Oh, Sahil. She bent over him and left a light kiss on his cheek, not lingering for long. He was still a killer, after all. And she didn’t want to be here when he woke up.
Thea ran back through the woods, using a different route that took her around the rear of the property. The Haunt came into view, its wavy glass winking in the sun as she sprinted past it. Thea kept her head low as she came to the lone wing that jutted awkwardly from the side of the main building. She ran to door thirteen, that funny door that opened up to the outside of the house. Her hand closed around the glass doorknob and pushed it open. She let out a whispered prayer of relief as she stepped into the house.
Mademoiselle Corday had been waiting silently for her. Thea paused in the hallway, her eyes tracing up and down past the endless doors and the tasteful vintage decor. When she stepped forward, she almost leaped back at her own reflection in a large mirror lined with mercury glass. “Slow down,” she breathed.
Drew, where are you? She began pushing open door after door, moving as quickly as she could without making a sound. She passed an open window, white lace curtains flapping in the warm breeze. From outside she could hear a few raised voices, but she was unable to make out who was shouting. Hopefully, Team Banner was okay, though when she remembered McKinley and her gun, Thea’s gut clenched uncomfortably at the possibilities. She had just pushed open Team Swallowtail’s door when she heard a thump upstairs. It was the smallest of sounds, but it was enough. Thea stopped moving, her hand frozen in place over the doorknob. They were in the atrium, that same place where Nixon had once convinced Thea to join the Black Coats with nothing more than a picture of Natalie. Thea shook her head as she ran into the foyer. How easy it had been to say yes. Thea had made it halfway up the staircase when a dark shape rose above her, blocking her way. As the president stepped into the light, Thea groaned.
Kennedy was walking down toward Thea now, the black coat snug around her waist. “Hey, rookie! What are you doing here?” A smile crept over her wide features, her blue eyes hungrily focused on Thea’s face. As she walked down the stairs, her knuckles tapped the bannister.
Thea stepped backward, almost stumbling on the staircase. “I’ve come for the two things that belong to me.”
Kennedy snarled. “Bea belongs to Julie now. She’ll be the best asset to the Monarchs we’ve ever had.”
“Please,” Thea snorted. “Bea is the least likely Monarch that has ever been.”
“It’s true.” Kennedy shrugged. “She’s not a natural, but look what she can do. She doesn’t have to be perfect to be useful, and we can use her talent for so many things. That’s the good thing about an organization full of women; we’re multitaskers.”
Thea braced herself as Kennedy got closer. “Don’t forget murdering. You’re good at that, too. Innocent people, even.”
“You have to break a few eggs to make an omelet.” Kennedy’s eyes flashed. “It’s not like we don’t remember the innocent ones we’ve killed over the years. Their names are etched over the door, for God’s sake.”
Thea sucked in her breath. Johnson. Hageman. Zinn. Cleary. Not the names of brave Black Coats like they had been told, but innocent men whose lives had been taken by the Monarchs. Four men. She closed her eyes. She would not let Drew’s name be added to the list. The president came to a stop in front of her.
“Let me pass, Kennedy.”
The president smirked. “I don’t think so, Thea. Once you . . .” She was talking again, but Thea was in action, trying to catch her off guard. She lunged for Kennedy’s leg, but the president’s position gave her the upper hand. Using the bannister to gain leverage, Kennedy leaped up and delivered a swift kick across Thea’s temple. Light exploded in her vision, and she stumbled backward, the world spinning momentarily. Thea’s hands instinctively shot out in front of her, and she caught the railing just in time to stop herself from tumbling down the stairs. Her whole face throbbed.
Kennedy was saying something above her, but she couldn’t hear her; every noise had dimmed to a humming sound. You’re here for Drew. Snap out of it. Thea lunged and grabbed the edge of Kennedy’s coat, giving it a hard downward yank with both hands. They were level on the stairs now. Kennedy stretched her neck before flying toward her with a flurry of punches.
Here we go, thought Thea. She deftly blocked the punches with her hands, once and again and then continuously, faster than she would have thought possible. Fighting had once been a complicated equation full of steps and countermoves, but now it flowed through Thea like water. She didn’t have to think about it, she just did it. She blocked a punch and then another. Kennedy’s grin faltered, and Thea felt the momentum shift in her favor. She pushed forward aggressively.
