Page 70 of Once a Villain (Only a Monster #3)

Joan stumbled back, remembering how the radiance of the timeline had left the King when he’d died; it had streamed into Eleanor,

filling her with unthinkable power. Would that happen now? Would the timeline flow toward one of them?

But to Joan’s shock, Eleanor just pulled the knife from her chest with a pained grunt.

“Fuck!” Eleanor said to the ceiling. “Oh fuck?? ! That really hurt!”

“You should be dead,” Joan blurted. She stared at Eleanor disbelievingly. All their plans had been geared toward giving Nick

this opportunity. Eleanor had detached Nick from the timeline—she’d made him immune to its immense power. And he was supposed

to be able to kill Eleanor like he’d killed the King.

“Do you really think I’d allow my own creation to kill me?

” Eleanor said, mouth curling down. “You have no idea what I am now. I bound the timeline to me so tightly that we’re essentially the same being.

I have its strengths, and it has mine. And I’m so much stronger than the King ever was.

” She grimaced at the sword still sticking from her shoulder and gripped the handle.

With gritted teeth, she jerked hard to pull the blade from the wall.

“Ah!” she grunted. Then she drew it painstakingly from her body.

“Next person who stabs me gets tortured to death.”

“Just like old times, then,” Nick said tightly beside Joan.

Jamie cursed under his breath. Beside him, Tom’s freckles stood out in his pale face. It was dawning on all of them that they’d

played their only card.

Eleanor smoothed down her ruined dress. Her shield was back—the pallid light of it veiling her expression. “I can’t be killed.”

She dropped the sword in front of Nick with contempt. “But I’ll kill all of you . And then I’ll lock this timeline, and you’ll never bother me again. No more timelines. No more chances.”

Through the torn holes in her dress, her wounds were healing,sinew and skin knitting back together. Eleanor saw Joan staring.

“I have abilities the King never had,” she said, and Joan imagined Eleanor using her own unmaking powers to heal herself,

bolstered by the power of the timeline itself.

Nick swayed toward her, wanting to attack again, and Joan focused on the shield, desperate to do something too, even though

it seemed pointless now. Eleanor was already making a sweeping gesture at them.

Joan winced, expecting another blast. Instead, her feet were suddenly fused in her shoes, sticking to the carpet. She swayed,

trying to wriggle out some movement, but she couldn’t budge. She felt a shot of horror. The King had done this too. It had

been terrifying then, and it was terrifying now. Eleanor had been weakened earlier by the sword, but it was clear that her

strength was coming back, along with all her powers.

For a long minute, the only sound was Eleanor’s padding footsteps as she strolled past Nick, past Joan. She had the air of an ancient goddess, considering what kind of deaths to grant.

Everyone but Nick was fixed in place. Joan, Aaron, and Nick had ended up near Eleanor, and the others were clustered to Joan’s

right, closer to the sunroom.

Joan tried to brace herself, but her knees were shaking. Eleanor was capable of horrors; she’d orchestrated massacres. What

would she do to people who’d just tried to assassinate her?

Joan’s breath stopped as Eleanor’s gaze drifted to the ring still on Nick’s hand. Eleanor had promised to rip the ring from

him and kill him. To lock down this timeline. If Joan’s feet hadn’t been glued to the floor, she’d have lunged at Eleanor

right here. As it was, though, she was stuck about ten paces from her.

A beat passed, and then another beat. And then Eleanor was pacing again.

Joan glanced at the others. They’d clearly been expecting an attack too. It struck Joan that maybe Eleanor couldn’t take the ring—not easily. Eleanor was no match for Nick physically, even with her shield, and he was still immune to her

powers.

“I could do so many things to you,” Eleanor said softly to them all. “I could banish your heads from your bodies. I could

decapitate you where you stand.”

Joan swallowed. Eleanor might not be able to hurt Nick directly, but she could do anything she wanted to the rest of them.

Nick caught Joan’s eye, and Aaron’s. He looked furious and helpless.

Aaron gave them both a small, strained smile, trying to hide his own fear. He checked to make sure that Eleanor wasn’t watching.

Then he mouthed to Joan, You can stop her.

Joan tilted her head, confused. She didn’t understand. How could she stop Eleanor? Not even Nick could do that now. Nick looked just as puzzled.

You can unmake the bond , Aaron mouthed to Joan.

Joan drew a sharp breath. Eleanor had bound herself to the timeline, absorbing its power. But if Aaron was right—if the bond

could be unmade—Eleanor would lose all that power. And then Joan or one of the others could seize control of the timeline

for themselves. Was that possible?

