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

A burst of static made her wince in pain, the sharp noise piercing her ear until she switched off the device. She shook her head, stepping down the ladders, rung by rung.

Then she paused.

The metal in her hands pulsed with vibration as if something heavy was tapping it. The sound she’d heard earlier repeated itself, and she couldn’t help but look up.

“Hello? Anyone there?” she called out. She couldn’t be sure if the metal under her hands was vibrating from her own nerves or something else.

She waited.

The unfamiliar sounds set her teeth on edge: the constant echo of groaning metal, the torn fabric above, her own heavy breathing, her heart slamming against her ribs.

She focused on the opening above, nothing more than a pale dot where she’d dropped in. It would get darker, more dangerous down below. But she knew this was the right decision.

The team was below, not above. If she went up, the sun wouldn’t be there for long. The light would disappear, and then she would be in the sky, alone, freezing in the dark.

Her foot found the next rung and she lowered herself, bound by duty, obligation and just a smidge of curiosity. She took another step and realized something: she wasn’t afraid of the dark. She rested on the ladder, blinking. Her light wasn’t that bright, but for some reason, she wasn’t terrified despite being alone in the bowels of a massive airship. She glanced at her steady hands, assuring her heart that everything was fine. This was the way normal people dealt with the dark, which was, after all, only the absence of light.

Everything’s fine.

She stepped down, and a scraping sound froze her in place. She looked up, her heart hammering, fingers tightening. Her light remained on the raised landing, the soft yellow globe of light thumping along with her heart. But—nothing. Overactive imagination.

A distorted face peeked over the edge.

She cried out, her feet slipping down a rung. The creature opened its horribly wide mouth, and black drool dangled from its mangled lips. Strips of ragged flesh hung from one side of its head, and a pale, misshapen eyeball jutted out of its socket. A watery gurgle came out of the ghoul’s throat as a long, twisted arm reached down.

She shouted, letting go of the ladder and slamming into the metal floor. Her wrists and backside flared with pain, but she sprang up, looking for an escape. Metal clanged and she stared above, waiting for the worst. Spittle fell like shiny metal strings, and the creature’s gurgling urged retreat. A modicum of courage ignited deep inside, and she paused.

Was she going to run away all her life? How was this any different than running into trouble on the city streets? She didn’t run away from that trouble, did she?

She set her feet, ripping the gun from its holster and pulling the hammer back. She pointed it above, but the ghoul shied away from her light. Her feet inched closer, her eyes frantically searching—

The creature crashed in front of her. She pulled the trigger reflexively, sending tiny bright particles in the air. She took a step back, adjusting the switch from bewilder to skull, and pulled the trigger again.

Shots rang out, filling the air with smoke. She coughed and waved at the air, her eyes trying to focus.

A twisted nightmare loomed from the smoke, standing to its full height. Its appearance was mostly human, but its arms and legs and hands were grotesquely long, bony and twisted. A third arm rose from its hunched back, long fingers twitching, reaching for her.

She pulled the trigger again. Sparks jumped as bullets crashed into metal and flesh. Deep, unnatural groans bubbled from its throat. Purple entrails slipped out from the wounds, hanging loose and wet against its misshapen legs. The ghoul jerked back, pausing before it took another step toward her. She aimed at a cloudy, yellowed eye and pulled the trigger. A thick stream of blood erupted from the socket, and it collapsed into a twitching heap.

She kept the weapon pointed at the ghoul and backed away. Her free hand searched for ammunition, and she dumped the empty shells out of the revolver. With trembling fingers, she quickly shoved fresh ammo into the slots and took another step back—but her foot slipped into empty space, her hands clawing at the air, and a small cry rose from her throat as she fell backward into the horrible darkness.

Chapter 19

Main hangar bay

Dawn’s Edge

“Where is our light?” asked Quolo. “Surely there must be a simple switch?” He searched for a pulley or handle along the walls.

The massive bay was easily five stories in height, and wider than it was high, taking up most of the lower center of the airship. A series of doors running along both sides of the bay were open, allowing a constant stream of cold air from either direction. Crates lay in stacks and piles, pushed to the sides to create a wide space in the middle.

“Strange. There should be power,” said Chief Sykes. He puffed on his cigar and squinted through the smoke.

“Smells like stale rust and rat turds,” Poes said. “Where are the others? Coyle? The detectives?”

Bolt looked confused. “Not here? They left before us. I assumed they’d arrived and were looking for resources.”

“They’re not here. Look around. How many pods do you see?” Poes shot back.

“Poes,” Bolt said. “I would appreciate you watching your tone with me.”

“The tone is appropriate, sir,” Poes said. “Your level of situational awareness is not.”

Sykes finished strapping what looked like metal overalls onto his small frame and stood as high as the others. He pulled up a wire antenna from a gadget near his shoulder and switched on his radio, frowning and turning knobs.

“This is Chief Sykes,” he said. “Anyone read me?”

Static and squelches filled the air. The gnome repeated his query and frowned.

“What’s wrong?” Bolt asked.

“There’s no blasted radio reception is what’s wrong,” he said. “These infernal devices were probably made by an automaton