ask, then? They said something was hunting them. Someone. A woman.”
Paulo’s skin prickles all over, as it did at the Inwood rock, and by the suspicious swimming pool. Could the Enemy have reactualized harbingers already? It is as if the birthing-battle did nothing. “That should not be,” he says, slowly and softly. “But… hunting. Yes. I believe that’s true.” New cities usually had very healthy survival instincts, because they had to. If the avatars of New York believed that a hostile foreign presence was hunting them down, they were probably right. “A woman, you said?”
Her mouth pulls to one side. “I suppose you’re not a woman. Still, why should I tell you anything?”
“Because I’m here to help them.”
“Lot of good you’ve done so far.”
Paulo inclines his head in acknowledgment of this. It’s not an apology. “Truthfully there isn’t much I can do,” he says. “My task is to advise. In the end, the battle is theirs to fight, and survive. But I can’t even advise them if I can’t find them—and any knowledge, at this stage, will help. They need every bit of help they can get.”
The woman considers this. Paulo thinks his honesty has helped; she doesn’t have a high opinion of him, but at least it’s marginally positive. Her husband murmurs in her ear in some other language, and even without translating the words, Paulo can recognize a Don’t tell him anything, we don’t know who this man is.
The woman nods a little, but there is a sad look on her face as she regards Paulo again. “I can’t help her, either,” she says at last. “She’s my cousin’s daughter. Smart girl, good, pretty when she bothers to try, but they sent her here alone, can you believe it? It was all they could afford. And only us to look after her.”
“She has more people to help her now,” Paulo says, as gently as he can. Her concern is genuine. He can’t reassure her, sadly. If this woman’s cousin is indeed the avatar of Queens, then she is in terrible danger and might not survive. But Paulo can be truthful about this much. “A city is never alone, not really—and this city seems less solitary than most. More like a family: many parts, frequently squabbling… but in the end, against enemies, they come together and protect one another. They must, or die.” The woman is watching him now, sorrow giving way to fascination. “There are five other people out there who will be this for her. Six, if you let me help.”
After a long moment, she sighs. “They were tired,” she says. “Hungry. They went to Brooklyn—with Brooklyn—to rest for the night.”
They should not be either tired or hungry. Nothing about this city’s birth is going as it should. Paulo restrains a sigh and says, “That could be good. If they know how to create protective loci…” He glances around at the walls of the apartment building’s corridor, seeing more than the ugly wood paneling. In a place protected in this manner, they would be proof against attack. Safer, together, than they could ever be with Paulo. He nods to himself. “Then the three of them can take care of one another, for now. But that leaves two alone.” The Bronx. Staten Island.
“They said they would go to the Bronx in the morning. It sounded like they had an idea of where to look.”
It leaves the avatar of the Bronx to fend for themselves until then, but if the others have some inkling of the avatar’s location, then they’re doing better at tracking each other down than Paulo is. “What of Staten Island?”
“What about it?” The woman looks skeptical now. “They said they didn’t know how to find that one.”
Staten Island is the smallest borough, according to Wikipedia. Geographically vast, but only a few hundred thousand people in population. There’s a chance that Paulo might find the avatar simply by going there and driving around, if he rents a car. Cities—even small ones—make a weight upon the world. With enough proximity, one can feel the pull they exert.
“Then I’ll begin there,” Paulo says. He reaches into a lapel pocket, past the half-empty pack of cigarettes, and pulls out a business card. Paulistanos are infamous workaholics; other Brazilians joke about their obsession with meetings and office politics and all the trappings of business. There is a touch of power in the card when he hands it to her, but he does not attempt to expend that power. She’s not