Chapter 3 #2
“My name’s Mason. Don’t sweat the code names. Only me, Taylor, and Theia got ’em.”
“Why’s that?” I stab my fork into these delicious potatoes which hopefully I can enjoy not only while I’m here, but every day for the rest of my life.
“Because we are carrying out the main missions. The use of code names differentiates us and creates an atmosphere of respect,” Taylor interrupts with authority.
“It ties us to Theia directly, and helps keep communications clear. Also, it prevents an enemy from learning our rank and trying to take us prisoner.”
“We the big guns,” Mason says and gives Taylor a fraternal nudge with his elbow, which softens her expression.
“So, the sequestered meals are preferential treatment,” I say. “You’re the go-to team.”
“We eat alone so we can discuss our missions in privacy. The fewer people who are privy to the assassinations, the higher their rate of success.” The weird, high-tech watch around her wrist beeps and she dismounts the bench, dabbing her face with a napkin. “Theia.”
Mason understands what this means and nods his head, taking one last bite of bacon before getting up from the bench as well.
“Not you,” Taylor says to him. “Us.”
I’m still sitting down with food on my plate, fork halfway to my face, mouth full of potatoes. “What? What ‘us’?” I swallow. “Me-and-you us?”
“Yes. Me-and-you us,” she replies. Mason shrugs and sits back down, happily returning to his potatoes. Lucky bastard. “Get moving.”
I pop another potato cube in my mouth and get up, clumsily maneuvering around the bench in my military boots. I’m not exactly a boots kind of gal, but this is probably the smallest life adjustment I’ll have to make in the coming days. If I even have any coming days.
We follow the same path inside HQ as we did when we arrived, down a crowded hallway to the thick oak door. Anxiously, I glance at Taylor. “I would rather not be killed today.” It’s an attempt at humor, but it falls flat on its face as my voice holds the genuine panic in my chest.
“Most people do not choose when they die,” she says under her breath. Should I be relieved or more frightened Taylor appears to share my nervousness? “Maybe a fortunate few choose how.”
We are beckoned into Theia’s office in a manner somewhere between a royal summons and a military command.
Theia sits in a bonded leather chair with a high back.
Her sweater is green and not leather, but her skirt is, and both form to her tighter than her bun.
I want to comment on how bad that is for her follicles.
Maybe next time. Maybe if she’s going to execute me, I’ll use my last words to let her know.
Sarcasm is certainly a more dignified exit than begging.
“Sit down, Eos.” I side-eye Taylor as she nods and settles into the seat next to me.
Lady Leather clears her throat and crosses her legs.
She has an air about her like a strict headmistress and Taylor and I are two kids caught fighting on the playground.
Her gaze moves from Taylor to me, a tight smile on her lips.
“Hmm. Eos has been quite generous with her jackets as of late.”
I don’t know why I feel defensive of the jacket, but I don’t like her insinuation or accusatory tone. “I was not prepared to be taken from my home, otherwise I’d have packed a coat.”
Theia raises an eyebrow at me, then looks at Taylor. “I assume you provided your ward with the necessary amenities, aside from your jackets?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Not exactly a class in hospitality here, but I suppose a beggar cannot be a chooser. “Is there an update on Target Two?”
Theia bristles at Taylor’s brusque tone, plastering on a smile so saccharine sweet it gives me a toothache.
“Target Two? The man you should’ve dispatched less than twelve hours ago?
” Taylor bows her head. “Well, Leader Piccolo has increased the Force presence on the island by seventy percent. He’s unleashed Lightbringers. A family specialty.”
I gasp. “Oh, God.”
Taylor looks between us. “What is a Lightbringer?”
Theia gestures to me. “Go on, Luciana. Inform my soldier how grievous her actions were last night.”
“My great-great-grandfather Dante Piccolo assembled the Lightbringers. They’re automatons, like twenty or thirty feet tall, armed with laser rifles.
The technology is beyond me, but as I understand it, the beam from their gun either mutilates or eviscerates its target.
” Gazing upward, I try to recall the information handed down to me in bits and pieces.
Nobody is particularly proud of how excessive the Lightbringers are.
“They were operated remotely by Force members at headquarters. They quelled my great-great-grandfather’s rebellion and roamed the streets for decades until my mother insisted they were unethical and Papa had many of them dismantled for parts. Many, but not all.”
