Only a Monster(Monsters #1)(15)

‘Run,’ she said suddenly. She hadn’t even known she was going to say it. Her voice sounded loud in the silent room. She barely knew who she was saying it to. ‘Everyone needs to run!’ There were rustles and shifting noises, people moving uncertainly. No one was sure enough to make the first move. But they had to. They had to. Joan was suddenly sure of it. ‘For God’s sake!’ she said. ‘You all have to get out of here! Run.’

‘All right, that’s enough.’ Edmund stepped forward from the fireplace. Joan jerked around to look at him. She’d almost forgotten he was there. His voice was that of a parent who’d come upon children arguing. It stopped the shuffling in the crowd as abruptly as if he’d flicked a switch.

Edmund raised his arm. He had a gun, Joan saw with horror. He pointed it very deliberately at Nick. ‘No!’ Joan said. The gun moved to Joan.

‘Don’t!’ Nick said, just as sharply.

Edmund raised his eyebrows. ‘Don’t?’

‘I saw you steal time from a tourist once,’ Nick said to Edmund. His voice was soft with contained anger. ‘You touched her neck. Right here.’ Nick touched his own nape. Joan stared at him. ‘How much time did you steal from her?’ Nick asked. ‘Twenty years? Thirty? How much of her life did you take from her?’

‘Not as much as I’ll take from you,’ Edmund said, low and dangerous.

‘You won’t take any more time,’ Nick said. ‘Not from me or anyone else. Never again.’

Edmund seemed almost amused. ‘Why? Because you’ll stop me?’

‘Yes.’

‘I don’t know who think you are, but I’m the one with the gun.’ It was still trained on Joan. Edmund mimed shooting it at her. ‘Bang,’ he said softly. Joan jerked back. She couldn’t breathe.

Nick aborted a movement beside her. Joan saw his fist clench.

‘You know what?’ Edmund said, addressing Nick genially. ‘I’m not going to kill you.’

Joan exhaled hard. Edmund looked at her and laughed again. ‘Oh, you I’ll kill,’ he told her. ‘But him . . .’ He turned back to Nick. His voice went soft. ‘You killed three Olivers tonight. I’ll have to make you pay for it.’ He angled the gun thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps I’ll start by stripping a decade from your life. I could travel on your own time and slaughter your family while you’re still weak and young. I’ll let you watch. And then . . . a child has so much time in it. I’ll take you home with me after I kill them. Keep you locked up in my house, available anytime an Oliver wants to travel. We can bleed you slowly.’

Joan felt sick. ‘You should be locked up,’ she whispered.

Edmund lifted the gun fast, aiming it at Joan’s head. Nick was faster. He threw the sword.

Edmund’s gun clattered to the floor. His body followed in a slow crumple. The sword’s blade was deep in his chest. He blinked once, shocked, and opened his mouth as though he was going to speak. And then his eyes glazed into blankness.

For a moment, everything was very still. And then, as though someone had pressed play, people were shoving each other to get out of the room.

‘They won’t escape,’ Nick said. ‘I signalled my people when we were first caught. They’ll kill any monster they find on the grounds.’

‘People?’ Joan whispered. He’d signalled people? She had a flash of memory of Nick hitting numbers on that corded phone before it had been wrenched from him. There were people coming? How many of them? She turned reflexively to the window.

Night had fallen. In reflection, the Gilt Room’s gold and silver leaf formed a constellation of speckled lights. Nick’s image stood in the middle of it, and—Joan took a second to register her own face. She’d never seen herself so scared.

She forced her expression into something more normal. She needed to keep it together. She had to think. ‘Look.’ Her voice wobbled, but she knew if she said the right thing—the exact right thing—no one else would die. Nick just had to understand. ‘Edmund was bad,’ she said. ‘Properly bad. But—but the other Olivers just seemed—I mean, you saw them. They were scared of him. They didn’t want him to kill us. They’re just people. Like me. I’m just a person. I mean, sure, we’re monsters, but we’re not like . . .’ She raised her hands and made bear claws. ‘Not like “Grr!”’

Nick was looking at her. Joan felt her chest loosen slightly. He was listening.

‘I mean, I would know, right?’ Joan said. ‘Dad’s side of the family is human. Mum’s side are monsters. But, really, both sides are the same. When you get right down to the bones of it, they’re the same. They love each other. They laugh. Sometimes they argue. But they’re all just people. If you talk to them. If you just explain to them—’

‘I’m sorry,’ Nick said.

It took Joan a moment to understand what he was saying. She felt her game face drop. ‘You’re going to kill them all?’

He wouldn’t. Would he? She’d once seen him rescue a wasp from behind a curtain—everyone else had wanted to squash it. Nick had set it free. Except . . . now there were four bodies in the room. And Nick had done that. He’d started out unarmed, and he’d killed four people in minutes. Like it was nothing.