‘They’re fine; they were worried about you,’ Fen said in a rush. ‘Came running into the lobby shouting your name, said some other friend had seen you in a dream or a vision or something … surrounded by fire and teeth. They tried to make me bring them to find you, but—’
‘Lam,’ Morrigan whispered.
And in the middle of the madness, she felt a peculiar moment of peace. A weight lifted from her shoulders that she hadn’t even known she was carrying.
Squall had been right about Wunsoc ‘ flipping the script’. He’d been right that Dr Bramble wouldn’t find a cure. But when he said Wundersmiths didn’t have friends, he couldn’t have been more wrong.
Morrigan had friends. True friends, friends who worried about her, and who she worried about in return. Not the long-dead ghosts of Sub-Nine’s history, but real, living friends who would break down a door to reach her when she was in danger. Friends who were family, who would defend her against anything, like Jupiter, and run through a horde of crazed Wunimals to protect her, like Fen. And she knew she’d do the same for them, no matter what.
That was what made her and Squall different. She wasn’t him. The sudden certainty of it made her feel buoyant and brave.
‘Miss Crow, we are running out of time,’ said Squall urgently. Fenestra, noticing him for the first time, jumped so high she just about left her body. ‘You can’t hold them off forever. If you don’t do something now—’
‘I know! Shush, I’m thinking.’
‘Squall,’ growled Fenestra. Her fur stood on end. It looked like she’d been electrocuted.
‘He’s helping me destroy the Hollowpox,’ Morrigan told her. Fen’s mouth fell open in shock or dismay or possibly both. She appeared to have lost the power of speech.
‘Miss Crow – now!’ shouted Squall.
She closed her eyes, shutting out the external noise, trying to pretend she was alone.
Use what you know. What you’re good at.
Inferno, she thought. I’m good at Inferno.
Everything is connected.
Morrigan opened her eyes and looked down at the ground, at the pattern between the uneven cobblestones.
She knelt down and reached towards the ground, taking a deep breath – and squealed as she was knocked sideways by a giant grey paw.
‘Ow! Fen, what—’
‘MORRIGAN, GET DOWN!’
The great white bearwun was rushing at her through the flames, bellowing like a wounded giant. But Fenestra was easily twice the size of the bearwun, and when she roared back at him over the top of Morrigan’s head, it was so loud it hurt her ears and vibrated through her entire body. The bearwun flinched away, but quickly recovered and lunged for Morrigan again. Fen stepped in just in time, and the bearwun’s jaws closed tight around the Magnificat’s neck, twisting and bringing her head down onto the cobblestones with a resounding CRACK.
‘FEN!’ Morrigan screamed.
And suddenly – as if this was the cue they’d been waiting for – the Wunimals set upon Fenestra like a swarm of book bugs. Within seconds, nothing of her could be seen but one enormous paw grasping blindly, its sharp claws drawing blood wherever they made contact.
With a raging, wordless shriek, something like a battle cry, Morrigan pressed both her palms to the ground. Channelling every scrap of fear and fury inside, she unleashed it in one pulsing burst of fire that surprised even her. It spread instantly across the whole of Courage Square, in a pattern of interconnecting cracks and spaces between the cobblestones. The square lit up like an electrical grid struck by lightning. It was more than just fire, it was energy, bright and burning, and it lifted every Wunimal in Courage Square metres into the air, rising like heat itself. They paused there, suspended, for just a moment, until the fire burned itself out and went dark.
The Wunimals dropped to the ground with a sound like a forest of trees being cut down, all at once. Just like at the Sunset Gala, the nebulous green glow of the Hollowpox left their bodies, rose up into the air and hovered there uncertainly.
Morrigan swayed on the spot, ears ringing as she watched the eerie display. The sudden silence in Courage Square was like a blanket, heavy and soft. It felt like they’d entered the eye of a storm.
She’d done it. She’d done something big.
‘Now what?’ she asked, in a hushed voice that didn’t quite convey her inner panic. This was the moment, she could feel it: if she didn’t destroy the Hollowpox now, each one of these hundreds of fragments of it, these parasites, could split apart and disappear into the night. Zoom away to who-knew-where and infect hundreds, maybe thousands of new Wunimals.
