Read Online Cypher (The Dragon's Bidding Book 2) by Christina Westcott - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Christina Westcott
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neubeast whole, so
go someplace nice for dinner. Doctor’s orders. And it wouldn’t hurt for him to
be seen in public after he’s been out of circulation these past few days.
People talk.”
Fitz slipped back into
her jacket. “What have you found out about that needler I sent?”
Ski crossed the room
and brought up a file on her computer. “Nasty piece of work, that. Only one use
for it, and that’s killing Lazzinairs. Needlers aren’t usually lethal weapons.
Load-outs generally range from mild tranqs to paralytics.”
Bartonelli abandoned
her game with the cat to join them as they studied the display. “They’re ideal
for taking out sentries. It’s subsonic, almost no sound, and leaves an easily
overlooked entry wound. If you’re good, they think it’s only an insect bite,
and then it’s sleepy time. Although I have heard of some sleaze-bag bounty
hunters who load them with toxins if they don’t care whether their target is
dead or alive.”
The computer displayed
an exploded view of the pistol, revealing a canister packed with hundreds of
tiny darts. Further magnification revealed that the injector at the tip of each
had been replaced with a sliver of a flat black substance.
“Those are made from
the blades of Tzrakas?”
“That would be my
guess,” Ski answered. “We don’t believe the virus-like organism is in all parts
of their bodies, but we do know it’s in the blades. And you could make a lot of
these darts with a single one.”
“Not much material there.
Would that be enough to kill one of us?”
“Wouldn’t be pretty,
but it would do the job. I ran some tests on a sample of my blood and, for
comparison, some the sergeant supplied. In a person uninfected with the
symbiont, it enters the body and replicates at an astonishing rate, then goes
dormant in the cells and waits. If the symbiont is introduced it reactivates
and attacks, destroying it, but in the process the hemotoxin it produces kills
the host.
“If one of us were
nailed with that needler, would there be time to do something about it?” Fitz
asked.
“Possibly, if you cut
the dart out fast enough.”
“Yeah, but that’s the
problem with needlers,” Bartonelli said. “Sometimes you don’t even feel it, or
you think it’s an insect sting. Only way to protect yourself is to always wear
body armor.”
“Unless you live your
life in a full combat suit, there’s always some skin exposed. Like your hands.”
Fitz raised her arms, palms out stretched.
“And you’d have to wear
a helmet,” the doctor said. “I suspect even a Lazzinair isn’t immune to a
couple of slugs through the brain.”
A series of chimes from
the bed monitor interrupted them. “Ah, the sleeper awakens,” said Ski. “You get
the dubious pleasure of telling Wolf that while he was asleep, Tritico declared
open season on us.”
Fitz’s answering
chuckle was little more than a growl as she went to Wolf’s side, Jumper
following.
Despite his stillness,
she sensed he was awake. As she brushed his bare shoulder, he gasped and his
body tensed in all the right places. Her laughter suggested the pleasures she
planned for him as she hovered above him, letting her tongue taste the outline
of his mouth. The response was immediate; his tongue invaded her mouth with a
blistering need that made her ache to crawl onto the medical bed and straddle
him then and there, audience be damned.
As she lifted her
mouth, his teeth seized her lower lip, refusing to release her. Pleasure
quickly accelerated to pain. Fitz pulled back, tasting blood on her lip.
Jumper leaped onto the
gurney, head-butted Wolf’s face, then jerked back, hissing. “That’s not him,
Boss Lady. That’s not Wolf.”
The man opened his
eyes, a glitter in his azure gaze, and one side of his mouth twisted in a
wicked smirk.
The mind behind those
roguish eyes did not bear the slightest resemblance to the man Fitz knew and
loved.
CHAPTER FIVE
A void hovered behind
him, a blank wall,
go someplace nice for dinner. Doctor’s orders. And it wouldn’t hurt for him to
be seen in public after he’s been out of circulation these past few days.
People talk.”
Fitz slipped back into
her jacket. “What have you found out about that needler I sent?”
Ski crossed the room
and brought up a file on her computer. “Nasty piece of work, that. Only one use
for it, and that’s killing Lazzinairs. Needlers aren’t usually lethal weapons.
Load-outs generally range from mild tranqs to paralytics.”
Bartonelli abandoned
her game with the cat to join them as they studied the display. “They’re ideal
for taking out sentries. It’s subsonic, almost no sound, and leaves an easily
overlooked entry wound. If you’re good, they think it’s only an insect bite,
and then it’s sleepy time. Although I have heard of some sleaze-bag bounty
hunters who load them with toxins if they don’t care whether their target is
dead or alive.”
The computer displayed
an exploded view of the pistol, revealing a canister packed with hundreds of
tiny darts. Further magnification revealed that the injector at the tip of each
had been replaced with a sliver of a flat black substance.
“Those are made from
the blades of Tzrakas?”
“That would be my
guess,” Ski answered. “We don’t believe the virus-like organism is in all parts
of their bodies, but we do know it’s in the blades. And you could make a lot of
these darts with a single one.”
“Not much material there.
Would that be enough to kill one of us?”
“Wouldn’t be pretty,
but it would do the job. I ran some tests on a sample of my blood and, for
comparison, some the sergeant supplied. In a person uninfected with the
symbiont, it enters the body and replicates at an astonishing rate, then goes
dormant in the cells and waits. If the symbiont is introduced it reactivates
and attacks, destroying it, but in the process the hemotoxin it produces kills
the host.
“If one of us were
nailed with that needler, would there be time to do something about it?” Fitz
asked.
“Possibly, if you cut
the dart out fast enough.”
“Yeah, but that’s the
problem with needlers,” Bartonelli said. “Sometimes you don’t even feel it, or
you think it’s an insect sting. Only way to protect yourself is to always wear
body armor.”
“Unless you live your
life in a full combat suit, there’s always some skin exposed. Like your hands.”
Fitz raised her arms, palms out stretched.
“And you’d have to wear
a helmet,” the doctor said. “I suspect even a Lazzinair isn’t immune to a
couple of slugs through the brain.”
A series of chimes from
the bed monitor interrupted them. “Ah, the sleeper awakens,” said Ski. “You get
the dubious pleasure of telling Wolf that while he was asleep, Tritico declared
open season on us.”
Fitz’s answering
chuckle was little more than a growl as she went to Wolf’s side, Jumper
following.
Despite his stillness,
she sensed he was awake. As she brushed his bare shoulder, he gasped and his
body tensed in all the right places. Her laughter suggested the pleasures she
planned for him as she hovered above him, letting her tongue taste the outline
of his mouth. The response was immediate; his tongue invaded her mouth with a
blistering need that made her ache to crawl onto the medical bed and straddle
him then and there, audience be damned.
As she lifted her
mouth, his teeth seized her lower lip, refusing to release her. Pleasure
quickly accelerated to pain. Fitz pulled back, tasting blood on her lip.
Jumper leaped onto the
gurney, head-butted Wolf’s face, then jerked back, hissing. “That’s not him,
Boss Lady. That’s not Wolf.”
The man opened his
eyes, a glitter in his azure gaze, and one side of his mouth twisted in a
wicked smirk.
The mind behind those
roguish eyes did not bear the slightest resemblance to the man Fitz knew and
loved.
CHAPTER FIVE
A void hovered behind
him, a blank wall,
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