Page 72 of Once a Villain (Only a Monster #3)

The whole thing—from the moment of Conrad’s shot—had happened so quickly that Joan was still turning, still flinching from

the bullet that hadn’t come.

Now she stumbled back, and nearly tripped over a tuft of overgrown grass. She stared, taking in slowly that they weren’t in

the Breakfast Room anymore. This was the field where they’d started, where the ruins of Holland House had been.

It was still the middle of the night here—as if no time had passed at all. Joan’s breath came out in a cold white puff as

she looked around.

Conrad was gone, and so were the Curia Monstrorum . Everyone else was here, though—Ruth, Nick, Aaron, Jamie, and Tom.

And Eleanor.

The others seemed just as stunned as Joan was. Nick was on his knees—he’d been reaching out as Conrad had shot at her. Aaron’s

hand was still outstretched too; he blinked now, and a shudder of relief ran through him as he realized Joan had survived.

And how had Joan survived? What had just happened? Had Eleanor saved them? It didn’t seem possible, and yet no one else in that room

had had the power to do it. Joan turned to Eleanor. “Was that you? Why? ”

Eleanor stood a few paces from the rest of them, her white dress still stained with blood. She shook her head slightly as if she didn’t know why herself.

Joan replayed the scene again in her head. The way the original Joan had locked immediately onto Eleanor; she’d glimpsed her

sister, bloodied and scared, and she’d scrambled up, desperate to get to her.

And Eleanor had looked at her in return like...

“You still love her,” Joan said slowly. “You love her so much that you love me .”

“And you don’t remember me at all.” Eleanor sounded a little hoarse. “You only know me like this .”

That was true. Joan only knew her as a villain—it had been her only role in Joan’s remembered life.

She wondered suddenly if Eleanor had been bluffing at the end of the last timeline. She’d made Nick choose between Joan’s

life and the King’s, but would she really have killed her? Joan wasn’t so sure now.

But Eleanor had killed Joan as an infant here. She’d arranged for the Hunts to die at Nick’s hand in another timeline. Unconscionable choices,

and so many of them. Necessities , she’d called them.

Mum had thought that Eleanor would be persuadable. Joan hadn’t believed it. But now... She looked up at the sky. The tears

in Eleanor’s broken timeline were all visible. Instead of stars, there were only shadows.

“Why don’t you fix the timeline?” she asked Eleanor. She really couldn’t understand it. “Why are you being so stubborn? Everyone’s going to die—including the Graves. You did all this to save them, and they’re going to die anyway.”

“You never shut up, do you?” Eleanor said. There was an odd, flat note in her voice.

“Eleanor...”

“You think I haven’t tried?” Eleanor’s last word cracked. “You were right, okay? I made a timeline too far from true, and

I can’t revert it to how it was! I’ve tried !”

“If you can’t fix the timeline, then just detach yourself from it!” Nick said. “Let someone else have that power. Maybe they can fix it.”

Eleanor made a sound of frustration, of desolation. “I can’t ! I leashed it too tightly to myself! I can’t detach it! And I can’t die while it’s leashed to me! And before you do something

stupidly heroic,” she added derisively to Nick, “ your death won’t help either. The truth is, you did effectively die when the ring put you in that stasis. And I still couldn’t lock down the timeline. I wasn’t strong enough.” She shook her head. “It fights me all the time. I don’t know if

it ever fought the King like this....”

Joan felt a wave of despair roll over her. She’d unmade the house, the Ali seals in the sky. She’d even made a window into

the true timeline. But the bond between Eleanor and the timeline had just been too strong to break.

“The void is going to eat us all up,” Eleanor said. “Just like in the stories.”

“Because of you ,” Joan said. The anger in her voice petered out by the end of the sentence. She was tired, and she ached all over. She could

tell Eleanor’s shoulder was still hurting too.

Eleanor opened her mouth and started to say something, and then stopped herself. “Yeah,” she said heavily. “Because of me.”

Joan hadn’t expected her to say that. “And because of the King... ,” she acknowledged.

Eleanor closed her eyes for a second. “You know, I almost did it. I almost won. I beat him . If I could have just subjugated the timeline too, everything would have worked out.”

Joan ran a hand over her face, a shudder running through her. Every time she had a little feeling for her sister, Eleanor

horrified her anew. “Yeah, you made a real winner of a timeline.” She closed her eyes, sick of her suddenly. Sick of dealing

with everything Eleanor had put them through. “How long do you think we have? Before the world falls into the void?”

“I don’t know,” Eleanor said. “Days. Weeks, maybe.”

