Cypher (The Dragon's Bidding Book 2) Read Online Free PDF

sergeant’s lips suggested what she
thought of the order, but she stayed to guard their backs. Fitz took the left,
while Pike hugged the wall on the right.
    Weapon at the ready,
she entered a corridor wide enough for service carts to pass. The faint but
identifiable aroma of neubeast steak and eggs drifted from the door at the end,
not old and decayed, but fresh enough to make her stomach churn. She slid along
the wall until she could peer into the kitchen. The room had been stripped of its
appliances, but a portable processor sat on the counter, jury-rigged to a power
outlet. A thermal scan revealed no human-sized heat sources, only a pair of
plates cooling on the table amid a puddle of spilled coffee from an interrupted
breakfast.
    Where were they?
    A shout echoed from the
dining room, followed by gunfire. She charged back down the corridor, sliding
to a stop at the exit for a quick assessment. Pike was down, crabbing backward
across the marble. As she shifted her perspective into HK, the blur stalking
him resolved into a ginger-haired man pumping shots into the lieutenant’s
chest. Fitz recognized the shooter from the attack at Dragonhalle.
    The augie pulled a
combat knife and slashed for the gap between Pike’s helmet and plastron. Fitz brought
her slug thrower to bear on the attacker, but Bartonelli moved in front of her,
seeming to drift in slow motion.
    The sergeant loosed a
burst from her pulse rifle, time distortion shifting the weapon’s bark down to
a series of deep coughs. One of the bolts caught the augie on the shoulder,
spinning him around and slowing him long enough for Bartonelli to get a clear
shot. She took it. The force of the blow slammed him back into the wall, a dark
stain blooming on his chest. He slid to the floor, leaving a red smear on the
once elegant wall covering.
    Fitz’s consciousness
shifted back into the normal flow of time as the diminutive merc offered Pike a
hand and pulled him to his feet. He hunched forward, massaging his chest and
coughing.
    “Damn, that hurts,” he
managed between gasps.
    “It’ll hurt worse
tomorrow.” Bartonelli punched his shoulder. “But at least you’ll get a
tomorrow.”
    “Thanks, Bart. I owe
you.”
    “No, thank you for
keeping such a good eye on me.” The merc winked as she popped out her rifle’s
power pack and checked the charge. She pocketed the cell and slapped in a fresh
one.
    Sixty-four augies to
go.
    Fitz crouched by the
body of the ginger-haired man. “Ian Chorickus. My files say he was fond of
using that knife, and he’s reputed to be Tritico’s chief enforcer.”
    “And his new
bodyguard,” Pike said. “If he’s here, you can bet his boss isn’t far away.”
    A scream chopped off
with the buzz of a pistol.
    “Came from that hall.”
Pike nodded toward the body. “Same place he came from.”
    “Let’s see what our friend’s
been up to.” Fitz rose and commed Costos. “You and Chin hold that door and
don’t let anyone past. Keep an eye out for Major Baltasar. Sergeant
Bartonelli…”
    Behind her helmet’s
faceplate, the merc’s scowl showed entirely too many teeth for Fitz’s liking.
    “…you’re with us.”
    “Good call, Chima.”
    A series of exits led
off the hall. They had to clear each opening as they leap-frogged their way
toward the source of weapons fire and breaking glass. At the end of the hall,
Fitz stepped into a medical bay, and slaughter. A weapon in each hand, a man
methodically stalked the screaming med-techs, kicking over tables and desks to
drive them from cover. He moved with a jerky stop-start motion that wasn’t
quite hyperkinetic, but too quick to be a Normal. A woman broke from cover and
ran for the door at the rear of the room. He put a single shot into her back,
then kicked an overturned table aside, targeting the white-coated man behind
it. The tech pleaded, sobbing.
    Fitz leveled the slug
thrower at the augie. “Put the gun down.”
    The shooter blurred
around, a needler in his right