Only a Monster(Monsters #1)(83)

‘They can’t,’ Joan said flatly.

Aaron blinked, but to Joan’s surprise, Tom backed her up. ‘We’d be seen crossing the river by boat.’

Joan could feel the wary tension between them. She hadn’t told the others what had happened at the watermen’s stairs. She didn’t even know why. The sensible thing would be to get herself and the others away from Tom.

The message was meant for me, Tom had said. Joan had been turning those words over and over in her mind. It hadn’t even been the words; it had been the way he’d said them.

She couldn’t make sense of it all. Gran’s key to the Monster Court. The cover-up of Nick’s killings. Rumours of a device that could change the timeline. An empty prison cell where the device should have been. The message was meant for me.

Joan felt as though she’d found pieces of a puzzle but didn’t understand the picture they’d make when fit together. There was still something missing. Something she didn’t understand. But what?

‘It’s almost dawn,’ Aaron said. ‘We need to get to the other bank before daybreak.’ He chewed his lip. ‘We’re close to Tower Bridge.’

‘The bridges will be watched,’ Ruth said.

‘We might be lucky,’ Aaron said.

As they approached Tower Bridge, Aaron swore under his breath. Blue lights flashed from parked police cars. There was a police checkpoint at the bridge. Cars and pedestrians were being questioned and searched. ‘Those police are monsters,’ Aaron whispered. ‘Most of them, anyway.’

‘How is that possible?’ Joan said.

‘The Court places monsters high up in human circles.’

‘Won’t all these Londoners find this strange?’ Joan said.

‘They’re used to it,’ Tom said. ‘In this time, there are IRA bombings for years on either side of us.’ He ran a hand over his face. ‘If there’s a checkpoint here, there’ll be a ring of security around London. Court Guards will be all over the Tube.’

It was true that the motorists weren’t asking questions as the supposed police peered through their windows. As Joan watched, a car was allowed to roll through. A police officer beckoned the next car with a gloved hand. ‘They’re letting people through,’ Joan said. ‘What if we just walked down the footpath? How would they know we were the ones?’

‘We can’t be seen,’ Aaron said tightly. ‘There are Olivers and Griffiths among the guards.’

Ruth breathed a curse. ‘The Griffith family can induce truth,’ she whispered to Joan tiredly. ‘Any monster who passes through will be stopped and questioned.’

‘We’re losing night,’ Tom said.

‘We could try the tunnel to Rotherhithe,’ Ruth said. ‘It isn’t far.’

‘That tunnel was closed to foot traffic more than a century ago,’ Aaron said. ‘Only trains use it now.’

‘There are still ways through it,’ Ruth said. ‘If we’re quick, we’ll make it before the first train.’

Joan exchanged a glance with Aaron. The last thing Ruth looked right now was quick.

Ruth guided them away from Tower Bridge to a round brick structure, filthy with caked dirt. Tufts of grass sprouted from cracked concrete around the brick.

‘Lavatory?’ Aaron said dubiously.

‘Ventilation shaft,’ Ruth said. With two fingers, she mimed walking up onto the roof of the shaft, and then climbing down and down and down.

Joan could feel Ruth shaking with exhaustion as she and Tom boosted her up. Tom hoisted himself up next, one-handed, his muscles shifting with the effort. He’d tucked Frankie under one arm, and she craned inquisitively over his shoulder.

‘I’m fine,’ Ruth mumbled. ‘I’m fine.’ But she seemed to be saying it to herself, hoping to make it true.

They climbed down—three levels at least. Ruth’s gasping breaths got louder and louder. By the time they got to the bottom, her arms were shaking so much that Tom had to help her down the last rungs of the ladder.

‘Are you all right?’ Joan whispered.

Ruth nodded. ‘Listen for trains,’ she managed.

They were in an underground tunnel with a high, curving ceiling. Strips of metal arched overhead at regular intervals. Down the tunnel, the effect was of concentric arches. The wall was lit with old-fashioned swan-necked lamps. Train tracks ran along the ground.

‘Don’t touch the tracks,’ Ruth warned. ‘They’re electrified.’

‘What happens if a train comes?’ Joan asked.

Ruth gestured ahead. Between each pair of lamps, there was a recessed archway. There wasn’t one tunnel, but two, Joan realised, with the archways connecting them.

There was a glint of something bright near Joan’s foot. She wiped at the ground with her shoe. Under the dirt, between the tracks, there were tiles: white and blue, with a winding floral pattern.

‘There used to be a market down here in the 1800s,’ Aaron said. ‘People sold souvenirs in these archways. There were fortune-tellers. Monkeys.’

‘Don’t tell me you came slumming down here,’ Ruth said.

‘Tourists and slum dwellers are the best people to steal time from,’ Aaron said. When Joan looked over at him, he shrugged. ‘What?’