Some interesting developments in this chapter. I hope that you enjoy.
Amy heard Pendergast cry out and raised her head toward the sound. She just caught the glimpse of the car racing toward her as Pendergast knocked her off her feet and away from the car. She crashed to the ground trying to roll in order to soften her landing, but the impact knocked the air out of her and her head made contact with the cement. Stars and pain exploded behind Amy's eyes and then there was momentary blackness.
It was a close thing and Pendergast felt rather than heard the hard impact as Amy's body hit the ground and he cursed himself for a fool for not better cushioning her as they both fell. Had he injured her in his effort to protect her from being hit by the car? He felt the heat of the car's exhaust on his face as the car raced past them as he used his body to shield Amy. His heart still beating from the rush of adrenaline and the terrifying notion that Amy could be hurt, he dared to look down at the woman lying on the ground. Her eyes were closed and she looked pale. Unable to breathe, Pendergast reached out a hand and felt the pulse in her neck. When he found it strong and even, he let out a breath he had not realized he had been holding. "Ameline," he whispered. "Are you alright?"
His query was answered first by a quiet moan and then by a string of Creole obscenities so colorful that even Pendergast had not heard them all. He had not realized it, but he was actually smiling slightly in his relief that Amy did not appear to be seriously hurt. He sat back on his haunches giving her a moment to recover. Amy opened her eyes and looked around. Pendergast had the satisfaction of seeing those eyes, momentarily clouded by confusion, clear up as Amy quickly assessed the situation.
"Ameline," Pendergast asked again. "Are you hurt? Shall I call an ambulance?"
Amy took a moment to do a mental check. "I am a little banged up and have the Mother of all Headaches, but otherwise, I think I'm OK," she answered. Pendergast helped her sit up. She rubbed the back of her head and her hand came away smeared with blood from a cut. Pendergast raised his eyebrows, but Amy shook her head; now was not a time for any type of scene especially since a crowd of gawkers was gathering and the occasional car was having to make a detour around all of them. Pendergast helped Amy stand up and although it took her three tries, Amy stood on her own...for a moment. Immediately, she began to feel dizzy and nauseous, and while she did not realize that she was swaying, she knew that the ground beneath her feet seemed to be moving for no apparent reason. She was not sure if she would be able to sit back down or if she would actually fall,until, much to her extreme relief,she !felt a strong arm snake around her waist.
"If you can walk just a few feet, Ameline, we shall be at the car," Pendergast whispered gently. "Lean on me.' And Amy did just that, gratefully leaning into Pendergast while he held her close, supporting most of her weight.
In the car, with her eyes closed and the windows open, Amy felt a little better. She did not open her eyes as the car sped down the road toward Penumbera.
"You don't think this was an accident, do you," Amy asked, her eyes still shut against the pain in her head and her roiling stomach.
Pendergast had just called Doctor Derosiers and ensuring that she would meet them at the house. "No," he said slowly, "I do not think that it was an accident. That driver was very deliberately targeting you."
"Did you see him?"
"Perhaps...When we were at the fraternity house, a young man came down the stairs dressed to go to work at Antoine's – I recognized the insignia. I cannot be certain, but I believe he was behind the wheel of the car that almost stuck you."
At that Amy forced open her eyes to look at Pendergast, cringing at what the bright light of the late afternoon was doing to her head. "Let's go then," she said. "We should talk to him." She closed her eyes again and clamped her mouth closed as another wave of nausea hit.
Without taking his eyes off the road, Pendergast reached out his right hand and placed it gently on Amy's shoulder. "First we need to make sure that you are well. Let the doctor examine you. There will be time enough."
Amy relaxed under the warmth of Pendergast's hand. "Aren't you the same guy who was running off to solve the case right after he recovered from being poisoned?" She asked with as much irony as she could muster under the circumstances – it was not much. Pendergast looked at the young woman's pale features as she rested with her head against the headrest, smiled gently, and said nothing more.
