Page 19 of Only a Monster

Joan stared down at the stained blanket under her hands. There was blood everywhere. All over the floor. All over Gran. All over Joan’s hands now.

‘Can Ruth hear us?’ Gran whispered.

The room was big enough to be a bedroom and sitting room combined. Ruth was on the other side of it, propping a heavy chair under a doorknob. Joan shook her head. Her hair fell across her face, and she shrugged it away impatiently. ‘You shouldn’t speak,’ she told Gran. ‘You should rest. We’ll have the window open soon. We’ll get you out.’

‘Don’t be a fool,’ Gran murmured. Her words were so soft that Joan could hardly hear her, close as she was. ‘I didn’t send Ruth away so I could rest.’ The rise and fall of her chest was unsteady under Joan’s hands. She was struggling to breathe. ‘I was supposed to have so much more time to prepare you. I thought I’d be fighting beside you.’

She wasn’t making sense. ‘Gran, please,’ Joan said. ‘You need to save your strength.’

‘Hush,’ Gran said. ‘I will speak. You will not.’ Despite the pain, Gran’s green eyes were as sharp as ever. ‘Only you can stop the hero, Joan.’

Joan stared at Gran. She had to be delirious.

‘I’m so sorry, my love, but—’ Gran tried to take a breath and choked. Again and then again.

‘Gran,’ Joan said. She felt as though she were holding Gran together with her bare hands and couldn’t hold her hard enough.

Gran caught her breath. ‘Can Ruth hear us?’ she rasped. The effort of speaking seemed to be exhausting her.

Ruth was by one of the windows now. Joan drew a breath to call for her, but Gran put her hand over Joan’s. ‘No,’ Gran managed. ‘Just—’ Her face tightened with agony. She tried again. ‘Just. Can she hear us?’

Joan shook her head.

‘Joan, you’re in very grave danger.’ Gran’s voice was getting weaker. Joan had to strain to hear her. ‘Graver than you know. Someday soon you’ll come into an ability. A power.’

‘The Hunt—’

‘Not the Hunt power,’ Gran whispered. ‘Another. You can trust no one with the knowledge of it.’

Joan looked over at Ruth. She was still working on the window.

‘No,’ Gran whispered. ‘Not Ruth. Not anyone. Promise me you’ll tell no one of it.’

Joan could trust Ruth with anything. ‘But Ruth—’

Gran’s hand came up to clasp Joan’s wrist. The ruby on her wedding ring glinted dully, the same colour as all the blood. ‘Promise me,’ Gran ground out. ‘Say it.’

‘I promise,’ Joan whispered hoarsely.

Gran sighed in apparent relief. Her hand slipped from Joan’s wrist.

She’d left something behind. Joan stared down numbly. Gran had placed a fine-chained gold necklace with a pendant over Joan’s wrist. It was draped loosely over Joan’s Hunt bracelet, and the two chains seemed to blur together as Joan stared at them.

After a time, she heard Ruth’s pattering footsteps and then Ruth threw herself down to the floor. Dark curls were stuck to her forehead. ‘Gran, I got the window open.’

Gran didn’t respond. Her eyes were closed.

Ruth touched Gran’s shoulder gently. ‘Gran, we can get you out. Joan and I can lift you.’

Gran didn’t open her eyes.

Ruth gave Joan an uneasy look. She touched Gran’s cheek and then hovered her palm above Gran’s mouth and nose.

Gran was dead, Joan thought blankly. She was dead.

‘But she . . .’ Ruth sounded bewildered. ‘She told me she’d wait for me.’

Joan wanted to tell her that Gran had tried, but all she could think of was Gran saying Only you can stop the hero. Gran had been delirious.

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