Wundersmith: The Calling of Morrigan Crow (Nevermoor, #2)

by Jessica Townsend

SISTERS AND BROTHERS, LOYAL FOR LIFE, TETHERED FOR ALWAYS, TRUE AS A KNIFE. NINE ABOVE OTHERS, NINE ABOVE BLOOD, BONDED FOREVER THROUGH FIRE AND FLOOD. BROTHERS AND SISTERS, FAITHFUL AND TRUE, EVER TOGETHER, THE SPECIAL AND FEW.

“Look around, Mog. This is what you’ve worked for. Enjoy it.”

“Oh, you’d rather she was somewhere out there, would you?” asked Elder Saga pointedly, stamping his hooves. “On her own? Doing heaven knows what?” “Yes,” insisted Hester. “And so, I am certain, would every other patron and candidate here.” “Then they may leave,” said Elder Quinn

If Not for Us, You’d All Be Speaking Zombie.”

“Um,” she said to Cadence, suddenly feeling awkward, “thanks for that.” Cadence shrugged. “Don’t thank me yet. I’m just waiting to see what the next note says.”

Why do you think they call me Queen Barge?” “Nobody calls you that, darling.”

The Swifts all agreed she was brilliant, maybe better than the rest of them put together. Morrigan was undecided—she’d only ever seen Baby Dave spit up milk, throw food on the floor, and squeal at passing dogs.

“Oh.” Morrigan waited, but Cadence said nothing more. “So… what happened?” “Well, I had to really think about it, you know.” “Right.” “I was up all night, trying to decide what to do. I couldn’t sleep.” “Of… of course.” Morrigan held her breath. “But in the end, I just couldn’t choose between making him drool through the whole thing, speak in a baby voice, or drop his trousers at the end and shout ‘BAZZY WANT POTTY.’” Cadence grinned. “So I went with all three.” Fireworks and water slides and rock concerts were fine, Morrigan thought. But this, truly, was her favorite moment of the summer so far.

It was a small act of pettiness, but by gentle, tenderhearted Martha’s standards, it was a declaration of all-out war, and Morrigan adored her for it.

She was tired of so desperately wanting the friendship and approval of her so-called brothers and sisters. (How that phrase made her cringe now. When she thought back to the person she was a year ago, that idiot who believed she’d have eight ready-made siblings if only she could pass the trials… as if anything were ever that simple.)

Let them be angry at her, if that was what they wanted. Let them retreat from her. She could retreat even further, even faster.

Eight o’clock: a beautifully gory performance of Death at First Bite by the notorious all-vampire theater company, the Thirsty Thespians—

“I’m getting a message from an older gentleman… for somebody over… here.” He waved vaguely to half the people in the circle. “A gentleman with a D-name. Somebody’s father or uncle? A grand—hic—grandfather, perhaps? Darren? David? Dominic? Doo… Doody? Drogley? Er… Derek?” Malau continued, heroically sticking to his story. “Digby? Dwayne?” “Ooh!” shrieked a young woman wearing a plastic tiara and a bright pink BRIDE-TO-BE sash. She was at the Deucalion with a group of raucous young women who didn’t have a lot of interest in celebrating Hallowmas. Frank had invited them to the séance to make up the numbers, and they’d already been told twice to stop yelling out rude words while the Marvelous Malau was communing with the dead. “Could it be Wayne? My father-in-law’s name is Wayne. Is it him?” Malau appeared to consider this for a moment. “Yes, that’s the one. He has a message for you. He says… please take good care of his son. Love each other.” The group of girlfriends all awwwed as one, and the bride-to-be looked a little bit teary. “I didn’t think he wanted me to marry Benji!” “Oh, he does,” continued Malau. “He says nothing would make him happier, and he’ll be watching over the two of you from the Better Place.” The bride’s face fell. “The Better Place? What do you mean? Wayne’s not dead.”

And Professor Onstald… he hated me. He was horrible, all year long, and I felt like I was something horrible.”

sighed. “Some people are brave bullies. Some people are friendly cowards.”