After a minute, Kennedy leaped backward up the stairs, spitting blood and wheezing. “That bitch Nixon trained you well.” Kennedy’s right hand twisted out, grabbing on to Thea’s forearm and twisting it violently to the side. Thea yelped and delivered a hard punch to Kennedy’s ribs, slamming them both against the bannister. Then to her horror, Kennedy forced Thea’s head backward, bending her body over the bannister—and over the steep drop to the first level of the house. Thea let out a cry and struggled to get her legs underneath her, kicking out until she made hard contact with Kennedy’s shin. The older woman screamed, and in that second Thea let her body go limp, crumbling at Kennedy’s feet while wrapping both arms around her legs. Kennedy landed brutal punches to the back of Thea’s head. That’s when Thea lifted. Kennedy began to tip backward over the bannister with a scream, her hands wrapped deep into Thea’s hair to save herself. Thea felt hair rip from her scalp and let out a cry of pain, but she didn’t let go. However, instead of letting Kennedy fall over the bannister, Thea pivoted quickly so that she fell backward down the stairs instead. She saw the president’s mouth open in a silent scream as Thea pulled her hands away, releasing her into nothing.
Kennedy went rolling down the stairs, her body gaining speed as she hit each step, head over legs, turning violently as she went. These old stairs were steep. Thea tried to catch her breath as she watched Kennedy fall, closing her eyes when she hit the bottom of the stairs with a loud crack. Her body came to a rest on the hardwood floor of the foyer. Thea stepped forward, blood dripping down in front of her eye where one of Kennedy’s punches had landed. After a second, Kennedy raised her head to look at Thea.
“You . . .” Her eyes fluttered as her skin turned pale. Thea could see from here that the president’s leg was bent at an unnatural angle. “You could have been great.”
Thea’s lips curled. “I’d rather be good.”
Kennedy let out a long breath. She was probably going to be okay, but Thea didn’t have time to check. She was racing now up the stairs to the third floor. As Thea pushed open the door to the atrium she had a final, terrible thought: there was a high probability that she wasn’t getting out of Mademoiselle Corday alive.
Thirty
The atrium was exactly as she remembered it: the same black ribbons stretched across the circular walls. The same faces of women and girls stared back at her.
Except this time, instead of Natalie’s picture clipped to an easel, her boyfriend was tied to a chair with his mouth gagged and hands bound. Behind him stood two women Thea didn’t recognize, each holding a gun to his head. They were both wearing butterfly pins. Monarchs.
Blood was crusted across Drew’s cheek, and his eyes were glossy, but he let out a whimper when he saw her. His mouth twisted in a way that made Thea’s heart feel as though it had been squeezed. She stepped toward him, the tether between them pulling at her with nothing less than gravity. She met Drew’s eyes. “I love you,” she mouthed. He closed his eyes and nodded, his head drooping forward. Whatever happened, she needed him to know.
“That’s enough, lovebirds.” Julie Westing stepped out of an inky section of the room, a black pantsuit wrapped around her frame, a black choker made of lace butterflies wrapped several times around her neck. She was wearing black leather g
loves. A shiver ran up Thea’s spine.
Thea heard the cock of a gun and saw the barrel aimed at her, held firmly in one of the Monarchs’ hands. The luminary grinned menacingly. “I am impressed by you, girl! I look forward to hearing later how you made your way up here.” She shook her head, the light from outside giving her gray hair an unearthly glow.
Julie stepped past Thea, toward Drew, and wrapped her long fingers around the hand of one of the women holding a gun. Her gaze steady on Thea, she moved the muzzle up underneath Drew’s chin, his face recoiling in fear. “I would hate to ruin this very pretty face.” She mimicked a pout before moving the gun to his temple. “Or maybe I should shoot him here. That way we don’t lose that jawline.”
“Stop!” Thea hastily backed away with her hands up. “Please don’t hurt him! Whatever you want from me, take it, just leave him. He didn’t do anything.”
