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

turned into a monster when Moreci used the book. But the translation was in direct contrast to the book’s effect. ‘Reverse’ and ‘mirror’ meant the opposite of what had transpired. And why, and how, was this written in backward English?

She bit her lip, staring at the darkness, tapping the back of her head against the metal railing. It was Moreci who used the book, but this message couldn’t be from him. Who, then? She frowned. Mumbled. Tapped her foot. Tapped her head.

She froze.

This message was created for me.

She stood and paced. This message was for her. She was supposed to stop Moreci, and she didn’t know how. She looked down at the corpse. Her mind became a mixture of excitement and confusion. She clapped hands and smiled.

“Like Christmas!” she said. “Except this time I’m getting something I wanted.” She hopped on the metal floor. “Like Christmas!” She stopped and covered her mouth. Her hands curled into fists.

She let her mind race along the new path she’d uncovered. The message was for her. From...? Who would make sense? Treece? But how would he have—

No. Not Treece. Dame Graethe?

She slapped her forehead. Of course. She was fae. She would know the language. It had to be her! But why was Dame Graethe involved with this? She chewed her lip more. Paced more. She cracked her knuckles. Dame Graethe was dead. It couldn’t be her. Then who? Fang? She was definitely helping, but this wasn’t the type of work Fang would be involved with.

She looked at the paper again, even though she had memorized the verse.

Reverse the darkest deed,

In ageless artifacts dwell,

Repeat the faithful creed,

Mirror cast the spell

The ship groaned. She had to find the others, get them involved, and share her knowledge. More brains were better than one, she had heard somewhere. She would need help figuring out how to use this vital information.

She slipped the tools back inside the pouch and stepped lively down to the next landing, the new light revealing her gun. She reloaded the weapon, took one last look above and moved deeper into the ship.

Chapter 22

Main hangar bay

Dawn’s Edge

The sharp odor of antiseptic floated through the empty space. Survivors lay in groups throughout the cargo bay. The wounded were being treated with the few medical supplies they had. Arms were bandaged, legs sutured, faces gauzed.

The unfortunate dead lay in rows, their bodies under emergency blankets. Quolo kneeled beside a victim and pulled the corner of the blanket away. He stifled a cough. The man’s flesh was peeled away from the bone in ragged strips. An eyeball had been gouged out. Gaping bite wounds on his shoulders and neck had been bandaged, but to no avail.

“We tried,” a soldier said. “They bled too quickly.”

“This is a nightmare,” Quolo said. “A bloody, living nightmare. What did we get dragged into?” Some of the soldiers glanced over.

“We came here together, and we’ll leave together,” Chief Sykes said.

“We need to stay here, where there’s safety,” Quolo said. “We need to regroup a-a-and get a hold of more people. We need more men, more firepower.”

“Calm down. Someone get bandages and antibacterial ointments for him.” Chief Sykes pointed at Quolo. “Now, we suffered some casualties—”

“Some? We lost a lot of men just now, and I’m not sure we’re appropriately equipped for this excursion. We need more men, Chief Sykes. We need more men a-a-and more guns and more bullets!” His eyes were wide open, his expression chaotic. Spittle flew from his dry lips.

“You’re in shock. You need to get bandaged up or you’ll get worse.” Sykes glanced at one of his soldiers. “Have a look at his wounds.”

Quolo’s bottom lip quivered as he stared into the sky.

Chapter 23

Mid-level maintenance decks

Dawn’s Edge

Coyle stepped deeper into the chasm. The opening she’d used far above was barely a pinprick now. Her steps quickened when she heard a scrape against metal. She swore there were more creatures stalking her, but all of it was in her head and she knew it.

Ever since that night with Ronan, she struggled to distinguish between reality and her dark fears. Would it ever end? Could it? The doctors and nuns assured her there was peace to be found. Strength. Courage. But, right now, it was so far away, and she was almost certain she would never reach it. Besides, she certainly didn’t deserve it.

But she was here for a purpose much larger and more important than her fears. Her only hope at this point was to continue down through the ship and find the hangar bay where her friends were. She hoped they were waiting. She hoped there was a way to use the secret message left for her to find. She hoped they could leave this airship.

The ladder led into a much wider space built more like a floor than a simple landing. She gazed at her new surroundings. Machinery twice as tall as her lined the area. Clicking gears, whines and other strange sounds filled with the air.

A flashing light caught her attention and she pulled out her pistol. A pair offices were just in front, and as she drew near, there were new sounds: paper shuffling, someone mumbling. She raised her weapon. The bold, broad glare of someone’s light flashed inside. This wasn’t a creature, but she kept the gun trained on the open door just in case. She eased around to the front of the office and peered inside.

“Stop!” she commanded. “Put your hands in the air where I can see them.”

“Don’t shoot!” a short man said, stepping out. His uniform was filthy. His face, arms and hands were covered in grime.

“Who are you?” Coyle asked.

“Name’s Conroy,” he said. “I’m one of the engineers.”

“What are you doing here, Conroy?” Coyle lowered her weapon. She could tell he was no threat. She didn’t fully trust him, but there was sincerity in his voice. And she was quietly glad she wasn’t alone anymore.

“Depends. Are you with them or someone else?” he asked, lowering his hands.

“Keep your hands up,” Coyle