Read Online Splinter (The Machinists Book 2) by Craig Andrews - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Craig Andrews
Ads: Link
were free from prying eyes. He wore, as he always seemed to these days, a black compression armor top and a pair of jeans over a matching pair of compression armor bottoms.
“Anyone home?” Allyn asked as he approached.
Jaxon shook his head. “The door is locked, too.”
Allyn did a final check of his surroundings, and still not seeing anything concerning, he pulled his keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. It opened into darkness. Immediately in front of him was the stairwell that led up to the second level, where the living room, kitchen, and dining rooms were. Directly to his left was another door leading to the garage. Jaxon walked past him, ascending the stairs in a crouch. The air distorted around his hands. He had them wrapped in air, prepared for a fight. Leira and Nyla were inside a moment later, only a step behind Jaxon.
Allyn followed. Once inside, he wielded, and on command, red coils of electricity shot around his arms. They were in constant motion, writhing around each other, hissing, crackling, and sparking as they collided. They didn’t burn or harm him in any way, but they made his arms tingle as though they were in close proximity to a great power. The wave of nausea struck him like a blow to the stomach. He stumbled on the stairs, letting the coils singe the carpet.
“Are you all right?” Nyla had stopped a few steps above him and looked down at him, concerned.
“I’m fine.” Allyn stood, feigning strength. “I tripped.” He kicked the door closed behind him—the electric coils illuminated the narrow hall in a bloody light. “Let’s go.”
Jaxon ascended the last of the stairs and stopped on the landing. He gave Leira a curt nod, and she raised her hand, narrowing her eyes, searching the condo for other occupants. The strongest clerics had the ability to sense another person’s presence, though the ability was limited by proximity. The closer the cleric was to the person, the more likely they were to feel them. If they were too far away, the ability was less accurate. If someone was within the confines of the condo, Leira would know.
“We’re clear,” she said.
Jaxon stepped onto the second-level landing and disappeared around the corner into the main living space of the condo. The rest followed.
The condo was dark. The only light inside came from the streetlamp outside the kitchen window, and the half-drawn blinds obscured even that. Allyn’s breath caught in his throat, and the electric coils dissipated. He’d known what to expect, but he wasn’t prepared for the torrent of emotion that nearly overwhelmed him. Fear. Anxiety. Surprise. They swirled inside him, battling with relief and poise. Returning put into perspective how much had changed. He was no longer Allyn Kaplan, the first-year associate who had been mysteriously and brutally beaten inside his own home. He was Allyn Kaplan, the machinist who had led the McCollum Family in destroying their greatest adversary.
The condo looked much as it had the night of the attack. The dining room table lay crushed on the maple hardwood floor, covered in shattered glass from the sliding-glass door. The clear tarp rustled under the gentle breeze, billowing inside, and rainwater glistened in the orange light of the streetlamp. Allyn walked across the living room to grab a table leg that rested in front of the couch. In a final, desperate move, he’d hurled it at Lukas, only to see it veer unnaturally into the wall beside him. Lukas must have hit it with a small blast of air. Allyn traced the dent in the wall with his fingers. The table leg had struck soundly, and the white paint was cracked and flaking away.
“We need to find your computer,” Jaxon said from the kitchen. His face was half-hidden in shadow.
“It’s upstairs.” Allyn dropped the table leg and turned to lead them to the third level. The second stairwell was directly above the first, hidden behind the wall the television was mounted on. Allyn slowed to a
“Anyone home?” Allyn asked as he approached.
Jaxon shook his head. “The door is locked, too.”
Allyn did a final check of his surroundings, and still not seeing anything concerning, he pulled his keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. It opened into darkness. Immediately in front of him was the stairwell that led up to the second level, where the living room, kitchen, and dining rooms were. Directly to his left was another door leading to the garage. Jaxon walked past him, ascending the stairs in a crouch. The air distorted around his hands. He had them wrapped in air, prepared for a fight. Leira and Nyla were inside a moment later, only a step behind Jaxon.
Allyn followed. Once inside, he wielded, and on command, red coils of electricity shot around his arms. They were in constant motion, writhing around each other, hissing, crackling, and sparking as they collided. They didn’t burn or harm him in any way, but they made his arms tingle as though they were in close proximity to a great power. The wave of nausea struck him like a blow to the stomach. He stumbled on the stairs, letting the coils singe the carpet.
“Are you all right?” Nyla had stopped a few steps above him and looked down at him, concerned.
“I’m fine.” Allyn stood, feigning strength. “I tripped.” He kicked the door closed behind him—the electric coils illuminated the narrow hall in a bloody light. “Let’s go.”
Jaxon ascended the last of the stairs and stopped on the landing. He gave Leira a curt nod, and she raised her hand, narrowing her eyes, searching the condo for other occupants. The strongest clerics had the ability to sense another person’s presence, though the ability was limited by proximity. The closer the cleric was to the person, the more likely they were to feel them. If they were too far away, the ability was less accurate. If someone was within the confines of the condo, Leira would know.
“We’re clear,” she said.
Jaxon stepped onto the second-level landing and disappeared around the corner into the main living space of the condo. The rest followed.
The condo was dark. The only light inside came from the streetlamp outside the kitchen window, and the half-drawn blinds obscured even that. Allyn’s breath caught in his throat, and the electric coils dissipated. He’d known what to expect, but he wasn’t prepared for the torrent of emotion that nearly overwhelmed him. Fear. Anxiety. Surprise. They swirled inside him, battling with relief and poise. Returning put into perspective how much had changed. He was no longer Allyn Kaplan, the first-year associate who had been mysteriously and brutally beaten inside his own home. He was Allyn Kaplan, the machinist who had led the McCollum Family in destroying their greatest adversary.
The condo looked much as it had the night of the attack. The dining room table lay crushed on the maple hardwood floor, covered in shattered glass from the sliding-glass door. The clear tarp rustled under the gentle breeze, billowing inside, and rainwater glistened in the orange light of the streetlamp. Allyn walked across the living room to grab a table leg that rested in front of the couch. In a final, desperate move, he’d hurled it at Lukas, only to see it veer unnaturally into the wall beside him. Lukas must have hit it with a small blast of air. Allyn traced the dent in the wall with his fingers. The table leg had struck soundly, and the white paint was cracked and flaking away.
“We need to find your computer,” Jaxon said from the kitchen. His face was half-hidden in shadow.
“It’s upstairs.” Allyn dropped the table leg and turned to lead them to the third level. The second stairwell was directly above the first, hidden behind the wall the television was mounted on. Allyn slowed to a
Similar Books
