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CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Some Splendid Bit of Magic

The statuesque figure of Aunt Margot stood framed in the library doorway. For a long, tense moment the two sisters glared at each other, locked in a battle of wills Morrigan felt keenly but didn’t understand.

After what seemed an age, the youngest Darling lowered her gaze and Margot, softening in victory, held out a small plate of canapés as a peace offering.

‘You must eat something, dearest. Hunger makes us all say silly things.’

Modestine pouted. ‘I’m not hungry. Gigi is missing and nobody cares ! Why won’t you listen— ’

‘Modestine.’ Margot spoke patiently, but in a distinct tone of warning. ‘If that dreadful girl is missing, it’s because she has slunk back to her den of iniquity in shame.’ Morrigan looked up in surprise at the words dreadful girl , wondering for a moment if Aunt Margot knew the truth about Gigi and Dario. But then she went on. ‘Need I remind you, that heinous stunt the pair of you pulled at the wedding so gravely offended Lord and Lady Devereaux, they haven’t even come to pay their respects to your late husband. You might wish to reflect on that .’ Modestine turned away, shamefaced. Margot sighed and reached out to smooth her golden hair affectionately. ‘Really, little sister. Sitting out here sulking over Georgette Devereaux, on today of all days. Whatever must our niece think of you?’

Morrigan felt the beam of Aunt Margot’s attention fall on her, suddenly aware she was trespassing in this room. ‘Oh! I should … I was just—’ She gestured vaguely to the door, feeling her face turn red.

But Aunt Margot smiled. ‘It’s quite all right, dear. I always need a moment to myself at events like this, too, and the library is a perfect place for peace and quiet. You were so clever to find it on your own.’ She looked at her sister. ‘But you, Modestine—’

The library door flew open for a third time, and a man barrelled into the room.

‘I’m so sorry, Dessie, I couldn’t get—’ Sunny Ghoshal froze, blinking from Modestine to Margot to Morrigan and back. He straightened up, clearing his throat. ‘I couldn’t, uh. Couldn’t remember what you said you wanted … Lady Modestine. Was it wine or tea?’

‘I believe a cup of tea would do my sister the world of good,’ Aunt Margot said decisively, taking Modestine by the hand and pulling her to her feet. ‘Your timing is perfect, Mr Ghoshal, thank the Manyhands. Lady Modestine was just about to return to the Receiving Room. Will you kindly accompany her?’

Without waiting for a response, Aunt Margot bustled them out into the hallway and shut the door. She turned to face Morrigan.

‘My dear? I wonder if you might do something for me,’ she said in a confiding tone, clasping her hands as if in prayer. ‘Do you remember the day we first met, when you came to us in the Receiving Room?’

Morrigan instantly felt hot with shame. She’d been waiting for this. ‘Yes. I’m so sorry about what happened, Aunt Margot. I didn’t mean to do it, and I promise I’ll never do anything like it again. I’m not dangerous, honestly —’

‘Dangerous?’ Aunt Margot interrupted. She rushed forward to grasp Morrigan’s shoulders gently. ‘Oh, dearest, no! I don’t think you’re dangerous .’

Morrigan swallowed. ‘You don’t.’

‘Of course not,’ she said with warm, frank sincerity. ‘I think you’re extraordinary . We all do! Especially Modestine. And … well, I only wondered whether you might consider cheering her up with a little … display?’

‘A display … ?’

Aunt Margot hurried on. ‘Nothing too onerous, of course! Just some … splendid bit of magic! Something gentle and pretty. Something elegant, to soothe poor Modestine’s fractured nerves and distract us all from our misery?’

Morrigan stared at her for several seconds, certain she couldn’t be hearing correctly. ‘You want me to use the Wundrous Arts.’

‘Oh!’ Her aunt’s sudden look of wide-eyed surprise was so like her mother’s portrait in the Hall of Dead Crows, it made Morrigan’s throat constrict. ‘Oh dear. Was that awfully presumptuous of me? I’m sorry, darling, I didn’t mean to offend—’

‘No, no, it’s just … you …’ She paused, searching for the right words while Holliday’s warning echoed in her head. No. Wundersmith. Stuff. ‘You don’t mind that I’m a Wundersmith?’

The smile Aunt Margot gave her was dazzling.

