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

“Fzzsstsss—the suit will take care of you, Miss Coyle. Fzzztt—it’s one of a kind. In a sense-fssszzt-have to-szzssst.”

She adjusted the radio knobs, but there was no response, and the static transmissions faded to nothing. She was alone again. But she felt much more confident knowing she was wearing a valuable, one-of-a-kind suit. She didn’t have resources of people, but she did have what she needed on her person.

She looked down at her left wrist and slid open a compartment. A small button with the words Tesla Mode stitched next to it. She stared at the button. GEM said it should be used in the most of dire of emergencies. She wasn’t too sure what would happen if she pushed it. In fact, she wasn’t too sure about any of the suit’s capabilities. The lights worked, and that’s all she needed for now.

GEM’s explanations and directions had been rapid and vague. She pushed a knob on her right wrist, and the tip of a dart appeared. She tapped the knob twice, and it slid backward into a slot. There were a few surprises, and she definitely would have appreciated a one-day course on the subject, but this situation had degraded very quickly.

GEM had mentioned some of the choices were voice-activated. It would take some time to know where everything was. But, for now, she had a single job. She looked down at the cadaver, cracking her knuckles.

“Surgical instruments,” she said. “Please.”

An invisible tap against her right thigh indicated the location of the tools. She pulled the compartment open and found a set of five stainless-steel precision tools set in a leather sheath. She pulled out a scalpel, catching her reflection in the polished metal, and remembered how he had held the scalpel next to her skin. She squeezed her eyes, forcing the memory away, before examining the corpse.

“I filled its body with bullets, but nothing happened until I shot its head. This leads me to believe a head wound will terminate these creatures ... again.”

She flipped the magnifying lens over her goggles, peeling the flesh away from the face with forceps. A few tugs, and the flesh lifted with a wet, sticky sound.

Thin cracks spread out from small clusters of dark puncture marks embedded deep into the bone. The marks surrounded both eyes and were prominently in the center of the forehead.

She leaned back. They looked like bruises. But bruises didn’t shape themselves into perfect lines, they bloomed from burst capillaries. Unless these marks were purposely set there. Is that what had happened? Had someone tapped these marks around the eyes and center of the creature’s forehead? What would the purpose be when they were just turned into a creature like this?

Her eyes focused on its face. Its wide mouth was slack and full of jagged teeth. A thread of thick, dark blood bubbled and seeped from its nose and disappeared into the darkness below.

She sighed.

There were so many things she would rather be doing right now. Hot bath. Eating. Sleeping. Lounging on the sofa with a good book and a cat warming her lap.

Alas.

She pulled the torn shirt aside and found more of the curious marks etched across its chest, shoulder joints and wrists. She refrained from pulling away the trousers, but guessed she would find similar marks on his hip and knee joints.

There was something else here, but she wasn’t sure what. She slid the most powerful lenses over one eye and returned to the marks on the head. Using her handkerchief, she brushed away seeping blood and other debris. Then she squinted and studied.

“Oh!” she said. Staring at the marks. These were not random wounds caused by an outside source. Rather, they were distinct formations with lines, curves, abrupt angles, similarities, patterns. What was the term?

Ah. Runes.

“This is what the book does,” Coyle said. “And here’s the end result. The curse, as it were.”

She studied more carefully, curious as to what fae inscriptions looked like. Her face was mere inches away from the corpse, and the scent of it was unbearable. But the payoff was worth it. Her lenses magnified the script until it was as large as her hand.

She leaned back and frowned. Why did the fae characters seem familiar but at the same time... not? There was something there, but she couldn’t quite place her finger on it. And then...

“Oh!” she said again. She started searching her suit. “You can’t be serious. This can’t be happening. It just can’t! Wait. What do I ask for? A pad of paper and pencil?” A brief vibration pulsed against her abdomen, near the left side. She reached down and pulled out a pencil and pad of paper.

She wiped away all the moisture she could from the creature’s forehead before she placed the paper over the runes and with the pencil at an angle, she rubbed until all the runes were transferred to the paper. She peeled the paper away and inspected her work.

A small dark smudge of graphite surrounded the empty spaces of the inscription. She was looking at a reverse image of what she’d found on the corpse.

Her hands trembled, but this time from excitement. If this worked the way she thought it might... She turned the paper over and shone a light behind it.

“Oh!” She covered her mouth with her hand, her mind refusing to believe what she was seeing. But it was there. Plain as day. The runes were written in backward English. The message read,

Reverse the darkest deed,

In ageless artifacts dwell,

Repeat the faithful creed,

Mirror cast the spell

She leaned against the wall, her mind racing through different emotions: relief, exhaustion, disbelief, exultation. All coursing through her head all at once.

But despite the joy of finding such a clue, of course, the more difficult questions loomed: who crafted the message? And what exactly did it mean? Was it designed for anyone to find ... or only her?

She looked at the creature. This was all Moreci’s doing, she was sure of it. This poor soul was