The lights flickered around her like little emerald fireflies, swarming together and splitting apart, but keeping a respectful distance. Waiting.
Morrigan turned to Squall, who was watching them with a detached curiosity.
‘It thinks I’m you.’ She felt her legs give way a little. She was so tired. ‘Doesn’t it? It thinks … I’m its master.’
He tilted his head to one side. ‘So then. How do you unmake it?’
She made her brain stretch back to what he’d told her earlier. The Hollowpox was one enemy, he’d said, one monster in many bodies. You can command all by commanding one.
‘I have to … tell it to do something?’
‘Clearly and unequivocally.’ He looked at her. ‘You have to mean it, Miss Crow. If it doubts the will behind the words, it won’t listen.’
Some of the Wunimals were stirring. She could hear them murmuring to each other, dazed and bewildered. The great white bearwun grumbled mildly as he heaved himself into a sitting position.
Morrigan felt something soft, warm and furry come to stand beside her, propping her up just as she felt she might topple over with exhaustion. Fen’s enormous grey head bumped her shoulder gently.
‘I can’t do it,’ she whispered.
‘Yes, you can,’ said Fenestra and Squall in unison.
The lights came closer, watching her. Waiting.
She’d thought it would feel good to destroy the Hollowpox once and for all, to know she’d helped prevent Nevermoor’s total devastation. She hadn’t anticipated the strange undercurrent of guilt. It hadn’t asked to be created, after all, but now this thing – this disease, this monster, this whatever it was – was waiting for her judgement.
‘You have to go,’ she said quietly. ‘I want you to go.’
‘Clearly and unequivocally,’ said Squall.
Morrigan thought of Sofia and turned her voice to steel. She felt a rush of power, at once sickening and intoxicating. It was the best and worst feeling she’d ever had.
‘You have to die.’
The Hollowpox listened. Hundreds of green lights blinked out all over Courage Square, one by one. Everything turned black.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Bed Rest
‘Did you have any idea?’
‘What, that she was capable of—’
‘Yeah.’
‘Gosh, no. I don’t think anybody knew. I don’t even think she knew.’
The conversation came to Morrigan through a haze of sleep. Just sounds at first, like tiny little taps on a window, demanding her attention. Formless whispers resolved into words before she was fully awake, and suddenly without meaning to, she was eavesdropping.
‘What about that mad patron of hers?’
‘If Captain North knew, he’s done an awfully good job of pretending. Hey – how do you have this many library books out at once?’
‘Perks of the job.’
Morrigan’s eyes cracked open, just a little, and she saw Miss Cheery bustling around a neatly made bed across from her own. On the end of it sat Roshni Singh, holding on to a pair of crutches and watching Miss Cheery’s movements, a bemused smile on her face.
‘You don’t need to do that, Maz. I can—’
‘You can sit exactly where you are and hush up about it. And stop wriggling about so much, they won’t let you go home today if you pull
at your stitches again.’
‘I’m barely moving!’ Roshni said, laughing. She reached for Miss Cheery’s hand and pulled her closer, straightening up to plant a quick kiss on her mouth. ‘Fusspot.’
Morrigan was still feigning sleep – she didn’t want them to know she’d overheard – but it was hard not to grin when Miss Cheery dropped the bossy matron act and swooned theatrically onto the bed beside Roshni, the pair of them giggling like children.
That felt like the right moment to ‘wake up’. Morrigan made a show of stirring, stretching and yawning loudly before fully opening her eyes.
Miss Cheery leapt up and rushed over to Morrigan’s side.
‘Oh my days. You’re awake! You’re actually awake.’ She dropped her voice to a whisper, glancing over her shoulder at the only other occupants of the ward – a lady who was asleep and violently snoring, and an older gentleman who was deep into his crocheting. ‘How are you feeling? Are you all right? Talk to me. Morrigan, say something!’
‘Maybe try letting her get a word in, Marina?’ Roshni suggested.
‘Hi.’ Morrigan’s voice was dry and croaky. ‘I’m fine. Just tired.’
‘No doubt! You’ve been asleep for two days,’ said Roshni.
