Page 67 of Never a Hero

Joan had only ever seen the woman once—in a recording of Nick’s creation—a cold, cruel beauty with golden hair and a long, swan-like neck.

And the woman’s power over the timeline should have been impossible: she’d stopped and restarted events, erasing and honing Nick’s personal history over and over until she’d brutally conditioned him to loathe and kill monsters. Again, she had said. Again. Again. Ordering that Nick’s family be killed again—in a different order this time. That Nick be tortured again. And at the end, she’d told Nick, You’re perfect, her approving tone at odds with her icy expression.

Then Nick had gone on to kill Joan’s family.

I know how much you hate me, Nick had said to Joan at the end. Joan had shaken her head. She’d hated him. She’d loved him. She’d wanted to be with him more than anything.

I love you, he’d said. I always have.

They’d kissed and, just for a moment, Joan had let herself feel it. And then Joan had unleashed her forbidden power on him. She’d unravelled his life, and at the end of it, her family was back, and the Nick she’d loved had been gone. She and Nick were broken puzzle pieces now. They’d fit together once, but they didn’t anymore.

‘She wore that sigil in the other timeline,’ Jamie said. ‘I see it in my dreams.’ He was nauseated again, Joan could see: arms folded around his waist, fingers tucked in. The same woman had captured him when he’d come too close to learning the truth behind Nick’s creation. Jamie had never told Joan what the woman had done to him, but he’d been transformed by it.

Tom’s hand flexed on Jamie’s shoulder. His heavy jaw was tight. ‘We have to find out who she is,’ he said. ‘She’s clearly high up in the Court.’

‘That doesn’t tell us much,’ Jamie said gently. ‘A lot of important people are high up in the Court. Powerful courtiers … certain heads of family … people with unusually strong powers …’

‘What are you all talking about?’ Ruth said. ‘Other timeline?’ The words came out slowly, as if they were a huge effort. Joan and the others all turned to her and realised at the same moment how exhausted she really was. ‘There’s only one timeline—the King’s timeline. This timeline.’

Joan put an arm around her. ‘Hey,’ she said. She guided Ruth a few steps back to the nearest booth seat. She put a hand on Ruth’s forehead; her skin was ice-cold.

‘What’s going on?’ Ruth said. ‘And don’t put me off this time.’

Joan had never wanted her family to know the horrors of the other timeline. Sometimes it felt like it was always with Joan now. The sounds Gran had made before she’d died. Ruth with a knife in her gut, screaming at Joan to run. All the people in the garden, the mess of their limbs, the blood. And the way Joan had felt, the way she still felt—how lost she’d been in the overwhelming grief of losing her family.

She crouched in front of Ruth’s seat and took her hand, trying to find the words. ‘You asked how I knew so much about monsters. How I knew you could open that portal …’ She took a deep breath. ‘There was another timeline before this one—a timeline where something went really wrong. Where …’ She faltered. ‘Where our family was killed. Gran. Aunt Ada. Uncle Gus. Bertie.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Ruth whispered.

Joan saw Gran’s blood all over her hands again, all over her dress. All over Ruth’s clothes. She’d never wanted Ruth to know. She’d never wanted any of the Hunts to know. Her breath hitched. ‘Ruth … they all died.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Ruth said again. She didn’t sound angry exactly—she was too exhausted for that. ‘Why would you say that?’

From behind Joan, Jamie spoke. ‘She’s telling the truth. There was another timeline. Some of the Lius remember.’

‘A timeline when we all died?’ Ruth said.

‘Not us,’ Joan whispered back. ‘Not you and me. But the rest of our family …’

‘No,’ Ruth said. She was starting to take it in now. Her forehead creased. She didn’t want to believe it, Joan could see. But she knew Joan too well—she knew that Joan would never make up something like this. ‘How?’

‘A human boy was trained to kill monsters,’ Joan said. She swallowed hard. ‘He came after all the monsters of London.’

Ruth’s confusion cleared slightly. ‘There are myths about a human hero—Gran used to tell us the stories. Remember? But those are myths, Joan. The hero’s like King Arthur. He isn’t real. I don’t know who told you all this, but it isn’t true.’

‘I was there,’ Joan said softly. ‘He was real.’ There was a lump in her throat again. She couldn’t believe Nick was gone—would he be the hero again the next time Joan saw him? Would he hate her? Would he try to kill her?

‘The human hero from the myths killed our family?’ Ruth said. She tried to smile—inviting Joan to say it wasn’t true. When Joan didn’t, Ruth stared at her. ‘He killed our family?’

‘Not just our family,’ Joan said. ‘The Olivers. The Lius. Every monster family in London.’

What had the woman’s plan been the first time? Joan had never understood why a monster would create a monster slayer. She had a flash again then of the Semper Regina statue in that terrible London. Had that been the woman’s goal? Would she have used Nick to facilitate it?

But Astrid had said Nick would have stopped it. He was already on the path. That didn’t make sense. Unless … Joan bit her lip. Would Nick have figured out what had been done to him—and who had done it? Had Joan taken out the hero of the story and given the villain free rein?

‘But I still don’t understand,’ Ruth said to Joan. ‘What does this woman have to do with all this?’

‘You need to tell her about him,’ Jamie said to Joan softly.

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