The Black Coats(77)

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.