Bursts of memory came to Morrigan, filtering through her fuzzy, freshly woken brain.
‘Fenestra!’ she said suddenly, trying to sit up and failing (her muscles hadn’t quite woken up either). ‘Where’s Fen? Is she okay? My friend, our housekeeper, she’s a Magnificat—’
‘Oh, you mean that GIANT FLOOF?’ Roshni’s eyes lit up. ‘She’s the one who brought you here! You could tell the hospital staff didn’t want her hanging around because she’s not a Society member, and because she’s bigger than the doorway, and – well – does she always have that attitude problem?’
‘Yeah. Is she okay?’
‘She threatened to eat Dr Lutwyche, so yes, I think she’s fine.’
Morrigan was almost too afraid to ask her next question. ‘And – and the border, did they – Prime Minister Steed didn’t open the border?’
‘No, he didn’t,’ said Miss Cheery, and Morrigan felt cool relief instantly wash over her. Wintersea hadn’t come through. Which meant Squall couldn’t come through. He’d kept his word. Miss Cheery cast a baffled sideways look at Roshni, and said in a slow, halting way, ‘Well, there was … no need, in the end. Was there?’
They both watched Morrigan, as if waiting for her to pick up the cue and tell them what had happened, but she looked away, pretending not to notice.
‘Have you seen my clothes?’ She was wearing a pair of hospital-issued flannel pyjamas – not ideal for the trip home. Taking stock of the items surrounding her, she could see a small forest of Get Well Soon cards, two boxes of sweets, several posies and one enormous, luxurious bouquet of peonies and roses in a vase (the little card attached to them bore Dame Chanda’s handwriting). But no clothes except for her cloak, hung over the back of a chair. ‘And do I still have shoes, or—’
‘Whoa, whoa.’ Miss Cheery put a hand on Morrigan’s shoulder, guiding her back to the pillow. ‘The doctor said once you’re awake, you’ll need to stay at least another night for observation.’
‘But I don’t want—’
‘One more night! It won’t kill you.’
Morrigan slumped against the pillows with a sigh. She just wanted to go home. This hard, narrow hospital cot could never compare to the nest of blankets Room 85 would make for her.
‘Where’s Jupiter?’
Miss Cheery hesitated. ‘He was here. He’s been here just about every minute since you arrived, but … well. Roshni says Nurse Tim kicked him out last night and told him he could only come back once you’d woken up.’
Morrigan could feel their eyes on her as the silence stretched. Finally, Miss Cheery asked in a careful voice, ‘What happened in Courage Square?’
‘I don’t—’ she began, then stopped. ‘I can’t really … I can’t tell you.’
Miss Cheery’s face flickered through several emotions very quickly, but Morrigan caught each one – confusion, then hurt, then worry, then a reluctant sort of acceptance. But all she said was, ‘Of course, you don’t have to talk about anything until you’re ready. It must have been really frightening.’
‘It’s not that, it’s just …’ She paused. How to say, I can’t tell you how I destroyed the Hollowpox because you’ll quickly realise I didn’t do it on my own and that will lead to more questions that I won’t be able to answer without admitting I acted in league with Nevermoor’s greatest enemy and a man widely regarded as the evillest who ever lived … without really saying it? In its fatigued state, her brain came up with nothing.
Best to take the path of least resistance. She nodded, ducking her head and hoping she looked distressed rather than guilty. ‘Yeah. It was really frightening. I’m just not ready to talk about it yet.’
‘Take all the time you need,’ her conductor said gently. ‘I won’t let anyone pressure you. Not even the Elders. Promise.’
‘Thanks,’ said Morrigan, relieved to have bought herself some time to come up with a story more palatable than the truth. She cast around for a change of subject. ‘How is Sofia?’
Miss Cheery’s face fell. ‘Sofia is, well – she’s still asleep.’
Morrigan frowned. ‘Still? But you said it’s been two days.’
‘Two days?’
‘Since we – since I destroyed the Hollowpox.’
The two young women glanced at each other, looking troubled.
‘Morrigan,’ said Miss Cheery. ‘Are you saying … do you think the Wunimals were all cured?’
