Dawnbreaker: Legends of the Duskwalker - Book 3 Read Free Page A

scramble up and over a low wall to reach it. She didn’t like that wall, given the need she was going to have of a quick, direct path out. There was a single-story structure there, some kind of old storage facility she guessed. It had a sloping roof that was only about four feet above the ground in the back and angled to maybe twelve feet in the front. Wick’s waypoint hovered midway up the roof. Cass hopped up on to it, dropped to a crouch, and made her way up. She had to move a few steps ahead of the waypoint to get a view on the Weir, but once she did, she realized Wick hadn’t led her astray. Far from it. Cass couldn’t imagine a better position from which to launch a surprise assault.
    Two rows of low buildings separated her from the host of Weir, but the gentle rise of the terrain and the way the buildings lined up gave her a clear field of fire. When her first rounds found their mark, the Weir would most likely turn their attention to the buildings closest to them, giving her plenty of time and cover to make it to the next point.
    Cass settled in and tucked the rifle stock tight into the pocket of her shoulder. Sighted in, took a deep breath, held, released. On target, she slipped her finger inside the trigger guard and lightly rested it on the trigger. She wondered briefly how much recoil the weapon had.
    And then, as if her thoughts had summoned it, the attack began.
    Able’s first grenade made a pop Cass could barely hear above the clamor, but there was no missing the flash. Lightning-bright, it made her flinch reflexively even from that distance. The Weir closest to the detonation scattered blindly, and Cass took advantage, sighting in again and firing three bursts in succession at the clusters of Weir gathered on either side of the blast. Able’s second grenade went off twenty feet from the first, with similar results. Except this time Cass didn’t flinch. She ripped off two, three, four more bursts as the line of Weir rippled and broke open near the blast points. Wick had warned her not to fire more than twice from the same location, but her vantage was so good and the chaos so complete, she couldn’t miss the chance to take down as many Weir as possible at the height of their confusion. This first strike was critical.
    Cass sighted in on a tight cluster and let off a burst, then snapped her weapon to a second group and fired again. Some Weir stumbled, others fell. Whether they could tell where the shots had come from or not, Cass didn’t know. By then, she was too busy leaping down from her perch and dashing towards the low wall. She’d pushed her luck as far as she’d dared. As she scrambled up and over, a new waypoint appeared. Cass sprinted for it.
    Five, seven, ten seconds. Each one felt like a potential loss of momentum, a possible unraveling of the plan. Forty-four seconds after her initial attack, Cass slid on her knees into the new position Wick had marked for her. This one low, with a narrow line to the courtyard. Not knowing how many rounds she’d expended, she dropped the magazine out of the rifle and slapped in a fresh one. Then without hesitation, she shouldered Wick’s rifle and fired two quick bursts into the thin sliver of the teeming crowd she could see. Her fire was accurate, but she didn’t confirm whether or not her targets were dead. Kills were a bonus; chaos, the goal. Already the next waypoint was waiting for her, and speed was of the utmost essence.
    Cass vaulted up to a full run, north and west, circling behind a row of squat cement structures. She was only fifteen feet away when the first Weir surged out of a darkened entryway into her path. The creature hesitated for a heartbeat. It was enough. She fired a burst directly into its center of mass, and then leapt and brought her knee high. She caught the creature just under the jaw and rode it to the ground, then rolled and let the momentum carry her back to her feet. The Weir managed a ragged, gurgling howl, but Cass