“He didn’t do anything?” Julie dropped the woman’s hand and wheeled on Thea. “How often do we hear that refrain? But he didn’t do anything. It wasn’t his fault that he raped her—he was drunk! She was drunk! He beats his family, but he provides for them. He may have killed his girlfriend, but he was a gifted athlete! His wife just fell off the cruise ship! Men, protected by their positions and their power, are getting away with murder and abuse and assault. So please, don’t let me hear you say it that he didn’t do anything!” Julie’s eyes became cold slits. “This boy passed on crucial information on the Black Coats to his father. That means he did something. And you helped him do it.”
Thea was listening, but her attention remained on the two women who held Drew captive. She had to be smart; if she didn’t pay attention, things could go wrong so fast. Julie kept talking.
“You didn’t have to see your friend, bloody and raped, dragging herself through your front door, begging you not to call her father. And the boy who raped her? Trevor? Not even so much as a slap on his wrist.” A smile lit up her face. “That is, not until we took matters into our own hands. Robin and I, we had to stand up for ourselves. And I, I loved her, Thea. I loved her. That’s what the Black Coats is about, Thea. It’s about justice. That’s what you don’t understand.”
“I understand perfectly,” snapped Thea, her eyes never leaving Drew’s terrified face. “I understand that what you think you’re doing is noble, but you’re wrong. Even if just one person is innocent, your system is broken.” She turned to Julie. “How much worse to take an innocent life than to punish hundreds of the guilty?”
The luminary shrugged. “You’re wrong. Besides, what is just one more man? Speaking of men—where is this boy’s father?” Julie’s face crinkled like paper as an ugly smile slithered its way across her lips.
It was like someone pulled away the curtain from over Thea’s eyes. She saw instantly what she had innately felt all those times she had looked at Julie, felt that uncomfortable dread crawling through her in her presence. Julie was a psychopath. An elegant, well-spoken, charming Southern lady who also happened to be a psychopath. When Thea spoke again, her voice was unsteady as she lied. “Adam Porter is on his way here, alone. Let Drew go, and I’ll stay in his place.”
Julie’s eyes narrowed to sharp points as she shook her head. “You’re lying. I can tell. You didn’t bring him. See, this is why I didn’t like you, why I told Nixon you weren’t right for the group. You’re too headstrong.”
“Well, you’re crazy,” Thea snipped in return, her patience worn thin.
“Maybe. But not as crazy as you’re about to be.” Julie raised her hand and Thea could see now that it clutched a black folder. Her stomach twisted. Julie was holding Natalie’s file, and inside it were the missing papers. “Poor Thea Soloman, losing so many people! First her cousin, murdered by . . . oh, I guess you’ll never know. And then her boyfriend, shot during a drug deal gone south! Who knew that this high school soccer star was actually a seasoned criminal with a dark past?”
“What do you want, Julie?”
The crone stepped up in front of Thea, who had to clench her fists to keep from punching away the satisfied look on her face. “It’s not what I want. It’s what is going to happen. Bea is going to make sure that not only does Drew not remember any of this but also that he forgets you forever. Once that’s done, we are going to trade Drew’s life for his father’s. Adam Porter dies either way. It’s your choice whether Drew goes with him.”
She pointed the gun. Drew’s eyes opened wide as he struggled against the ropes. “So you are going to help us.” Julie shook her head sadly. “If you want his son to live, you’re going to call Adam Porter and tell him to come alone. If you don’t, I will have these ladies shoot Drew right here and you will spend your night wiping his brain fluid off the floor.” Julie was behind her now, Thea swallowing a wave of nausea as she smelled a bittersweet rose perfume and a hint of bourbon. The luminary’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Not only that, but your precious file will burn, and I swear to God, you will never, ever find out who wrapped his hands around Natalie’s neck and squeezed. Because it’s not who you think it is.”
Thea felt the floor drop out from under her as Julie lightly trailed her hands across the base of her neck. The look of wild fear on Drew’s face tore at her heart, and she closed her eyes. There was no choice. There was only his life, and that was all that mattered. “Fine.”