‘They must have been. The Wunimals in Courage Square were all right,’ she said, sitting up straight. ‘I saw them. They woke up. They seemed—’
‘Most of them were fully recovered,’ Miss Cheery agreed. ‘But not all. Dr Bramble said the Hollowpox had progressed to different stages in each of them. Some haven’t woken up.’
‘And the ones in the hospital? The ones who were already in quarantine, are they still …’ Morrigan couldn’t bring herself to say it. Still hollow.
‘We honestly don’t know,’ said Roshni. ‘Nobody’s told us anything yet.’
Miss Cheery gave Morrigan a quick squeeze and said, ‘919 popped in this morning. They’re anxious to see you, especially Hawthorne and Cadence. Should I let them know you’re—’
‘FINALLY AWAKE, ARE WE?’
‘Never mind, then,’ she finished, as Hawthorne’s voice reverberated across the ward.
Cadence whacked him on the arm. ‘Shush. Are you trying to get us kicked out again?’
Morrigan’s heart leapt at the sight of her friends. It’d been less than a week since she’d seen them, but so much had happened it felt like an eternity.
‘Thought you were planning to stay asleep for the rest of the year,’ Hawthorne said at a slightly moderated volume, plonking down onto the end of her bed with a grin. ‘Lazy.’
Miss Cheery left soon after that to take Roshni home, with a stern reminder to Hawthorne that a bedpan is not a hat (Morrigan didn’t want to know what had happened while she was sleeping). The three reunited friends held a hushed, fast-paced debriefing of the past few days’ events, interrupting and talking over each other and unravelling every last detail. When Morrigan described what had happened in Courage Square, she left nothing unsaid, even as Hawthorne’s face turned ghost-like and Cadence gripped the edge of the blanket tight in both hands. It was one thing to keep the truth from Miss Cheery and the Elders. This was different. Cadence and Hawthorne were her two best friends in the world, and she would have no secrets between them.
‘And what you said at the Gobleian, Cadence,’ she said finally, bracing herself. ‘Maybe you were right. Maybe I have been weird lately. Sub-Nine, the other Wundersmiths … it’s strange, but … they feel so real to me sometimes. I’d started to consider them sort of … friends. I think I was getting a bit obsessed.’
‘Well
, yeah,’ said Cadence, with a shrug. ‘So what? Don’t you think we’d all be obsessed if we got to hang out with dead people and learn forbidden magical arts in our own secret school? Sounds brilliant.’
Morrigan smiled ruefully. ‘Thaddea said it’s all I ever talk about.’
‘Pfft, who cares what Thaddea says?’ Hawthorne piped up. ‘She’s only jealous. I think we all are, to be honest. I wish I could see the ghostly hours.’
‘Me too,’ Cadence admitted.
Morrigan’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You can! I mean … we’d have to time it right to avoid Dearborn or Murgatroyd finding out, but I bet I could sneak you both down to Sub-Nine!’
They spent an exciting half-hour planning the clandestine mission, which Hawthorne insisted on treating like an elaborate high-stakes jewel heist with lookouts, surveillance, and grappling hooks (he didn’t yet know how the grappling hooks would fit into their plan, but he was determined to work them in somehow). They didn’t talk once about the Wunimals still in quarantine, and Morrigan was glad to be distracted from her nagging worries.
She had one more thing she needed to say to Cadence, though, before the moment passed her by. She seized her chance while Hawthorne was drawing up a wonky, very detailed blueprint of Proudfoot House on the back of one of her Get Well Soon cards.
‘I’m sorry I made you lie for me,’ she said quietly. ‘About the book.’
‘Hilarious you think you could make me do anything,’ her friend said with a shrewd smile.
‘You know what I mean.’
‘Yeah. It’s okay. You still owe me.’
‘Yeah.’
It was a moment or two before Morrigan realised Hawthorne had grown bored and quietly disappeared from her bedside.
‘He’s gone to find a bedpan to wear as a hat, hasn’t he?’
Cadence nodded. ‘Oh, almost certainly.’
Nurse Tim had a few grievances to air while he checked Morrigan’s vitals.
Hollowpox: The Hunt for Morrigan Crow: Nevermoor 3 Page 38