling, seemingly defying gravity, bounding between passengers and leaving startled screams in its wake, until suddenly it landed just in front of them, growling and baring its teeth.

Morrigan had the briefest flash of a thought that she ought to call Wunder and … and do something … but it all happened in a matter of frantic milliseconds, and after all, what could she possibly do with Baby Dave in her arms, even if she knew what to do?

The leopardwun crouched, preparing to leap straight towards them and then—

WALLOP!

The group of ladies had leapt up from their seats, swinging their heavy purses and carpet bags filled with heaven-knows-what. They lunged for the leopardwun as a single entity, fury trumping fear as they surrounded the big cat and thumped it into submission. It yowled and cowered away from them.

‘How very dare—’

‘A baby!’

‘You ought to be ashamed—’

‘A BABY!’

‘Bog off, spotty!’

‘A WEE LITTLE BABY, for goodness’ sake!’

‘This station is Scholars’ Crossing,’ intoned the calm, pleasant voice on the loudspeaker. ‘Alight here for Nevermoor University, West Campus.’

The doors of the train finally pinged open at Scholars’ Crossing station and the leopardwun had no choice but to get off, since it was being steamrollered out onto the platform by the gang of surprisingly vicious elderly ladies.

‘Gwan, get orf!’

‘And let this be a lesson!’

‘Why they ever let Wunimals on trains to begin with—’

The doors closed with a whoosh, and the whole carriage broke into loud applause.

‘Th-thank you,’ said Hawthorne in a shaky voice.

‘Yes,’ Morrigan said breathlessly. ‘Thank you.’ She couldn’t think what else to say. Her brain had gone numb.

‘Poor little love,’ said one of the women, clucking sympathetically and pinching Baby Dave’s cheek. ‘Got the fright of her life, didn’t she, the braw wee thing.’

But braw wee Baby Dave wasn’t frightened at all. In fact, she seemed utterly tickled by the whole episode. She giggled and waved goodbye to the leopardwun as the train took off, leaving the Wunimal stalking up and down the platform, snapping its jaws in an agitated state and heaving in great shuddering breaths. Morrigan noticed that Hawthorne, on the other hand, had gone a bit pale.

‘Let’s, er … let’s not tell Dad about this,’ he muttered as he took his little sister from Morrigan, trying unsuccessfully to bounce her up and down on his hip. ‘He’ll only get upset and blame himself for us being separated. I’ll tell Mum later, she’ll be a bit calmer about it. Tomorrow, maybe, or – no, that’ll ruin Christmas. Maybe the day after.’

Morrigan nodded and allowed Baby Dave to yank violently at her scarlet ribbon for the rest of the trip.

‘Oh, the marching band!’ said Helena, snapping her fingers. ‘Saint Nick’s invisible marching band, all those instruments playing themselves. That was the best bit.’

‘Did you taste one of those mince pies? Best I’ve ever had,’ said Cat, who was sitting with Dave on the squishiest sofa. Baby Dave – tuckered out from their Wunderground mis-adventure – had fallen asleep between her parents with one hand stuck in a bowlful of popcorn, snoring softly. ‘Morrigan, what was your favourite bit?’

Morrigan thought about it as she watched her skewered marshmallow sizzle in the flames, turning it over to blacken all the sides. (The Swift