Pendergast assisted Amy out of the car and into the house. By this time, her head was starting to feel better and her stomach had settled down enough for her to recall that she was hungry.
was waiting. She took Amy into one of the guest suites and examined her injured head. She took her pulse and blood pressure, checked her eyes, and listened to her heart and lungs. She also asked Amy several pointed questions about her dizziness and nausea. In the end, she cleaned the broken skin on her scalp and applied a quick dose of an antibacterial solution, indicating that nothing more would be needed. "You most likely have a mild concussion, My Dear," the doctor said. Some extra rest and you will be fine tomorrow or certainly by the next day." Amy nodded her thanks.
Pendergast was waiting outside. He said a few quiet words to the doctor who looked at Amy one more time, smiled, said good-bye and left.
"See," Amy said. "Nothing serious. Now, can we please question the guy who seems to want to kill me?"
"As you wish," said Pendergast quietly, but perhaps you would like to take some time to change. That brought Amy up short. She stole a look in a mirror that hung on the wall and gasped.
"Oh God. Why didn't you tell me I looked like this." Her hair was disheveled and looked matted where the blood had touched it. Her shirt was filthy and torn on her back and across one sleeve and her skirt was ripped and wrinkled probably beyond repair. After a moment, Amy smiled ruefully. "Perhaps I had better bathe and change and wait until I am in a more fit state than I apparently am. It would be a poor reflection on the FBI if I was to be the representation of the agency." She cast a meaningful look at Pendergast as she headed up the stairs.
Pendergast watched the young woman walk away with a contemplative look. She was filthy and bruised and in some obvious discomfort, and yet, he noted, that she carried herself with an easy and natural grace that many women would envy. He shook his head trying to clear it from the memory of the heart-stopping terror he felt when he realized that the car was heading straight for his new partner and how it had felt to have her so close. The slightest shiver passed through his body in recollection of the having her in his arms- even for that moment. Pendergast tamped down those feelings and turned to Maurice. "I believe we will have an early supper at home, if you please, Maurice."
Amy luxuriated for a long time in the large old-fashioned tub in her bathroom soaking away the soreness and soothing her bruises. She washed her hair, treated the broken skin on the back of her head gently. Finally, with her hair in a long braid and dressed in a Quantico Sweatshirt and jeans, she padded downstairs.
Pendergast was in the Sitting Room comfortably ensconced in one of the arm chairs with a glass of Bourbon. As Amy entered, Maurice greeted her with a pot of tea and a plate of crackers and cheese. Amy gratefully accepted both and sat on the couch, her legs tucked under her and sipped her tea. Admittedly, she earned for a bourbon, but knew that her concussion precluded that indulgence at least for now.
After a lengthy pause where she was able to eat the snack that Maurice so kindly provide, Pendergast spoke up. "Ameline," he said with no preamble. "What made you stop in the road? You saw something...do you recall what it was?"
Amy looked at Pendergast for a moment, and then nodded. "Of course. I should have told you sooner. I am sorry. As we were crossing the street, I heard the church bells and I saw a novice nun." Pendergast continued to look at her expectantly. "In most cases, novices wear white habits, regardless of habits they will wear when they are full members of their order." Pendergast nodded and Amy continued.
"The nuns are virgins or at least become celibate upon taking the veil. This also reminded me of a dream that I'd had of women in white robes...those women...it took me a long time to realize where I had seen them...it was at a recreation of a Roman ritual of the Vestal Virgins." Amy took a breath and looked at Pendergast, her eyes shining with excitement, "and do you know what the symbol of the Vestal Virgins was?" Pendergast shook his head. "The dove, Aloysius. Just like the dove on the purity medals that all the victims had."
Amy looked over at the other agent again and realized that he was now fully engaged. He brow was furrowed as if trying to recall a memory long forgotten. "Virgins...," he whispered. "Vestal Virgins..."
"Aloysius," Amy prodded. "What is it. This is ringing a bell for you, isn't it?"
Slowly Pendergast nodded his head. "Perhaps...Just Perhaps," he muttered as he stood up and headed to the library.
I know that this has been a long time in coming so I hope this is worth it. Sorry for a little bit of a cliff hanger. I promise some answers (but not all) in the next chapter. Please let me know your thoughts and thank you for taking the time to read and and let me know your thoughts.