Page 27 of Once a Villain (Only a Monster #3)

Joan took a step back. A girl with a very similar name died in infancy. She’d wondered where her other self was, and now it seemed she’d died here as a baby. Her name here would have been Joan Chang-Grave.

But how had she died? What had happened?

Joan had so many questions, but Tom was still looming over them all, blocking the way out.

“Who are you all?” he said. “Who are you really? Because Aaron isn’t the only one acting wrong. You humans keep looking me

in the eye, as if you’ve never been trained out of the habit.”

Joan shivered. Ruth had been right that she and Nick weren’t behaving like other humans here. Tom followed her inadvertent

glance at the window and tilted his head. “You all keep looking at the view as if it shocks you. What do you expect to see?”

Joan pictured her own city again—all the monster sigils swept from the skyline, St. Paul’s softened back to a dome. Homesickness

stabbed at her as she ran through possible answers in her mind. You’ve got it wrong. We’re exactly who we seem to be.

The problem was, Tom was smart. Nothing ever got past him. Even so, he wasn’t quite like any of the Toms Joan had known. The first time she’d met him, Tom had been desperately searching for Jamie. The second time, he’d been living with Jamie on a tranquil narrowboat.

This version of Tom, though, was different. He had an air of self-reliance, of wariness. He was even more closed off than

the Tom who’d lost Jamie. This Tom had never met him.

Aaron lifted his hands. “Let’s be calm.”

“This is me calm,” Tom said. “Believe me, you’ll know if I lose my temper.” His huge frame was almost too big for the space; he made

the boat seem like a toy around him.

Jamie spoke then. He sounded calm—as if he couldn’t imagine ever fearing Tom. “I can hear another boat coming.” He went over to pick up Frankie

from the floor—she and Sylvie had been staring at each other balefully. Frankie settled in his arms, huffing at Tom. She wasn’t

scared of Tom either.

“Hmm.” The sound rumbled at the back of Tom’s throat. Outside, a louder rumble rose over the rhythmic splash of the river

as a Court patrol boat emerged from the east, black and gleaming. An oil slick on the water. Behind it, the London skyline

was even more sinister than it had been yesterday, its dark buildings reaching up like stalagmites in a cave.

They couldn’t just sit at the Nightingale wharf. They really couldn’t afford guards stopping to ask questions. With Tom here, they were just about the complete group that had fought

against Eleanor at the end of the last timeline. “Tom, you have to take us to the Oliver house,” Joan said. “We have to get out of here.”

“You’re on a boat, on Hathaway territory,” Tom said. “I decide where we go.” As he said that, though, his gaze tracked the

Court boat.

“So what—you’re kidnapping the head of the Oliver family?” Aaron said.

Tom rolled his eyes. “We both know I’m not.” He whistled a few notes, though, and the boat jumped back to life, heading east,

away from the patrol boat. Away from the Oliver house.

Joan exchanged a look with Nick. They could rush Tom, she supposed. They were five against one, and they had Nick. But...

at some point, without Joan noticing, Jamie had put himself subtly between Tom and the rest of them. So maybe it would actually

be more like four against two.

Joan sighed. Truthfully, she wasn’t about to fight Tom either. He was her friend; he was Jamie’s husband.

Tom looked at them, one by one. “Dead girl,” he said, indicating Joan. “ Not Aaron Oliver. Not the gladiator. Don’t know you”—this was to Ruth—“but I assume you’re a not as well.” He stopped at Jamie. “And then there’s you . Another one I can’t place.”

Hurt flashed over Jamie’s face. He was still unintimidated, though, even with Tom looming. Joan saw Tom realize with a slow

blink that Jamie alone was unafraid of him here.

“My name is Jamie. I’m from the Liu family. Our sigil is the phoenix. Our motto is: bù jī kuǐ bù, wú yǐ zhì qiān lǐ; bù jī xiǎo liú, wú yǐ chéng jiāng hǎi .”

“What does that mean?” Tom said, almost to himself, and Jamie’s breath stuttered. Tom didn’t understand Mandarin anymore.

Jamie’s voice wasn’t quite steady. “Is it really true? You’ve never heard of the Liu family?”

Tom shook his head, but he searched Jamie’s face, brow crinkling, as if there was something familiar about him.

Joan folded her arms. Wherever the Lius were, they didn’t seem to be in London anymore. The whole world felt colder than it

had an hour ago—when they’d had allies here, somewhere.

“Where are you taking us?” Aaron asked.

Tom blinked at him, still frowning.

“Well?” Aaron sounded impatient. His gray eyes shifted to Joan, and she realized that he was concerned about her. He didn’t

think the nuts and fruit—and the bite of bread—had been enough to keep her grounded. He’d been counting on getting back to

the Oliver mansion quickly.

