Delilah wipes her hands on a handkerchief and leaves Finley with Cassie. “I think we should have Shea and Cassandra stay back. Maybe keep Mason back too, to cover them.”
Hunter, busy fiddling with the scope on her rifle, nods in agreement. “Fewer people who go in, the better. We know she knows we’re here. That welcoming party was something else.”
“I agree. Let’s not waste any time, then.” Delilah turns around. “Mason, stay with Captain Finley and Private Frank, please.”
Mason frowns. “I walked through all that goo for nothing?” More seriously, he approaches me directly. “Last time I let you face her alone…”
“I won’t be alone,” I remind him. “It won’t be like last time. Please, if this goes wrong, I need you to keep Cassie safe. And Finley, I guess.”
Mason chuckles half-heartedly, but I know it hurts him to see me leave again, knowing what happened at the airport. He lowers his voice and leans in toward me.
“No compromise, no surrender.”
27
The mansion is deserted. Upon walking the two blocks to the mansion proper, we are shocked to find not a single soldier guarding the entrance. It seems almost like a home again, with a welcoming front step and picture windows on either side. The wrought iron gate that surrounds it is open at the doorway, inviting us inside.
“This feels like a trap, right?” Lucy looks around. “It has to be a trap.”
Hunter doesn’t appear bothered. She shrugs and leads us forward. “Won’t know it’s a trap until we’re in it.”
“That’s not a great motto,” Lucy returns with a stern glare. We open the grand front doors that lead into the foyer. Something I had not noticed any time I’ve been inside the mansion is the script letter “P” laid in ivory tile on the floor. Lucy inhales, seemingly trying to capture the lost scent of her former home. “Where does she usually stay when she’s here?”
“In Leader Piccolo’s old wing.” Hunter’s bluntness takes Lucy aback, and I offer measly comfort in the form of my hand on her side.
“Come to the library.” Theia’s voice booms around us, apparently funneled in from speakers we cannot see. Though it would be typical of Theia to outfit something so she could mimic the voice of God, they existed prior as a way for Leader Piccolo to command servants from anywhere in the home. “Let’s sit down and chat. Leave your weapons at the door.”
Lucy’s body tenses and redness creeps up her chest and neck. I step toward her, but the arrival of a UR soldier prevents me from offering solace. She takes our weapons from us, giving each of us a quick pat-down and a nod of approval once we pass inspection. We ascend the grand staircase behind Hunter, and anger radiates from Lucy with every step. While that is probably not the mood to walk into this “meeting” with, I can’t say I blame her and I don’t try to calm her down. Theia deserves the full brunt of Lucy’s rage.
The library is set back in the wing Lucy’s mother used to inhabit. It appears Theia did not get around to crashing through this part of the home with renovations, as the walls are decorated with tasteful paintings and beautiful sconces. Situated at the end of the hallway is the door to the library, left a few inches open. If we needed a moment to prepare, we don’t get it because Hunter open-palm slaps the door and waltzes right in.
Theia sits near an empty fireplace in a high-backed floral chair. Dressed in her usual garb of an olive-green shirt and leather pants, she watches us as we walk in. Considering she is beholding not one, but two women she thought were dead, she appears unbothered. “Please, ladies, have a seat.”
A few leather armchairs sit in a semicircle near the fire and there is one for each of us. How Theia knew exactly who would arrive, I will never know. She seems to always be several steps ahead.
“Cool trick with the Flashmen,” Hunter starts, giving her a scathing glare. “Sending dozens of robots to take on like, eight people was super fair.”
“It appears you survived that well enough.”
Hunter crosses her arms. “No thanks to you and that ridiculous show of force against your own soldiers.”
“I wanted to see how they worked. Not very impressive, I have to say. The Lightbringers have been much more helpful.”
“Right. I should’ve expected our lives were meaningless to you from the start, considering you tried to execute my kid sister.”
Cold brown eyes move from Hunter, to me, to Roxana. “I am sure by now you know how untrue that ‘little sister’ claim is. How are you, Roxy?”
“You want to do pleasantries? Okay. I am fine, Jessa, thank you for asking. I’d ask how you are, but it’s clear you’re doing very well. That power you so desperately craved is all yours. Was it everything you wanted?”
This is the first time I’ve seen Roxana worked up since we met, and I recognize myself in her a bit more. Theia, for her part, smiles wanly and nods along.
Lucy’s bouncing, restless leg attracts my attention, but I don’t intervene fast enough before she shoots up out of her chair and points a finger at Theia. “How fucking dare you? This is my mother’s library. Her books, her life’s work, her collection. How dare you sit in her seat? How dare you sit in my house? You don’t even deserve half of this, you know that, don’t you? You’ve done nothing.”
Theia calmly raises an eyebrow. “And you, dear Luciana, what did you do to deserve this? Crawl out of the vagina of a woman chained to a man who siphoned his power from the powerless?”
“You don’t think you’ve done the same? Used your daughter, an orphan, and a baby you stole to turn around a revolution you never could have won on your own. I own my privilege. You’re nothing but an opportunistic leech, and it’s clear from what I’ve seen, and from Roxana’s story, that it’s all you’ve ever been.” Lucy laughs, almost hysterically, and opens her arms. “Look around,Jessa. The reason you’re not a good leader? The reason your council, your loyal soldiers, hell, even your own daughter despise you? It is because you stand for nothing. You are empty. You are hollow. You are nothing but an echo of other people’s greatness.”
And it is blink-and-you’ll-miss-it fast, but Theia’s constant smirk falls into a line. Her forehead, always smooth as stone, wrinkles for a second. In my mind’s eye I imagine her bringing the whip down on Lucy. Calmly pulling a gun on her and ending her life, right here. But, none of that happens.