Joan left her there and went over to check on the others. They had cuts and bruises, but nothing worse. To her relief, Frankie

and Sylvie were still safe in their padded bags—they hadn’t been injured at all.

Joan found herself looking around again. Was it her imagination, or did the sky seem lower than it had before? Was the void

closer?

She followed the line of the house’s foundations. They seemed so sad to her now: that beautiful house reduced to ridges in

the ground.

Near the wall line, the tear that had been in the Breakfast Room was a creepy black spot in the field. How many more holes

were speckled in ordinary places like this, visible now without their Ali seals?

And soon, the whole world would be lost. There wouldn’t even be remnants like this.

A wave of homesickness hit Joan then. If only she could have seen Dad, one last time. She suddenly wanted desperately to walk

through the front door of her own home and hug him.

She blinked back tears, walking deeper into the field. After a minute, she heard footsteps. She knew before she turned that

it would be Aaron and Nick.

“Can I see that cut?” Nick asked her gently.

“Cut?” Joan twisted and found a thin cut in her side—maybe from flying glass. “Oh.” Disturbingly, it was in the same spot

where Lucien Oliver had cut into her with a sword.

“Let me see,” Aaron said, frowning.

“It’s fine,” Joan said, but she let them look. Warmth rushed through her as Aaron parted her sliced dress with his thumb.

“Hmm,” Aaron said, and it really must have been fine, because he just smoothed down her dress again.

He and Nick stood between Joan and the others. And it was strange, but here in the darkness—out of earshot of the others—it

almost felt like the three of them were alone again.

Joan swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat. “I wish we’d had more time together,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry I

couldn’t break the bond.”

“It sounds like Eleanor reinforced it,” Nick said, his voice a reassuring rumble. “It probably wasn’t possible.”

“I suppose. But...” Joan looked down at her feet, frustrated. “I know I made a window back there—I revealed the true timeline.

But I’ve made deeper tears than that before. I know I have. I’ve made tears that showed the void itself. I tore real holes at the colosseum, at the pub, even in the van. There’s more power inside me. I can feel it. I can almost access it.

I just...” She just couldn’t quite get to it now—when she needed to the most.

“Joan... ,” Aaron started, and then he stopped as if he’d realized something.

“What is it?” Nick asked.

Aaron blinked at him, and then at Joan, an expression passing over his face that Joan couldn’t quite read. “I think I understand,”

he said to her slowly. “I understand why you couldn’t access your full power at the Court.”

Joan tilted her head in question.

“You’re right,” he said. “You have torn deeper holes before. Real holes. You do have it in you to break that bond.”

“But I couldn’t,” Joan said.

Aaron smiled at her, small and a little fragile. “I know. Because you didn’t have the right trigger. But I see it now. I see

the pattern. You can tear holes in the fabric of the timeline itself, revealing the void. Your mother couldn’t do that. Not

even the King did that. But you can. I know what triggers your full power to come out.”

The odd note was still in his voice, and Joan felt a tug of unease out of nowhere. “What causes it?”

Aaron took a few steps back, glancing over at the ruins of the Breakfast Room before returning his gaze to her.

“There was a tear in the Holland House bedroom—where your grandmother died. One in the library where you unmade Nick and lost him, and at the arena where you saw him die. You tore a hole in the pub when you thought you’d lost him too. ”

“In the bedroom at Holland House?” Joan hadn’t seen a tear in the bedroom.

“I saw it tonight,” Aaron said. “It was small, but I saw it on my way upstairs.” His eyes roved over her face, as if he was

mapping her. “You told me you loved me yesterday. I didn’t believe you.”

“I do ,” Joan assured him. “I love you.”

“I know.” Aaron’s face was full of everything he felt—his own love right there on the surface, like an offering. “I know that

now. And I know what triggers your power. It comes out when you’re losing someone you love.”

“ Aaron ,” Nick said sharply. “You’re too close to that tear! Come toward me!”

Aaron was , Joan saw, with a shot of fear. He’d been walking backward as he talked, and he’d ended up right at the edge of the tear

from the Breakfast Room. It seemed unnervingly large suddenly—the size of a standing mirror.

“Come forward!” Joan said. “You’re really close!”

Aaron glanced over his shoulder at it. He didn’t move, though, and Joan’s stomach dropped.

“Aaron, move away from it!” she said. She could hear the fear, suddenly, high in her voice.

“I love you,” Aaron said. “I adore you.” He took one more step back, and for a moment he stood there, poised at the very lip of the abyss. Cold horror washed