Coyle and Fang: Curse of Shadows (Coyle and Fang Adventure Series Book 1) by Robert III (great books for teens .txt) 📗

The men discussed small details, and she caught and studied every word. Important visiting fae dignitaries had brought fae relics as a sign of openness and trust. But a mysterious group of people had slaughtered everyone and stolen the book of curses.

The idea of impressing Treece turned into a bright opportunity. Another chance at solving a difficult riddle? Another chance of becoming a detective, albeit with a secret organization? Her fingers twitched. Yes. All of this was possible.

Possibly.

She glanced outside. The rolling hills of Sausalito were thinning out, and she squinted.

“Are we approaching the shoreline?” she asked, gripping her seat.

“Miss Coyle, this carriage is equipped to transit land.” Treece smiled as pebbles crunched beneath the wheels. A shrill whistle sounded, followed by mechanical clunks and locks and switches. “And water.”

Her mouth dropped open as bay water lapped against the carriage. The floor vibrated.

“The wheels turn into propellers, Miss Coyle,” Treece said. “The cabin is double-walled, providing adequate floatation, and a small rudder unfolds to provide steerage.”

Strange hums and clanks came from behind and below. She pressed herself back into the seat and tried not to look nervous. A flock of terns scooted away as their carriage navigated the water, hugging the coast. A cargo ship lumbered close, and Coyle noticed most of the crew squinting, pointing and shooting curious stares. The air was chill off the dark water, and Coyle pulled her collar around her neck.

Finally, the carriage pulled up onto a launch ramp near a shipyard. Men, ogrek and a few gnomes carrying tools and lumber turned and looked, their jaws slack. But most didn’t give the strange carriage a second glance as they continued their tasks. A sign on a weathered building read Pacific Rolling Mill.

Coyle mumbled to herself, “We’re at Potrero Point.”

“Yes, I own a few of the warehouses in this district,” Treece said. “We should arrive in a few minutes.”

The carriage stopped, and the carriage pilot opened the double doors.

“Here we are,” Treece said. “Ladies first.”

Coyle smiled and stepped out onto the street. The carriage pilot connected a water hose to the building and began rinsing off the underside of the carriage. A few passersby gave curious glances as the group collected themselves and walked into the warehouse.

A pug-nosed ogrek greeted them at the door. Most were intimidating due to their sheer size, and this one was no different. His massive muscles bulged under a simple gray shirt. Tribal tattoos stretched across his green skin and past his shirt collar. He nodded, gave the politest, yet awkward smile his oversized jaw could offer, and took their coats and hats before escorting them through a network of hallways filled with small offices.

He led them out of a large door and into a very busy warehouse where the air was filled with pungent ozone, hissing steam and incessant hammering. Thick-muscled ogreks held huge pieces of iron and waited as goggled, short gnomes welded them together, spraying gold sparks across the floor. Most of the ogreks were hairless, as opposed to the gnomes, who wore stylized, colorfully dyed beards and pointed mustaches.

“Gnomes are always a busy bunch,” Treece said. “I have most of them working for my company. Pleasant to work with and quite loyal. I do pay them handsomely, too.”

“Don’t listen to him,” said a gnome with a bright red beard. “We don’t care as much about money as we do about getting new materials to work with.”

“Ah.” Treece laughed. “And here’s Mr. Sullywether, manager of all of my warehouses in San Francisco. Can you take us to the WIRE projection room, please?”

“Right this way, folks!” Sullywether waved and plodded ahead of them. He was adorable in his blue sweater and overalls, but Coyle kept her mouth shut.

Vonteg leaned in. “I don’t think they’d do too well on horses,” he whispered. Coyle smirked.

“We do have excellent hearing, though.” Sullywether turned and winked. Coyle and Vonteg glanced at each other.

Sullywether turned a few corners before opening another set of wide doors, leading them into a three-story warehouse. Tall WIRE projectors stood high above the floor in each corner, pointing their lenses at the empty center. Catwalks connected the projectors together, and Coyle could see small silhouettes working, making small adjustments on their respective projector devices. Everyone seemed to have a specific job and purpose, and they were doing their job well.

Coyle looked down at her fingernails, heart slamming against her ribs. She squeezed her trembling hands into fists.

***

High above the rafters of the same warehouse, a different kind of opportunity was coming together. Veiul slipped between the metal sheets of the roof and melted into the darkness. She froze and waited, eyes scanning for threats and potential threats. Her body was merely a shadow amongst shadows.

No one saw her.

Her muscles tensed as she scanned the busyness of the warehouse. Automatons clunked back and forth, gnomes crawled over everything, ogreks lifted heavy machinery. All of them were too busy to see her rail-thin, dark-clad form crawl into the massive projection room. Her strong fingers gripped thick cables and her legs wrapped around rafters, shifting and sliding until the gnome projectionists were beneath her. Four of them were double-checking their equipment, making sure everything would go right.

Veiul was there to make sure things went wrong.

She shimmied to a far corner, quick and quiet as a spider. Gnomes did have excellent hearing, but Veiul was a professional, and she wasn’t going to let one of them ruin her objective.

She removed a thin, iron-silk cable from a pouch and tied it around the rafter. Lowering herself with one hand and with a dark blade with the other, she sank closer to her prey.

The gnome working this projector stood and yawned for the last time. Her knife slipped into his neck, and her other hand covered his mouth, just in case. He twitched once and was still. She lay his small body on the catwalk, stuffing his wound with combat gauze to keep his blood from spilling below. She tugged away the