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

Trevin’s pants and shoes. That was Fang’s blood, if she was telling the whole truth. And Coyle had a feeling she was telling the truth, but still—

“Find anything?” Vonteg asked.

She frowned at a stack of folders in his hands.

“A few dollars is all,” she answered. “Looks like you found a few items.” She tried to sound encouraging.

“A few work orders and receipts for things he needed. Hopefully, we can find more,” he said.

Coyle looked around. “Where’s Poes?”

“He went into the house a few minutes ago,” he said. “I think we’re done out here, so let’s join him.”

Tall, thick bushes surrounded the small, one-bedroom, craftsman-style construction. W

indows with thin drapes were set on either side of the open door. The walls and wooden floors were bare. Coyle walked to the small kitchen out of curiosity and glanced outside the small window above the sink.

The bold blue of the bay was a stark contrast to the tan bluffs of the island. Foamy wakes from passing ships glimmered in the sun. She looked down at the gas range. It was too clean. He probably never cooked. She opened the oven door and peeked inside, expecting to find a manila folder filled with all the secrets she could hope for. It was empty, of course.

“Anything in the kitchen?” Vonteg asked her.

“A nice view is all,” she answered.

“There’s nothing in the house except a few built-in bookshelves,” Vonteg said. “Poes, what are you looking at?”

Coyle walked into the bedroom. Poes stared at something in the closet, silent. They followed his gaze at a blank wall. She looked back at him. He wasn’t looking at the wall, but something else entirely.

“Poes?” she asked. He blinked and looked at the floor.

“Sorry, just ruminating,” Poes replied. “There’s nothing here.”

Coyle wiped her finger along the wall and looked at the dust on her fingertip. She glanced at each of the four walls and said, “Doesn’t look like he hung any pictures or paintings. He hardly used the stove. It’s like he didn’t really live here.”

“Well, he’s got a yard full of belongings out front,” Vonteg said. “Someone must’ve lived here. May as well be him.”

“You’re right, of course,” she said. “I guess I’m thinking about how a person makes a place their home. Pictures, plants, things they enjoy. Wouldn’t all these things be in a place you live? And not a single one of those are in the yard outside.”

“What’s that tapping sound?” Vonteg said. They stepped back into the living room and found Poes tapping the floorboards. “What are you looking for? Buried treasure?”

Poes didn’t answer as his foot tapped different parts of the room. Coyle guessed what he was looking for and tapped the floor in the hallway.

“Both of you think he’s got a trap door here? They’re usually hidden under a rug, but there’s no hiding anything on this floor,” Vonteg said. He shook his head at the idea, but Coyle noticed he walked into the kitchen to explore cabinets.

Vonteg was right about this particular floor. There weren’t any perpendicular lines across the wood boards. She walked to the built-in bookshelf and checked for openings, cracks, anything that would give away a possible trap door. Finding nothing useful, she stepped back and stared down at the lighted floor. Tiny bits of dust swirled around her dress and glowed in the sunlight. When she was a child, she used to imagine the dust particles were angels. Thousands and millions of angels dancing in the air. And now they danced around her dress.

Are they not all ministering spirits sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation?

As she grew older, wiser, she knew the truth. It was just dust. Not angels. But even dust has its purpose. She frowned at the dust, dancing at the edges of her dress—she had an idea. She scraped her hand along the wall, gathering dust and dropping it in front of the bookshelf. The dust settled gently to the floor and she waited. Nothing happened.

She walked into the living room where the other two bookshelves were and found Poes also scooping dust into his hand and dropping it. He had thought of the same thing. Vonteg stepped into the room.

And then it happened.

All three watched as a steady puff of air blew dust away from behind the bookshelf.

“There, see it?” Poes said. He pointed at something along the floor. “There’s an arc here, just barely etched into the surface. This is the door.”

“To where? And why?” Vonteg asked. No one had the answers yet. Poes checked each of the shelves for a mechanism of some kind, but nothing happened. Then he tried lifting the book case and a dull crack echoed through the room as the bookshelf glided open. All three of them stared into a dark, narrow staircase.

Coyle’s heart froze.

It was a simple staircase that led down. Yet it was a dark void drawing her nearer to death.  How could such a simple point of access be so threatening? And here she was, barely able to move, let alone take a step into her worst fears. She backed away.

“I guess smoking cigars has its benefits,” Vonteg said as he lit a small lighter. “You always have a light.” The flame seemed weak and insignificant compared to the vastness of dark waiting to swallow her.

“Maybe... maybe we could wait for some more help.” Coyle gulped. “Or a brighter light.”

“Well, this is our investigation, Coyle,” Vonteg said. “And I’m fairly certain the Army doesn’t know about this.”

“We’ll be fine,” Poes said. “Between the three of us, we’ll take care of whatever we run into.”

“But we have no weapons,” Coyle said. She squeezed her dress with trembling fingers. “How are we going to take care of anything with no weapons?”

The men looked at each other and shrugged. Vonteg said, “We should get down there before it gets dark. No telling how far or how big this is going to get.” He stepped down into the abyss with his tiny light. Poes