Even as Joan thought that, though, Eleanor raised her arms again. Joan lifted her own hand to fend off whatever Eleanor was

about to throw at them. She sought Nick’s and Aaron’s gazes, terrified suddenly that these would be their last moments together.

“What are you going to do to us?” Jamie’s voice shook. Tom reached for his hand, and he clutched at it.

“I’m going to kill you.” Eleanor sounded matter-of-fact. “But, to be honest, I’ve never been one to get my hands dirty.” She

raised her voice slightly. “I summon you! Members of the Curia Monstrorum ! I summon you to me! Answer your vows!”

The hairs rose on the back of Joan’s neck as power poured from Eleanor—not in a damaging blast, but with the slow seep of

smoke. A broken lamp, lying on its side, flickered to life. Joan found herself holding her breath. She’d barely glimpsed the

Curia Monstrorum at the party, but even from afar their power had made her skin crawl.

She twisted, wishing she could move her feet. How many people were coming? Would there be too many for even Nick to fight? Her heart was abruptly pounding. They’d chosen this room because the doors at each side had narrow approaches. Attackers would have to come in one by one....

As she thought that, the whole room started to shake.

And then the wall opposite exploded.

Members of the Court strode in, stepping over jagged plaster and broken wood. There were dozens of them, Joan saw, horrified—in

clothes from across the timeline. Medieval gowns, Georgian suits and coats, Iron Age dresses and torcs. The air crackled with

static from their sheer power.

“Kill them!” Eleanor commanded.

Before she’d finished speaking, Nick was moving. He snatched up the sword from the floor, along with the dagger he’d used

to stab Eleanor.

One of the members of the Court raised a hand, and a huge blast of power shook the room. Chairs and tables splintered; mirrors

shattered. Stuck to the floor, Joan and the others could only cry out as the lethal force of it rippled toward them.

Joan threw her own hand up. Maybe it was terror, or a pure desperate need to protect the people she loved, but power roared

out of her as it never had before, sweeping across the room and unmaking the blast.

She stumbled back, and realized her feet were unglued. She hadn’t just unmade the attack; she’d freed herself. She darted

a quick look back. Ruth, Jamie, Tom, and Aaron were moving again too. They seemed mostly uninjured, except for cuts from flying wood and glass.

For a second, Joan could only hear her own shuddering breaths. And then she shouted at the others, “Stay behind me!”

She was vaguely aware of Nick fighting at the destroyed wall—trying to keep the attackers from coming any closer.

There were shouts of pain as his blades dug in and out of flesh.

Two or three monsters had already fallen to him, but Joan was terrified for him—for all his skill, he was human.

It would only take one hand on his neck to kill him.

For a long minute, there was only panic and chaos as power shook the room, cracking walls and smashing furniture. Joan countered

the blasts as best she could, stopping them in their tracks as Nick continued to fight.

The others cowered behind her, Jamie and Ruth protecting Frankie and Sylvie in their little fort; Tom in front of them like

a wall. Aaron, though, scrambled to Joan, one arm protecting his head from flying wood and glass.

“Keep back!” Joan said to him urgently.

But Aaron joined her side, his face set and serious. He lowered his voice beneath the shaking and rattling of the house. “You

have to break that bond.”

Joan risked a glance at Eleanor and found her near the wall where Nick had pinned her earlier. In the chaos, Eleanor had let

herself slump slightly, and Joan had the feeling she was still in some pain. Eleanor had said that she and the timeline were

a single being now, but Joan still had the impression of two separate entities. If she concentrated, she could faintly see

a ghostly ribbon of light wrapped around Eleanor’s body as she paced. The bond.

“I see it,” Joan said shakily. She pictured herself tearing that ribbon off. Could she do that? She’d torn holes in the timeline before. Just never on purpose.

She felt the pressure of another incoming blast and turned back fast. But her focus on the bond had made her a moment too

slow to react. The windows of the sunroom exploded behind her, and Ruth screamed. Fury and fear ripped through Joan, and her

power roared out again. She threw a shield over the others—just in time. Sharp shards of flying glass melted to sand as they

hit the barrier she’d made.

There was a distinctive ping then. A bullet zoomed past, through the now-gaping window onto the gardens beyond.

“ No! ” Joan gasped. Her power couldn’t stop bullets—an unmade bullet was still a lethal projectile of rock. She couldn’t shield