Page 96 of Only a Monster

‘One of the Victorian-era Hunts stole a Patel chop once,’ Ruth said to Joan. ‘The Patels mired her for years. Forced her to live in a time she’d been in before.’

‘What happened?’ Joan asked. Aaron had told her the rules—you couldn’t be in the same time twice. The timeline didn’t allow it.

‘What happens if you’re in a tunnel and can’t get out of the way of a train?’ Aaron said, dry.

‘We don’t know what happened to her,’ Ruth said. ‘People who meet themselves in time vanish. Some people think that the timeline flings you away into its outer reaches. Or that you vanish into nothingness.’

‘It’s rare,’ Aaron said. ‘The timeline doesn’t allow you to jump into a time you already occupy. And if you get too close just by living, you start to feel an intense urge to leave. But you can live your way into it—whether by being mired or stubborn. The Olivers say that if that happens, you get pushed outside time itself.’

Outside time itself. Joan shivered, thinking of that shadowy abyss of nothingness outside the walls of the Monster Court.

‘What’s the point of speculating?’ Tom growled. ‘Either way, you’re gone.’

That seemed to silence them all. They walked through the tunnel, listening for trains. Joan imagined what this place must have looked like in the 1800s—lit up with gas lamps and crowded with market stalls and tourists in suits and long dresses.

‘Are we going to talk about what else happened at the Monster Court?’ Ruth said finally. She was flagging. Her voice was getting more and more hoarse and tired.

‘What’s there to talk about?’ Aaron said.

‘We didn’t find the device,’ Ruth said. ‘We can’t change the timeline.’

Joan glanced at Tom and found him looking back at her. There’s no device, he’d said at the watermen’s stairs. No device meant no way to save their families. Joan couldn’t bear to think about that yet.

‘What’s there to talk about?’ Aaron said again. ‘We failed. We came out empty-handed. We barely escaped with our lives. And now Conrad is after us. We’ll live out the rest of our lives running from godforsaken time to godforsaken time. And one day we’ll turn a corner, and Conrad will be standing there.’

Ruth said: ‘Listen, if you’re going to—’

Joan held up her hand to quiet them. There was a glint of light ahead. A train?

‘We’re almost through,’ Tom said, and Joan realised that she was seeing daylight. From bank to bank, it didn’t take long to walk under the river. And outside, dawn had finally broken.

The tunnel emerged where a train would have—right into Rotherhithe Station, platforms on either side. There was a security guard on one of the platforms. He paced away from them. From his posture, he seemed both cold and bored. He was clearly waiting for trains, and not expecting anyone to walk out of the tunnel.

Monster? Joan mouthed to Aaron.

Can’t see, Aaron mouthed back. He needed to see the man’s eyes, Joan remembered.

Silently, Ruth pointed out one camera and then another one. Tom boosted each of them up onto the opposite platform. Before the guard could turn, they tiptoed up the stairs, and then they were out of the station, on the south side of the river.

The south bank was more industrial than in Joan’s time. The breeze across the river smelled like tar. As they made their way west, Joan felt those jolts of alienation and familiarity that she was beginning to associate with this time. London Bridge and Tower Bridge looked just the same, but the Shard was missing. The Millennium Bridge was missing.

Ahead of her, Aaron held Ruth’s elbow to keep her steady, solicitous and gentlemanly. Joan wondered—not for the first time—which period Aaron had actually grown up in. He sometimes seemed to slip into manners from another age.

Or maybe he wasn’t from anywhere. Maybe monsters just travelled and travelled through the past and the future, never stopping for long.

‘You haven’t told them,’ Tom said softly to Joan. Joan wasn’t sure if it was a question or an observation. Even more softly, he said: ‘They don’t know about that power of yours either, do they?’

Joan shivered, remembering again how she’d slammed her hand against the lock. Power had poured out of her. And when she’d lifted her hand, the metal had turned into ore.

They’d fallen a little behind the other two, and now Tom slowed even more. Joan was suddenly very aware of his muscled bulk. ‘Walk faster,’ she said.

Tom smiled crookedly, but he lengthened his steps again just enough to keep pace with the others. His gaze turned to the river. ‘You can almost imagine that you can see the territories of the great families from here,’ he mused. ‘Olivers and Alis in the west. Nowaks and Argents north. Griffiths and Mtawalis south. Patels and Portellis, east. Lius, the centre. Hathaways, the river. And the Nightingales . . .’ He paused slightly. ‘Anywhere they please.’

He’d missed a family. ‘And the Hunts,’ Joan said.

‘And the Hunts,’ Tom acknowledged. ‘Always moving around the edges of other monsters’ territories. As a child I used to think they were running from something.’

Ahead of them, Aaron and Ruth turned into a narrow alley. ‘Stay in front of me,’ Joan warned Tom. The buildings here were built close and sunless. Warehouses and converted factories.

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