Deadly Designs (Design Series) by Dale Mayer Read Free Book Online Page A

they had that much. Great. Maybe this wouldn't be so hard after all.
    "Door open."
    Nothing.
    Then again...
    Using his best military sounding voice, Eric tried again. "Open prison door."
    Nothing.
    "Please open this door."
    Nothing.
    This was just going to make him mad. He'd assumed they had voice technology as his people did, so it made sense to have voice activated doors. However, if this was a prison then they wouldn't want the prisoners to get out, so chances were that the guards either had a voice print, word sequence or some other way of making sure only a select few people would be allowed to open the door. His people would do the same.
    So back to Paxton's lab and see if his stylus would be able to get more information on the security here.
    Frustrated, he tapped in the code to take him back to Paxton's lab, the musical notes filling the large space. The echo was surprising but with so little ambient noise it reverberated around the room. As he readied to enter the last digit of the sequence, he heard a grating sound. Whirling around, he crouched, ready for an attack...and saw no one.
    A huge door had opened. But no one came in. Were they waiting on the other side? He crept up behind the door and waited. Nothing. Peering through the crack between the door and the wall didn't help, only blackness showed on the other side. Of course the light was on his side. Taking a deep breath, he slipped out of the room and melted into the shadows on the other side. It took way too long for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. When they finally did, he found he was alone in another large, empty room.
    Could the notes of his codex…have opened the door? That would mean they had music here. Or the door mechanism had been triggered by his movements. That didn't make sense either. Prisoners walked around all the time. The only other explanation he could imagine was a failsafe mechanism that opened automatically after a certain length of time. So that no one was left in there forever. That concept was kind of reassuring. But not much.
    Choosing to go left, he crept down the hallway.
    Storey was here somewhere.
    ***
    Storey studied the cupboard passageway. Dare she enter? How could she not?
    Closing her eyes she called to the stylus.
    The faintest of buzzes answered her. Shit. It was down here. The many thick walls might explain the stylus's inability to communicate. Could it die? Maybe it went to sleep or something until a new soul could bond to it. Maybe that's why it had bonded to her so strongly when she'd initially found it. So it would survive. In which case, what if it bonded with the Louer who'd found it here?
    That wouldn't be good.
    Decision made.
    Focusing on the buzz, she strode into the dark tunnel. "Stylus, hold on. I'm coming. Stay strong. Stay connected."
    A hum sounded. Stronger than before, but still indistinct. Even though she couldn't see what she walked on or anything two feet in front of her, she knew as strongly as she'd ever understood anything in her life, she needed to travel this pathway to her stylus.
    She could only hope she'd find it in time to save them both.
    Picking up the pace, she trotted down the corridor.
    The end of the road came up and smacked her in the face – hard. She tumbled backwards. "Damn." Sitting up she rubbed her head and right elbow, sore from cracking hard on the ground. Getting up slowly, she put out a hand to touch the wall or door in front of her. "Door open."
    Silently, the door moved toward her, forcing her back. The stream of light widened. An odd shuffling sound came through, soft and gentle, but unidentifiable.
    Was there someone in the next room?
    She closed her eyes and tried to control her gasping breath. The last thing she needed was for them to hear her. On the other hand, if they had her stylus and thought they were going to keep it, they had better think again.
    So not going to happen. Not here. Her mother would be devastated at never knowing what had happened. Chances