Chapter 25 #3
“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.
However, I do not find myself grieving this man or the life we could’ve had.
Because as everyone trades tales and drinks, I realize I am not missing anything.
While I do wish Hunter were here, everything I want is in front of me.
A woman I love, who loves me. My brother whose bond is unbreakable.
A friend who pushes me to be greater than I am by believing the best in me.
A guardian who risked her life to give me a place in this world.
And…my mother, who gave me life, and, by extension, these people I care about.
Maybe I will find who I am along the way, but I know I am myself at this table.
Turned so inward to introspect, I don’t notice Finley swaggering up to us until she plunks a fat set of car keys in the center of our table. “Won a car.”
Lucy balks. “You did what?”
“I won a car. Those guys are like, massively bad at poker. Got one of them to bet his car. He lost.” Finley grins so wide I think her lips are going to break off her face.
Behind her, an angry man mutters to other men at the card table, shaking his head sadly.
“It’ll be a tight fit, but I think we could drive the rest of the way. ”
I close my eyes to picture the maps on Roxana’s table.
The one of New Jersey forms in my mind. Normally, I could turn on my watch and gather intel, but I’ve been trained to know how to navigate without it.
“There aren’t any official checkpoints between here and the tunnel.
The remaining highway checkpoints are farther north.
I…think she’s probably right. So long as we don’t get tagged by air, we should be clear to start in the morning. ”
Delilah peers behind Finley. “That man does not look happy.”
“You wouldn’t be happy either if you went all in on four aces, only to find out your girl here had a straight flush.
” Finley grabs someone’s drink from the table and downs it.
She takes a chair, spins it, and sits backward on it in between Lucy and Cassie.
“What an idiot. Anyway, what are we talking about? Ooh, have we traded scar stories? I’ve got a bunch with great fights attached to them. ”
Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the warmth of Lucy’s body pressed into mine, or maybe it’s the comfort of this ragtag group of friends inside this cozy bar…
but I don’t tune out Finley’s stories as she rolls up her sleeve to show off a weird scar from what she described as an “armadillo fight.” In fact, I enjoy them. I even laugh once.
It must be the alcohol.