Cherish, Mannequin and Shatterbird were in the middle of the group, Crawler behind them, trailing behind with languid, casually effective movements that resembled those of a cat.
First the curled up sleep, now this… I guess the Nine have two cats on the team.
At the very back of the group, trailing even behind Crawler, was a hulk of a man who I took to be Hatchet Face.
Well, not exactly Hatchet Face anymore.
He looked like he was rotting alive, and there were grafts of flesh and mechanical replacement parts filling in the gaps.
Hey, Taylor, take a look at his back at some point. You might see something familiar.
The majority of my attention was on Cherish. Through the lenses of the binoculars, I focused on her face. I watched the movements of her eyes, her facial expressions, and the tension in her hands.
I’m just imagining her eyes turning to stare right at Taylor for a second.
Nothing she’d done thus far had indicated she was aware of us. Her attention seemed more focused on the handful people Jack had cut down. As they walked, she looked down at each of the wounded and dying with the detached interest one might have for a car accident by the side of the highway.
…I suppose you’d get numb to it after a while. Hell, I don’t particularly care about these civilians at this point.
She hadn’t opened her mouth since we’d caught up with their group.
Best to keep that shut lest she accidentally say something that lets on what she’s doing with Imp. Whatever that may be.
Incidentally, I forgot to say earlier, I think Imp might show up at some point during this chapter and let the Undertravelers know about the deal at an inopportune time. That may be the complication near the end.
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