“Janet! Janet!” he yelled after her as she let herself out of the penthouse apartment and headed for the stairs. “You can’t go out there!”

It was only sixty stories down.

Good warm-up.

A man sitting on the corner of a Manhattan skyrise, watching the fires burning and the tanks dying, glanced down when his link slate vibrated. He raised a single eyebrow, surprised that the device was still operating in a city under siege. The other brow went up as he read the single line of message. Then he put it away and stood up on the edge of the building before dropping back and turning to head back to the roof access.

Interesting times.

A woman with finely chiseled Asian features blinked as the message rolled across the heads-up display on her contact lens.

“A voice from the past, speaking in silence. How very like Raziel,” she said softly, smiling as she gathered up a light pack and walked out the door of her suburban home.

In the distance the New York City skyline was marred by smoke and flame, and she could hear the rumble of tanks as they tried to clear the expressway. She walked over to a Ducati sitting in the driveway and straddled the Italian bike calmly.

Never send a tank into a city, you fools. Not if you want either the city or the tank back in one piece.

Thankfully, it seemed that there was a professional in play, after all.

She started the bike and kicked it into gear, pulling out onto the deserted road and turning toward the city. She just hoped that the Guardsmen stayed out of the way.

Across the city, across the world, a dark and normally quiet subculture was waking to the sound of war from all quarters. It roused slowly in places, like lightning in others, but it roused nonetheless.

In New York the members of that culture shrugged on their gear, checked their weapons, and headed in the direction of Ferry Park.

It was to be . . . a Gathering.

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER SEVEN

Ferry Park, Bronx

THEY TRICKLED INTO the deceptively peaceful setting of the park, a few at a time. The SWAT team arrived first. Having a helicopter at call was a nice advantage when it came to making a meeting, but it wasn’t long before others showed up as well.

Eric looked them over briefly, checking their files against his open access to the military and government networks. Most of them were former military. Those that weren’t were career cops. They’d do.

Ian Granger seemed to be the man most of them looked to, so he addressed him as well.

“Commander Granger, I’d give you a nice little welcome speech but we’re just a little pressed for time,” Eric told him. “So get your men lined up, and I’ll start prepping the suits.”