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

“No,” he said. He tossed the picture onto the overturned desk. The room was a small study, but papers were scattered everywhere. “Someone’s already been through here.”

Coyle remembered Moreci’s words: “We thought it was in Trevin’s home.”

“Moreci was here,” she said.

“Ah, yes. With Fang, looking for the device.”

She nodded, despite knowing Fang’s involvement was different. They both looked around at the mess. Drawers had been emptied and tossed. File folders were thrown everywhere. Furniture was broken apart.

“I wonder if there’s anything else to find.” Coyle asked. She picked up another picture. Two men shook hands and faced the camera. Creases and age obscured most of the image, making identification impossible. She tossed the picture on the table and scanned the papers. After a few moments, she found something familiar.

“A lot of these papers have the same heading: Project Archangel.”

“I noticed,” Poes said. “Along with the Templar’s crest.”

“So Trevin was working for Dawn Industries,” Coyle said. “But apparently he had something to do with this Archangel project, too.”

“He wasn’t supposed to, but I agree with your observation.” Poes said. “And now we need to find out why.”

They sat on the floor, rifling through papers. Each with their stack of notes, memos, reports. Both were mumbling as they sifted through folders, setting papers aside and stacking others.

Together.

Coyle’s heart had settled into a normal rhythm. Her hands no longer shook. She was back in her investigative mode where she was comfortable, safe. Happy.

Her eyes scanned as much as she could, but most of the information was blotted out with black ink. She set her stack aside and gathered a new stack from the floor.

“Here’s something. A name,” Poes said. “A telegraph. Let’s see. Inspector Mortis Burngrove wrote a telegraph to... someone blocked it out. Let’s see...”

Coyle half listened, sorting out what she had in her hands, until something caught her eye. She read it quietly to herself.

Memo to: [redacted] Date: May 9, 1874

From: Prof. Moreci

Re: Project: Archangel

I have received three more potential subjects, though all were human. We understand testing is necessary for all species, but after discussions, we had agreed humans are too quickly diminished through the extended regimen. I have repeatedly requested more fae and vamperion, especially after our marked progress with Subject 0120, aptly code-named Fang. Thus far, she has responded to the program with exceeding merit and would be a remarkable presentation next spring. Our next meeting concerning new protocols and safety measures will be [redacted].

Please speak with [redacted] regarding more appropriate acquisitions. We must also consider a viable method for the disposition of the failed experiments. After one of the bodies was discovered on the shore, we can no longer assume “burial at sea” will be adequate.

“Well, here’s something very interesting. Moreci was quite involved in the Archangel project,” Coyle said. “Along with someone else.”

“I couldn’t find anything useful with this one,” Poes said. “There’s so many redactions.”

“They’re all copies. Everything here is copies of originals. Come to think of it, why would someone redact their own work?”

“True,” Poes said. “So who else are we supposed to investigate?”

Coyle squinted. “How about that Inspector Burngrove you mentioned?”

“He was killed at the dinner party.”

“No good, then,” Coyle said and looked at the ceiling. Finding clues that led to other clues could be disheartening. But it also invited a broader method of approach to a narrow search. Coyle loved it and smiled inside herself. All these puzzle pieces were strewn across the room, and she was in the middle. Her favorite place to be.

She looked at Poes. “Do you like puzzles?”

“Do I like puzzles? In a sense. When I was younger, there was a game I used to play with my friends. An adult would show us a rabbit, and we would note the shade of fur, the length of ears and feet. While we were inside the cabin, the rabbit was released in the woods, and we had to find that exact rabbit, right down to the bushiness of its tail. It had to be the same. The other children were excited and ran off in every direction, searching under rocks and bushes, yelling and cracking sticks against the trees. I was patient, though. I looked for places the rabbit had run through, noticing a trail of fur here and a footprint there. I always found the rabbit. Always the exact one.”

“So you’re a hunter?” Coyle asked.

He smiled. “I hunt for the truth. I ask the right questions, find out where someone has been and what paths they took to get there. And then, when they’re discovered, I bury them under enough evidence that they can never get back out.”

There was a fire deep in his eyes, but it wasn’t aimed at her this time. It was a passion for his work. The same kind of passion she had for hers. Maybe he wasn’t as bad a chap as she originally perceived. “And you? Do you like puzzles?”

“Some girls played with dolls,” Coyle said. “I tried to study fingerprints as best I could. I would try to guess the weight of dinner guests and when I became too accurate, I was told to leave.” They shared a laugh. “But, yes, I do love puzzles. They give me something to work towards, pieces fall into place when you least expect them to.” She shared a long glance at Poes. She wanted to enjoy the moment, yet—she couldn’t. She barely knew the man and yet she wanted to know him, that much was sure. And yet again, she wasn’t sure if there was any room in her life for—

“What did you find in the other room?” Poes asked.

“Blueprints of ships,” Coyle said. “Airships.”

“As in dirigibles?” Poes asked.

“Here,” Coyle said as Poes helped her up. “Let me get a few, and we can sort them out.”

Coyle walked down the hall and had the distinct feeling of being watched. She turned, expecting Vonteg or maybe—

Fang?

The vampire would surely be down here, wouldn’t she? She’d promised to stay in touch.