Only a Monster(Monsters #1)(16)

‘You’re really going to kill them all?’ she repeated. Realisation hit her. ‘You’re going to kill me?’ she whispered. She took another step back.

‘No,’ Nick said, fast. ‘No, Joan. You were trying to protect me. I—I can give you safe passage out of the house tonight.’

The way he said it made Joan wonder if he actually felt something for her. ‘You didn’t need protecting.’

‘You thought I did,’ he said.

‘Nick—’

‘Edmund said that you travelled for the first time recently.’ Nick’s dark eyes were very serious. ‘Was it an accident? Is that what happened to you yesterday? Is that why you were so upset when you came back today?’

Joan couldn’t answer.

‘It was an accident, wasn’t it?’ For a moment, Joan thought she saw agony in his eyes. ‘Joan, I’ll give you safe passage out of the house tonight. But understand that if you ever steal time from a human again, I will kill you myself. I won’t hesitate.’

Joan’s throat closed up. You’re a monster, Joan. ‘And that’s that?’ she said hoarsely. She remembered the first time she’d seen him, in the library. She’d looked up at him, and she’d felt as though she’d known him her whole life. And now . . . ‘You’re going to murder all these people, just like that?’ she said. ‘Without trying to talk to them? Without anything?’

‘Not only them,’ Nick said.

Joan went still. ‘What?’

Nick made a slight movement, as if he’d stopped an instinct to step between her and the door. ‘Please,’ he said. ‘Please stay in this room. I can only protect you if you stay in this room.’

‘If you hurt my family . . .’ Joan couldn’t finish the sentence.

‘I sent the signal to my people,’ Nick said. ‘It’s already started. We’re hunting down every monster in this city tonight.’

Joan went cold all over. For a long moment, she couldn’t speak at all. When she did, it came out in a scared rush. ‘Nick, you can’t,’ she whispered. ‘You can’t.’ She imagined people knocking on Gran’s door. Grabbing her. Hurting her and Ruth. Bertie. ‘You can’t.’ When Nick didn’t respond, Joan heard herself take a sharp breath. ‘You hate us that much?’

‘It’s not about hate,’ Nick said. But his mouth went tight, as though that wasn’t quite true. ‘I only kill monsters who steal human life.’

Downstairs, a door slammed. Someone screamed. Joan shuddered.

Nick glanced toward the sound. ‘Joan, please.’ Was Joan imagining the emotion in his voice? ‘Stay in this room. My people are all over these grounds. They’re all over this neighbourhood. You can’t help your family. You’ll be killed if you leave here. You’re only safe if you stay here in this room tonight.’

‘Don’t do this,’ Joan said, pleading with him. ‘Nick, don’t hurt my family. You and me, we’re—we’re friends. Aren’t we?’

‘Monsters killed my whole family,’ Nick said. Joan stared at him. He’d talked about his family just tonight. Eight of us in a two-bedroom flat, he’d said. ‘I can’t allow monsters to harm humans,’ he said. ‘I’ll kill every one who does. Every one I can find.’

Joan was running to the door before she’d even realised she’d moved.





FIVE




The Gilt Room’s thick carpet muted Joan’s racing footsteps enough that when she crossed into the Yellow Drawing Room, she startled at the slap-slap-slap of her own feet hitting the parquet floor. It was too loud. She wrenched her shoes off.

The room was surreally untouched by the events of the evening. The Yellow Drawing Room was one of those rooms you passed through on the way to somewhere else. Everything was a novelty of yellow: the walls, the chairs, even the thick-piled divan in the corner.

A jumble of memories clamoured for Joan’s attention. The sword in Nick’s hand. Monsters killed my whole family. His mouth against hers. She shook her head, trying to clear it. No, no. Not right now. She couldn’t think about any of that now. She had to warn her family that he was coming.

There was a glint under the divan. Joan bent. Someone had dropped their phone in their rush to flee.

It opened on the lock screen. Joan found the emergency options and dialled. She held the phone to her ear and waited. She could hear the wind sighing through the room. Her stillness had given stage to the subtle sounds of the house. A clock ticked on the mantelpiece. Floorboards popped. Some distant device hummed. There was no sound from the phone.

Joan looked at the screen properly. No signal. Was something blocking it? She squeezed the edges hard enough to hurt.

Muffled thuds sounded suddenly from downstairs. Someone was running. Two someones. Joan went to the mantelpiece and grabbed a candlestick—one of the heavy bronze ones that took an hour each to polish. She eased the door open.

The slice of light showed the passage between the library and the old servants’ staircase. Downstairs, someone screamed and then suddenly stopped. There were more running footsteps. Joan couldn’t tell whether they were near or far.

Joan held her breath and padded down the spiral staircase, soft in her socks. The old wood creaked, making her throat close up.