Page 109 of Once a Villain
“I cleared the room,” Mum said. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you.” She went over to a freestanding counter at the north of the room. The area was a small kitchen, really. There was a sink, a dishwasher, a microwave. When Mum switched on the kettle, it began to boil immediately, and Joan imagined her boiling the kettle before they’d arrived. Pacing nervously and needing to do something.
Now Mum poured hot water into a teapot and put a little jug of milk and a bowl of sugar cubes on a tray. She gestured to the balcony at the west of the room. “Why don’t we sit outside?”
On the balcony, the wind blew over the river, making their clothes flutter and the lid of the sugar bowl rattle. This was the very heart of London, Joan thought—where the city’s first bridge had been built by the Romans.
“How do you take your tea?” Mum asked her. There was a note of aching curiosity in her voice. As ifanyinformation about Joan would be interesting to her—even something as small as this.
Joan understood. She wanted to know everything about Mum too. “Milk with one. What about you?”
“Just milk.” Mum smiled a little crookedly. Her eyes glinted with unshed tears. “Your father liked sugar in his tea too.”
“He does,” Joan agreed.Did.She couldn’t use the past tense like Mum had. Dad was surely alive somewhere in this world,despite what Mary Ward had said. Joan couldn’t bear any other alternative.
“I miss him so much,” Mum said. “I miss both of you.”
What happened to him here?What happened to me?Joan couldn’t bring herself to ask. “He missedyou,” she managed. “Every day. He told me so many stories about you when I was growing up. Our house is full of photos of you.”
Mum took a sharp breath. “I can hardly believe you’re here. I used to sit on this balcony after you died. I couldn’t sleep, so I’d just sit here, looking at the city lights, wishing you were still with me....”
Joan swallowed hard. She felt weirdly guilty. Her own grief hadn’t manifested like that. She didn’t remember Mum at all. She’d been a baby when Mum had died, and had grown up with her death as a foundational fact of her life; one that she’d known before she could count or read. Something that was just true and evident, like the sun in the sky.
And yet... there’d been a hollow place inside Joan for as long as she could remember. Mum’s presence was everywhere at home; Dad talked about her all the time. Gran never did, but Gran’s avoidance had created a kind of presence too. A different kind of grief from Dad’s, but grief all the same.
Nick caught Joan’s eye. Sometimes, it was like she could read his mind. He was worried about her. Even after the revelations in the pub, he was worried about her.
“We should...” Aaron gestured at the room they’d just left. “Me and Nick can go back inside. You two will want to catch up.”
“No,” Mum said heavily. “There are things you need to hear, Aaron. And you too, Nick.”
Joan felt her eyes widen. “You know who they are?”
Mum searched Joan’s face. “What do you know about your family power?”
Joan was thrown by the change of subject. She hesitated, even though Mum already knew she’d been tearing holes in the timeline. It was how Fern had found her.
“You can trust me. I would never do anything to hurt you,” Mum said.
Joan swallowed. She’d been betrayed by family before—by Gran’s younger self—but something inside her knew shecouldtrust Mum. It wasn’t what Mum had said; Joan just knew it, like she knew this house.
She gathered her thoughts. “I only discovered the Grave power a few months ago,” she said. “It’s... It’s malfunctioning. I can unmake things, but sometimes I tear holes in the world without meaning to. I don’t know why.”
Something flitted over Mum’s face. Joan knew that if she’d grown up with her, she’d have been able to read it. “You grew up in a world without any Graves in it,” Mum said. “You were never trained in how to use our power.”
Joan had had questions before, and she hadsomany more now. “How do you know that? How did you know I wasme? That I was here?” Mum had said she’d been looking for her....
“They began putting up your wanted posters around the city some years ago,” Mum said. “Joan Chang-Hunt... Your name here was Joan Chang-Grave, but I knew it was you. I recognizedyou. And I knew from that poster that you’d arrive someday.”
“Recognized me?” Joan was confused. “Because I look like Dad?”
Mum’s smile was sad. “Youdolook like your dad. But I recognized you because I have the true Grave power. Not many of us do. Not even your sister. Right now, in this house, only you and I do.”
Nick’s breath stuttered, as if he’d realized what Mum meant. But Joan still didn’t understand. “Me?”
“It’s how we found you,” Mum said. She stood, carefully pushing away her chair. “The true Grave power,” she said. “With training, it looks like this—”
She was facing the open doors leading back into the Graves’ great hall. She raised a hand and made a peeling motion, tearing open the worldas easily as someone might peel away the film from a screen.
Joan gasped as a new scene became visible. Instead of the house, there was clear air, and Tower Bridge beyond. This was a view of the previous timeline.
