Only a Monster(Monsters #1)(93)

Tom’s throat worked. ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘But we’d love to chat now too. Because, see. We, uh . . . We’re . . .’ His amazing composure seemed to fail him. ‘Uh, well . . .’

Joan slid in before Tom’s hesitation could get too weird. ‘We’re collectors. We want to buy a painting,’ she said. ‘From the hero series. Your dad said you could tell us about it. Right, Tom?’

Tom shot her a look of mixed thanks and disapproval. ‘Right.’ So Tom lied to everyone except Jamie. Noted.

‘Really? I’ve never sold anything before.’ Jamie looked so happy that Joan felt bad about the lie. Well, she would have felt bad. From the expression on Tom’s face, they were going to have to buy every Jamie Liu painting in the gallery. ‘I really like your ring,’ Jamie added to Tom.

Joan saw it then. Tom turned his head from Jamie’s view, just long enough for the mask to drop. He recovered quickly, turning back with a smile. ‘Thanks. My husband designed it.’

Tom kicked off his shoes and sat, mirroring Jamie’s posture. Tom’s body was usually intimidating, muscles bulging from his shirt. But with Jamie Liu, he looked utterly unthreatening. He’d put himself down on an incline. It made him and Jamie almost the same height.

Joan followed suit, peering at Tom’s ring as she sat. She’d never really noticed it before. It was dark metal with a scoured finish. Now she saw what had caught Jamie’s eye. Etched lines ran over and under the band—images of hounds and phoenixes. They had the same quality of vitality, of life, that Jamie’s paintings did. The same quality as the tattoo on Tom’s arm.

Joan flattened her hands on the ground. The grass felt cool and dry. ‘We’re really interested in the stories behind the paintings,’ she said to Jamie. ‘We were all saying that we didn’t remember the hero stories very well.’

‘Oh, there are loads of them,’ Jamie said, face brightening with enthusiasm for the topic.

‘Can you tell us about them?’ Ruth said.

‘Oh.’ Jamie didn’t seem to know where to start. ‘Well . . . Different families tell different stories. The Patel and Hunt stories are mostly adventures. The hero fights mythical beasts like krakens and giant serpents. That sort of thing. In their stories, he only starts fighting monsters like us later in life.’

‘Huh,’ Joan said. Those were the stories that Gran had told her.

Aren’t these just the Hercules stories? she’d said to Gran once when she was about seven. She’d been snotty-nosed and precocious as a kid. Gran had just waved her hand. Oh, those ancients, she’d said. Always stealing our myths. Now Joan felt her eyes well up unexpectedly. She’d hardly been able to think of Gran since the massacre without remembering her terrible last moments. This was one of the first times she’d remembered Gran just being Gran.

‘The Mtawali stories tend to be fables. You know, with lessons attached,’ Jamie continued. ‘And the Oliver stories are mostly horror. I guess they enjoy terrifying their children before they fall asleep.’

Aaron usually hated people talking about his family. But there was mild approval on his face at this. God, the Olivers are weird, Joan thought.

‘We were trying to remember a particular one,’ she said. ‘Where the hero has a flaw.’

‘A flaw?’ Jamie said.

‘A weakness.’

‘You mean like an Achilles heel?’ Jamie said. ‘Sorry. He doesn’t die in any story I’ve read.’

Waste of time, Aaron mouthed to Joan.

‘Although . . .’ Jamie hesitated. ‘There is one thing. It’s not exactly a weakness. But it is a vulnerability, perhaps.’

Aaron lifted his head. ‘What is it?’ Joan asked.

‘The Liu stories are romances,’ Jamie said. ‘In our stories, the hero was once in love with a girl.’

Aaron grimaced and dropped his head again. But Joan’s stomach twisted. ‘A romance?’ she said. ‘The hero stories aren’t romances.’

‘The Liu stories are,’ Jamie said. ‘We love a tragic romance.’ At the word tragic, the sick twist in Joan’s stomach worsened. ‘Have you ever heard of the zhēnshí de lìsh??’ he said.

‘The true timeline,’ Joan said.

‘Some families call it that,’ Jamie agreed. ‘The Liu stories say that in the zhēnshí de lìsh?, the hero was an ordinary boy in love with a monster girl.’

‘A monster girl?’ Joan echoed. The sick feeling was getting stronger.

‘You know the theory of the timeline?’ Jamie said. ‘That when we make changes, the timeline repairs itself? It returns to its natural shape.’

‘Yes,’ Joan whispered. She had a feeling that she didn’t want to hear what was about to come next.

‘The Lius believe that our timeline still tries to return to its true shape—still yearns for the shape of the true timeline. We believe that if people belonged together in the true timeline, then our timeline tries to repair itself by bringing them together. Over and over and over. Until the rift is healed.’

‘Like soul mates?’ Tom said.

Jamie smiled at Tom. ‘Yes. If you believe in fairytales.’

On the way back to the safe house, Tom was very quiet. Frankie hadn’t wanted to leave the garden. She’d lingered by Jamie’s side, and had whined miserably when she’d realised they were leaving him behind.