Page 22 of Once a Villain (Only a Monster #3)

They followed Marguerite up algae-stained stairs to the pub above the dock.

On the foreshore below, the prisoners were slumped, dead, on their concrete blocks. Joan imagined that, when the tide rose,

their bodies would be pushed into the river. The blocks would drag them to the silted bottom, still bound to the embedded

rings.

Aaron glanced back, and Joan caught his eye again. He looked shaken. Joan could almost see his thoughts; he was horrified

that he’d have to feign being Marguerite’s cruel son during lunch. He’d have to pretend he hadn’t just seen two people murdered

by her hand.

From below, Ruth and Jamie hurried to catch up, Frankie trotting with them. Marguerite, Cassius, and Aaron were almost at

the top of the stairs now, out of earshot.

“Who is that scary woman?” Ruth breathed.

“Aaron’s mother,” Joan told her.

“His mother ?” Jamie repeated. “In our timeline, Marguerite Nightingale was executed.”

“Seems she’s alive here,” Nick said.

“And executing people herself,” Ruth muttered.

“Everything happened so fast,” Joan said shakily, remembering how the woman had screamed as her brother had died. “I thought we’d have time to save them—to argue the case. But Aaron’s mother just...”

Ruth sighed, the sound blending with gusting wind from across the river. The breeze brought with it the rotting brine of the

foreshore, and Joan tried not to think about how many other bodies must be in that river.

“We didn’t get anything from the crowd; they were too scared to talk,” Ruth whispered. “And we didn’t want to push it. I got

the feeling that if you say anything against the Queen here, someone will snitch.”

“Aaron’s having lunch with his mother and Cassius at the pub,” Joan whispered. “I think we should try again up there. We still

need information about the wolves, about Eleanor—we have to get to her. Does she make public appearances? If so, when and where?”

“I’ll try to seed the conversation,” Ruth said.

“You extract, I’ll remember,” Jamie said to Ruth.

An illustrated pelican sign swung on a post above the pub door. The building was far older than it had seemed from below.

The floor was flagstone, uneven with age, and polished to satin by countless footsteps. Nick ducked instinctively as he crossed

the threshold; the doorframe was only a little taller than him.

Marguerite gestured to a table at the front of the pub, with a pretty view, through hashed windows, of Wapping Wall draped

in ferns and ivy.

Joan moved to sit beside Aaron, and Cassius gave her a strange look. It hit Joan then that every person with a pendant was on their feet, either serving in the pub’s uniform or standing behind tables. She faltered.

Aaron pointed at painted footprints on the floor, and Joan’s mouth dropped open as she realized she and Nick were supposed

to stand on them. Nick gave Aaron a narrow look, as if he’d created the policy himself.

Aaron couldn’t have projected being more at ease with the situation, but he twitched when Nick took the spot right behind

his chair. For all Aaron’s sharp comments last night, Joan had the feeling he was wary of Nick, maybe even a little afraid

of him. Like all monsters, Aaron had been raised on bedtime stories of a legendary monster slayer—a boy who protected humans

and slaughtered monsters. And here was Nick in the flesh,not a fictional character but a real person who’d been a slayer

in multiple timelines now. Who could probably still kill every monster in this room if he turned his mind to it.

As Joan stepped into place, Ruth covered the awkward moment with a cheery: “Hello!” She leaned over to shake Cassius’s hand.

“I’m Ruth and this is Jamie!”

“Old school friends,” Aaron lied. “They came to watch the executions.”

Marguerite was clearly surprised by the addition of more guests. “I’ll ask for a larger table!”

“Nah, we can all squeeze in,” Ruth said. She and Jamie slid onto Cassius’s bench with Frankie. “You must be Aaron’s mum!”

she said. Aaron gave her a warning look, and Ruth smirked back at him. “Any funny childhood stories about him?”

“Well, he was a very clever child,” Marguerite said. “He once—”

Aaron coughed. “Let’s not get into that.” He beckoned a waiter who hurried over with a basket of warm bread and a notepad to take their orders. “The duck,” he said to him, with a cursory look at the chalked menu board.

“Uh...” Cassius was clearly taken aback by Aaron’s haste. “The steak.”

“Vegetarian pie,” Marguerite said.

As the rest of them ordered, Joan realized that she and Nick wouldn’t be eating for ages. Her stomach growled, and she suppressed

a sigh.

“ Well! ” Ruth said brightly. “Good to see more wolves disposed of! Down with those humans, hmm?”

“They’ve been an irritant these last years,” Cassius agreed. He took a slice of bread and buttered it.

“That last breakout at Newgate was beyond the pale,” Marguerite said.

