people to turn on their Wunimal friends and neighbours. The government, afraid of instigating mass panic, had yet to directly address the growing whispers about the Hollowpox, instead asking the Wundrous Society to continue trying to contain it. But in many ways the lack of official information made it worse. Rumours and inaccuracies spread like wildfire, until nobody knew what to believe.
Jupiter was constantly out helping the Stealth identify infected Wunimals, and he spent every Friday night patrolling the Nevermoor Bazaar. If there was an attack in a crowd of thousands of people, the knock-on effects could be dire. It could cause a stampede. He’d even enlisted Jack’s help; his nephew’s ability as a Witness was coming along in leaps and bounds, and Jupiter said he was a great asset to the Hollowpox task force.
Every Saturday morning at dawn, Morrigan would be waiting in the Smoking Parlour to make Jack and Jupiter sit and inhale waves of rosemary smoke, eat a proper breakfast and drink some tea.
To her great disgust, Jupiter had forbidden Morrigan to attend the Nevermoor Bazaar at all that summer, and to the great disgust of everyone in Unit 919, he had contacted their patrons and parents to suggest the same. It was simply too risky, he’d said. There were fewer Wunimals at the Bazaar than ever before – most having apparently taken on the message to stay home – but plenty were still out and about. Some were just trying to make a living, some either didn’t understand or didn’t care. And some were there as a counterprotest to the Concerned Citizens of Nevermoor.
‘Why don’t they just cancel the Bazaar this summer, if it’s so dangerous?’ Jack had asked him at the time.
‘If you can convince the Nevermoor Chamber of Commerce to shut down their mammoth mid-year economy boost, by all means do,’ Jupiter replied. ‘Believe me, we’ve tried. The best we can do is get out there and try to head off any trouble before it arises.’ He’d squeezed Jack’s shoulder then, looking him dead in the eye. ‘You’ve no idea what a help you are, Jackie. I’m proud of you.’
Jupiter had also managed to bring in another two Witnesses to help, people he knew from outside Nevermoor. So far they’d identified sixteen infected Wunimals at the Bazaar. Morrigan could tell Jack was glad to be involved, even if it was draining work.
The worst things they’d reported to Morrigan weren’t any attacks committed by Wunimals themselves, but attacks against them. At a Sweet Street stall that sold hand-stretched caramel by the metre, Jupiter had stepped in to physically remove a man yelling at a ten-year-old rabbitwun to go home. A pigwun glassblower was heartbroken when his stall in the South Quarter got destroyed by vandals, and all his delicate creations smashed to pieces.
The Concerned Citizens had set themselves up in the same spot on Grand Boulevard every Friday night to shout their hateful words for a public audience, and every Friday night their audience had grown. Jupiter and the Stealth had tried to have them moved on, but the Stink had stepped in, insisting that what they were doing was perfectly legal. Jupiter grew more furious about it with every week that passed, and on the seventh Saturday of summer he returned to the Deucalion at dawn positively incandescent with rage.
‘—ill-bred halfwit with a bad haircut and an undersized heart!’ he was shouting as he and Jack entered the Smoking Parlour.
‘Yeah, I know.’ Jack shot a wide-eyed look at Morrigan, rubbing his temples, and gratefully accepted the cup of chamomile tea she’d poured. ‘You said that.’
‘I’d like to shove his megaphone right up his—’
‘You said that too. A few times.’
‘—nose!’ Jupiter paced the parlour floor, hands on hips, chest heaving. ‘And I’ll tell you what else, he’s making it more dangerous for himself and everyone else at the Bazaar, only he’s too stupid to know it. Every week, more Wunimals join in the counterprotest at Grand Boulevard. Any one of them could be infected, any one of them could attack him and, frankly, who would blame them?’
‘The Concerned Citizens of Nevermoor would probably love it if one of them got injured.’ Jack sighed. ‘Think of the publicity.’
‘Can I come next week?’ asked Morrigan. ‘I want to help.’ (She also wanted to see the Bazaar at least once before summer ended.)
‘Absolutely not. Even Jack’s not coming next week.’
Jack cracked open his one visible eye. ‘I’m not?’
‘He’s not?’
‘He’s not,’ said Jupiter, then turned to Jack. ‘You’re not.’
‘But