Page 87 of Never a Hero

Joan’s heart clenched. ‘That’s not … I want you to—’ She stopped herself, but not fast enough. Nick’s eyes widened as he took in what she hadn’t said.

Joan hadn’t meant to say that. She hadn’t even known that she’d felt like that about this new Nick.

Did she feel like that?

No, she told herself. No, no, no. He just looked like the boy she’d loved. The boy she’d killed. And, God, this was so messed up. She was so messed up.

He looked at her searchingly, eyes darkening, and Joan’s breath hitched. She’d seen that look before—just before he’d kissed her the first time. She couldn’t always read this new Nick, but she could read that.

‘Sometimes …’ Nick said tentatively, as if he was feeling out the words. ‘Sometimes … I feel like I’ve known you forever. I know we’ve just met, but it feels like I’ve known you my whole life.’

Of all the cruel tricks that the timeline played, this was the cruellest—the way that emotions lingered from lifetime to lifetime. Joan and Nick had belonged together in the true timeline, and some resonance of that remained. If you’re feeling anything for me, it isn’t real, Joan wanted to say. It’s just something that someone else once felt. ‘You’re going to hate me so much soon,’ Joan whispered. That would be real.

‘I won’t hate you,’ Nick said to her, frowning. ‘I could never hate you. It’s the opposite. I—’

‘Don’t,’ Joan pleaded. ‘Don’t.’ He couldn’t finish that sentence. He was saying all the things that she wished he’d really say, and she couldn’t bear how much he’d regret it when the Argent power wore off. ‘Nick, when that power leaves you, you’ll despise me. You’ll—’ Her breath shuddered, and she clenched her teeth, trying to get herself back under control. But a sob came, and another. When he understood, she’d lose him for good. Again. Always, always, always. Whatever they’d had in the true timeline was never coming back.

Nick didn’t move toward her, but he looked devastated, like it hurt him to see her hurting.

His wrist was still chained uncomfortably above him. Joan wanted to work on the lock again, but when she went to twist the bobby pin, she found her hands were shaking too much.

‘Whatever you think is going to happen …’ Nick said softly. ‘Whatever’s making you cry … You don’t have to worry. When this power is off, we’ll talk. I’ll listen to you, and you’ll listen to me.’

Every word he said only confirmed that he wasn’t himself. ‘Even with that power on you, some part of you hates what I told you,’ Joan whispered. She said it again: ‘About how monsters steal human life.’ And there it was—that small grimace. Some part of him could feel it. Or maybe some part of him was fighting the compulsion.

‘I’m not as far under as you think,’ Nick said. ‘I know it’s wrong.’ But he said the last bit without emotion, like he was talking about something abstract.

‘I think you’re further under than you know,’ Joan whispered.

She’d instigated this, she reminded herself. Whether the bandaid came off slowly or quickly, it had to come off. He’d deserved to know what monsters were.

Nick shifted to face her as much as he could. ‘Why do monsters travel in time?’ he asked. ‘Why do it at all if the cost is human life?’

Joan blinked. It wasn’t the first question she’d have asked. It wasn’t a question she’d even thought about. She’d always yearned for other times—even before she’d known what she was.

‘It’s like an urge,’ she admitted. ‘I can feel it all the time. I always want to travel.’

Nick took that in. ‘And do you? Do you travel in time? Do you steal human life?’

For some reason, Joan hadn’t expected him to ask that question either. She felt off-balance. She was struck again by his physical presence. The size of his shoulders, his arms. Even without his abilities—even leashed by the Argent power—he seemed dangerous: a predatory animal in a fragile cage. When he broke free …

‘You don’t,’ Nick said slowly. ‘You told me that at the Wyvern Inn. You said that you didn’t travel. I couldn’t understand it at the time. I didn’t understand the cost.’

‘I don’t—I mean …’ Joan could hear how guilty she sounded. The strange thing was, she’d never travelled of her own volition in this timeline. In the previous one, though, she’d stolen so much life trying to bring back her family. She felt sick at the memory of it. ‘I have,’ she whispered. ‘I’ve done it before.’

‘But not anymore.’ Nick sounded certain.

‘I have,’ Joan said. ‘Never again, though.’ Never.

‘And your family?’ Nick said. ‘Ruth?’

Joan couldn’t bring herself to nod.

‘It’s wrong,’ Nick said, serious.

‘I know,’ Joan said.

‘How can you stand it?’ Nick whispered. ‘How can you stand what they’re doing—your own family?’

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