Only a Monster(Monsters #1)(50)

Ying poured hot water into the teapot. The scent of green leaves made Joan feel acutely homesick, as did the little teacups he unstacked. The cups were decorated with multicoloured birds. They had sweeping tail feathers and outstretched wings. Phoenixes.

‘I’ve been wondering,’ Aaron said to Ying from his place at the pillar. ‘You identified our families just by looking at us.’ It was a detail that Joan hadn’t noticed. ‘A Hunt and an Oliver. How did you know that?’

‘Most monsters are recorded in the Liu family records,’ Ying said matter-of-factly. ‘The two of you are Joan Chang-Hunt and Aaron Oliver. Joan is the daughter of Pei-Wen Chang—a human. And Maureen Hunt—the estranged daughter of Dorothy Hunt.’

Estranged? That wasn’t right. Everything else was, though. Joan folded her arms, feeling exposed and in awe at the demonstration of the Liu family power. Perfect memory.

‘And you,’ Ying said to Aaron, ‘are the youngest son of Edmund Oliver.’

It wasn’t a question, and Aaron didn’t answer.

‘By Edmund’s second wife,’ Ying said. ‘Marguerite Nightingale. The wife they executed.’

‘That’s enough,’ Aaron said tightly. His back was very stiff. His mother had been executed? Joan forced her eyes from his face—she felt as though she were intruding on something horribly private.

‘As I said, the Liu records are very comprehensive,’ Ying said. ‘But you didn’t come here for me to tell you things you already know. You came here to bargain. So, let’s bargain. What is it that you want?’

‘Information,’ Joan said.

Ying inclined his head in acknowledgment. ‘Rules first, then. My family likes to keep things simple. We will have a conversation, and at the end of it, my family will be owed one favour.’

‘What favour?’ Joan said.

‘You’ll know when we call it in,’ Ying said.

By the pillar, Aaron shrugged slightly at Joan. He’d apparently been expecting these sorts of terms. Joan didn’t like them at all. Buying something unknown for an unknown price was a stupid thing to do. But there’d been no other leads. And if she could get any information to save her family . . . She nodded at Ying.

‘Very well, then.’ Ying leaned over to the table and poured tea into the little cups. He passed one to Aaron and one to Joan. ‘What do you want to know?’

Joan sipped her tea, giving herself a moment to collect her thoughts. The tea was good—grassy and fresh and green. The kind of tea Dad kept in the freezer. ‘We’ve heard rumours,’ she said. ‘About your family’s power.’

‘Perfect memory,’ Ying said. ‘That’s common knowledge.’

‘There are rumours about hidden aspects of the power.’

‘I’ve heard rumours,’ Ying said thoughtfully, ‘about hidden aspects of the Oliver power.’ To Aaron, he said: ‘They say that the heads of your family can see more than other Olivers see.’

For some reason, Aaron’s gaze flicked to Joan, his expression unreadable. ‘We’re not talking about my family,’ he said.

‘No?’ Ying said musingly. ‘Olivers see. Hunts hide. Nowaks live. Patels bind. Portellis open. Hathaways leash. Nightingales take. Mtawalis keep. Argents sway. Alis seal. Griffiths reveal. But only the Lius remember.’ The words were slightly chanted—the recital of a nursery rhyme. ‘The twelve great families of London,’ he said.

‘I hope you’re not expecting us to pay for that,’ Aaron said dryly. ‘Every monster child in London knows that rhyme.’

Ying’s face did that thing again, where he seemed amused without actually smiling. ‘The family powers are common knowledge,’ he said. ‘But you’re asking about family secrets. If I were you, I’d be concerned that a Liu family secret might cost more than you’re willing to pay.’

‘I’m the one making the bargain,’ Joan said. She was the one who’d wanted to come here. ‘Not Aaron. And I’m willing to pay.’

Ying gave her a long look, as if assessing whether she really wanted to make the trade. ‘Have you ever heard of the zhēnshí de lìsh? ?’ he said finally.

‘The true history?’ Aaron said.

Ying’s eyebrows went up. ‘You know Mandarin?’

‘No,’ Aaron said. ‘I know of the belief.’ He sounded disapproving.

Ying turned back to Joan. ‘Some people believe that there was once another timeline,’ he explained. ‘One that existed before our own. Some families call it the vera historia. Or the true timeline.’ There was a sad reverence in his voice. ‘We believe that the true timeline was erased, and that this timeline was created in its place.’

‘A fringe belief,’ Aaron said. ‘Everyone knows that the timeline corrects itself. It’s impossible for there to have ever been another timeline.’

‘Some of my family believe they remember fragments of it,’ Ying said.

Joan’s breath caught. It was true, then. The Lius did remember changed events. ‘Do you?’ she asked. ‘Do you remember it?’

Ying took a long moment to answer. ‘The Liu power is perfect memory,’ he said. ‘For some of us, our power goes beyond that. We remember small changes—the ordinary fluxes of the timeline. But only those of great power have glimpsed the zhēnshí de lìsh?.’