Page 31 of Only a Monster

Aaron stopped abruptly. A woman in a sun hat collided with him. Joan collided with the woman in turn, almost tripping over her shoes. Aaron gave Joan a meaningful look.

Joan let her hand fall against the woman’s shoulder, as though regaining balance. She shifted her thumb to touch the woman’s neck. She could feel Aaron’s eyes on her.

Take time, she told herself.

She couldn’t feel anything.

I’m taking time, she thought hopefully.

Through the crowd, she could see more red coats and tall tufted hats. The thump, thump, thump of the drums was getting closer.

A flash of movement caught her eyes. Aaron was gesturing at her to drop her hand. Joan had been too slow.

Joan pushed down the beginnings of panic. What if she couldn’t figure this out?

‘Breathe,’ Aaron murmured. ‘You just need to concentrate.’ He moved away again, putting a man between them. He held up his water bottle, and Joan reached over the man’s shoulder for it.

The new man was heavyset, with dark hair. Joan let the edge of her hand shift against his neck. Concentrate, she told herself fiercely.

She squeezed her eyes shut. She wasn’t here in a crowd, outside Buckingham Palace. She was at home in Milton Keynes. It was a school morning. Monday morning. She imagined fumbling with the alarm. Pulling on her blue-and-mustard uniform. The bell on Monday afternoon. Tuesday. Then Mr Larch’s noisy history class on Wednesday. Thursday. The happy sound of the last bell on Friday afternoon. Then Monday again. Wednesday again. Friday again.

Nothing happened. Joan tightened her grip on the bottle. She was trying her hardest, and it still wasn’t working.

She opened her eyes and shook her head at Aaron.

She moved to shift away from the man, and then she was choking on it. Time ran into her like a jolt of strong coffee, like butterflies before an exam. Energy, intense and insistent, flowed through her. It felt horrible. It felt incredible.

Someone was there suddenly. Aaron. He tugged her hand, guiding it away from the man’s neck.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

Joan breathed out shakily. She nodded.

Aaron took time as naturally as breathing. Joan struggled with every take. She knew she was being too slow. She could see Aaron becoming more and more tense as the ceremony drew closer. His eyes were everywhere—tracking every phone, scanning the crowd.

As the guards reached the palace, the crowd became so dense that it was difficult to move. Joan slowed down even more. She took time, then painstakingly shifted and squeezed to the next person.

She tried to concentrate on the mechanical act of it, but as she did, she found her mind returning to the Gilt Room. To Nick’s grave face as he’d said: If you ever steal time from a human again, I will kill you myself. I won’t hesitate.

She was stealing time from these people. She was a monster. She felt so fucking ugly inside. And at the same time, she wanted to scream at Nick: Why did you have to kill my family?

The next man was wearing a hoodie. Strange for such a warm day. Joan pushed the hood aside.

There was a tattoo on the back of his neck. A snarling wolf. Joan gasped. She’d seen that wolf before. The man in the maze had had the same tattoo.

This man turned fast, perhaps feeling the cool air on his neck. He reached for Joan, but she was already propelling herself into the crowd. She could hear him struggling after her as she muscled herself through the crush of people to the low fence that cut off the memorial from the road.

‘Stay behind the barricades!’ a cop shouted.

Joan leaped over the barricade, ignoring the ‘Oi!’ behind her. She sprinted across the street. Here the crowd was even more dense. People were pressed ten deep, right up against the palace fence.

Someone grabbed Joan’s arm. She threw a wild punch.

‘It’s me! It’s me!’ Aaron looked weirdly dishevelled. He’d lost the floppy hat somewhere. He dragged her farther into the crowd, toward the fence.

‘They’re here!’ Joan said. She looked over her shoulder, trying to pick them out from the crowd. ‘They’re here!’

‘I know.’ Aaron’s grip tightened painfully around Joan’s arm. ‘Do you have enough time to go?’

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