Page 14 of Once a Villain
Aaron gave her a long look. He turned to Ruth with an air of reluctant conciliation. “You can get Frankie a coat.”
Ruth rolled her eyes. “I’ll get what I want.”
“Shall we meet back here?” Aaron asked.
“No,” Nick said. “Let’s meet back at the room. I don’t want to stick around here any longer than we have to.”
As Aaron and Ruth headed off toward the clothes—already bickering about which stalls to prioritize—Jamie shook his head. “I’d better go with them,” he said, beckoning Frankie. “I think they’ll need a referee.”
That left Joan unexpectedly alone with Nick.
She glanced at him. To her surprise, he was looking back, his dark eyes wide, as if he’d just realized they were alone too. They’d had a moment together at the inn, when they’d seen the curfew notice, but this spot, between the clothes racks, felt oddly private.
Joan opened her mouth, and then didn’t know what to say.She could feel her face heating. She could always feel the pull of him, but being this close made her want to be with him always, on some deep, instinctive level. Nick pushed a hand nervously through his thick hair. Joan’s chest tightened. It was hard to believe it had been just a few days since they’d kissed. The distance between them felt painfully impassable now.
“We should—” Nick tilted his head, and Joan nodded quickly.
They walked along the relatively calm path of the perimeter, and Joan found herself thinking about the last time she and Nick had spoken—properly spoken.After they’d kissed, he’d learned the terrible secret of what Joan had done to him.She’d unmade the hero, dooming all the people he’d saved. He’d been furious, but he’d agreed to a truce.
We’re going to work together, he’d said.We’re on the same side until we stop Eleanor. But after that... our paths will diverge.
Joan’s chest constricted again. The thought of being at war with Nick again after they defeated Eleanor was unbearable.
“Head down,” Nick whispered now.
Joan did it automatically, taking in with a sweeping glance what Nick had seen. There were proper brick-and-mortar shops along the rounded edge of the market. Ahead, one of them was roped off, security officers checking people on entry. It seemed to be selling weapons—swords, spears, axes—and there was a sign outside it.No humans.
Security officers checked people’s eyes as they entered. Joan didn’t need Aaron to tell her that they were Olivers.
And... Joan’s heart stuttered as she spotted more wanted posters on the wall of the weapons shop—including her own. Nick had shifted so that he was blocking Joan from sight, butJoan couldn’t breathe as she walked past the officers, trying to keep an even pace.
Nick’s shoulders dropped in relief when they were out of danger.
“We should probably get nonperishables as well as something to eat now.” Joan tried to keep her voice steady, but she could tell from Nick’s creased forehead that she hadn’t quite managed it. “We might have to run again.”
They were approaching the food section. Along the curving wall were alcoves that reminded Joan of thermopolia—the fast-food stalls of ancient Rome. Sellers stood at stone counters with recessed cauldrons. Behind them, meat and onions sizzled on grills, hazing the air with smoke. Chalked menus advertised everything from stews to spiced drinks to pastries to skewers of meat.
Nick nodded toward a stall selling roasted nuts and dates. “I’ll put together some trail mix.”
The stall next to it sold pastries and skewers of chicken and lamb. Joan got into that queue, trying not to look as tense as she felt when someone joined the line behind her. There were monsters all around them now, and she’d never felt so much like prey.
To her left, a couple of dozen picnic tables were packed. Customers stood watchfully around them, paper plates and cups in hand, ready to pounce on the next free seat. Servers hovered too, in white tunics with the Serpentine Inn logo: intertwined snakes with forked tongues sticking out.
As Joan inched forward in the queue, a boy of about fifteen stood up from one of the picnic tables. He casually beckoned over one of the servers—an elderly man with a peach fuzz of white hair.
Joan had assumed the boy wanted a fresh drink, or a spill cleaned up, but to her shock, he gestured for the man to bend his head. Without missing a beat, the elderly man ducked down, and the boy swiped the back of his neck.
Joan heard herself gasp, the sound drowned by the harsh sounds of the market. The server himself didn’t react at all to having his life stolen. The boy gestured again, and the man tilted his wrist, revealing an ugly, bulky pendant with two rows of rotatable numbers; it looked to Joan like a complicated combination lock.
With growing horror, she realized that all the servers—the humans—were wearing pendants, on bracelets and necklaces. Jamie had explained what they were back at the apartment. The top row of numbers represented the human’s remaining lifespan. The bottom row was the amount of life belonging to the monster family in whose territory the human had been born.
Joan felt sick suddenly. The floor here was unpleasantly sticky, and her head was pounding. She wanted desperately to leave.
The boy turned the last number on each row of the man’s pendant and then walked away, vanishing mid-step as he traveled in time. Blank-faced, the server took the boy’s soiled plate and cup, and wiped down the table.
Joan put a hand over her mouth, trying to will down the bile rising in her throat. Everyone was acting like nothing had happened, but she knew that scene would be burned forever in her mind.
She sought Nick’s gaze and found him looking back at her, shaken.
