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

switched all of the dinner party guests off, one by one and in quick succession. I certainly didn’t want that to happen to me,” GEM said with raised hands.

“And you’ve been hiding upstairs in the closet ever since?” Coyle asked, relighting the tobacco.

“Wouldn’t you?”

“Wait a minute,” Poes said. “You were there when the Baldwin mansion was attacked. What do you know about it?”

“I suppose everything,” he answered. “I am required to record all emergency incidents. More for proof that I wasn’t the cause of them.”

“But you said you were hiding upstairs,” Coyle said.

“I prefer to call it surviving, thank you,” GEM said, and blinked at her. “But I am synchronized with the other automatons who were downstairs and recorded what they saw.”

“We can hook him up to the roto-display,” Sullywether said. The gnome grabbed a long, thick, flexible tube and connected it to the base of GEM’s polished dome. After a few clicks, Sullywether moved to the table and flipped a few switches. A long, dark metal rod with joints popped out of the center of the table before splitting into branches and spinning. Sullywether pushed a knob, adjusted the speed to something he liked and flipped another switch. Small arcs of electricity jumped between the rods until a blue globe appeared.

“Ready,” Sullywether said, glancing at Treece.

“I suppose we should watch from about fifteen minutes prior to the incident,” Treece said.

Sullywether turned a couple of knobs, and the globe hissed and crackled until images appeared.

“Moving pictures? Like Edison’s kinescope?” Vonteg asked.

“Pfft. this is nothing like Edison’s work,” Sullywether said. “Tesla designed this. He’s got all sorts of gadgets no one’s seen. I’m ready to believe he’s just a tall gnome, because no human on earth—”

“Let’s just play the image, shall we?” Treece said with a tight smile. He shot a polite glance Coyle’s way, but he was obviously disappointed in her. She looked down and shook her head.

The moving pictures were different shades of blue, but amidst the crackle and hum of the moving parts, there was recorded sound. Everyone, including GEM, stared at the globe and watched the entire event.

Coyle’s ears perked up when the dinner guests began talking about fae history. An older woman named Dame Graethe did most of the talking. Coyle recognized her as the woman who was still alive.

“Keep it safe.”

“We live in peace and harmony with almost all of the other races and species,” Dame Graethe said through the speakers. “Ogreks, mudlucks, sprites, vamperion and gnomes are our friends. Most of the time. But there have been factions of fae or vamperion who split off to follow a deranged leader who’s so inclined. One such fae deviant was Arch-general August, who wanted more power than he held. He joined with the vilest race, the frost wyches, to walk our nether-realm. They built an army and set out to destroy us.”

“To destroy fae-kind?” someone asked.

“To destroy everyone,” Dame Graethe said. “Fae magic is particular, non-threatening. We won’t use magic to kill. But vamperion are different. If the fae are wardens of the day, vamperion are of the night. Their magic is visceral, unyielding and deadly.”

“So, vamperion are—benign?” someone asked. “Or are they violent?”

“They’re no more violent than any other species when pressed to survive,” she answered. “They were quiet and kept to themselves and complemented the fae in every way. But the August War threatened everyone, and they took the lead in stopping his army. Vamperion mages created a book of spells powerful enough to defeat our enemies.”

“The Curse of Shadows,” Coyle said to herself.

Dame Graethe continued, “The vamperion unleashed destruction, and August’s armies were wiped out—but not without consequences. Our sky and moon became one, erasing the familiar lavender sky of day and dull crimson of night. Our world no longer rotates. It’s as if our eight seasons became one, and our crops have steadily declined over the past 1900 years, as have our races. We do what we can, but life has become difficult.”

The dinner table was silent for a time before someone asked, “And what of the vamperion? Heralded as champions?”

Dame Graethe shook her head. “The vamperion went mad, whether from the change in our world or from the book itself. They turned into the creatures you call vampires, cursed to drink blood to survive, cowering from sunlight. They saved all of the nether-realm but lost their rightful place. Once a proud people, they now survive as frightful, pale shadows of their former selves.”

The slaughter erupted soon after she spoke those words. Furniture was smashed against a wall. Screams erupted. Coyle looked away from the carnage, but the audio continued to play out the last horrid screams until all was silent. She turned back and looked at the bloody scene she had walked through. Then she watched as a familiar woman pick up a book from the table. Her posture, build and shape were certainly familiar. Coyle pictured the glowing ember eyes, she could hear the clipped-British accent. The woman in the images searched the room for a bit before leaving with Trevin out the back door. Coyle’s skin chilled. This was the woman who’d visited her in the cell, who wanted help finding a dangerous book. The same vampire who said she would keep an eye on her. She glanced to the sides, studying the dark corners.

“Stop the roto-display.” Treece sighed. “It’s obvious the dinner party was ambushed by two people.” He rubbed his face and stared at the floor.

“One witness described a young female—fair skin, short dark hair, dressed in dark leathers—using daggers. This is the assassin known as Fang,” Duone said. “Not too much is known about her except that she’s ruthless, cunning and a dangerous vampire.” He showed everyone a photograph of a lovely woman with short hair, her dark eyes vacant.

“She’s definitely pretty,” Bolt said.

“And deadly,” Duone added.

“No doubt.” Quolo said.

“Do vampires use daggers to kill?” Poes asked. “Don’t they have—teeth?”

Treece answered. “She was part of a secret project called Archangel. We thought, what better way