Jamie made a curious sound.

“You didn’t hear about it?” Marguerite said. “Ah, well... the Court’s been keeping the attacks quiet. Rather embarrassing

when humans get the better of time travelers.”

Beside Joan, Nick shifted his weight. Marguerite seemed to have forgotten that there were two humans behind her. Or perhaps

she didn’t care.

“So tell us,” Cassius said to Aaron curiously. “How did you capture Nick Ward? Everyone’s been wondering....”

Aaron hesitated. He had no idea.

Ruth saw that he needed help. “ I want to know where the name wolves came from.”

Cassius turned an unctuous smile on her that made Joan’s skin crawl.

He was the kind of guy who enjoyed explaining things to pretty girls, and Ruth had clocked it.

“Well...” He leaned back in his seat.

“After Ward escaped the arena, he started breaking out humans from prisons, and he always left a wolf symbol behind. He became known as the Wolf, and followers were wolves.”

“The arena?” Ruth said.

Cassius tilted his head; this, it seemed, should have been common knowledge. Ruth projected wide-eyed ignorance in response.

“Ward was a gladiator for years,” Marguerite said. “He fought under the Oliver banner. You didn’t know?”

Joan’s stomach turned over. She remembered the token she’d found at the Serpentine Inn—a ticket to fights at the arena. Had

Nick’s counterpart been forced to fight there?

“Aaron’s father plucked him from the slums when he was a boy,” Cassius said. “He was trained from childhood.” He looked wryly

at Aaron. “Say what you will about your father, but he had an eye for gladiators. Ward was the best fighter your family ever

had.”

“Mm,” Aaron said noncommittally.

“Such a shame that he escaped his pen,” Cassius said.

“And then no one could find him,” Marguerite mused. “Until Aaron caught him.”

The words struck Joan as familiar. You’ve been remarkably difficult to find , a guard had told her and Nick once.

The guard had arrested them, and when they’d escaped, he hadn’t seemed able to find them again—even with the benefit of time travel.

Nick and Joan had never been in the time and place he’d expected them to be.

Joan chewed her lip. Eleanor had said something similar last night too.... She’d told Aaron that—even with all her power

and her oversight of the timeline—she couldn’t always anticipate the wolves’ incidents of rebellion , as she’d called him.

Joan glanced at Nick now. Eleanor had detached him from the timeline, and Joan was beginning to suspect that the timeline

behaved strangely in his vicinity as a result. That it fluctuated more than usual when he was around.

Had Nick’s counterpart had the same quality? Had the timeline fluctuated more in his presence, making the wolves’ attacks

difficult to predict?

Cassius interrupted her thoughts: “The humans loved him, of course. The Wolf will save us ,” he said mockingly. “Aaron put paid to that.”

Joan swallowed hard. Beside her, Nick’s jaw was so tight so could practically hear his teeth grinding.

“Pity you didn’t kill him on Argent territory,” Cassius added to Aaron. “We have a trophy room—we’d have displayed him in

there instead of on the turrets.” He gave Aaron a cheekily irritated look. “Waste of an excellent specimen—we could have immortalized

him.”

Aaron’s shoulders lifted, and Joan knew he was very aware of Nick—alive and well, and dangerous—at his back.

Joan felt sick. Beside her, Nick’s eyes were fixed on Cassius. How old had his counterpart been, she wondered, when Edmund had forced him into life-or-death fights for the entertainment of the city? How many years had he been in the arena before he’d escaped?

Cassius drove the conversation for the next hour after that, opining on how he didn’t think the wolves would amount to much

after the death of their leader. “The Wolf himself was the instigator,” he said. “The rest of them were just a loose collection

of followers.” He added to Aaron, “At least the Argent gladiators will give the Olivers a run for their money now. Without

Ward in the arena, you only have the Bull. The rest of your team’s looking pretty weak....”

“Indeed.” Aaron managed a tight smile. He wanted this to be over as much as Joan and Nick did.

Whatever he said in response, though, Joan didn’t hear, because all the sound in the room ceased. A thrill of fear ran through

her, but it only lasted a moment before the chatter and clatter of cutlery on plates were back. She squeezed her eyes shut.

She really couldn’t have a fade-out here, where she couldn’t even speak without putting herself in danger.

She felt Nick’s eyes turn to her. He frowned slightly as if he’d registered something was wrong.

“They’re saying the Jubilee Games will be the biggest and bloodiest spectacle ever held in the arena,” Cassius said. “But,

of course, all anyone wants to see is the Queen herself.”

Nick’s head lifted at that, and Joan met his dark gaze. More , she gestured to Ruth in a quick surreptitious hand movement.