Rick’s words echoing in her mind, Lucy followed the Freelancers toward their destination in Lower Manhattan. Amara flanked her so closely they may as well have been superglued. Under very different conditions, she might bring Ravi here to see the tall ships moored to Pier 17.
It occurred to Lucy that the Order of Sophia feared her genetic mutation because it could render humanity as archaic as a schooner. Given that carriers of the lightning gene were prone to premature death, however, their intolerant stance seemed like a bit of an overreaction. How much mayhem could she really cause?
Lucy’s eyes flitted across the redbrick façades of nineteenth-century row houses. She’d presumed Rick would be burglarizing one of the many Wall Street office buildings within spitting distance, going after the corporate titans made from steel and glass.
Why would one of the houses in the historic district be heavily guarded?
The group turned down a dead-end alley. There were no doors or windows interrupting the brick of the row houses. If Rick thought Lucy could walk through walls, he was in for the disappointment of his life.
Shadows from the nearby skyscrapers were cold on her cheeks.
Rick made some kind of hand signal and the crew scattered, melting into the darkened corners of the alleyway. He crooked a pinky at Lucy. With no choice but to obey, she trudged to his side.
“Now what?” she said, hoping that Ravi was still picking her up through the com device.
“We go down.”
Lucy followed his gaze. It was a manhole. A bronze manhole cover decorated with six-petaled flowers. Six six-petaled blossoms surrounding a word in Greek that stopped her heart.
σοφία
Lucy’s eyes went wide and Rick muffled a chuckle-cough in his fist.
“Sophia,” Lucy whispered, the word lacerating her throat. “You brought me straight to the Sophists’ door?”
After Rick’s spiel about not agreeing with the extremists, she’d allowed herself to believe he wouldn’t just hand her over. She should have realized he was ruled by self-interest. There was probably a pretty penny for her head.
“Calmes-toi. Nobody’s home.” His laughter became a barking cough. “They simply have something I want.”
Rick’s attempt at reassurance did nothing to lift the weight from Lucy’s chest.
Trying not to shake, she demanded, “What do you expect me to do? Lift the cover with the power of my mind?” A flying stapler was one thing. A sheet of metal with a three-foot diameter was quite another. “I can’t do it.”
He narrowed his eyes to slits, assessing her like a predator who toys with his prey before swallowing it whole.
“You can. Or you will. But we don’t have time for that tonight.”
“Then what?”
“Patience.”
Patience was an important virtue for a scientist to possess, but Lucy had steadily been running out of hers. Every second that ticked by was another second Claudia was being held captive.
Rick clicked his fingers and Mikhail materialized out of nowhere, crowbar in hand. Where had he stashed the crowbar? Better to remain ignorant, actually.
“Won’t it be alarmed?” Lucy cautioned.
Vulpine smile. “We have an inside man,” Rick replied.
Of course they did. The Freelancers had moles in both Orders. Perfect.
With a couple grunts, Mikhail made quick work of the manhole cover.
As promised, no alarm sounded.
Rick performed a mocking half bow and waved his hand. “Ladies first.”
Great. A mercenary who was a stickler for manners.
Girding herself, Lucy wrapped her hands around the rusty rung of a ladder and began her descent below the city. Grime slid between her fingers as a dank smell filled her nostrils. She really didn’t want to know what it was. She also ignored the chattering of some kind of critter with whiskers that interrupted the trickling of water.
Rick plunged after her into the darkness, a flashlight gripped between his teeth.
Mikhail re-covered the manhole, eclipsing any streetlight filtering down.
Her insides convulsed.
The darkness was too familiar. An old friend Lucy wanted to forget. Knowing that her seizures were caused by a genetic mutation rather than a more straightforward neurological condition didn’t change the reality of her symptoms. Professor T had given Lucy hope that she could learn to master them, but the darkness would always be waiting for her.
Her feet connected with a hard, slippery concrete floor. Rick reached the bottom a few seconds later and Lucy winced as the flashlight shone directly in her eyes. Shielding herself, yellow dots continued to strobe against the inky blackness.
“Where are the others?” she whispered as her eyes readjusted, roving the tunnel that stretched before them. “And where are we?”
“There are tunnels all over this city if you know where to look.” He shrugged. “As for the others—they do not need to see what you can do. I am considerate, non?”
Rick was a lot of things. Considerate wasn’t at the top of Lucy’s list.
“Are you saying the Orders built a secret labyrinth beneath New York City?” she asked.
“London aussi. Paris. Rome. The Orders are everywhere.” He circled the light around the cramped corridor and began walking. “They can’t take all the credit, however. There were the bootleggers. And the Freemasons.”
Rick glanced back at Lucy over his shoulder and removed something from his pocket with casual grace.
“You might need this. Catch!”
Lucy raised her hands, fumbling as the Tesla Egg landed between them.
“It was you!” she hissed.
He laughed as he continued navigating them forward. She stared at the egg. If Rick knew what it could do, he must know the risks of giving it back to her. He must be confident that he had enough leverage to keep Lucy compliant.
Much as it infuriated her, he was right.
A grateful, happy buzz spread through her body as her hand closed around the egg. As if a missing limb had been returned.
Emerald light illuminated the tunnel. She heard a low whistle as Rick shut off his flashlight. He didn’t need it anymore.
Simultaneously the tourmaline began to dig harder into Lucy’s throat, almost choking her. The stone struggled to match the boost to the oscillation of her electromagnetic field provoked by Tesla’s invention. Excitement thrummed through Lucy thinking of the experiments she could perform on herself, scientific fascination momentarily outweighing fear.
“We could take your show on the road,” Rick commented.
Bite me, Lucy thought. She bit her tongue instead.
They reached a crossroads.
He pointed at a ladder.
Up they went.