Our weapons get packed away in duffel bags and we try to act like refugees rather than soldiers. Delilah is unofficially elected our spokesperson as we look for a place to stay. In between an abandoned laundromat and gas station, a tiny, one-story motel with ten rooms waits with an ominously blinking neon sign in which only the “O” and “T” in motel are illuminated. We wait outside like children as I overhear Delilah charm the receptionist into giving us four rooms at half the price—and she hands us the keys upon walking out.
“Divide it amongst yourselves. Each room has two twin beds.”
“Okay, so me and Piccolo will take a room,” Finley says, and my immediate flood of indignation is dammed by Lucy andFinley’s laughter. “Had to do it. Mini Boss here is real easy to rile where LP is concerned.”
I huff and attempt a salvage. “I simply did not want Lucy to lose precious sleep listening to your stories all night.”
Finley smirks. “Oh, cute. She’s got jokes.”
As I glance between Cassie and Finley, I’m struck with an unfamiliar notion I can only describe as sisterly. Not that I think Finley would try to assault Cassie, or consensually put her hands on her, but Cassie is too young to be left alone to her own passions. “Mason, you room with Finley. Cassie with Roxana. I will sleep with Lucy?—”
“I bet you will.”
This time everyone laughs at my expense, so I pout and my cheeks grow warm. Lucy gives me a fond, pitying smile. “You need to stop setting Fin up like that.”
“And Delilah will have a room to herself.”
“As befitting a woman of my station,” Delilah replies, sliding her key into her brassiere. “The kind receptionist told me there is a hole-in-the-wall where we can get a drink and some food. Let’s put our things in the room and we can head over. I’m famished, and these pathetic army rations will not do.”
Roxana grins as we walk across the parking lot toward the row of rooms. “You truly have always been the classiest among us.”
“That was, like, the one thing I had going for me,” Lucy whines.
“Pssht, I got class.” Mason imitates Delilah’s seductive strut to an almost uncanny degree and the group devolves into laughter as we break off to put away our things for the night.
Hole-in-the-wall wasan apt descriptor for the place we enter about a half an hour later. It can only be entered through a door in an alleyway between a defunct strip mall and a furniture store, and one must traverse a rather perilous set of wooden stairs about two feet wide to enter the pub proper. However, it must be the only decent place for miles because patrons sit at nearly every table from wall to wall. In the far corner is a billiards table, directly to the right of that a round table with a green felt top for card games. An expansive bar takes up one entire wall, with more liquor stacked on shelves than I’ve seen in my entire life.
We seat ourselves away from the crowd as much as we can, with Finley acting as our server to bring the orders to the bar. She waits at the bar for the bartender’s attention and the rest of us enjoy the break from her constant chattering.
Cassie pipes up first. “How many more miles do we have to go?”
“No more business talk,” Delilah chides. “We’re here to drink and be merry.”
“About forty,” I reply, garnering a stern look from Delilah. “That is only to the tunnel. The tunnel itself is about a mile and a half long, then we begin the arduous task of somehow getting to the Piccolo mansion without detection by a fleet of Lightbringers.”
Cassie sits back in her chair and crosses her arms. She looks particularly young in this bar—not only because she is the youngest person present, but because she looks thoroughly out of place. Lucy and Delilah should look out of place, but their easy confidence makes it appear they’d fit in anywhere. The rest of us look like we would be regulars—old soldiers, criminals, orfactory workers. But Cassie has an innocence about her that sets her apart. I wonder if her parents know where she is. I resolve myself once again to getting her back safely.
“I don’t see why you can’t ask for a meeting. Wouldn’t it look suspicious, or at least very odd, if she refused a meeting with one of her cabinet members?” Cassie ponders aloud, far too loudly for the bar, and I sign for her to quiet down. She widens her eyes in panic and mouths an apology.
“Theia hasn’t spoken to me since we set up the council. I inquired quite firmly about the whereabouts of Taylor, and Theia did not appreciate my line of questioning. She basically cut me off from all information that didn’t strictly have to do with my region.” Delilah purses her lips, and her usual posture of confidence and barely restrained sexuality is taut in anger. “As much as I trust those close to me, Theia has eyes everywhere. I imagine she is, at the very least, aware that I’ve been in frequent contact with the other council members.”
“But you still think we can sneak up in there and she’ll let us walk in the door?” Cassie raises her eyebrows. “The mansion is crawling with UR soldiers.”
Delilah sighs and takes a drink from Finley as she comes to the table with our glasses. “No, but she’ll want to know why we’re there. We will be walking up to her door with two ghosts in our presence. She’ll be more curious than cross. Theia’s weakness has always been her boastful confidence.”
“We’re talking shop?” Finley asks, grimacing. “Pass. I’m gonna play poker with those dudes.”
“Be careful,” I say automatically. “We don’t need any extra attention.”
“I can keep a secret, Mini Boss. But I appreciate your concern.” She annoyingly ruffles my hair before trotting off to find whatever poker game she managed to ingratiate herself into.
The rest of our night is free of “shop talk,” as Finley put it. Roxana and Delilah wax poetic about their shared past, enlightening both Mason and Cassie on their connection but not about Roxana’s connection to me. I’m not yet sure I want to broach the subject publicly.
Lucy drapes her arm around my chair and plays with the hem of my shirt sleeve as we listen to them trade tales. Mason and I interject with some of our own from our deployment in the MidCountry, including the time Mason’s singing while he urinated gave away our location. Roxana weaves many tales, and includes Paul in many of them. It fills in these gaps in my mind of what they were like, especially around the time I was conceived.
As she speaks, I find myself thinking about how Theia had described them and how she thought I was more like my mother. But the way Roxana speaks of Paul, I think maybe I was more like him.
Yes, I am rigid in my principles and I like routine. Like Roxana, I am practical and pragmatic, sure. But my heart is much like Paul’s. It’s obvious he was devoted to Roxana and deeply committed to the ideals of the Order. He did dangerous things to bring people justice, joy, or practical things like food or money. Paul would’ve taken on that Lightbringer with me if it meant we could get that money to the Underclass and the impoverished. Roxana would’ve thought the risk outweighed the reward, but Paul would’ve understood.
