Page 90 of Only a Monster

‘Two more times,’ Joan said. ‘Me and you.’

Ruth took her time to answer. Her breath was coming in gasps. ‘You know I can’t come with you,’ she managed.

‘Yes, you can,’ Joan said firmly. ‘You didn’t even try back there at the archive, but I bet you could have.’

Ruth shook her head.

‘I’m not leaving you here,’ Joan said.

‘Don’t be an idiot.’ The usual spark in Ruth’s voice wasn’t there. She sounded tired and flat. She started to push at the rope again.

‘Ruth—’ Joan said.

‘Just fucking go when I say,’ Ruth said.

‘I’m not leaving you here.’

‘Three,’ Ruth said. ‘Two. One.’

The gate flashed into existence. Joan grabbed Ruth’s free hand, dragging her through as she jumped.

There was a flash of horrifying nothingness, and then Joan was falling out onto a footpath. She hit someone’s back. Aaron’s. She steadied herself against him. For a long moment, she couldn’t breathe. Whatever time they were in, she could hear cars.

And then she heard Ruth’s voice. ‘You absolute idiot. You could have killed us both!’

Joan swallowed, almost in tears with relief. ‘You’re the idiot.’

‘What if you’d fallen into that timeless abyss or whatever it was?’ Ruth demanded. ‘What if you’d got yourself killed!’

Joan looked around. Whatever had frozen Whitehall at the stroke of midnight had lost its grip. Tourists and cars were moving again, wandering toward Big Ben and back the other way to Trafalgar Square.

Otherwise, everything looked just as it had when they’d left. The cars were still low and boxy; people’s clothes were still loose.

‘I think we’re back in the nineties,’ Ruth said. ‘I was aiming for the night we just left.’

‘You did great,’ Joan said.

‘Quiet,’ Aaron said sharply. ‘We’re not safe yet.’

They were drawing some attention from tourists walking past. Had they been seen jumping out of thin air? No. People didn’t look shocked enough for that. Then she saw someone give her an up-and-down look.

‘These clothes are really memorable,’ she murmured. Aaron and Tom could have passed without comment, but Joan and Ruth were obviously dressed for a gala.

Aaron swore. He stripped off his grey jacket, leaving him in a shirt and waistcoat. He passed the jacket to Joan. Tom passed his to Ruth.

Joan slid into it, remembering the other time she’d worn Aaron’s jacket—terrified and cold, and covered in Gran’s blood. Just like last time, she felt instantly better. The grey length covered almost three-quarters of her dress. Tom’s covered even more of Ruth’s. Joan caught Aaron looking at her as she straightened the hem. Maybe he was remembering that night too.

‘Okay?’ she whispered to him.

He nodded. His expression was difficult to make out. ‘Let’s get out of here,’ he whispered back.

Joan craned to look farther up the road. The great gate into Whitehall Palace had vanished. In its place, there were dozens of people in dark suits.

‘Guards,’ Aaron whispered.

Conrad was standing among them, illuminated by a streetlight. His blond hair shone, reminding Joan of Aaron. Conrad bent to say something to a man with black hair and a very thin build.

‘That man he’s talking to,’ Tom whispered. ‘That’s not a guard. I think that’s one of the Patel family.’

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