Page 4 of Once a Villain
Aaron had made that sound like a refusal, but when they passed the first cage, he rapped two elegant knuckles against the top bars, making its occupant glance up fearfully; he thought Aaron was going to hurt him.
Joan felt sick to her stomach. The man was already hurting—she could hear his short, pained gasps for breath—and the cage was far too small for him. The cage itself was obscenely beautiful for such a terrible purpose, the brass polished, the royal seal rendered with such mastery that the lion’s fur, the peacock feathers, the roses could have been real. A small golden plaque on the top readDamnatio ad bestias.The next cage over readDamnatio ad gladium.
The words were familiar—Joan had heard them before, maybe in a history class. But what did they mean?
Aaron waited until they reached an empty pocket of the bridge—a gap between buildings, the river foaming below. “Yes,” he said. “All three are human.”
Nick stopped, his eyes all pupil. His expression was so dangerous that Joan was sure he was going to turn back and wrench open those cage doors. She felt it too. She wanted to go back and get those men out. They couldn’t just leave them there.
Aaron stepped in front of Nick. “You can’t help them. You understand that, right?”
“Get out of my face,” Nick ground out. His muscled build made Aaron seem slighter and younger than he was.
Joan saw a flash of red at the corner of her eye. “Couple of red coats coming this way,” she whispered.
Aaron’s hands clenched by his sides. He was afraid of the guards, but he was afraid of Nick too. Nick had once been a figure of far more terror than guards. “We need to keep moving,” Aaron whispered.
Nick’s gaze flicked to the guards, jaw tightening. But Aaron was right, and he knew it. If they got themselves killed, it wasover. There’d be no one to fix the timeline, and theyhadto fix it. He closed his eyes, and for a second Joan could read everything on his face.I did this. Those men are caged because of me.Then he nodded tightly, and forced himself to start walking again.
They passed through the cutout of a cross building, and emerged to find a huge stone arch ahead marking the northern extent of the bridge. And... Joan’s heart sank. Checkpoints had been set up like passport control at an airport.
There were five queues, with guards checking bags and chops—the seals that monsters used as identification.Shit.Neither she nor Nick had chops. And Aaron, Ruth, and Jamie would be discovered if they usedtheirs. She slowed as they approached the queues, watching the guards and trying to decide what to do.
“Leftmost guard isn’t checking as often,” she murmured. “Maybe one in ten.”
“There are five of us,” Ruth whispered back.
Joan didn’t like the odds either. “Maybe we should turn back.” But as she said it, a woman slipped away from a middle queue, heading south again. A guard jogged over to her, shouting for her ID. The guards were watching.
“Left line it is,” Ruth said.
Joan ended up behind a woman with mousy brown hair, cut brutally straight. The others filed in behind her.
“Keep things moving!” the checkpoint guard shouted up ahead. He had a booming voice—a thespian voice. It matched his thick black beard and mustache. “We all want our dinner!”
There were about fifteen people between Joan and the guard. She was already close enough to see the details of his uniform.His heavy wool coat was stained with rain, but the brass buttons had been polished to a high shine. The winged lion of the Monster Court was embroidered on his left sleeve in gold thread.
The line shuffled forward, and Joan and the others shuffled with it. All around, people rummaged in bags and pockets, pulling out monster chops.
Beyond the checkpoint, Liu territory was tantalizingly close. Joan had never been so desperate to get to an ordinary road lined with dreary office buildings.
The woman in front of Joan smiled at her. “I wouldn’t look so worried, my love. These checks are just precautionary. People always say they’ve spotted rebels, but they never really have. They’re always crying wolf.” Her smile turned toothy, as if she’d made a small joke.
The woman had a basket of roses, and Joan recognized her suddenly. This was the woman who’d spat at the caged man. On her wrist, she wore a silver bracelet with a large charm—a griffin. She was a member of the Griffith family, with the power to induce truths. Joan felt herself tensing even more.
“They only care about IDs at sunset,” the woman said, as if Joan had asked. “This time of day, it’s just quota filling. The guards want to nab a few humans out after curfew.”
The hairs rose on the back of Joan’s neck. “Curfew?” she blurted. As soon as she’d spoken, she wished she hadn’t. She felt more than heard Nick shift his weight behind her.
The woman misinterpreted Joan’s expression. “I know it’s not quite sunset yet,” she said. “But close enough. I always say that humans should be kept on a short leash.”
The woman’s roses smelled cloyingly sweet—as if they’dbeen sprayed with perfume. Joan could taste it like bile at the back of her throat.
“Clear to come through!” the guard said, making the woman turn. “Next!”
And then, finally,Joanwas next. The guard beckoned, white gloves bright. Joan held her breath, willing him to just let them all through. Not to check their IDs. But as she got closer, he tilted his head, frowning.
Joan swallowed hard. She’d forgotten to keep her eyes down. Was he an Oliver like Aaron? Could he differentiate monsters and humans just by looking at them? As she tensed to run, the guard raised his voice, shouting, “Someone stop him!”
