Only a Monster by Vanessa Len Read Free Book Online Page A

hurt him!” This couldn’t be happening. Nick shouldn’t even have been here—he was only here because she’d come to see him so late. And now . . . She sucked in a panicked breath. Were they going to kill him? They couldn’t .
    Nick was struggling too, head rearing like a spooked horse as Olivers closed in on him. “Joan!” he shouted. “ Joan! ” He managed to throw off one man, but a second slammed a casual fist into his jaw.
    Nick slumped, knees sagging; the blow had knocked him unconscious. Olivers grabbed his arms, preventing him from slipping to the floor. Someone shoved his head down so that it lolled, baring his pale neck.
    You touched him here , Gran had said.
    â€œNo!” Joan gasped. No, no, no. There was a knife in Lucien’s belt. It looked ornamental; the handle was shaped like a mermaid—silver with blue enamel eyes. Without letting herself think about it, Joan threw her weight back against Lucien. He shoved her away instinctively.
    Edmund made an irritated sound. “Control her,” he told Lucien.
    Lucien flushed and reached for her. But it was too late. Joan had the knife. She thrust it toward Lucien and was relievedwhen he backed up and Edmund did too, their hands rising. It seemed that monsters were as afraid of a blade as humans.
    â€œLet him go!” Joan told the men holding Nick. But she couldn’t fight them all. She took a step toward Edmund instead. “Let him go .” She was surprised by the menace in her own voice. And she meant it. If they killed Nick, she’d hurt them—as many of them as she could before she was overpowered.
    Edmund’s eyebrows went up. “Dear me,” he said dryly. “You seem fond of the human boy. I suppose that perversion must run in the family.” Joan gripped the knife tighter. Edmund looked at Lucien. “Careless of you, brother, to lose your knife to a girl.”
    Lucien’s gloomy face seemed to belong more to one of the wall paintings than to a living man. He took his time answering, and when he did, it was with an irritated drawl. “She’s hardly a threat. One knife against forty people.”
    Joan judged the distance between herself and Edmund. He’d backed away from the fireplace, too far away for Joan to lunge at. Everyone had moved away from her. Now what was she going to do? Nick was unconscious. She tried not to let panic overwhelm her, but her heart felt like a hammer in her chest. She needed to think .
    â€œOne knife against forty?” Edmund repeated to Lucien. “Well. That sounds rather unsporting.”
    â€œUnsporting?” Lucien said, puzzled.
    â€œOne blade against another would be fairer, don’t you think?” Edmund said.
    When Edmund lifted his hand to indicate the sword abovethe fireplace, Joan went light-headed with fear. She’d dusted that sword a dozen times. According to the tour guides, it was a replica of one that had belonged to the house’s namesake, the first Earl of Holland. He’d been executed for his allegiance to Charles I.
    â€œWhat am I to do with that?” Lucien sounded puzzled.
    â€œWell, I suspect we can’t kill her by touching her,” Edmund said. “I would say there’s too much monster in her for that.” His eyes were bright, belying his even tone, and Joan wondered if she might be sick.
    â€œThis is tedious,” another voice said suddenly. Joan was surprised to see that it was the blond boy. The one who’d mouthed Hunt with disgust. He was standing alone in an arched recess. Behind him, a window rose to the full height of the arch. The recess was deep enough to hold a comfortable armchair, but the boy had avoided it. “Should we not just let them go?” the boy said to Edmund. “Half-human or not, the girl is wearing the Hunt mark. They’ve claimed her as one of them. It hardly seems worth escalating matters for sport.”
    He