Page 123 of Once a Villain
“Of course it is,” Aaron said. “I was steering.” He turned to Nick, who was staring into the darkness now. “All right?” he murmured.
Nick blinked, as if Aaron had drawn him out of his head. “Yeah.” He ran a hand over his face. “I don’t remember their deaths, but I could feel them with me when I jumped.”
“We might end up saving the world because of them,” Joan whispered, reaching to brush his hand again. “We won’t let them have died in vain.”
Nick took a deep breath and nodded, squeezing her hand back for a second.
“And now,” Aaron said, “we’re going find the person who’sactuallyresponsible. The person who ordered your family’s murders in the first place. Who’s been fucking with us all for lifetime after lifetime now.” It was his coldest tone—his father’s tone—and for the first time, Joan was glad she’d never get on the wrong side of him.
“Look!” Jamie whispered. He pointed at a pair of lights in the distance. A car was approaching.
“Back!” Joan whispered to them all. “Back behind the trees!”The tree line was thinner here, fifty years earlier, but the night was still dark enough that the shadows should shield them.
Aaron and Joan quickly found a tree to hide beyond. Ruth and Nick settled behind the next tree, and Jamie and Tom, with their pets, just beyond, with Tom crouched at Jamie’s feet. None of the trees were thick enough to conceal his giant frame, but, low to the ground, he seemed less visible.
An old-fashioned, bulky car crawled onto the road and drew to a stop right in front of them—so close that Joan held her breath, afraid to move, as the driver’s door opened.
A tall man got out. He wore a wool frock coat with polished brass buttons. In his hand was a black top hat with the soft sheen of silk. There was a gold pin on his lapel: a winged lion. He was followed from the car by a woman, very tall and thin, with a bolt of shining hair that fell almost to her feet.
“I do believe,” the man said, with an air of distaste, “that we are early.” His accent was formal, with a hint of something that made Joan think of howling winds; of winter nights.
She felt Aaron go very still beside her, as if he were a mouse that had been caught in front of a cat. He’d recognized that voice, just as Joan had. It belonged to Conrad, one of the members of theCuria Monstrorum—the Monster Court. This was definitely the right time and place.
We call him the King’s Reach, Aaron had told Joan once. His face had been pale as he’d whispered that he’d met Conrad when he’d been younger. Ruth had been disbelieving.You actually saw a member of the Monster Court?, Ruth had said.One of theCuria Monstrorum?
Conrad turned now to face the trees, and Joan stopped breathing completely. Conrad was just as she’d remembered—a man of about twenty with hair the color of the moon, and so much power that he made the hairs on her arms stand on end. He was handsome—but like a statue was handsome, cold and unsmiling. His eyes were a strange pale blue.
“Where will the gates manifest?” the woman asked. She had the same accent as Conrad.
To Joan’s relief, Conrad turned from the trees. “This way,” he said, leading the woman to the edge of the field.
Over the next hour, two dozen more people arrived, none as powerful as Conrad, but all monsters, dressed in silks and velvet for the Court.
Joan’s teeth were starting to chatter harder now. Aaron pressed closer.
As he did, a murmur of excitement spread among the thin crowd. It was almost midnight. Someone raised their voice: “Ten! Nine! Eight!... Three. Two...”
Onone, the whole world seemed to stop. The field had been quiet, but now every background sound ceased: distant cars, wind, the buzz of insects. Joan would have thought she was fading out again, but she still could hear the soft rustle of her own dress as she breathed and Aaron shifting his weight beside her.Theyhadn’t frozen; the rest of the world had.
This had happened last time too, when the Court had manifested in Horse Guards Avenue, in Whitehall. On the stroke of midnight, every human, every animal, every insect in the vicinity had been frozen in time. And then the gate had appeared.
Joan looked over at Nick. Unlike the humans last time, he hadn’t frozen. Maybe it was because Eleanor had detached him from the timeline; it had no power over him anymore.
He saw Joan looking at him and smiled reassuringly. Joan tried to smile back. She was getting more and more scared, though.
A new murmur rose among the crowd, louder this time.
“Something’s happening,” Aaron whispered to Joan. “In the field....”
Joan saw it then too. About twenty paces from the road, shadows were moving like smoke under the moonlight. Joan stared as the shadows rose in two columns, solidifying slowly into thick gate piers, each crowned with lamps full of flickering flames.
Joan peered into the dark. There was something familiar about those piers. Where had she seen them before?
Between the piers, the top edge of the gate emerged. It was wrought iron, but the shapes were organic: scalloped tendrils of climbing vines. Then rods flowed to the ground, shot through with gilded flourishes and curls.
I know that gate, Joan thought. She’d walked through that gate a hundred times or more, in timeline after timeline. She’d have known it anywhere.
“That’s the gate to Holland House,” she breathed.
