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

death, she would never know. She stopped. Something wasn’t right. Stench filled the air.

And then she saw them.

The lights flickered over their ghastly forms, making their movements jittery, convulsive. Pale, yellow eyes shone from deformed skulls. Long, bony hands stretched, reaching for her soft skin.

Her legs pivoted without command, every fiber of her being begging to escape. The fringes of her mind pushed close to unbridled madness. She had to leave, had to run, had to get out.

Stay alive!

She took a step—just one. The hesitation was enough to make her reconsider. She couldn’t. Running away wasn’t an option anymore. She had a job to do. If she didn’t fight now, they would lose everything. Coyle pulled out her knife and braced herself. She had time for one quick prayer under her breath before her knife flashed like a hammer, stabbing and slashing anything close. Some fell and crawled toward her, grabbing at her legs. She kicked them away, slashing at the others, and still they crammed forward to grab and pull and bite.

Something grabbed her shoulder. She pulled to the side, stabbed the ghoul in the temple, and sent another over the railing. She was pulled backward, but she leaned forward and spun away, jabbing the end of the blade into each of their heads. The last fell away with her knife wedged in its eye. She grabbed for it but wasn’t fast enough. One of them slammed into her, knocking her down. She pushed away from the floor, but the ghouls heaped on top of her. Claws scraped at her back and legs and head, desperate to dig through the leather armor. She squirmed away and twisted around on her back, kicking at everything close. She crawled backward and got lucky; the Turned tripped and tangled over one another. Their long arms crossing over each other until they were locked in the struggle of pursuit. She used the moment to push herself up, hobbling away as quickly as she could. She reached a wall of machinery and looked over her shoulder.

Her eyes bulged.

A small horde followed behind the initial rush. Echoing howls chilled her blood. There were too many now. Far too many. But a thought flashed through her mind. She flipped open the tab on her forearm and pushed the button marked Tesla Mode. And then she heard the mechanical voice of her suit.

“Power at full capacity. Tesla Fist activated. Point weapon toward threat.”

Tesla Fist?

Sparks hopped between the metal studs on her left fist. Warm energy tingled through her arm.

What am I wearing?

“Point weapon toward threat,” the voice repeated.

A high-pitched whine grew, and her arm hummed. She squeezed her fist at the horde. Chain lightning erupted from the metal studs of her gloved hand. White ribbons of electricity jumped to each of them, spraying the air with blood, flesh, and bone. All at once, they fell in a heap of sizzling ruin. She took a few steps back, wiped the mess from her goggles, and observed. Nothing moved. She wrinkled her nose at the acrid stench of charred flesh and ozone.

She shook her hands of gore and sighed.

“So that’s what Tesla Mode is,” she said, shaking spattered gore from her hands. She inspected the smoking metal knobs on her fist and, remembering her knife, stepped through the mess to find it. She grabbed the hilt and felt someone staring at her.

“All done, then?” Fang asked.

Coyle spun around. “All done being disguised as Poes?” Coyle pointed her knife at her.

Fang cocked her head. “Took you long enough. Points for being the sharp one.”

“On this ship? In these circumstances? Yes, I am going to be as sharp as I can. It’s kept me alive this long.”

“I thought I was careful.” Fang smirked. “How did you know?”

“There was something off about you, about Poes. I couldn’t be certain, but I had my suspicions you weren’t who you said you were. Your eyes held the same gaze they did when we met in the jail cell. I let you hold my arm twice and used the opportunity to test your pulse. It wasn’t as strong as a man’s, yet certainly not a woman’s. Your natural scent was fully covered by the cologne you wore. And then I passed out on your lap. You definitely weren’t a man.”

“That doesn’t sound very ladylike.”

“Does any of this look as though I’m trying to be a lady?”

“Touché.”

“Why did you disguise yourself as Poes?”

“I had to find out who I was, where I came from.”

“So none of the others know?”

Fang shook her head

“And then Veiul showed up in Fort Alcatraz. She could have killed me.”

“But she didn’t, oddly enough, and that brought more questions. Why not? And more importantly, who told her not to?”

“Couldn’t it be Moreci?”

“Why does he want you alive?”

Coyle shrugged. “I haven’t the faintest.”

“I normally don’t say this, but the thought that someone wants you alive makes my skin crawl. Someone else is in this game, besides Moreci, besides Veiul.”

“So who’s the inside threat?”

“I had to leave the main group to find you, but I’m sure we’ll find out who it is soon enough. Have you found anything useful?”

“Yes, actually. I discovered a hidden message etched into the ghouls. Someone left it for me.”

“And?”

“I think it tells me—us—how to stop Moreci.”

“Well, how does it go?”

“Reverse the darkest deed / in ageless artifacts dwell / Repeat the faithful creed / Mirror cast the spell.”

Fang clenched her jaw. “Ageless artifacts dwell. Sounds like the book to me.”

“You think there’s a faithful creed in there somewhere?”

“I don’t know. But we’ll sort this out. Who would leave a message for you to find?”

“It must be Treece.”

Fang nodded. “That’s the only thing that makes sense. He doesn’t tell us everything.” She turned behind and looked back at Coyle. “We need to stop the engines.”

Coyle nodded but didn’t move.

“What? What’s wrong?” Fang asked.

Coyle paused. She had to ask. It was in her nature to ask. Just like it was in Fang’s to kill.

“You’re a murderer. Why should I trust you?”