Page 63 of Once a Villain (Only a Monster #3)

of silk. There was a gold pin on his lapel: a winged lion. He was followed from the car by a woman, very tall and thin, with

a bolt of shining hair that fell almost to her feet.

“I do believe,” the man said, with an air of distaste, “that we are early.” His accent was formal, with a hint of something

that made Joan think of howling winds; of winter nights.

She felt Aaron go very still beside her, as if he were a mouse that had been caught in front of a cat. He’d recognized that

voice, just as Joan had. It belonged to Conrad, one of the members of the Curia Monstrorum —the Monster Court. This was definitely the right time and place.

We call him the King’s Reach , Aaron had told Joan once. His face had been pale as he’d whispered that he’d met Conrad when he’d been younger. Ruth had

been disbelieving. You actually saw a member of the Monster Court? , Ruth had said. One of the Curia Monstrorum ?

Conrad turned now to face the trees, and Joan stopped breathing completely.

Conrad was just as she’d remembered—a man of about twenty with hair the color of the moon, and so much power that he made the hairs on her arms stand on end.

He was handsome—but like a statue was handsome, cold and unsmiling. His eyes were a strange pale blue.

“Where will the gates manifest?” the woman asked. She had the same accent as Conrad.

To Joan’s relief, Conrad turned from the trees. “This way,” he said, leading the woman to the edge of the field.

Over the next hour, two dozen more people arrived, none as powerful as Conrad, but all monsters, dressed in silks and velvet

for the Court.

Joan’s teeth were starting to chatter harder now. Aaron pressed closer.

As he did, a murmur of excitement spread among the thin crowd. It was almost midnight. Someone raised their voice: “Ten! Nine!

Eight!... Three. Two...”

On one , the whole world seemed to stop. The field had been quiet, but now every background sound ceased: distant cars, wind, the

buzz of insects. Joan would have thought she was fading out again, but she still could hear the soft rustle of her own dress

as she breathed and Aaron shifting his weight beside her. They hadn’t frozen; the rest of the world had.

This had happened last time too, when the Court had manifested in Horse Guards Avenue, in Whitehall. On the stroke of midnight,

every human, every animal, every insect in the vicinity had been frozen in time. And then the gate had appeared.

Joan looked over at Nick. Unlike the humans last time, he hadn’t frozen. Maybe it was because Eleanor had detached him from the timeline; it had no power over him anymore.

He saw Joan looking at him and smiled reassuringly. Joan tried to smile back. She was getting more and more scared, though.

A new murmur rose among the crowd, louder this time.

“Something’s happening,” Aaron whispered to Joan. “In the field....”

Joan saw it then too. About twenty paces from the road, shadows were moving like smoke under the moonlight. Joan stared as

the shadows rose in two columns, solidifying slowly into thick gate piers, each crowned with lamps full of flickering flames.

Joan peered into the dark. There was something familiar about those piers. Where had she seen them before?

Between the piers, the top edge of the gate emerged. It was wrought iron, but the shapes were organic: scalloped tendrils

of climbing vines. Then rods flowed to the ground, shot through with gilded flourishes and curls.

I know that gate , Joan thought. She’d walked through that gate a hundred times or more, in timeline after timeline. She’d have known it anywhere.

“That’s the gate to Holland House,” she breathed.

But why was it here, in an empty field? It should have been part of a huge estate with gardens.

Her gaze found the overgrown lines in the grass again. The foundation of a once-great house. She took a sharp breath. There was a castle here , Mum had said. It burned down in the 1800s .

“Holland House?” Aaron murmured slowly now. “Weren’t we all here in the last timeline as well?”

The hairs rose at the back of Joan’s neck. After their conversation in the attic, she was sure that the timeline had been

manipulating events to bring Nick, Joan, and Aaron together. Now it occurred to her that they kept coming here —three timelines in a row now.

Joan had met Nick here when they’d volunteered at Holland House. He’d been her first kiss in the library upstairs. Barely

hours later, she’d met Aaron for the first time, and then Nick had revealed himself to be the human hero of legend. A monster

slayer. He’d massacred Joan’s and Aaron’s families, forcing them on the run. Later, Joan had unmade him in the same library

where they’d kissed.

In the next timeline, Aaron had forgotten Joan, and had been working on behalf of the Court. He’d arrested Joan and Nick and

brought them both here again .

And now, even though the house was gone, a bare field in its place, they’d still been drawn back.

Joan had the feeling suddenly of great cogs moving into place. As if some giant hand had drawn them all to this house. Not

Eleanor, but the timeline itself.

A breath of wind ran through the field, displacing nothing—the force of the timeline.

Joan was hit with the cold wash of dread.

The timeline had been repeating itself, but every time they’d come together at Holland House, terrible things had happened: the Hunts and Olivers had been massacred here, Joan and Nick had been imprisoned. ...

We can’t go into that place again. The thought came to Joan’s mind like a premonition. It’ll be the end for us all.

But they had to go. Eleanor would be there, and this would be their last chance to stop her.

Over in the field, the gate opened, the movement slow and utterly silent. A woman appeared out of nowhere behind the gate,

dressed all in black.

“These are the gates of the Monster Court!” The woman’s voice was sweet but hollow, as if she was standing much farther away

than she seemed. The effect was eerie. “Cross them at your peril. Those with invitations will find entry. Those without will

find the void.”