Only a Monster(Monsters #1)(94)

Joan was quiet too. The first time she’d gone to Holland House, it had felt like a compulsion. She’d seen the name on a signpost and she’d had to go there. She hadn’t been able to think about anything else. And then she’d met Nick, and it had been like she’d already known him. Like she knew him better than she knew herself.

‘This doesn’t help us kill him,’ Ruth said as they walked. ‘It doesn’t help us stop him.’

‘I told you this would be a waste of time,’ Aaron said.

Our timeline tries to repair itself by bringing them together, Jamie had said. Over and over and over. Until the rift is healed. Joan had been drawn to Holland House while Nick had been there. Nick had found her in 1993. They’d collided with each other at the Monster Court.

She remembered how he’d touched her cheek. How he’d looked at her. What it had felt like when he’d kissed her.

But if the timeline was trying to repair itself, it was doomed to failure. This was a rift that couldn’t be healed. Nick had killed Joan’s family. Nick had been conditioned to loathe monsters.

‘So, what now, then?’ Ruth said.

‘Now nothing,’ Aaron said. ‘Now we wait for the Patel power to wear off, and then we get out of this time and live our lives in hiding.’

Joan pressed her fingernails into her palms—over the cuts already there. She let herself feel the bite of it. Gran had told her the truth that night. Only you can stop the hero, she’d said.

In a way, Joan had always known what she’d have to do.

Back at the safe house, Tom went straight to the bedroom. He left the door open at Ruth’s insistence. ‘I’m fine,’ he said tiredly. ‘Well, no, I’m not. But I’m just going to sleep. That’s all.’

It didn’t take long for the others to fall asleep too, Ruth on the sofa, Aaron on the living room rug. They were all so tired.

Joan was tired too, but she found herself staring at the photos on the living room wall: the mother, the father, the little girl, and the baby.

Joan had loved her family so much. She hadn’t understood how much until they’d died.

She closed her eyes. Bertie had been the same age as her, and the gentlest of all the family. He’d hated arguments. When they’d been little, he’d always wanted to play games that they could all play—he’d never liked people to feel left out.

Uncle Gus had been the family fusspot. Be careful out there, my love, he’d say every time any of them left the house. He’d put vegetables in everything—even desserts. You have to look after your health.

Aunt Ada had been the smartest of them, except for maybe Gran. She’d never made anyone feel stupid, though. She’d been kind. She’d been a good teacher.

And Gran . . .

Joan squeezed her eyes shut tighter, remembering again how Gran had struggled for breath that night.

You want to kill me before I kill your family, Nick had said to Joan.

Joan didn’t want to kill him at all. She couldn’t lie to herself anymore. She’d been in love with him from the moment she first saw him. She’d been in love with him before that—in a whole other timeline.

He’s going to kill more people than you can imagine, Jamie had said.

Joan stood a moment longer in the living room, looking at Ruth and Aaron. She could see Tom through the open bedroom door. Lying there like this, they all seemed as vulnerable as children.

Joan slipped into the hallway. As she reached the front door, a sound behind her made her turn. It was Aaron. He closed the door to the living room softly. Even without sleep, he was angelically beautiful. Almost too good-looking to be real.

‘Let me come with you,’ he whispered.

‘How did you know I was leaving?’ Joan said.

‘I just knew.’

For a weak moment, Joan imagined saying yes, please, come with me. He’d been with her all this time. But this was going to be dangerous, and she’d risked the others enough. He’d helped her so much already.

‘I have to go alone,’ she whispered.

Aaron dipped his head slightly. ‘You know where to find him?’

Joan nodded. ‘Where and when.’

Outside, the sun was setting. Low-angled light filtered in through the wavy glass by the front door. It made Aaron’s hair gleam gold. ‘Joan,’ he said, ‘you need to know that if you undo the massacre—’

‘He has to be stopped,’ Joan said. ‘Whether our families can be saved or not. He can’t be allowed to slaughter people.’

‘I know.’ Aaron took a step closer. And then he was right there in her space, filling her view completely. ‘I know.’

‘Aaron—’

‘Listen to me, please. If you actually manage to do this, if you stop him before he starts—’

‘No, I—’

‘Listen to me,’ Aaron said. ‘If you change the timeline, I won’t know you anymore. It’ll be like we never met.’

‘We’d meet,’ Joan promised. ‘I’d make sure we did.’

‘No.’ His tone was serious and urgent, with none of his usual undercurrent of irony. ‘Joan, if you somehow remember this, remember what I’m saying now. You have to stay far away from me. From me and from my family. Never let me close enough to see the colour of your eyes.’