Only a Monster(Monsters #1)(64)

She looked back, once, at the end of the laneway. The bartender was standing in the doorway, staring after her. Joan ran harder. She didn’t look back again.

Gran had warned Joan not to trust anyone. It just hadn’t occurred to Joan that she’d been including herself.

As Joan ran, she started to sob as she hadn’t since Gran had died. Some part of her had believed that everything would be okay when she found Gran again. She’d believed that Gran would take over and stop Nick herself.

But the woman back there hadn’t been Gran.

Joan’s gran was dead. She was really dead. She’d died two days ago, and Joan hadn’t been able to stop it.

Aaron was awake when Joan got back. He was sitting outside the flat, looking out onto the empty market below. It was very late now. The tables were tarped, the food stalls shuttered.

‘Where did you go?’ he whispered to Joan.

‘I found out what we needed to know,’ Joan said. ‘The King’s treasures are kept in a place called the Royal Archive. The device is called the transformatio. We need to include that in our research—find out if there are any physical descriptions in the myths.’

Joan waited for Aaron to push back. It’s still too dangerous. Even if we get into the Court, how are we going to get into the archive?

But there was a different kind of frown on his face now. ‘Where did you go?’ he said again, softer. ‘Joan, are you all right?’

‘Course I’m all right.’ Joan was glad it was too dark for him to see her face. ‘Come on,’ she said. She held out her hand to help him up. ‘There’s a lot to do.’

And in two nights’ time, they’d save their families. They’d save everyone.





FIFTEEN




Two nights later, Joan paced the market flat, waiting for Aaron and Ruth to finish getting ready. Aaron had styled them all. He’d found Ruth a sparkling platinum dress and Joan a forest-green gown with a plunging back. The heavy drape of it brushed Joan’s legs as she paced.

Aaron emerged first from behind the bookshelf partition, hand in his pocket. A young James Bond. His suit was the same pale grey as his eyes. Joan tried not to stare. He always turned strangers’ heads, but this sophisticated look had made him mesmerising. It was hard to look away. He doesn’t fit here, Joan thought, not for the first time. He belonged at a glamorous estate, not in this little studio flat above a market.

‘Nervous?’ he said, and Joan realised with a strange feeling that he’d been watching her too, that his gaze had sought her as he’d entered the living area.

She made an effort to stop pacing. The gold light of sunset had tinted the stained-glass windows, making the whole room glow: a low-burning hearth. She was nervous. ‘Yes,’ she admitted, and then wondered when she’d started to trust Aaron enough to be that open with him. ‘Feels so close,’ she explained. ‘Like maybe we’ll have our families back tonight.’

‘Maybe.’ Aaron’s gaze hadn’t left hers. For a moment, Joan thought he was going to say something more, but he seemed to change his mind. He scooped up two shopping bags that had been resting by the bookshelf and brought them over to her.

‘More clothes?’ Joan said.

‘Finishing touches,’ Aaron said. He took out a midnight-blue velvet box. Inside, there was a long string of pearls, knotted at the centre with diamonds. Joan stared at him. ‘Verisimilitude,’ he said. ‘May I?’

Were the pearls real? Were the diamonds? Surely not. Verisimilitude.

Joan turned. She felt rather than heard him step closer—a change in temperature. She bunched her hair, tucked it over one shoulder, and ducked her head.

To her surprise, he draped the long heavy line of the necklace down her back rather than her front. She shivered as each pearl hit her skin, a splash of icy water. The pearls warmed quickly, though. She turned to find Aaron standing closer than she’d expected.

She thought he’d step back, but he stayed there in her space. His eyes seemed darker than they had a few moments ago. Joan’s heart stuttered strangely.

‘So what do you think?’ she said. She tried to make it light, but they were so close that her voice came out unexpectedly intimate. ‘Will we pass for important people?’

When Aaron spoke, it was just as intimately, with no sign of his usual snide tone. ‘You’re important,’ he said, his grey eyes very serious. ‘I know you want your family back, but your life matters too.’ Joan opened her mouth to protest, and he shook his head slightly. ‘Just . . . Please be careful tonight. The Court is a dangerous place.’

Joan felt a stab of guilt then. She’d dragged Aaron to this point. From the beginning, all he’d wanted was to lie low, to be safe. ‘You don’t have do this,’ she said, just as serious as he was. ‘You keep saying you owe me. But you don’t. We both know that debt has been paid.’ Was there some special monster wording for this? ‘You’re released,’ she tried. ‘I release you.’

‘Joan . . .’ There was something complicated in his expression, something Joan couldn’t decipher. He sighed and took a shoebox from another of the bags. He passed it to her. Inside, there was a pair of soft black flats. ‘In case we have to run,’ he said.

They got a cab to Victoria Embankment. Tom had told them that the gate would open at midnight, near Whitehall Palace.