Chapter 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.
Theia doesn’t move an inch. She puts her facade back up. “Are you quite finished, Luciana?”
Lucy practically snarls, “It’s Lucy, you dumb bitch.”
“All right,” Delilah cuts in. She stands and touches Lucy’s shoulder to rein her in. The daggers Lucy is sending Theia’s way could impale her to the seat. I’m almost glad Theia insisted we disarm at the door. “I am sure you know why we’re here.”
“It isn’t for this lovely tête-à-tête?”
“Mom.” Hunter’s sober, plaintive voice breaks the tension in the room.
Cautiously, Lucy sits back down and I reach over to take her hand.
Theia registers the gesture with a snort of what I assume is disapproval, but it doesn’t matter.
We survived and we are together, and that insult to Theia is enough to keep me satisfied.
Theia gets to her feet and clasps her hands behind her back.
She stares into the dormant fireplace as if seeing mirages inside.
It is a grand fireplace, like everything else in the mansion.
The library, however, doesn’t have as much gilded furniture and ornate oil paintings as the rest of the place.
Lucy’s mother clearly favored minimalism over opulence.
The room is massive—the ceiling maybe thirty, forty feet above our heads.
Every wall is stacked nearly floor to ceiling with built-in shelving stuffed with books.
Huge tomes, thin volumes, several editions of encyclopedias.
Between each bookshelf is a stand with a glass dome, which must contain a rarer book, or a controversial one.
It’s a fascinating peek into the life of Katherine Piccolo, and by proxy, a young Luciana.
And, of course, it highlights why Lucy is so angry at Theia’s presence here.
Her smallness of mind, her selfishness, and her zeal for power run counter to the purpose of this very room.
Every book is Katherine reaching out and trying to touch other people and cultures, trying to bring them back to life, where Theia is evidently intent on oppression and eventual homogeny.
The ideals she instilled in me were not ones she believed, which I find incredibly confusing.
She lauded democracy, freedom, independence.
She railed against tyranny and the fascist oppression of free speech. She wanted to lift every voice.
But the minute the opportunity came to do so, she could not rise to the occasion.
This is the disappointment I feel most deeply.
The loss of identity I may recover, the physical wounds will heal, but seeing the woman who carried the rebellion on her back and made me who I am revealed as a charlatan… is a scar I will carry forever.
“I am sure you imagined a confrontation when you arrived. Maybe even fighting your way to the door, cornering me like a fox in a hole.” Theia turns to the group. “As you can see, I dismissed the soldiers here and told them to permit you entry without resistance.”
“Not before trying to kill us with deadly robots,” Lucy remarks.
Theia ignores her and moves on. “We needn’t waste time in such dramatic fashion.
Delilah, I imagine you are here to call for my resignation.
You and the other council members, sneaking around behind my back, expounding my faults.
As if any single one of you could have turned a rebellion into a government in less than six months. ”
The sharpness of Theia’s tone does not slice into Delilah one bit.
She probably did expect more resistance, but Theia is playing a strange game.
“I do not take this task lightly, Jessa. I know firsthand the burdens you have borne and continue to bear. This hasn’t been an easy victory, made more complicated by the insurgents. ”
“Which is, presumably, why Roxana is here.” Theia narrows her eyes at Roxana, who does not shrink back.
“I suspected it was you, but could never confirm it. You were like a specter haunting the Order until finally you came to flesh. It seems I could have saved myself a lot of trouble and heartache if I had killed you when I killed Paul.”