Page 81 of Once a Villain
Joan heard Ruth gasp. Outside, the ancient sea had vanished in a blink, as if it had never existed. In its place, the arena was again a smooth, blank slate of clean, dry sand—ready for the next battle.
Joan felt a wave of dread. The second act of the program was about to begin—the one Nick would enter.
The crowd was shouting now.Gladiators, gladiators!Joan made out names of individual competitors among the calls.Bull! Bull! Priscus! Verus!
With the sea gone, Aaron was visible again—much farther away than he’d been before. He didn’t seem as composed as earlier; he was restless, blond head turning searchingly.
Eleanor was even more distant—just a shadow inside the imperial box on the other side of the stadium. From here, she seemed statue-still. Was she enjoying the spectacle? Joan wondered. Or just waiting, coldly, for her plans to fall into place, for the deaths in the arena to weaken the timeline enough that she could act?
And she’d be able to act soon. In the air above the stadium, the tear in the timeline had increased in size. It had been a thin crack when Joan had last seen it, but now it had opened, like a jagged maw. From here, it seemed the size of a football, but it had to be bigger than that.
Couldn’t the crowd see it? Couldn’t they feel the horror of it? Or were the horrors of the day enough to cover the feeling, like the smell of incense over blood?
The loudspeaker crackled. “Our next spectacle will be a re-creation of the overthrow of humanity! Gladiators and criminals will act out the great monster families overcoming humans!”
As the announcer spoke, theatrical scenery began to rise from below—enormous, sturdy props the height of two-story buildings. They were being elevated into the arena on platforms,just like the caged people and animals had been raised in the first battle.
“It’s London,” Nick said. “A re-creation of London. They’re going to stage the battle inside it.”
It was a tourist’s version of London—scaled-down landmarks squeezed into a maze of streets. Here was London Bridge with its quaint houses, and over there the Palace of Westminster and Big Ben.
And now a winding ditch sank into the sand, several yards deep. It was supposed to represent the Thames, Joan realized, as it slowly flooded with murky brown water.
Her stomach churned. The fights against the beasts earlier had hardly been fights at all. But this setting had clearly been designed to make the battles last longer, with twisting streets and places for people to hide.
“We have to go!” Nick said. “We have what we need. And this room is about to be swarming with people.” It took Joan a second to understand what he meant—thatpretty soon more gladiators’ bodies would be dragged in from the arena.
“What’s the best way into the arena?” Tom wondered. “Just line up with the other gladiators?”
“Too late for that,” Ruth said, nodding at the view through the windows.
Gladiators were already being elevated to the surface, to the renewed roar of the crowd. They wore the emblems of the families in elaborate, colorful breastplates and necklaces that incorporated their pendants. Joan spotted the mermaid of the Olivers, the burnt elm of the Argents, the serpent of the Portellis. She guessed there were about three dozen of them.
The gladiators were far more used to fighting than the humans from the wagons. Some leaped from their platforms and played to the crowd, strutting back and forth, showing off their biceps and pounding their chests. Others ignored the audience completely, stalking with swords raised into the streets of the re-created city.
And now more wagons rose into the arena. As they settled, the cages fell, and the humans inside sprinted, trying to find places to hide among the buildings. There must have been a hundred people, at least.
A gladiator threw a spear, striking one of the running humans in the leg. The victim screamed and fell, scrabbling backward as the gladiator came to finish him off.
Another gladiator sprinted down a street and dragged out an elderly man trying to find shelter within a building. He stabbed him with a short sword, and the man slumped. As he did, though, the gladiator himself was struck in the leg by a thrown knife. Apparently, some ofthesehumans were armed.
Nick twitched, clearly wanting to intervene. But he couldn’t do anything from in here. “Ihaveto get into the arena.” He hadn’t put the gladiator clothes on yet, but he already looked like one—he had the same dangerous strength.
“If we keep going around this curve”—Jamie pointed left—“we’ll reach some big open arches in about a minute. That’s where they drag the bodies in from the field.”
“Too visible,” Tom said. “And he’d have no shelter.”
“And we’re too far from Eleanor,” Joan added. Fear was high in her throat, but she forced herself to consider the options. She turned to Nick. “If you go in that way, you’d have to fight through that whole battlefield to get to her.” He’d have to make it through all that sceneryandthe river obstacle. “The chamber we were in earlier...” It had been much closer. “I can use my power to break open the wall into the arena there.”
“Still too visible,” Tom said.
“We don’t have time for the Grave power!” Ruth said. “Look.” She pointed at the jagged-edged tear in the air. It seemed to be growing even as they watched—more with every new death.
“Wait—” Jamie interrupted them. “I have an idea.”
He darted out, and they hurried after him as he navigated the maze of chambers with ease. Within a couple of minutes, he’d brought them to an empty chamber off an obscure corridor. It was the level below the arena—windowless and dim.
There was a platform here—one of the large ones—with a wagon still on it, the caged sides lying on the ground. Together, they dragged the wagon from the platform, clearing it.
