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

Where am I?

Another knock on the door.

“Yes?” she asked.

“Miss Coyle?” a girl asked from the other side of the door. “You’re needed immediately. Please get dressed as soon as you can.”

“Yes, of course. What time is it, please?” She rubbed her face.

“It’s two in the afternoon, miss,” the girl answered.

Two in the afternoon. She’d been asleep for over twelve hours. And now they wanted her immediately.

What have I gotten into?

Chapter 6

WIRE projection facility

Potrero Point

San Francisco

Thou hast begun a new work in me and canst alone continue and complete it.

Amen.

Coyle was handed a small bag marked with her name and ushered outside to a large carriage. It was painted glossy black with gold accents. Six large, knobby tires were affixed to the sides, and a curious steam engine quietly chugged at the rear.

“Everyone is waiting inside, miss,” the butler said, motioning to the carriage’s double doors. There were no horses to draw the transit, but she skipped the questions and stepped inside.

She joined six gentlemen on a plush leather bench. The interior was spacious and luxurious, with room for at least five more. An older gentleman tapped a metal-tipped cane on the cabin wall. A shrill whistle and hiss of steam announced their departure. She noticed the Templar ring on his finger.

“I do apologize for the abrupt start, Miss Coyle,” he said, adjusting small-framed glasses over inquisitive brown eyes. Thick, steel-gray hair surrounded his pink face. “We were caught between letting you sleep most of the day or waking you up earlier to get started. I voted the former, and since this is my operation, my vote counts.” His smile was cheerful. “But we do have an investigation to consider, and we must get moving. The bag is a picnic lunch to eat at your leisure.”

“Thank you so much,” Coyle said, stuffing the bag next to her. She wasn’t going to eat in front of strangers. “And I apologize for sleeping so soundly.”

“Not to worry, Miss Coyle,” he responded. “I believe you are the strongest of our group and thus the most important. I wanted to make sure you were well rested.”

Heat bloomed into her cheeks, and she gave a polite smile. She darted a glance at the other passengers, instinctively focusing on their body language, tone of voice, and eye contact for hints about their personas.

And whether I can trust them.

“Ah, where are my manners?” he said. “Let me introduce who we are. My name is Adrian Treece, and I am your humble host.”

“Treece? You own Dawn Industries,” she said. “The technology company.”

“I also lead the North American division of a worldwide secret organization,” he added. “Templars of the Unseen Path. We keep the denizens of Hell at bay so innocent people can sleep at night. Now, I’m confident in telling you all this because of your marvelous work a few weeks ago. Very impressive, I must add. We are in a bit of a bind. Our other detective has disappeared, leaving an opening for a formidable replacement. We only take in the best, and your remarkable work during the test scenarios was brought to our attention.”

“What if I don’t want to join these ... Templars?”

“Well, if you do, I’m sure we can help you achieve your personal goals.”

She glanced out the windows before answering. “This is another test, isn’t it? To see if I’m good enough for your group.”

“Sharp as a razor, she is!” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “Let me introduce you to your teammates.” He extended his hand. “This is Professor Peter Quolo, emancipated slave and expert in ancient languages. Earned two master’s degrees at Yale. He’s head of Research and Development.”

She smiled and studied him. Quolo had an honest smile and kind eyes that held stories that would put all of theirs to shame. His handsome, boyish face hid great wisdom and intelligence.

“I believe you’ve met detectives Louis Vonteg and Kade Duone,” he said.

She nodded at them. Their boots, their accent and the scruff on their rugged, tanned faces spoke of experience chasing outlaws through deserts.

“My name is Rafael Boltuego,” a thick-necked, barrel-chested man said out of turn. “Call me Bolt. My specialties are engineering and head cracking.” There was a dangerous gleam in his eye, something dark and malicious. He flexed his hands and flashed his smile.

She ignored his wink and nodded at Treece.

A slender, handsome man spoke. “Chance Poes, investigating attorney. Pleasure.” He refused to look away until she did. His face was unreadable. Plain, yet polite and professional. But nothing further. The mark of a good attorney.

“My name is Sherlyn Coyle,” she said with a polite smile. “I am—I was—a constable with the San Francisco Police.”

“And we’re on a tight schedule to visit one of our gnome facilities,” Treece said. “You remember the WIRE projector during your scenario?”

Coyle nodded. “The World Image Reconstruction Evaluator.” She felt heat in her cheeks and turned away for a moment, trying to forget the embarrassment altogether.

“Well, we’re going to visit another crime scene at the Baldwin mansion,” Treece said. “The WIRE projection has a shelf life of less than eight months, and we’re a few hours away from losing any shred of evidence.”

Coyle frowned. “Baldwin mansion?”

“Seems there was a dinner party, followed by a massacre. An ancient book called the Curse of Shadows was taken from the residence,” Duone said with a gentle Texas drawl.

“I had arranged the meeting between fae and humans,” Treece said. “It was a political endeavor between the two peoples. I was in France when it was scheduled. When I heard of the tragedy, I rushed back as quickly as I could. Some of them were my close friends. Given the circumstances, I believed this was a case for the Templars. The book that was taken is quite dangerous, and we must do everything we can to get it back.”

Coyle nodded. All of that sounded horrible and tragic and absolutely interesting all at once. And, of course, it was exactly what Fang had mentioned.

She