Die Once More Read Online Free Page A

we’re off, running noiselessly up the stairs.
    From behind us I hear a door open, the shuffle of someone dragging the box into their apartment, and then the door closing. Good trick, I think with awe, understanding now why New York bardia insist on training out-of-towners in their ways before letting them loose. The simple technique of getting into a locked building without drawing unwanted attention would never have occurred to me. I can get into any building in Paris but would be totally lost here.
    We get to the top floor, and Frosty pauses by the door, pressing her ear carefully to it, before slowly turning the door handle, testing. It’s unlocked.
    I follow her lead as she draws only her gun, leaving her sword hidden beneath her coat. The Glock feels bulky in my hand, its screwed-on silencer weighing down the already heavy weapon. I haven’t held one of these since Ambrose, Vincent, and I posed as undercover security forces for a Paris embassy during the Gulf War.
    â€œTake whoever’s near the door,” she whispers to me, and then, putting her fingers between her lips, lets out an ear-piercing whistle and shoves the door open, landing a forceful blow to whoever was behind it.
    We’re in a short hallway. The open door blocks the access to the rear of the apartment, leaving whoever’s behind it for Faust to handle. We turn left and find ourselves in a chaotic living room, broken furniture tossed around, and drawn curtains blocking themorning light. Two young men and a woman huddle, crying, on a couch while two imposing numa, outlined in bloodred auras, loom over them, one pointing a gun at their captives. Another man is slumped over on the floor at their feet, eyes open, but obviously unconscious . . . if not already dead.
    I take all this in at a glance, while from behind the door I hear the thick thud of a silenced gunshot, and Faust calls, “One down.”
    Before his words are out, Frosty has put a bullet in the numa holding the gun, and he collapses. Rushing past her, I press my gun to the remaining numa’s temple as he reaches for his weapon. He drops his pistol and holds his hands up.
    â€œQuickly,” Frosty says to the kids on the couch. “Take cover in the bathroom, and lock the door behind you.”
    She doesn’t need to say it twice. In a second, they’re up and scrambling for a door across the room. They disappear behind it, I hear a lock turn from the inside, and then dead silence.
    â€œWhat are you doing here?” Frosty steps over the numa she downed and strolls over to us.
    My numa tenses, and I press the barrel tighter to his head.
    â€œWhat’s it look like? Business,” he mutters.
    â€œWhose business? Janus’s?” she asks.
    He narrows his eyes at her and nods.
    â€œSo he dares to send his muscle a mere ten blocks away from our headquarters, just to put some scare into a bunch of stupid kids? Business must be booming.”
    The guy just glares at her.
    â€œYou’re in our neighborhood, eight in the morning, fulldaylight. Know what that tells me about you and your friends?” she asks.
    The man looks like he’s thinking it over, but before he can come to a conclusion, she points her own gun right between his eyes. “It tells me you’re expendable,” she says, and pulls the trigger.
    As the man crumples, behind me I hear a clink of metal against wood. I turn to see the numa Frosty shot first flex his fingers, as the bullet that has worked its way out of his flesh rolls around on the floor inches from his forehead. He begins pushing himself up from where he lies in a small pool of blood.
    â€œBlades,” Frosty says, and the three of us draw our swords, Faust and his fallen numa just visible in the hallway behind the open doorway. There is a second of silence as we hold them high, then, together, bring them down.
    â€œDeliver us from evil,” Faust murmurs, crossing himself, as he nudges