Page 131 of Once a Villain
Nick acknowledged that by knocking Mariam out too with a sharp punch to the side of her head.
And then it was Eleanor. She stood in the doorway, eyes blazing with fury. She hadn’t expected this attack either, but she’d had a few moments to grasp the situation.
Now she strode in, the faint sheen around her hinting at a personal Ali shield. Her sheer power was so immense now that the air crackled with it. Eleanor locked eyes on Joan, her hands rising, and Joan felt a rush of cold fear.
“Get down!” Nick called out sharply.
Joan flung herself to the floor, and so did the others as a blast rocked the room—far stronger than Mariam’s. Mirrors exploded; wood splintered. Aaron swore and pulled Joan close, into the shelter of his body as chairs and lamps flew through the air, just missing their heads, and smashed against the walls.
Faint screams sounded from upstairs, and then there were running steps as guests fled the house. Joan risked a quick look around. Jamie and Tom were clustered on the floor with Ruth, arms over her head, protecting her, looking scared but uninjured. Frankie and Sylvie were still safe behind their little fort.
Only Nick was on his feet—the huge wave of power had washed through him as if it hadn’t been there.
“Nick!” Joan said.
Mum had told them not to hesitate, and Nick didn’t. As Eleanor raised her hands again, he lunged with his sword, striking hard. At the arena, he’d struggled to push a blade through Eleanor’s shield, but this time he threw the full force of his weight behind it, and the sword speared past the obstruction.
Joan had the impression that Nick had aimed for Eleanor’s heart—and that the shield had deflected the blow slightly. Eleanor cried out in agony and shock as the blade impaled her shoulder with a horrible crunching sound.
Blood bloomed around the wound. Nick gripped the sword’s pommel with both hands and shoved the blade right through Eleanor’s body to the other side, pinning her to the wall.
Joan gasped at the shocking brevity of it all. Nick had stopped all those monsters—with Tom’s help—in less than a minute. This was how he’d killed monsters when he’d been the hero, sherealized. He’d been immune to their powers, and almost superhumanly fast and strong. And now he had Eleanor at his mercy.
Nick drew a knife to finish the job.
Joan wanted to turn away. Eleanor was hersister. Aaron seemed to know how she felt. He took her hand. “It ends now,” he murmured, and Joan nodded. All these lifetimes, all the pain caused by Eleanor, and it was going to end right now, right here. She gripped Aaron’s hand and forced herself to watch. To see it.
Nick thrust the knife at Eleanor—aiming at her heart. This time, though, the blade bounced off the shield. Nick tried again and it bounced again. He grunted in frustration, and Aaron cursed loudly in the silence.
Eleanor’s laugh was tight and pained. “You should have had better aim the first time,” she gritted out to Nick. “You caught me off guard, but I’ve bolstered the shield now.” She raised a hand again.
Aaron covered Joan’s head again, all of them anticipating another earthquake-like blast. This time, though, the room barely rattled.
Eleanor swore and tried again. Picture frames shook and chair legs wobbled. Eleanor let her head fall back against the wall and panted, trying to catch her breath.
They seemed to be at an impasse. Nick couldn’t break through the shield, and Eleanor was clearly struggling with the pain of being impaled, sucking in air in tight, fast sips.
Joan got warily to her feet, helping Aaron up, and the others stood too. Joan’s legs felt shaky as she hurried to the door,shutting it and sliding the bolt home; Tom and Jamie closed the curtains and turned on lamps.
“Stop playback!” Joan said when they were done. The King froze in the sunroom, the recording paused.
Eleanor glared at him in the newly bright room. “I can’t believe I fell for that.”
“I guess it’s your turn to be predictable.” Joan walked over to face her sister.
Even in agony, with blood dripping down her side, Eleanor looked like a fairy-tale queen. Her white medieval-style gown hung in heavy folds, and her golden hair rippled down her back. In her shoulder, the sword was a gruesome thing. It seemed half-unreal. A Halloween special effect.
“We’ve had some experience in how much you love revenge,” Joan said. She glanced at the King. “What would you have done to him if he’d been real?”
“You should be worried about what I’ll do toyou!” Eleanor tried again to use her power, but this time, nothing moved at all. Blood was seeping steadily from her wound. She squeezed her eyes shut, frustrated. “People are going to come looking for me,” she gritted out. “People much more powerful than any of you.”
“We need to dismantle that shield,” Joan said to Ruth urgently.
They approached with caution. Joan felt like she was walking into the stasis again, past snarling lions and huge bears.
When she was close enough, she reached toward Eleanor, hitting resistance about a hand’s width from Eleanor’s good shoulder. The shield felt as it had last time—like a strongmagnetic repulsion. As if the air itself had thickened to rubber. Joan took a deep breath, trying not to think of the stakes; about what would happen if she failed.
Be unmade, she told the shield. She imagined it disintegrating under her hand. Nothing happened. She set her jaw.Be unmade.Beside her, she could hear Ruth trying to break through with the Hunt power too.
