The Black Coats(84)
But it didn’t.
Instead, Julie toppled over with one hand clutching her left shoulder; the gun fell to the ground. Thea was so stunned she could barely hold herself upright, and the pain in her ribs was making it hard to see straight. Blood splattered her shoes, and all she could do was watch in horror as a dozen women in black coats emerged from the darkness. An older Asian woman appeared at the front, a rifle in her hands. “Monarchs,” whispered Thea, her body tightening at the word.
The woman holding the rifle stepped forward and spoke. “We aren’t here for you.” Her jet-black hair was pulled severely from her angular face. “Are you Miss Soloman?”
“Yes.” Thea tried to reach her hand out but couldn’t seem to let go of the hole in her side. There was so much blood. At her feet Julie moaned, “I created the Black Coats. I gave you all life!”
The woman ignored her and turned to Thea, coldly professional. “Before she died, Robin brought the problems in the Austin branch to our attention.” She gestured to the burning house behind them with a sigh. “We waited too long because of who Julie was, and because of what Mademoiselle Corday meant. Too late we realized that sometimes the creator has to die for her creation to fully live. From here on out we will take care of things.” Her eyes fell on the smoldering plume of smoke that had once been Mademoiselle Corday. “It’s time for us to evolve.”
Thea was growing dizzy quickly, and her brain struggled to process what she was hearing. The Monarch continued. “Thank you, Thea, for helping us with that. You’ve been a great asset, and we owe you our loyalty.”
Julie was being picked up by two other Black Coats now, her body twisting back and forth as she writhed in pain, her screams of madness smothered by the gag they put over her mouth. One of the women injected something into her neck, and her body went slack.
Another woman in a black coat stepped toward Thea. “This is the last you will ever see or hear of us. Feel free to tell the police everything that happened here at Mademoiselle Corday; in fact that is what we desire. On the other hand, you will not ever speak about what just happened here in the Breviary or mention the national organization. We were never here. Is that clear?”
Thea nodded. “I understand.”
“I certainly hope so,” came the reply.
The woman with the rifle put her hand on Thea’s shoulder. “Thank you for your service to the Black Coats.” She gestured, and the Monarchs spun in formation. Then, as mysteriously as they had appeared, the Monarchs vanished, taking a catatonic Julie with them, her wide and terrified eyes momentarily locked on Thea’s as she was pulled into the dark woods behind the house.
Thea’s stab wound was bleeding everywhere as she stumbled out of the marsh and down the trail. In the distance, a dozen police and fire sirens were wailing, their red and blue lights throwing flashes over the landscape. A helicopter pulsed overhead. She closed her eyes, stumbling once and then again.
I’m just going to lie down here, she thought. She was so tired, so very tired, and her body was shutting down, one breath at a time. Thea’s knees hit the ground, her hands struggling to keep the blood inside her body. I’m just going to close my eyes for a minute. . . .
“Oh no you don’t, you lazy girl.” It was Mirabelle’s voice that cut through the swirling black, Mirabelle Watts who bent over her, picked her up, and cradled her against her chest.
“You’re not holding her right! You’re not supposed to pick up someone injured. God, Mirabelle, haven’t you ever read a book?” Thea heard Casey’s voice now.
Louise’s sweet, bruised face looked down at her, one eye swollen shut. “You’re going to be okay, Thea. The ambulance is here and we’re going with you.”
Thea’s mouth felt like it was full of cotton, but she still managed to croak, “Drew?”
“He’s fine.” Bea’s cheery smile washed over her. “His dad is here and he brought a lot of police officers with him. McKinley and Kennedy were arrested.” She grinned. “Louise took them out when they tried to run.”
Speaking was so exhausting. “Sahil?” Thea whispered.
“He’s gone, Thea. Vanished. Just like Nixon,” Casey answered.
The voices of her team faded to a background hum. As she watched, the night sky bravely decided to show its face through the smoking husk of Mademoiselle Corday, and all was lit up, everything in the dark dragged into the light.
Thirty-Two
Five Months Later
After hospitals, physical therapy, lawyers and detectives, juvenile court hearings and post-traumatic stress counseling, they were allowed to go home. Then, after all the interviews, the press, the testimonies and sealed records, regular life was finally allowed to move on. But not until the shocked looks on her parents’ faces had faded and after she had a long, awkward walk with Adam Porter, did Thea feel that life had actually resumed. That she could breathe. That she could live.
All this and someone was still chasing her.
Thea tried to make her legs move faster, to fly in the way they once did, but it wasn’t working. The faster she moved, the more the ache under her ribs pulled at her. Her muscles pulsed with a sharp pain that she never could quite shake. Her pursuer was closer now, maybe only a foot behind her, and even though she stared straight ahead and pushed herself through the pain, she still wasn’t fast enough. The runner flew past her on the right, and Thea watched her competitor’s sneakers thud over the chalked lines at the finish, heard the crowds chanting another name. Thea let her body naturally slow down as she turned and jogged back toward the bleachers. Her side radiated heat; her handsome doctor had told her that the wound Julie left her with would never heal completely. It would be a pain she learned to live with. A pain she learned to run with.