Read Only a Monster for Free Online Page B

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    â€œWe’re—we’re volunteers here,” Nick said. “We clean the house. We catalog the books. We don’t have anything you’d—”
    The man who’d spoken struck Nick hard across the face.
    â€œDon’t!” Joan said, shocked. She flung up a hand, as if she could belatedly stop Nick from being hit. Someone gripped her shoulder and dragged her back. Joan clutched desperately at Nick’s hand, but couldn’t hold on as she was pulled away. There was blood on Nick’s mouth: a horrible smear of red.
    Joan’s voice had drawn the attention of the vulture-faced man. Lucien. He closed the gap between them and grabbed her chin. There was a scuffle between Nick and two men. Lucien ignored it, forcing Joan’s chin up. “This girl is one of us,” he said.
    â€œA monster?” one of the others asked.
    Nick stopped struggling and stared, his dark eyes huge. “A monster?” He sounded bewildered. “What?”
    â€œI’m not—” Joan started to say, but Lucien squeezed her face, making her gasp.
    â€œDon’t try to deny it,” Lucien said. “I can see what you are. I have the Oliver power. You’re a monster and your little friend here is human.” As he spoke, his eyes narrowed as if he’d noticed something else. Some prickling instinct made Joan follow his gaze down to her bracelet. It was a simple gold chain with asmall charm—a gold fox with a silver tongue. Gran had given it to her years ago. The Hunt family symbol , she’d said.
    Lucien’s mouth twisted. “Search them,” he said roughly.
    Two men did, with efficiency. One of them found Joan’s phone. Joan wrenched it away while he was still fumbling for it. She typed fast to Ruth: Olivers at hh. But as she tried to hit send, the man tore the phone from her. He crossed the room in a stride, opened a window, and dropped the phone out. There was a distant smash of glass in the courtyard below. Beside Joan, Nick managed to reach the corded phone on the desk, but then that was torn away too.
    And then their arms were caught and they were muscled out of the library. Joan fought, the heels of her sneakers skidding and squealing against the wooden floor. “Let us go!” She could hear the rising panic in her voice. “Leave us alone! Let us go!”
    They were dragged into the Gilt Room—two rooms over from the library, and the most ornate room in the house, a jewelry box of red velvet and oil paintings with gilded frames and gleaming gold leaf.
    At least three dozen people had gathered, as though for a cocktail party. All of them turned to stare as Joan and Nick were hustled in. Joan was humiliatingly aware of her flushed, sweaty face. Her hair had loosened from its tie. Nick was disheveled too. There was blood on his mouth, and the struggle had rucked up his hair.
    In contrast, the glamour of the Gilt Room fit the Olivers like a glove. They lounged casually on the velvet chairs and leaned against the blue-and-gold wainscoted walls as though it all belonged to them.
    The most intimidating of them all was a blond man standing alone by the great marble fireplace—unlit in this warm weather. With a shock, Joan realized she’d seen him before. His portrait was in the library—the cold-eyed man in Regency-era hunting clothes. In real life, he was imposingly tall, with the same long face as Lucien. But where Lucien’s face was vulture-like, this man’s features were handsome and refined.
    Joan looked at Nick. He hadn’t recognized the man as being from the portrait—of course he hadn’t. He didn’t know that these people had stepped into this house from another time. Joan wished that she were still holding Nick’s hand. She wanted to signal to Nick to run. But where could they run to? There were Olivers everywhere.
    â€œEdmund,” Lucien said to the cold-eyed man.
    The man beckoned to