Coyle and Fang: Curse of Shadows (Coyle and Fang Adventure Series Book 1) by Robert III (best books for 7th graders .txt) 📕

Meys raised his hands. “Constable! You are turning down a path you don’t want any part of. Now, due to your lack of basic tools to collect evidence, I must disqualify—”

“Disqualify?” Her hands clenched into fists. Heat rushed into her face, and this time she didn’t care who noticed. “What? How can I be disqualified when I solved your unsolvable riddle? Could you answer me, sir? Do you know how ridiculous this sounds?”

“Please check your tone, young lady, or there will be stiff consequences.”

“Oh! So this is what it’s all about! Time to disqualify the ‘young lady’ because she doesn’t belong with the men who didn’t have the common sense to solve this case. Is that it?” She tapped her finger into his bony chest, her Irish heritage threatening to make an appearance.

“Constable Coyle, you are now under arrest for assault on a master detective and contempt of an official during the process of testing.”

“What on earth are you talking about? Have you gone mad? An official of what, sir? An official of the collection of half-assed, pompous misogynists?”

Meys pointed at her right hand. “You’re holding that razor in an aggressive fashion, and your feet have shifted into a fighting stance. Now drop the weapon.”

Her fingers spread apart, dropping the flechette and raising her open hand.

“I’ll show you an aggressive fashion.” Her open fingers tightened into a fist and she punched his face. He stumbled back. Blood spurted from his nose. She took a step forward, but they grabbed her arms and dragged her back. She cursed. Manacles wrapped around her wrists.

It was over.

They led her through the open square as tears streamed down her hot cheeks. The bright sun beat on her face. She heard the judges grumble behind her.

“How on earth did that come about?”

“It’s too bad. I thought she would have made a fine detective.”

“Too much fighting spirit for her age. Older, but still pretty. She’d make a great wife.”

“What time is bridge tonight?”

“She probably never wanted this to happen.”

***

Fang slid her fingers over her fake mustache and shook her head. She walked back to the judges’ stands with the others, disguised as one of the older men. She squinted up at the sunlight and took a deep breath.

She had to kill Trevin from a distance, that’s why she shot him from above. Yet she wanted it to be clever, make sure to take his head off. And ever since then, she had been on the hunt for one very special person to uncover his death. Today, Fang watched with fascination as Sherlyn Coyle found evidence of her work, things she hadn’t even considered at the time. The hydraulic fluid from the razor-rotor?

Brilliant.

And Coyle was a fighter. What an impression the constable made. Fang shook her head and took her seat with the judges who had no idea there was an assassin vampire in their midst. It may have seemed cruel, but she was glad Coyle was disqualified. Fang smiled. She had finally found her detective.

Chapter 4

San Francisco City Hall

Prisoner cell no. 18

Fifteen days later

Lord, humble me for not being as holy as I should be, or as holy as I might be through Christ. For thou art all, and to possess thee is to possess all.

Amen.

Another night in a jail cell. Coyle shook her head, certain God was not listening. Does He even listen to the black sheep? Those who turn away from His shepherd’s crook? Those who end up in a jail cell because they were stubborn and selfish and foolish and bad-tempered?

She ran her fingers through her hair and rubbed her scalp, trying to fight back another round of pity tears.

“Well, Mother,” she said. “Here’s your daughter. Alone in a jail cell. Finally, I suppose. I was never one to follow direction well, was I? I have to wonder if that was the reason you made me memorize passages when I was young. Maybe you believed I wouldn’t stray from the flock if I was filled with Scripture.

“Well, I was wrong too. I believed if I memorized what you gave me, Father would pay more attention. Play with me. Hold my hand. Help with my lessons. I devoured everything you gave me: Bible pages and prayer journals and books devoted to God and His works. For all that, both of us were wrong. I fell in love with a murderer, and Father barely knew I existed.

“And this is the fruit of my planting.” She spread her arms out and huffed. “I don’t live up to what the church implores: holiness and righteousness. I always find a way to act contrary to Scripture. And because of my stupidity, I’ll never find Ronan.”

She slid down against a wall, buried her warm face in her cold hands and sobbed. She had been so close, so very close. She should have been working alongside men in the department, men who could help her find the Ripper.

Instead, she stepped onto a frozen lake and plunged into its icy grasp. And now she was trapped. No escape. No second chance. She wiped her wet eyes and looked up before leaning her forehead against the iron bars.

“My temper drove me here,” she said. “Not the imbeciles. Father, forgive me. The judges were only doing what men do. I should have expected all this. Mother, I should have listened to you, too. I should have let myself be courted by a rich, arrogant man who wants a quiet wife.” She laughed. “Who am I kidding? I’m not worthy of their ilk. What’s the point in even living now? It’s all gone. Everything’s gone.”

Something moved in the dark corner. She wiped her eyes and stared. Ambient light spilled through the window but stopped short of the shadowed corners. Nothing stirred. There were no sounds but those from the inmates further down the hall. She stood and walked to the window for some fresh air—freezing mid-stride.

Someone is here.

She took a