THEY HAD ABANDONED the armory and the brownstone. Both would be known to Vector, if not already, then soon enough.
Edilio, with some assistance from Simone, found them an empty apartment ten blocks away. It wasn’t hard finding abandoned property; the city was half-empty already, and the only traffic still on the streets was heading away. Video of the horrors at City Hall and One Police Plaza and the Federal Building had broken the city’s courage. It was one thing to face a Knightmare or a Napalm; they could be fought, and the worst consequence of losing was death.
Death was far better than what Vector threatened.
The memory of the pus-draining, rot-reeking, diseased, agonized Williams was fresh in Dekka’s mind. The memory of reducing him to hamburger . . . that was fresh, too.
The new apartment faced Central Park, just a few blocks from the Markovic home, though somewhat less luxurious. It was an anonymous location, a well-furnished apartment that had belonged to an elderly couple who, should they suddenly decide to come home, would be rather shocked by what they saw.
Everyone was in morph. No one was human. They thought, hoped, prayed that Vector’s disease-bearing minions couldn’t infect a morph. And they were very damned sure they didn’t want to take the chance of remaining vulnerably human.
The Watchers were having a field day, access to all of them, all the time, eight little nodes through which they could watch. Eight minds for them to occupy.
Edilio did not have a morph and refused any suggestion that he consider taking the rock. He did, however, insist on what they each had agreed to: if any one of them was taken by Vector, the others would end their suffering in the only way possible: they would be killed. Killed, Dekka knew, by her if she was uninfested herself. A suicide pact. Or was it a murder-suicide pact? Yes, she supposed that’s what it was.
That at least is not something Sam ever had to face.
Simone and Shade had made regular scouting trips to Grand Central to see whether Vector would emerge to hunt them down. But Vector showed no signs of launching his insect army for the final blow. Yet. Possibly their move had left him with a cold trail, and he didn’t know where they were. Or possibly he no longer considered them a threat.
Yet.
“I’ve restocked with flamethrowers, but these are even more primitive than the first round,” Edilio said. “I piled them in that closet there. But the real weap
on we have is in the truck down in the parking garage.”
“That’s a hell of an object to have stuck in the back of a pickup truck,” Simone said.
“Better than bringing it in here,” Sam pointed out.
They were in the unfamiliar living room, Dekka feeling like a burglar. Just another felony—what else is new? Two sofas faced each other across a dark carved Moroccan-style coffee table piled with food. They sat looking like costumed extras from a Star Wars movie taking a lunch break on the set.
Cruz and Armo were off raiding adjacent unoccupied apartments and had already rounded up an impressive larder of cookies, crackers, cheese, hummus, canned beans, and soup before deciding to continue their explorations rather than sit in on yet another planning session.
So the plan for round three with Vector was hatched between Dekka, Shade, Malik, Simone, and Sam, with Edilio confining himself to questions of logistics. Francis napped in one of the bedrooms.
“Vector hasn’t moved yet,” Shade said, forcing herself to slow her speech to be understood. “We have to hit him fast, before he makes plans.”
Dekka felt a rush of wind, and Shade was gone. Seconds later a sandwich appeared on the table, minus one bite.
“We’re relying a lot on Francis,” Malik pointed out. He was the one most used to the irritant of the Watchers and was the least agitated now. Everyone else who had morphed, especially Sam, for whom this was a new feature of life, seemed distracted and on edge.
“Yes, we are relying a lot on Francis,” Dekka agreed. “You have a better way?”
Malik thought hard, then admitted, “No. I don’t. Not yet, anyway.”
Sam said, “I’m new to this Watcher thing. Are we sure they don’t pass information along to Vector?”
“They may,” Malik said. “We don’t see any evidence of it yet, but it could happen. They seem more like lurkers watching a game rather than active players.”
“I worry about that Mirror person,” Shade said too rapidly. “He says he can mimic any Rockborn, which would mean he could be me, or Malik, or you, Dekka.”
“Who’s going to jump in the bubble?” Malik asked. “I would, but I’m not strong enough. It will have to be Armo or you, Dekka.”
“I’ll do it,” Dekka said.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be the one,” Sam suggested. “You’re the general; you should be out of the action.”
“Oh? Like you always were?” Dekka retorted drolly.