and then in a slurred clarification she added, ‘Doolekion. Doykelion. Durkel … loyne,’ before the world went sideways, then black.
Morrigan did not wake up in the Hotel Durkeloyne, or in any hotel.
At first, she thought she was at home. That perhaps Room 85 was annoyed with her again and had transformed her bed into some weird, uncomfortable slab. But no. Apparently, that was what passed for a bed in the Wundrous Society Teaching Hospital.
It took several minutes to piece together the night’s events, while her brain slowly stretched itself awake. She remembered a lot of water. She remembered being attacked by Brutilus Brown, and … had Thaddea been there? Was that how she got to the hospital?
Morrigan’s left leg was neatly bandaged, and it throbbed dully in time with her pulse. She tried to bend her knee but failed, groaning loudly as the pain shot all the way down to her toes.
‘Got yourself a nasty scratch there, pet,’ drawled the bored-looking nurse who brought her breakfast. ‘You’ve had a rubbish night, haven’t you?’
Understatement of the Age, thought Morrigan. Slowly, gingerly, she propped herself up on her pillows to look around. Half the other beds on the ward were occupied, mostly by grown-up Society members, and one or two scholars. She’d never been in a hospital before. It was very … clean. And white. And it smelled a bit weird.
‘Not my best,’ she croaked in agreement. ‘I got chased by a bearwun and then I drowned.’
‘Oh aye,’ said the nurse, with minimal interest. He lifted Morrigan’s wrist to take her pulse, making a note on his clipboard. ‘That’s dreadful, that is. Mrs Rooper over there slipped getting out the bathtub. Terrible night all round.’
‘Was anyone else brought here last night?’ asked Morrigan. ‘A girl named Heloise?’
‘The green-haired drama queen? Aye. Treated her for shock.’ He leaned in, rolling his eyes, and whispered, ‘Draped her in a blanket and sent her on her way.’
So, then. Playing dead had been the smart tactic. Morrigan winced as her leg seized with sudden pain, fervently wishing she’d thought of it herself.
‘Does anyone … um, know I’m here? My patron, or …’
‘Ginger fella? Big flirt? Thinks he’s funny?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘Pet, I had to tell him to jog on. Never met such a hoverer!’ he said indignantly. ‘Said I’d send for him when you woke up, so I suppose I should go and—’
‘MOG! Mog, you’re awake! I’m here!’ Jupiter’s voice boomed through the double doors before they’d even fully opened.
‘—let him know,’ the nurse finished, rolling his eyes again as he moved on to his next patient.
Jupiter’s hair was standing at an odd angle on one side of his head and his eyes were wide, as though he’d not slept all night. He crossed the room in three enormous strides and enveloped Morrigan in a bone-crushing hug.
‘I – Jup— okay, then.’ She crumpled and let herself be held tight, just for a minute.
Once they’d collected themselves, Morrigan told Jupiter the whole story from start to finish, piecing together her hazy, jagged memories as she went and watching his face grow paler and his fingernails shorter with every awful detail. When she got to the bit about drowning in the Tricksy Lane, he made a weird squeaking noise, jumped up and started pacing back and forth at the end of her bed, running his fingers agitatedly through his beard.
‘But, you know.’ She gave a casual shrug, hoping he would take the hint, sit down and be cool. ‘It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.’
Jupiter shot a pointed look at her bandaged leg, not bothering to dignify her comment with a response. Then he swept out of the hospital, pledging to find Brutilus Brown before he could harm anyone else.
Morrigan wasn’t sure this was his greatest idea ever, and she said so as he ran for the door, but of course he wasn’t in the right frame of mind to workshop a better plan. She waved him off with a resigned sigh, feeling quite certain that by morning he’d either have had Brutilus Brown sentenced for his crimes in a makeshift people’s court or – more likely – been mauled to death.
She closed her eyes, giving in to a depth of tiredness she’d never felt before.
Jupiter returned the next day somewhat calmer, at least partly due to the influence of Dame Chanda, who’d come along too. She gathered a chorus of bluebirds to sing Morrigan a get-well-soon song, and squirrels to help fluff her pillows. Except the squirrels either didn’t