The Black Coats(59)
Finally, the girls were dismissed for general training in the Haunt. Sahil was waiting for them there, sitting cross-legged on the mat and exuding his normal demeanor of calm and control.
“Hey, Sahil!” Mirabelle threw down her training bag, a routine familiar to them all.
“Do not put that there,” he snapped, opening his black eyes. “Put it where it goes, in the cubbies.”
“Whoa.” Mirabelle shook her head. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of his yoga mat.”
“I am not in the mood for your attitude today, Miss Watts. Put your bag in the correct place and then come over here. Today we will be working on clinch fighting.” The entire team groaned. “I do not want to hear it! You may run before we start. Thirty laps around the Haunt. Go!”
Sahil was unhinged. He screamed at them while they were running: to lift their knees, to jump, to stop in the middle of the workout, plank, and then leap back to their feet. Bea looked like she was going to throw up, and Casey was close to revolt. When the running finally stopped, they did a brutal clinch-fighting training, where Sahil fought more than trained, leaving them bruised and sore. Louise took the worst of it, since she was his best match, but even then it wasn’t close; Mirabelle was next for the brunt of his anger and ended up getting slammed stomach-first onto the mat, the wind knocked out of her.
When Thea stepped up next to spar, Sahil actually rolled up his sleeves, something he had never done before. Within seconds of Thea rushing forward, Sahil had her in a headlock and she was unable to use kicks, punches, or any sort of melee weapons. When she finally got her feet underneath her, Sahil swept them away, and Thea landed hard on her right side. It wasn’t even a fight; it was more of a takedown. She submitted gracefully, laying her head flat on the floor. Sahil was bouncing on his toes, ready for more, sweat pouring down his neck. “Get up, Miss Soloman.”
“No.” Thea did not rise.
“I said get up.”
Thea pushed off her knees with a groan, stretching her sore side. “And I said no. You’re not training us, you’re just taking out whatever it is you’re going through on my team, and I won’t allow it. We’re done for today.”
Sahil stopped moving, his eyes narrowing. “You can’t decide that.”
She stared him down. “My job is to watch out for my team, not to please you. Girls, go ahead.” Team Banner limped toward the door, grumbling about their day, terrible from beginning to end.
Thea stepped toward Sahil. “You’re not ready,” she hissed. “It takes a long time to be ready for anything. I didn’t leave my house for two weeks after Natalie died. I couldn’t even step outside without feeling like every part of me was going to shatter and blow away in the wind.”
Sahil raised his hands to his head. “It is not that. I mean it is, but—” He spun away from her. “I cannot talk about it.” A long breath escaped from his lips. “You were right to send the team away. I should not have been training like that. They were not learning; they were just defending themselves.” He fell to his knees, and leaned forward, his head resting against the floor. “I’m a monster sometimes.”
“You’re not!” She leaned over beside him. “You’re grieving.”
Sahil exhaled. “Yes, I suppose that’s it. Thank you for stepping in. You are dismissed.” Just like that, he was done with her, just like so many other times. Without a backward glance, he walked out of the Haunt, disappearing into the trees and the open fields beyond the house. Thea didn’t chase after him. If he wanted to talk to her, he knew where to find her. In the meantime she needed some answers.
Twenty-Two
“Okay. We haven’t heard anything for an hour. I think it’s safe to say no one is here,” whispered Thea, her voice echoing off the antique tiling. She and Mirabelle had been hiding in the bathroom in the alcove under the stairs for the last two hours, waiting for Mademoiselle Corday to go silent.
Mirabelle stood and stretched out her long body. “Good. Because I cannot sit in this creepy bathroom with you for one more second.”
Thea pushed open the door and looked over the foyer. The house was still. Together they ran up the hallway, past their classroom, and out into the main area of the house. They paused for a few seconds, nervousness pushing against Thea’s stomach as she waited for an alarm to go off, but there was nothing. She motioned to Mirabelle, wordlessly communicating exactly what to do, something that Nixon had taught them. Mirabelle moved in front of Thea, leaning out to check the hallway ahead of her, which led to the formal sitting room and library and, inside that, the locked room. After a moment, she turned back and shook her head, her cornflower-blue eyes alarmed.
“Camera, above the door,” she mouthed.
Thea’s heart sank, and she turned to go.
“Wait!” Mirabelle grabbed her arm and pulled her close, whispering into her ear. “I think I know how to shut off the power here. Remember that day when we had to lay mousetraps and sweep the cellar after training? When I was down there, I saw the breaker for the whole house. Each part of the house was labeled. I can go turn it off, maybe for just ten seconds, not long enough that it will seem like anything other than a flicker or a power surge. Can you get into the door in that time?”
“Yeah, I think so.”