think of someone their own age, lying in a hospital bed. She couldn’t stop thinking of how Jupiter had described them. Nothing on the surface. Nothing underneath. No past, no present. Like black holes.
Hometrain 919 pulled into the station, with Miss Cheery hanging out the side waving at them as usual, and they all piled on board. The copper kettle was already boiling. Mahir dropped teabags into a mismatched assortment of mugs, Lam doled out sugar cubes according to the individual preferences they’d all memorised by now, and Francis offered around the biscuit jar.
‘This is really good gingerbread, Miss,’ he said in a tone of approval. He snapped a piece in half. ‘Good snap. Nice and spicy. And is that … nutmeg?’
‘I’ve no idea, Francis,’ said Miss Cheery, biting into her gingerbread bear.
His face fell a little. ‘Did you not bake it yourself?’
‘No, Francis, I got it from the shop like a normal person.’
‘Where were you yesterday?’ Hawthorne asked Morrigan as they settled into their usual spots, rucksacks abandoned on the floor. ‘Were you sick?’
‘What? No, I was at school.’
‘But you weren’t on Hometrain in the morning.’
‘Or the afternoon! We didn’t see you all day,’ Cadence added with a slight note of accusation in her voice. ‘We were wor— I mean, Hawthorne was worried. Wouldn’t shut up about it. So boring.’
‘Oh. No, um, I took the Brolly Rail in early yesterday morning,’ said Morrigan, stifling a yawn. ‘I had a ghostly hour scheduled for five o’clock. And then I had to stay late.’
‘Five o’clock!’ said Hawthorne. ‘There’s one of those in the morning, too?’
Morrigan rolled her eyes. ‘Ha very ha.’
It wasn’t entirely true. She had come in early and stayed late, but neither of those events had been mandated by the Scholar Mistress or anyone else. The day before yesterday it had occurred to Morrigan that just because Rook carefully designed her timetable each week and she still had to attend the various Arcane and Mundane classes she’d been allocated … technically there was nothing stopping her from visiting extra ghostly hours.
So that afternoon, when school had ended and Sub-Nine was empty of basement nerds, she’d searched through The Book of Ghostly Hours and spent ninety glorious, unscheduled minutes in the company of Li Zhang, one of the first Wundersmiths. He’d demonstrated an element of the art of Veil, cloaking himself in the precise colours and texture of his surroundings, like a human-chameleon hybrid. Morrigan was swept away by the magic of it, and it was nearly dinner time when she’d finally taken a railpod home.
She’d only watched Li Zhang, of course. She was pacing herself and exercising caution and all that, just as she’d been warned to do. Rook couldn’t have complained, and Morrigan didn’t think she’d be in trouble, exactly, but even so … she wanted to keep her extracurricular plans to herself. For now.
‘And what are they teaching you in Wundersmith school?’ Hawthorne continued. ‘Have you learned how to kill fifty grown men with a single glare yet?’
‘A hundred grown men,’ Morrigan corrected him. ‘And all their mates.’
‘Please don’t start this again,’ groaned Anah. She was trying to sound annoyed, but in truth she looked a little scared.
‘Have you made any monsters yet, Morrigan?’ Thaddea piped up. ‘Something with lots of teeth I hope.’
‘And lethal breath,’ added Cadence. ‘And poisonous B.O.’
Morrigan grinned. ‘All good ideas. I’ll make a note.’
‘And have you set a date to conquer Nevermoor?’ Mahir asked her in a serious, business-like tone. ‘I think a Monday would be best. Everyone’ll still be tired from the weekend, so they won’t be up to much fighting back.’
‘Excellent point.’ Morrigan shifted a bit on her floor cushion, getting comfortable. ‘I’ll put it in the conquering calendar.’
‘Will you be conquering all of Nevermoor at once, do you think?’ Arch asked, holding out an imaginary microphone to catch her answer. ‘Or taking it borough by borough?’
‘Borough by borough, I’d have thought,’ said Morrigan. ‘Seems more manageable. Pass the biscuits, please.’
‘Miss Cheery, make them stop!’ Anah whined. After several weeks of this repetitious joke (started, of course, by Hawthorne), she was still the only member of Unit 919 who didn’t find it funny.
Morrigan, on the other hand, was delighted that her unit had decided to tease her about being a Wundersmith. It was much better than being afraid of her. She was holding on to the hope that one of these days, prim, panicky Anah might forget to be frightened and join in instead.
Morrigan stayed after school again that day.