“That’s what I thought. Bea? Why don’t we start with you?” Thea’s eyes darted to the figure stepping softly out from the back of the room. In the rapidly setting sun, Bea looked so small, her black coat dwarfing her even more than it usually did. Her cheeks were drawn, her eyes were red-rimmed and exhausted. Her normally creamy skin was the color of spoiled milk. The Black Coats were chipping those Thea loved to pieces.
“Bea, oh my God.”
Bea raised her head to meet Thea’s eyes. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
Julie smirked.
“What have you done to her?” Thea demanded.
“Recently, we maximized Bea’s potential by taking her on a Code Midnight. She was extraordinary. It’s amazing what you can get someone to do when you threaten her friends. Trust me: with Bea’s talent, we will never have to worry about witnesses, ever again.”
Thea’s heart ached for what her dear friend had seen, what she had been made to do. She turned to Julie with hatred burning through her like fire. Bea was kneeling now in front of Drew with the two armed Black Coats hovering over them both.
“Are you here, Drew?” Bea whispered. Drew’s head rolled forward, his eyes on Bea’s face, and Thea knew exactly what he saw: Safety. Comfort. Gentleness. A steel trap disguised as a soft cloud.
“Mmmph,” he mumbled through the gag.
“Do you trust me?”
Drew’s eyes shot to Thea. One of the other Monarchs pushed her gun up underneath his chin, and Thea nodded. “You can trust her, Drew. It’s okay.”
Drew reluctantly turned his face to Bea, who beamed up at him like he was the only person in the world. Her voice changed to that rumbling cadence, the voice she had once used to put Thea into a deep sleep in the car, much to the amusement of the rest of Team Banner.
Her teammate leaned forward and began rhythmically ticking her hands out in front of Drew like the pendulum of a clock. Her arms were wider than usual, her gentle sway rocking her back and forth. “You are safe,” she said seductively. “You can trust me. I’m going to help you. I am safety, and sleep.” He nodded, with his eyes trained only on her face, and Thea could see that she had him in her grasp. To Drew at this moment, there was only Bea and the sweet rest she was promising him.
“You will reach out your hand.” Drew began slightly rocking back and forth in time with her movements. “Watch my hands. You are going to reach out and put your hand on mine.” His eyes darted momentarily to Thea and then back to Bea. He blinked slowly.
All eyes were on Bea now, watching her take Drew under her current to a place where Bea had full control. Drew’s head nodded automatically, almost as if he
were a puppet on a string. The wicked look on Julie’s face repulsed Thea as she watched, the older woman’s eyes lighting up with the potential power she saw in Bea. With a soft hum, Bea opened her palm, and Drew reached out his hand. Bea looked back at Thea, a tear running down her cheek. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “It will happen fast.” Thea felt a physical pain rising in her chest, and she unconsciously clutched at her heart as she prepared to watch the boy she loved forget everything about her. Bea raised both of her palms to meet Drew’s.
“Now, press your hand onto mine. Slowly.” Drew leaned forward to follow her directions, but it wasn’t his hands that Bea met; instead, Bea grinned as the two Monarchs holding Drew captive both reached out their hands for her. In a second, Bea pressed her palms up against theirs and stood, looking straight into their eyes without fear, her powerful voice booming through the atrium. “Press on my hand and close your eyes. Now!” The two Monarchs obeyed as Julie screamed “No!” in the background. Then Bea violently jerked her hands away. The shock, as she had once explained to Thea, was the moment when she hurtled someone into their unconscious. And she did. “Sleep, you bitches.”
Their hands fell promptly away from Bea, and their bodies followed, collapsing at Drew’s feet. In one moment, Bea had one of their guns and was aiming it toward where Thea and Julie were standing. She pulled the trigger.
A gunshot cracked through the air, then another. Behind her Julie let out a shriek as bullets shredded the ceiling and the wall above her. Pieces of photographs began to fall. Bea kept firing, tears streaming down her face as she emptied the chamber into Mademoiselle Corday with a crazed yell. Bullets pierced tiny black holes in the gold dome, in the oak arches, in the walls. Thea began crawling toward her friend on her elbows as Julie sprinted for the door, the black file still clutched in her hand.
The Black Coats Page 24