She gave him a reassuring smile. She was okay. She closed her fingers into a fist—one of the other techniques he’d given her

to ground herself. His eyes flicked down to her hand, but he didn’t seem any happier.

“Maybe I’ll drop you off at a guardhouse,” Tom said. “I have a feeling you’d be worth something to the Court.”

“My mother told us you weren’t a snitch,” Aaron said.

“She’s not your mother.”

Was there a guardhouse nearby? Ahead of them, on the water, a thin walking bridge crossed the river—one that hadn’t existed in

the previous timeline. Joan guessed it was right about where the Rotherhithe Tunnel was supposed to be.

“Take those glasses off,” Tom ordered Nick. “And lose that stupid hairstyle.”

Nick’s eyebrows went up, but he obeyed, pocketing the glasses and running a hand through his thick hair.

Tom stroked Sylvie’s head. She’d fallen asleep in her little bed on the side table. Now she jerked awake, lifting her head to mrr a surprised query. She settled again under his touch.

“You could be his twin,” Tom said to Nick. “You could be him except for the lack of scars....”

“Maybe they are twins,” Aaron said. “There’s your explanation.”

“Twins with the same name?”

“Our parents weren’t very creative,” Nick said.

Jamie ran a hand over his face. “Listen...”

“You came from another timeline,” Tom said abruptly. He grunted when they all stared at him. “Well, come on. That’s just obvious.”

“Is it?” Joan said a little weakly. It wouldn’t have been obvious to her in the same situation.

“Aaron and Nick are the same age as when I last saw them, so they’re not past or future versions of themselves,” Tom said.

“Yet they’ve both changed—Nick most of all. I can only conclude that they’re the same people, born and raised in different

circumstances. Same nature, different nurture.”

“Well, if you’ve already worked it out... ,” Aaron said.

Tom’s jaw tightened. “That doesn’t tell me why you’re here. How did you get here? What are your intentions? Are you spies

for Eleanor? Did she put you here to infiltrate the wolf operation?” Standing at the door, he was a looming presence. Joan

was very aware again that there was no way to get off this boat without getting past him.

“We’re not spies,” Joan said.

Tom’s eyes were sharp as knives. He wasn’t a Griffith, but Joan had the feeling he was good at sifting truth from lies.

Through the window beyond him, there was the bridge and then a long, empty stretch of water. Joan had seen London in more

times and timelines than she’d ever dreamed. The Thames had been the one unifying feature. Buildings and bridges came and

went, but the river was always here.

Joan glanced at Jamie, who twisted his mouth in response. Tom had already figured it out, and they knew it. Any attempt to

lie to him would only make him more suspicious, more distrustful.

“We don’t have bad intentions,” she said. “You’re right, we are from a different timeline.”

Tom took a sharp breath. It might have been his own suggestion, but he apparently hadn’t expected them to confirm it.

“There was a timeline before this one,” Joan told Tom. The words were familiar in her mouth—she’d said this beforeto Aaron,

to Nick. “In our timeline, humans didn’t live in fear. We weren’t forced to wear pendants or obey curfews. We didn’t have

to bend the neck to any monster who demanded it.”

Tom was silent, his face closed. Joan had no idea if he believed her. No idea what he was thinking.

“Eleanor created this timeline,” Joan explained. She was hit with a vivid memory of the sky cracking open above them, Eleanor’s

power battering at them. The world had shaken apart, and Eleanor’s timeline had forced itself upon them. “We tried to stop

her, but we failed. We lost.”

“Everyone lost,” Nick said heavily. “Every human.” Could Tom hear the guilt in his voice? The regret? Joan felt like she was drowning in it.

“We lost people we loved.” Jamie’s words were rough with pain. “We were in a—a kind of bubble that protected us from the changes.

If my family aren’t here anymore, then we’re the only ones who know what happened.”

Joan’s chest tightened. Jamie had lost Tom and the Lius in a single day. And where were the Lius? Their absence was so strange. Had they never migrated here in this timeline? On a whim, she blurted, “Who are the

Hathaways allied with here?” The territories had changed without the Lius here; the alliances must have changed too. Who were

the Hathaways linked to now?

Tom gave her a strange look. “The Hathaways aren’t allied with anyone. We’ve always been alone.”

Joan had had the impression of Jamie’s absence earlier, but now she took in the single cup on the shelf, the single plate.

This whole boat was stark and utilitarian, an emptiness that extended to Tom himself, who seemed to exude a terrible loneliness

in this timeline. Did some part of him know that something important was missing from his life?

Aaron broke the silence. “All right, then,” he said tightly. “We answered your questions.” He put his warm hand over Joan’s,