Hollowpox The Hunt for Morrigan Crow - Jessica Townsend Page 0,78
depends which one you’re after. If you want the School of Arcane Arts collection I’m afraid it’s down in Eldritch, but the Mundane is only a block from here.’
Morrigan felt her heart skip. ‘There are … private Mundane and Arcane Arts collections?’
‘Of course. Although they shouldn’t be, if you ask me,’ she added. ‘Private, I mean. We’re a library, not a country club – our collections should be available to all, Wuns and Unwuns alike. But what do I know? I just work here.’
Morrigan strongly agreed. Even the words ‘Wun’ (for a member of the Wundrous Society) and ‘Unwun’ (a non-Society member, i.e. everyone else) sounded stupid to her, and not particularly friendly.
‘Is there something specific you’re looking for?’ Roshni asked her.
What she wanted to ask, of course, was if there was also a Wundrous Arts collection … but of course she couldn’t.
‘Oh, just … something about … um, the history of Wunsoc,’ she mumbled. It was a feeble lie, but Roshni perked up a little, looking pleased.
‘A fellow historian! I think there are a few volumes that might interest you on the corner of Fitzgerald and Phelps – come on, I’ll take you there. Marina, keep an eye on your scholars, will you? That curly-headed boy looks like a right little shelf-climber.’
Morrigan followed Roshni through several rows of towering shelves, from one pool of green light to the next.
‘You know, I think we might have the new edition of Inside Proudfoot—’
The librarian was interrupted by a buzzing, crackling sound from the small silver radio mounted on her belt, followed by a static-drowned voice.
‘Librarian Singh, this is Librarian Feathers. Do you copy?’
Roshni picked up the mouthpiece and pressed a little button on the side. ‘Copy, Colin. What’s up?’
Crackle, crackle, buzz. ‘Mate, we’ve had a situation here in Lilith Gate.’ It sounded like he was trying to catch his breath. ‘That infestation from last week came back. We’ve driven them off but I’m afraid now it looks like they’re headed south. They might be coming your way. Just a heads-up.’
Roshni groaned. ‘Copy that, Colin. Contact Dispatch and see if they can spare a crew to send into Old Town. My lot are busy in the Military History section – The Battle of Buckthorn Glen busted out of its cover yesterday, they’re still cleaning up. I’m here in the Nevermoorian History section with … some guests.’
Buzz, crackle. ‘Copy, Rosh. I’ll let them know.’
‘Infestation?’ asked Morrigan. Just the word infestation made her feel itchy. Infestation of what?
‘Nothing to worry about.’ Roshni touched each of the items on her belt in turn, as if checking they were still there.
Morrigan frowned. ‘Maybe we should go back?’
‘It’s really nothing,’ Roshni assured her with a smile. ‘Look, here we are – Wundrous Society History. Listen, will you be okay to find what you’re looking for? I should just go back to the coach and … check on things,’ she finished vaguely.
Morrigan nodded and made her way down the shelf, trailing a finger along the spines of such books as Inside Proudfoot House and From Aaron Ashby to Zola Zimmerman: A History of Great Wundrous Society Elders and Their Achievements.
Now that she was alone the library was eerily quiet, but every now and then she thought she heard something. A rustling of pages. The creaking of a spine, the soft dull thud of a book cover closing. And other things, sounds she couldn’t quite explain, like the cry of distant whale song, or snatches of old-fashioned music and clinking glasses.
As Morrigan neared the end of a row, something caught her eye at the narrow mouth of a side street. A small sign fixed to the brick wall read:
DEVILISH COURT
BEWARE!
BY ORDER OF THE GEOGRAPHICAL ODDITIES SQUADRON
AND THE NEVERMOOR COUNCIL,
THIS STREET HAS BEEN DECLARED A
RED ALERT TRICKSY LANE
(HIGH-DANGER TRICKERY AND LIKELIHOOD OF DAMAGE TO PERSON ON ENTRY)
ENTER AT OWN RISK
With a tiny jolt, Morrigan suddenly realised which part of Old Town she was in. Devilish Court. This was the Tricksy Lane she’d discovered by accident last year! The one that turned out to be hiding the Ghastly Market.
But there was something different here, something that hadn’t been there in the real Devilish Court … or at least, she hadn’t noticed it. Inlaid on the brickwork beneath the sign was a tiny golden circle. Morrigan stepped closer and it began to glow, pulsing in time with her quickening heartbeat. The imprint on her finger tingled.
Had the circle started glowing for her? Like it sensed she had permission to enter and was