Page 19

He didn’t have his training anymore, she told herself as they started walking, Nick’s soft steps belying his muscled frame. But could some of it have remained? Small things did linger from timeline to timeline. The first time she’d met him, his voice had been as familiar as her own. Could some echo of his training have carried over like that?

Joan knew from experience how little would be left and how intangible it would be. For her, those remnants had been more like instinct than knowledge; like déjà vu that had never resolved into true memory.

But still …

Suppressing her unease, Joan walked with Nick through the trees.

Bedford Station was a flat-topped glass box that made Joan think of the municipal centre where she’d learned to swim. She tried not to relax. She’d worked a full day’s shift and then walked for hours, and the long, long day and night were catching up to her. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them. Don’t let your guard down, she told herself. They weren’t in London yet. They weren’t even on a train yet.

Beside her, Nick’s pace was steady. He still seemed fresh. They hadn’t talked much as they’d walked—at first, it hadn’t felt safe, and then Joan had lapsed into exhausted silence.

They stopped at the edge of the station’s car park and surveyed the low brick walls, scattered cars, and trees.

‘Looks quiet enough,’ Nick whispered.

It wasn’t just quiet; it seemed safe—which wasn’t how Joan would normally have felt on a dark street. But she couldn’t imagine many muggers going up against Nick.

‘Should we finish that conversation now?’ he murmured. ‘Or do you want to have it on the train?’

‘Conversation?’ Joan whispered. She tried to clear the fog in her head enough to make sense of the questions. What conversation? Hadn’t they already talked?

‘Well …’ Nick stood beside her, in profile, hands in his pockets and his eyes on the station entrance. ‘My phone says it’s two a.m., but it looks closer to dawn, don’t you think?’

That woke Joan up. He was right. The sky had shifted from black to deep blue. In a nearby tree, wrens chittered in high staccato. It couldn’t have been more than an hour before dawn.

Nick met her gaze now, his dark eyes very steady. ‘I keep replaying that attack,’ he said softly. ‘How I wanted to help you, but I couldn’t move. I thought I’d frozen in fear. I didn’t understand until you told me later that that man was controlling my mind.’

The horror of the moment swept over Joan again—he’d been awake and aware while his body had been frozen. He could have died so easily today—like Margie had. All it would have taken was a touch to his neck.

Nick registered her reaction, gaze flicking down to her shoulders and then back to her face. ‘You kept begging them for my life, like what they were doing to you didn’t even matter. You fought so hard,’ he whispered, ‘that I think that man lost control of me. He couldn’t fight you and hold me at the same time. And then … I grabbed you and …’ He frowned, his voice softening with the memory. ‘The temperature shifted—the air was suddenly warmer. And then we walked out onto the street …’

And all the shops had changed.

The first time Joan had time travelled, she’d been terrified. Day had turned to night in a blink. She’d thought she’d been knocked out or maybe drugged.

‘What really happened in that attack?’ Nick whispered. ‘What didn’t you have a chance to tell me back there?’

Don’t, Joan imagined Gran warning her. Joan knew she shouldn’t tell him. If she did, he’d be barely a step from figuring out the entire truth of monsters. And he’d already demonstrated how effortlessly he could put information together.

But … He’s already figured it out, Joan imagined telling Gran. He’s already guessed. Joan suspected he’d half known as soon as he’d touched the bakery wall, its new green paint dry under a layer of grime. And if she didn’t confirm what he already knew, she was going to lose his trust.

She took a deep breath. ‘We travelled in time,’ she said. ‘That man dragged us into the future.’

Nick might have already guessed, but hearing it still hit him. He took a step back, shaken. ‘I saw flowers on those winter trees.’

‘I think it’s spring now,’ Joan said, nodding.

He ran a hand through his thick hair. ‘When those attackers appeared out of the air, I thought they’d teleported in from another place,’ he murmured, almost to himself. ‘But they came from another time, didn’t they?’

And this was why he was still dangerous—trained or not. It wasn’t just because he was strong, but because if you told him two things, he’d connect them together, and then figure out two more. ‘How long have we been gone?’ It sounded like it was all hitting him now. ‘That plaque … My family thinks I’m missing, don’t they? Or dead!’

‘I’m sorry,’ Joan managed. ‘I don’t know.’ She still didn’t understand why only he and Margie had been on that plaque. ‘I thought we’d jumped a few months, but …’ She shook her head and admitted the truth to herself. There’d been too many changes for months. ‘I think it must have been years.’

‘Years?’ Nick looked really shaken now. ‘I need to get my phone working,’ he said. ‘I have to call my family.’

‘You can’t!’ Joan forced herself to say. He stared at her wildly. ‘You can’t tell them you’re alive.’ And she couldn’t tell Dad either. It hurt to say it. Ever since Mum had died, it had just been Joan and Dad. He got worried anytime she came home late without telling him in advance. Joan couldn’t bear the thought of him all on his own, scared for her for years.

Nick stared at her, disbelieving. Joan could see him trying to understand. ‘Is it because I’ll look too young to them? I know this world is a secret, but … my family won’t tell!’