Only a Monster(Monsters #1)(47)

He himself had transformed into a member of a nineties boy band: ripped jeans, a bomber jacket, and a little gold earring. He should have looked ridiculous. He did look ridiculous, Joan told herself. Except . . . Aaron made the whole outfit look thought-out and expensive. For the first time in Joan’s life, she kind of understood the appeal of a nineties boy band.

Aaron stepped closer to her—close enough that Joan could feel the warmth of his body as he lowered himself to his knees in front of her. For a moment, she was weirdly tongue-tied. ‘What are you doing?’ she managed. Aaron reached up and plucked a pair of scissors from a nearby table. Before Joan could protest, he sliced into her stockings. And then she wasn’t tongue-tied anymore. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ she said, outraged.

Aaron dropped the scissors and used his fingers to tear the slashes into bigger holes.

‘That’s not bad,’ Ruth said grudgingly.

‘What—what if you’d cut me?’ Joan said.

Aaron had finished tearing the holes, but he was still kneeling, looking up at her with his cool grey eyes. ‘I wouldn’t have cut you,’ he said.

Joan wanted to accuse him of deliberately making her look as stupid as he did. But the Joan in the mirror looked unexpectedly good—almost as good as Aaron—like they could be in the same band.

It struck Joan suddenly that Aaron had saved her life too. He’d said that he owed her. That he couldn’t leave her until he’d repaid her. But he’d saved her life at the Pit and again at St. James’s Park. Surely, he’d paid her back twice over.

It took Joan a moment to remember what she’d wanted to say to him. ‘Do you know anything about the Liu family power?’

‘Perfect memory,’ Aaron said. ‘Everyone knows that.’

‘Yes, but Ruth says that there are rumours of more. Rumours that some of them remember events that never happened.’

Aaron got to his feet slowly, and then Joan was looking up at him. ‘I’ve heard the rumours,’ he said evenly.

‘Maybe they’re remembering events that have changed.’

‘I understand the implication.’

‘If events have been changed before, maybe they can be changed again.’

Aaron sighed. ‘I understand the implication.’

‘Ruth and I are going to see them,’ Joan said.

Ruth shifted beside her, clearing her throat. Joan looked at her questioningly.

‘I’m, uh, not exactly welcome in the Liu houses,’ Ruth said. ‘I’ve . . . Well, I’ve kind of stolen a few things here and there, and I guess I have a bit of a reputation. They wouldn’t let me through the front door.’ At Joan’s look, she said defensively, ‘They have some nice stuff.’

‘Justification enough,’ Aaron said, dry.

Ruth gave him the finger, but it was halfhearted.

‘Well, just tell me where they are,’ Joan said.

‘No,’ Aaron said heavily. ‘I’ll take you.’

Joan looked at him, surprised. He’d been so scathing about the idea. And he didn’t look any happier about it now. He was scowling down at his new blue sneakers.

‘Be careful,’ Ruth said. She sounded as though she didn’t like the idea of being separated from Joan so soon after they’d found each other. Joan didn’t like it either.

‘You too,’ Joan said. ‘Be really careful, okay?’

Ruth nodded slightly. ‘Just keep in mind that the Lius don’t involve themselves in petty power plays like some families.’ This must have been directed at Aaron, because he rolled his eyes. ‘But every family has their own agenda.’

The Ravencroft Market had arcades running through it. Joan hadn’t realised how big it was. Aaron led her down one arcade and then another. Each seemed themed. One whole arcade sold weapons of various eras: knives and swords and bows. Another sold spices that Joan had never heard of.

‘This way,’ Aaron said.

The next arcade had a door at one end. It opened onto another nondescript human laneway. When Joan shut it behind her, the market sounds of people talking and selling cut off like someone had flicked a switch. No human wandering past would have suspected that a different world lay beyond that black door.

Joan touched the brass plaque on the wall beside it—a sea serpent coiled around a sailing ship. The same symbol she’d seen by the door to the inn.

‘Are all monster places marked like this?’ she asked.

‘That symbol means that monsters from any family may enter,’ Aaron said. ‘This whole complex—the inn, the market, the post office—is a way station. Monsters from all families are welcome to come and go.’

A way station. Joan remembered the monsters who’d arrived in the rain yesterday, wearing clothes from different times. She pictured places like this dotted around the city—safe places where monsters could travel in and out, unobserved by humans. Places to exchange currency and buy clothes, to meet people and relay messages. To eat and sleep.

Aaron had already started walking toward the mouth of the laneway. Joan followed him. She felt as though she’d just glimpsed a whole bigger world.

Outside, the remnants of the storm were all over the streets—puddled water and stray sticks and leaves. Joan’s self-consciousness about her clothes started to fade as she realised that no one was particularly looking at them—or, at least, no more than people usually looked at Aaron. These clothes really did make them blend in more.