‘Oh, my darling girl. I don’t mind at all.’

Relaxing her eyes against the bright glow of Wunder surrounding her, Morrigan threw her reach beyond her body. It wove unseen between the guests, two rivers of gold skimming swiftly along the Gossamer, scouring the indoor garden for ingredients to weave some splendid bit of magic.

Something gentle and pretty.

Something elegant.

She repeated the words in her mind as she coaxed threads of a deep crimson colour and soft velvety texture from the most perfect red rose she could see.

The other monstrous golden-white hand reached out to stroke the marshmallow-soft head of the Darlings’ cat, Winslow, who was warming himself in a sunbeam. She borrowed threads of ivory, soft grey and lilac from the play of light and shadow on his fur.

The hum of chatter had ceased entirely now, the hive of sombre bees having turned their full attention to Morrigan, at Aunt Margot’s request.

She’d never done anything like this before, performing for such an audience. Aunt Margot had even had her stand on the edge of a marble fountain, so everyone was looking up at her. It was like she was under a spotlight … but, for once, not in a bad way. She didn’t feel self-conscious. If anything, their close, quiet attention spurred her on, helping her focus. She wanted so badly to impress the Darlings. To be extraordinary .

Morrigan finally knew what Brilliance Amadeo meant when she talked about Wundersmiths being artists, and Weaving being the purest expression of a Wundersmith’s creativity and imagination. She wasn’t looking at things the way she normally would; now she saw a palette to paint from, a vast menu of values and hues.

As her creation took shape in the air above her, little gasps of recognition sounded throughout the room. It was a dragon in Dario’s colours, red and gold, dancing smoothly through the air like a painting come to life, shining warm and bright as the sun.

‘Oh!’ exclaimed Aunt Margot, clutching her husband’s arm tight. ‘Tobias, look . It’s magnificent!’

Morrigan quietly agreed. She had never made anything so lovely. It curled and looped around itself like an enormous shining ribbon. An explosion of colour and light, with tiny fragments of sunshine bouncing off its edges.

Morrigan could almost hear Squall’s voice in her head as she worked, as if this was one of their lessons and he was standing beside her, making small corrections to her form.

Your grasp is too tight, you’re wasting energy. Let Wunder take the reins.

She’d been plotting the dragon’s trajectory through the air, Morrigan realised, forcing it to move in a pleasing pattern as it soared above the guests. It made her body tense up, as if she was physically holding the thing and using her strength to swing it around the room … but of course she was doing no such thing.

Wunder knows your intention, you need to trust it. Give it room to surprise you. Collaborate, don’t control.

That was one of Squall’s favourite critiques. Collaborate, don’t control. Morrigan let herself relax a little, loosening the grip of her Wundrous reach and letting her own hands move more softly. The process instantly felt more intuitive; her intention and Wunder’s expression of it perfectly, gloriously aligned. The dragon responded as if she’d opened its cage, its dance becoming wilder and more fluid, its shape elongating as it dived to the floor and laced around the ankles of the guests, who squealed with shock and then delight.

With her creation gaining its own momentum and the guests all looking up, Morrigan took the opportunity to scan the crowd for Cadence. She couldn’t see her friend anywhere … but she did notice that, in fact, not everyone was watching the dragon.

Detective Crow would later write the following observations in her notebook:

Tobias was frowning at Cosimo.

Sunny was watching Aunt Modestine.

Aunt Margot was glaring at Sunny.

The Vulture was staring at me.

‘Fifteen bedrooms, three libraries, five sitting rooms, a music room, a ballroom, an indoor tennis court, three dining rooms, twenty-three rooms of unidentifiable purpose and a nursery. And no. Wedding. Photographs . ’

Cadence shook her head in frustration at her mission failure, but Morrigan’s eyes bulged in awe. ‘You searched all of Darling House? In one afternoon?’

‘Are you joking? That’s not the whole house! Not even close.’ Cadence pushed open the door to her Wunsoc wardrobe, leading the way from the Blackburns’ home through to Station 919. Morrigan felt the familiar faint pop in her ears as they stepped onto the platform. ‘I should have worked faster. ’

‘Still, that’s a lot of rooms to search on your own in one afternoon.’

