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‘I don’t know,’ Joan blurted. ‘Maybe I can’t stand it.’ She blinked at her own admission. She hadn’t meant to say that. She’d never said it aloud.

Nick released a heavy breath, and Joan was struck by a sudden intense memory of them both sitting against the far wall of this room on the night they’d kissed. The house had been empty and silent around them, and Nick had tilted up her face with one big hand …

‘That must be difficult,’ Nick said. And Joan was off-balance again. She’d expected him to say something harsher. ‘It would be difficult for me,’ Nick said. ‘If they were my family, and I loved them.’

‘What would you do?’ Joan whispered.

‘If I found out my own family were stealing human life?’ Nick’s mouth curled down. He might have found the scenario difficult, but he couldn’t fight his natural disgust. Another hint of how he’d react if his mind were free. ‘Well … if I’d found out that a member of my family had murdered someone, I’d turn them in to the police.’ He ducked his head, thinking. ‘But I suppose there’s no way to turn in a monster. You wouldn’t be believed. So … I think I’d try to convince them first. To try to get them to understand why it’s so wrong.’

Turn them in to the police? Talk to them? Try to get them to understand? Was this Owen Argent’s power talking? Or was this how Nick really thought?

Joan remembered those videos of him being tortured. He’d fought so hard against being turned into a monster slayer. His inclination had been toward empathy for so long. Even after his family had been murdered, he’d assumed their killer was unwell rather than a real monster. It had taken nearly two thousand attempts for Eleanor to turn him into someone who could kill monsters with thoughtless ease.

Would he still think like this after the Argent power was removed?

No. Monsters had controlled his mind. How could he ever forgive that? How could he ever forgive Joan for allowing it to happen?

‘Eleanor …’ Nick said, and Joan blinked up at him. ‘You said that she wants to create that world we saw?’ He frowned—a real frown.

‘She can’t,’ Joan said. ‘That world cannot exist. I have to stop her.’ What was Eleanor’s plan, Joan wondered again desperately. How was she going to create that timeline? Joan had changed the timeline in a small way through Nick—she’d unmade him, turning him back from the hero into an ordinary person. She’d created a timeline without the hero. But what could possibly create the world they’d seen through the café window?

‘We have to stop her,’ Nick said to Joan. When Joan looked up, his expression was set with determination. ‘We have to get out of here.’

Joan swallowed hard. He was right. They had to figure out what to do. ‘We need to—’

She stopped as Nick held up a hand, head cocked. She heard it then too. Footsteps outside the door. The latch lifted, and the door opened.

Joan scrambled to her feet. Nick knelt up beside her, still pinned by the manacle. Joan swore at herself. She should have gotten that off him while she’d had the chance.

A guard entered the room. He was an older man with thin grey hair and a puckered scar across his cheek.

‘Almost had you in Milton Keynes,’ he growled at Joan. There was a slight slur to his words, as if the knife wound had gone through his tongue too.

Milton Keynes? Joan looked at the man again. He was tall and thin, with catlike eyes. Recognition came slowly. The last time Joan had seen him, he’d been thirty or forty years younger.

‘Corvin Argent,’ she said. The man who’d killed Margie.

‘It’s been a long time for me.’ Corvin’s mouth twisted, pulling at the scar. ‘You took my wallet and my chop.’

Was he serious? He was still angry that she’d stolen from him? ‘You killed my friend!’ She wished he’d come closer. Elderly man or not, she’d get a kick in and more. ‘Why are you even here? Are you going to interrogate us?’

‘Do I look like a Griffith?’ Corvin said, sounding contemptuous. ‘I’m here for the boy.’

Joan stepped in front of Nick.

‘Oh, relax,’ Corvin said. ‘You just said that there’s an Argent power on him. Well, Eleanor wants it off him. I’m here to remove it.’

twenty-six

‘You were listening to us?’ Joan said to Corvin. Was there surveillance equipment in here? She looked down the long gallery of the library, lit by skylights and picture windows. Were there cameras in here? What else had Eleanor and her people overheard?

Corvin was still standing in the doorway. ‘Move away from the boy,’ he told Joan.

Joan shook her head. She was still in front of Nick, half blocking him from Corvin’s view, as if she could somehow protect him.

‘Joan,’ Nick murmured. ‘It’s okay.’

It wasn’t okay.