Page 40 of Once a Villain (Only a Monster #3)

“If we go in there, we’ll die,” Ruth said. “Everything in that arena wants to kill people—animals, gladiators, the patrolling

guards....”

“I can survive it,” Nick said, and Joan closed her eyes. When she’d suggested this plan, she’d pictured herself in the arena.

But, of course, Nick would end up going in.

Even with their entire world—all their worlds—on the line, she suddenly wished she hadn’t spoken.

“I can go in as a gladiator,” Nick continued. “I just need clothes and weapons—anda mask.”

“ No ,” Joan whispered.

“I still have abilities.” Nick was trying to reassure her. “I can do this.” He anticipated what she was about to say. “ Just me. I’m the only one who can kill her. The only one who can survive in there long enough to get anywhere near her.”

Joan shook her head. She knew that this had always been the plan—to use Nick’s remnant abilities in the fight against Eleanor.

But he couldn’t go into the arena alone. He wasn’t a gladiator. He hadn’t been trained.

“You can’t —” she started, but as she spoke, patrolling footsteps sounded from the hallway running alongside the chamber .

She and the others ducked back as guards marched past. Joan held her breath. One glance in, and they’d see the huge hole Joan had made in the wall—large enough for even Tom to crawl inside. They’d see the pile of mud and rubble beneath it.

They seemed preoccupied, though. And a moment later, Joan learned why.

A terrible, hoarse sound reverberated through the stadium. It might have been a horn, but it was far more eerie—as if from

a god of death.

It apparently signaled that a new round was beginning, because the crowd bellowed in delight.

And then everything darkened, and there was a collective gasp.

Joan turned. Outside, the arena had transformed into an ocean. Water rose to the height of the open windows—somehow without

encroaching into the room. It sloshed and moved, seemingly contained by an invisible barrier at the perimeter of the arena.

“How is that possible?” Ruth breathed.

Joan shook her head. The impression of being underwater was so strong that she found herself holding her breath.

And then a dark shape passed by them, as long as the chamber itself. It was a creature with a spear-like head. It turned,

unexpectedly nimble—like nothing Joan had ever seen.

“How did they get that into the arena?” Ruth wondered. “How did they even flood the space so quickly?”

“They didn’t,” Jamie said a little shakily. “That’s an ichthyosaur. I think we’re looking at the primeval ocean. When all

of this was sea...”

Joan stared, her understanding reframing.

Dappled light played at the top of the water; they were looking at the clear blue shallows of an ancient ocean.

She could feel the immense power involved now—like the shock of heat when an oven door was opened.

“Eleanor’s doing this,” she realized. Eleanor had brought forth this piece of the primitive world and had contained it in a bubble.

It hit her—viscerally then—what exactly they were up against. Eleanor truly wasn’t her sister anymore. She was more like the

goddess people saw her as now.

As Joan thought that, dozens of people fell, like thrown stones, into the water, thrashing and terrified—Eleanor had sent

them in for the entertainment of the crowd.

Some of them tried to surface, but many were already drowning, weighed down by their heavy tweed clothes, their shoes. The

water frothed as huge creatures swam toward them, slashing with spear-like snouts. Joan flinched as blood bloomed through

the water. One of the monstrous creatures had bitten into flesh.

Joan turned back to Nick and realized that he hadn’t been watching the horrors beside them. His eyes were on Joan.

“No one can survive that,” she said to him. It came out hoarse and pleading. He couldn’t go into that ocean.

Nick’s gaze roved over her face, as if trying to memorize her.

“We’re still in the first act of the program,” he said.

“ A spectacle of beasts on land and at sea. The next round is gladiators versus criminals. I’ll go in as soon as it starts.

” He touched her hand, and for a strange moment, it felt almost like they were here on their own.

“It has to be done,” he said. “And I’m the only one who can do it. ”

Joan swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat.

“I can feel the timeline weakening,” Jamie said, a little shakily.

“I can too,” Tom confirmed. “I can feel the damage. These deaths are breaking it down.”

“We need to go,” Nick said.

Jamie led them all to another chamber.

“Oh God ,” Ruth said, and Joan started back in horror.

Dead gladiators were piled on the floor like bags of rubbish, most of them stripped to their underclothes. Their armor and

weapons were neatly stored on shelves, treated with more respect than their bodies.

