The Black Coats(80)

Bea kept screaming, until Thea reached her. With one movement she wrapped her hand firmly around Bea’s arm and then up to the gun. With a soft “Shhhh,” Thea gently took the gun away from her, holding it tight as she curled herself around Bea. Then she pulled her broken friend into her arms. “I’ve got you,” she whispered, and Bea collapsed against her with a sob.

One of the women stirred, and Bea turned to look at her. “You’re falling, deeper and deeper,” Bea commanded. “Deeper and deeper.” The woman went silent, her chest rising and falling gently.

Thea touched Bea’s cheek before she leaped up, her hands yearning to caress Drew’s face. Everything fell away as she reached his chair. Thea let out an exhausted cry, frustrated by her hands not working fast enough, until she finally was able to pull him free. His arms went around her and she ripped the gag from his mouth. “Drew!”

“Thea.” His voice was kind.

She fell against him, her mouth pressing against his bloodied lips. “I’m sorry; I’m so sorry!” she whispered into his mouth, needing him to know everything. She had come so close to losing him, and she wouldn’t again. Never again.

“Thea . . .” She held her breath as a painful smile appeared on his face. He looked straight into her eyes. “You owe me some waffles.”

A sob escaped her lips as her hands traced his face. He was still Drew. He was still hers.

Drew clutched Thea as if she would fly away. Her hands traced over the bruises on his face, the cut on his lip. “Did they hurt you?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing that isn’t easily fixed.”

“Not to interrupt,” Bea piped up from behind them. “But can we get a move on?”

Thea pointed to Drew. “Drew, Bea. Bea, Drew.” With the edge of her toe, she softly poked one of the slumbering Monarchs.

“We don’t have long,” Bea said. “Maybe ten minutes before they wake up.”

“Let’s go, then.” Thea pushed up to her feet.

“Where did that witch go?” Drew glanced up at the ceiling and closed his eyes, probably remembering something horrible.

“Probably the Breviary,” said Bea. “That’s where we were going to meet your dad. That’s where I was going to help her kill him.”

Thea turned. “The Breviary. What is that? I feel like I’ve heard someone mention it before.” Then: the memory of her first day in Mademoiselle Corday, when she had heard the phrase as she walked down a hallway lined with antique furniture, her heart pounding with the possibility of revenge. The water grows shallower each year. I’m just not sure it’s a safe place anymore. They are building that gaudy new home not far from there, and it’s a pebble’s throw away from the Breviary . . .

Bea looked at the floor for a moment. “The Breviary is a graveyard, Thea. It’s where they bury . . .”

Drew finished her sentence. “The men who meet the Monarchs.” He bent over and grabbed the gun on the floor, checking the chamber with ease. “It’s empty,” he sighed. “You made short work of this place, Bea.” The dome overhead was letting in tiny pieces of the night sky, pinpricks of stars now visible through the gold.

Thea turned to Bea. “Where is it, the Breviary?”

“South of Mademoiselle Corday. You know that boggy place, where the land dips down?”

Yes, she knew it. Thea had seen it on one of her runs with Sahil—a nondescript murky pond surrounded by overhanging cypress and oak trees. Sahil had described it as a haven for snakes and mosquitoes, ensuring that she stayed away. Sahil. Where is he?

Bea continued. “The graveyard is just on the other side of the marsh.”

Thea turned Bea to face her. “Drew and I are going to stop Julie. Find the rest of Team Banner and go to the police. Get as far away from the house as you can. Some of the Monarchs are still out there.”

Bea’s eyes filled with tears. “But I can’t leave you.”

“And I can’t ask you to come. Bea, you’ve seen enough.” Thea watched an internal battle raging in Bea’s troubled eyes. “And you’ve done enough.”

Bea surrendered, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “Okay.”

She gave her friend a quick hug. “I’ll see you on the other side of this.”

“Thea!” Drew was growing restless. “We have to go. If we don’t stop her, she’ll find another way to lure my dad here, I know it.”

The three ran out of the atrium and into the hallway, rapidly winding down the stairs. Bea left them behind and headed toward the exit as Thea stopped with Drew where she had last seen Kennedy. The only proof that she had been there was a small drop of blood on the ground. She heard the door slam as Bea left. Otherwise the house was eerily silent.

Drew reached around Thea’s waist. “I know we’re in a hurry, but I’m worried I will never get this chance again, and I can’t . . .” Then he hungrily pressed his mouth against hers, and she could feel him pouring every regret into her, a kiss laced equally with sorrow and desire. His hands wrapped themselves around her and he lifted her off her feet, pulling her into him. When she looked up into the depths of his green eyes, she saw herself reflected for the very first time: Thea, a grieving girl and a Black Coat. In return she saw who he was as well: Drew Porter, a boyfriend and a son trying to do the right thing. “I love all of you,” he whispered. “No more secrets.”