“How do you destroy one?” Taylor looks like how I imagine a Lightbringer does in operation—gears turning, calculating, seeking weakness.
“I don’t know,” I reply. “As far as I know, nobody ever has.”
“Precisely. I imagine most of our operatives there will be hard-pressed to get out alive with his crackdown. As such, it would also be unwise of us to anger him further by dispatching his spawn. Until I can arrange otherwise, Miss Piccolo will be your ward. Where you go, she goes. No exceptions.”
Taylor’s spine goes ramrod straight. “Even on the missions? But—but if I am compromised…”
“If you are compromised, or Miss Piccolo dies, it will be your fault,” Theia says with a harsh snap. “This is not a punishment, Eos. You are the only one I trust with this task. It is not an ideal situation, but we make do with what we have. My decision is final. Am I understood?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. Do not make me repeat myself, it is quite wasteful.” Theia unscrews the cap on a glass decanter of liquor and when the scent wafts toward me, I recognize it as scotch.
The sudden ache of homesickness takes my breath.
Papa drinks the same brand. “You have two weeks to train her, starting today. She seems to be in acceptable form, though I’m sure her athleticism may need work.
” I sit up straighter in my chair. “I have no doubts you will get her as ready as possible. Though.” Theia stands, taking with her the intricate glass of scotch.
She gives it a tentative sip as we wait for her to finish her sentence.
Early in the day to be drinking, but who am I to judge?
“She was quite a distraction for you at the ball, wasn’t she, Taylor? ”
Taylor shrinks back at the decidedly intimate address. “I did the best I could under the circumstances.”
“I asked you a question. One that requires a yes or no answer, not another one of your flimsy excuses for poor performance.”
“No, ma’am. Miss Piccolo was not a distraction.”
Theia purses her lips like a suckerfish and swims around the desk to rest her backside on the scalloped wooden edge in front of Taylor, who is as cool and still as a marble statue. “Is that so?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The following silence is agonizingly awkward. Theia leans in closer to scrutinize her, as if the pores of her face will reveal a hidden truth.
“Just so, like, the people in the room who could kill me are on the same page, I’m not being executed, right?”
Theia’s watchful brown eyes pierce me into my seat. “Correct. Until I reach a satisfactory accord with your father, you will remain in the protection of the Order.”
“And what kind of accord is that?” I ask, crossing my arms. Papa will not want to negotiate with those he finds so below his station.
“Most likely, his life for yours,” Theia replies, and I inhale a breath so sharp it hurts my lungs. “Eos, you will report to meals and mandatory meetings on schedule, but your free time will be spent preparing your ward. Our training facilities are instructed to be at your disposal. Plan wisely.”
Taylor stands up and rigidly straightens her posture. She’s pissed. Doesn’t feel like that bodes well for me. “Anything else?” Her voice is tight and controlled. “Ma’am?”
“Yes,” Theia says, with a curt nod to indicate her subordinate should sit the hell back down.
Taylor does, but with a seemingly uncharacteristic level of petulance.
“Luciana, I’m sure this is not the conclusion you wanted.
However, I hope you understand that the extraordinary circumstances have forced our hand.
Normally, anyone non-Order on the compound would be killed without much thought.
In fact, I argued heavily in favor of your immediate execution last night. No offense.”
“Sure, why would I be offended by that?”
“However, Eos brought up a number of salient points in favor of keeping you alive. I found her argument convincing, but we disagreed on what use to make of you. Eos favored keeping you here, but I cannot be seen with a leader’s daughter whispering in my ear.”
An attempt is made on my part to conceal the blatant surprise that Taylor cared enough about my well-being to go toe-to-toe with the leader of the rebellion. “But the optics of a leader’s daughter converted to a rebel, palling around with your scion of revolution?”
Theia smiles, evidently pleased at my deduction. “That I can make use of.”
“It’s not like I have much of a choice, is it?”
“There is always a choice, Luciana. We can make use of your expertise out in the field, or we can kill you right now.” Theia folds her hands in front of her. “I believe the former would be more beneficial.”
If Papa caught Taylor in the mansion, I’ve no doubt he’d have her tortured and killed. Would I have done anything to prevent it, as she apparently did for me? “Look, I’ll obviously choose what keeps me alive the longest, but I don’t think people are going to be thrilled about me tagging along.”
“I am under no obligation to explain your presence to anyone,” Taylor says, cutting in.