“I’d usually head downstairs and get a latte from the Starbucks after. And I treated myself to an outrageously expensive pair of over-the-knee suede boots at Saks that last Christmas.”
She turned, studied what had been a Fifth Avenue landmark. War had sheared off the top floors, shattered the windows. Oddly, a couple of naked mannequins sprawled like the dead behind the broken glass.
“I hope some resistance fighter looted my apartment and got them, and everything else.”
“Where did you shop, Lana?”
Lana smiled at Fred. “I was a downtown girl. The Barney’s on Seventh practically applauded when I went in. God, I loved to shop—to buy. Shoes, big, big weakness.”
She looked down at the sturdy, laced leather of the elf-made boots that had served her, and well, for three years.
“Oh well.”
“Do you miss it?” Fred asked. “I sort of miss shopping—the looking and touching and discovery. You don’t think about it really but, seeing all this, it brings it back so I kind of miss it.”
She hooked her arms through theirs. “We’d have had fun with it, the three of us. Shopping, trying on clothes, stopping for lunch.”
They watched a scavenging team haul out bags and crates from what had been—if Arlys’s memory served—a Banana Republic.
“But scavenging’s fun, too,” Fred decided.
“I’m amazed there’s anything left to scavenge.”
Because there was, because it seemed there was always something else to find, Lana’s mood lifted. “Well, it is New York.” She gave them each a hip bump. “Let’s go shopping.”
* * *
With her father, Fallon refined her battle plan, then called in her available commanders. After more than an hour’s debate, she sent them back to prepare their troops.
Will stopped, laid a hand on her shoulder as he studied her floating map. “Basically the same tactics as Arlington.”
“It worked.”
“Damn straight. Well, I’m going to find my wife before I head back.”
“She’s with mine,” Simon told them. “Give me a minute and I’ll go with you.” He turned first, pressed a kiss to Fallon’s forehead.
“What’s that for?”
“We’ll say luck.”
Reaching out, she gripped his hand. “Are the numbers right?”
“As they’ll ever be. We’ll get the word out. Buy you a drink later? It’s tradition. A drink before the war.” He glanced at Duncan. “You, too.”
“Sure.” Duncan waited until Simon walked out. “He’s warming up to me.”
“He’s always been warm toward you.”
“Warmer before I got naked with his daughter. But he’s warming up again. After the drink, let’s have another tradition and get naked before the war.”
“I’m for that. It’s all in, Duncan.”
“And it’ll be all in and done. It’s the right move, the right time. We’re ready.” He gave her a quick yank, took her mouth, took them both away for just a moment. “More of that later.”
Alone, she walked back to the map. She expected she’d have another heated argument with Colin, but she would keep him solidly on support on this one. She had additional fighters with the resistance—undisciplined for the most part, but fierce.
“Hey.”
She glanced over. “Mick.”
“Sorry I couldn’t get here sooner. We had a little distraction.”
Since mud and blood streaked his face, his clothes, she doubted it had been little or merely a distraction. “Are you hurt?”
“Nah.” He swiped the back of his hand over his face. “Some DU thought they could push us out of Chelsea—your mom’s old neighborhood, right? We thought different. Got an assist from a small band of resistance, and tamped it down. But I couldn’t get here for the briefing.”
He wandered in, his forehead creasing as he looked at the map. “Is that my battalion?”
“Yeah.”
“When do we strike?”
“Daybreak. Let me run it through.”
While she did, he pulled a pouch of sunflower seeds from his pocket—offered her some, munched.
“You’ve got Poe leading Colin’s troops.”
“Colin’s not cleared for combat.”
“He’s gonna be pissed. You know he’s working on getting a tat on the arm—after we hoist the banner here. That’s not going to screw up the magicks, is it?”
“It’s the same as his own skin now. It is his skin now, so no.”
“Cool enough. Shit, almost forgot. I brought one of the resistance guys back with me. He wanted to check, see if he can find his daughter. He got her out awhile back with directions to New Hope.”
“Did he give you a name?”
“Funny name. I’m not sure—”
“Marichu.”
“Yeah, that’s it. I told him somebody around here probably had records, or could find out.”
“I know her. She’s here.” Gesturing for him to follow, she started out. “What’s his name?”
“Jon—nice and easy to remember. I never figured she’d be here. He said she’s