‘It was easier than you’d think,’ Cadence admitted (though she looked slightly consoled by the praise). ‘The rooms were mostly empty. Not just of people but of things . It was all a bit … minimalist. ’ She frowned thoughtfully. ‘Which is weird, isn’t it? For people who have pet swans. And a butler. And a house the size of a palace. Anyway, you need to get yourself invited back so you can finish the search. Reckon you were charming enough?’

Morrigan made a face. ‘They already invited me back.’

She described to Cadence the moment it happened – right after her splendid bit of magic – and felt a pleasurable tingle at the memory. Her Wundrous dragon had taken its final tumble through the air and floated down, down, down, folding in on itself like silk and landing softly on Aunt Modestine’s shoulders. A shimmering red-and-gold cape, to cover the black mourning dress she so hated.

Morrigan had expected perhaps a polite smattering of applause from the guests. She was met instead with a roar of approval. Lady Margot closed a protective arm around her and steered her away to a quiet corner to rest. With tears in her eyes, she’d thanked Morrigan for bringing them all such exquisite joy, before confiding that her greatest wish was that she might one day see Darling House as her home.

‘I want you to feel that you can come and go as you please, with no invitation necessary. Because it is your home, dearest, truly . And when I look at you …’ She’d paused, lowering her voice to a whisper. ‘You’ll think I’m silly, but … I swear I can hear Meredith’s voice speaking to me. Asking me to fold you into our arms. To bring you home.’

Even if Morrigan had known what to say to that, she couldn’t have spoken past the lump in her throat.

She finished telling Cadence about her conversation with Aunt Margot as they stood outside Morrigan’s black door, trying to sound cool and unaffected by this life-altering moment.

‘You have to go back tomorrow. TOMORROW!’ Cadence exploded. ‘Morrigan, you have an open invitation and we NEED those photos. If we can see who wasn’t at the cake-cutting, we might have our murderer!’ She ripped a page from her notebook. ‘Here, I’ve drawn you a rough map.’

‘Very rough,’ Morrigan agreed, squinting to decipher the maze of wonky rectangles.

‘Skip any room marked with an X; I’ve already searched those. Give me your observations and I’ll update our suspect list so we can debrief the others on Monday.’

‘Don’t you want to come with me?’ asked Morrigan as she dutifully handed over three pages torn from her own notebook.

‘Can’t, I’m going to the Winter Trials. It’s not that I don’t trust Hawthorne’s investigative skills, but …’ Cadence trailed off, a noncommittal shrug and two raised eyebrows finishing the sentence for her. She reached for her green door, then paused. ‘When do you want to tell Jupiter about Squall?’

‘Never.’ Morrigan shrugged miserably. ‘Or three weeks ago. Take your pick.’

‘How about now?’ Cadence fixed her with a penetrating look. ‘Maybe it’ll help you focus on solving the murder. You’re never not worrying about it. I can tell.’

Even in her annoyance, Morrigan could see the sense in this. Yesterday’s argument may have temporarily kiboshed her plan to tell Jupiter about the apprenticeship, but once the heat and adrenaline of her anger had faded, what was she left with? A secret the size of a boulder, still sitting on her chest. Suffocating her.

‘Yeah.’ She sighed like a deflating balloon. ‘You’re probably right.’

‘I’m definitely right.’ Cadence cracked open her green door. ‘Shall I come with you?’

It was a tempting offer, but Morrigan reluctantly shook her head.

‘Thanks. But I think I should do it on my own.’

‘Fair play.’ Cadence gave a thin smile. ‘Hawthorne won’t be happy, though. He’s nearly finished designing the costumes.’

Morrigan shivered as she entered her Wunsoc wardobe and crossed the threshold into her darkened bedroom. The fire she’d left roaring in the hearth that morning had almost burned down to embers.

Maybe it isn’t even fair to tell Jupiter about Squall just yet , she thought. He only just got back, and he looked so tired. Wouldn’t it be more considerate to wait a few days? Maybe even a week?

This slippery slope of maybes was a dangerously tempting one. Morrigan was about to tumble down it headfirst when she realised, with a soft gasp, that she wasn’t alone in Room 85.

A lone figure sat hunched in the octopus armchair, encircled by black leather tentacles, his face half hidden in shadows. Staring at the glowing coals, he spoke in a voice like the distant and ominous rumble of thunder.

‘Busy day?’