“The spoliarium,” Jamie murmured. “They’ll burn these bodies later.”

Outside, the crowd roared and roared, and Joan just wished they’d stop. Unable to help herself, she glanced over and saw that

the people in the water were gone now, likely sunk from view into the depths of that ancient ocean.

Joan saw again in her mind’s eye how they’d thrashed in terror.

The gladiators’ bodies had been dragged from the arena because their weapons and clothes could be reused. But it seemed that

the people in the water would be left where they’d died, millions of years from home.

She set her jaw and stepped carefully around the dead gladiators to grab a short sword and scabbard, belting it around her waist. Then she helped Nick find clothes and sandals as the others took daggers and nets and shields—they could sort through what they had later.

As they finished, that eerie horn sounded again, and the room brightened with a snap, as if someone had switched on a light.

Joan heard Ruth gasp. Outside, the ancient sea had vanished in a blink, as if it had never existed. In its place, the arena

was again a smooth, blank slate of clean, dry sand—ready for the next battle.

Joan felt a wave of dread. The second act of the program was about to begin—the one Nick would enter.

The crowd was shouting now. Gladiators, gladiators! Joan made out names of individual competitors among the calls. Bull! Bull! Priscus! Verus!

With the sea gone, Aaron was visible again—much farther away than he’d been before. He didn’t seem as composed as earlier;

he was restless, blond head turning searchingly.

Eleanor was even more distant—just a shadow inside the imperial box on the other side of the stadium. From here, she seemed

statue-still. Was she enjoying the spectacle? Joan wondered. Or just waiting, coldly, for her plans to fall into place, for

the deaths in the arena to weaken the timeline enough that she could act?

And she’d be able to act soon. In the air above the stadium, the tear in the timeline had increased in size. It had been a

thin crack when Joan had last seen it, but now it had opened, like a jagged maw. From here, it seemed the size of a football,

but it had to be bigger than that.

Couldn’t the crowd see it? Couldn’t they feel the horror of it? Or were the horrors of the day enough to cover the feeling, like the smell of incense over blood?

The loudspeaker crackled. “Our next spectacle will be a re-creation of the overthrow of humanity! Gladiators and criminals

will act out the great monster families overcoming humans!”

As the announcer spoke, theatrical scenery began to rise from below—enormous, sturdy props the height of two-story buildings.

They were being elevated into the arena on platforms,just like the caged people and animals had been raised in the first

battle.

“It’s London,” Nick said. “A re-creation of London. They’re going to stage the battle inside it.”

It was a tourist’s version of London—scaled-down landmarks squeezed into a maze of streets. Here was London Bridge with its

quaint houses, and over there the Palace of Westminster and Big Ben.

And now a winding ditch sank into the sand, several yards deep. It was supposed to represent the Thames, Joan realized, as

it slowly flooded with murky brown water.

Her stomach churned. The fights against the beasts earlier had hardly been fights at all. But this setting had clearly been

designed to make the battles last longer, with twisting streets and places for people to hide.

“We have to go!” Nick said. “We have what we need. And this room is about to be swarming with people.” It took Joan a second

to understand what he meant—thatpretty soon more gladiators’ bodies would be dragged in from the arena.

“What’s the best way into the arena?” Tom wondered. “Just line up with the other gladiators?”

“Too late for that,” Ruth said, nodding at the view through the windows.

Gladiators were already being elevated to the surface, to the renewed roar of the crowd. They wore the emblems of the families

in elaborate, colorful breastplates and necklaces that incorporated their pendants. Joan spotted the mermaid of the Olivers,

the burnt elm of the Argents, the serpent of the Portellis. She guessed there were about three dozen of them.

The gladiators were far more used to fighting than the humans from the wagons. Some leaped from their platforms and played

to the crowd, strutting back and forth, showing off their biceps and pounding their chests. Others ignored the audience completely,

stalking with swords raised into the streets of the re-created city.

And now more wagons rose into the arena. As they settled, the cages fell, and the humans inside sprinted, trying to find places

to hide among the buildings. There must have been a hundred people, at least.

A gladiator threw a spear, striking one of the running humans in the leg. The victim screamed and fell, scrabbling backward

as the gladiator came to finish him off.

Another gladiator sprinted down a street and dragged out an elderly man trying to find shelter within a building. He stabbed