She grabbed the book and ran out the door. Horrible sounds echoed through the hall. Long coils of purple lightning spread throughout the ship, changing everything it touched. Timber snapped and splintered apart. Metal twisted and groaned. Glass shattered. The ship was being torn apart. She ran. She had to get away before—
“Oh, Sherlyn,” a familiar voice said through a radio device.
She froze.
“Sherlyn? Where are you running off to?”
Her blood turned to ice.
“Is that how you treat a loved one?” he asked. “After all I’ve done for you?”
She turned around. Moreci’s twisted, misshapen form pulled itself into the wide hallway. His skin had been turned inside out. His feet were writhing tendrils of flesh, and his powerful hands gripped the walls. He seethed hunger and hatred.
“Oh, there you are! My little cuppy cake. My sweet, adorable Sherlyn. Oh, how I’ve missed you.”
She stepped away. It wasn’t the monster talking. The voice was coming through the speaker-box on Moreci’s chest. A red light blinked wildly near the black circle. But she recognized the voice. She would always recognize his voice.
“Oh my goodness.” He laughed hysterically. “I wish... I wish you could see the look on your face.” His laughter was manic, uncontrollable. Diabolical.
Fear and trembling and anger and wrath coursed through her blood. The voice came from the one she had been searching for all this time.
“Ronan.”
Chapter 35
Lower passenger deck
Dawn’s Edge
Fang had killed the remaining guard, slipped into a servant’s dress, and helped evacuate the passengers and crew to the emergency skiff. Less than two hundred remained. She stood at the door and escorted them one by one, keeping an eye out for Moreci’s guards, the Turned and, of course, Coyle. The ache in her arm was almost unbearable and her strength waned considerably. She leaned against a doorframe, panting. If she didn’t get treatment soon, she would most certainly succumb to its effect. It made her weak, not just in the physical aspect but also in the carnality of her vampiric desires. A deep-rooted hunger grew inside her, one she could barely resist.
Her eyes searched for men and women who had stains of guilt on their conscience. As yet, none of these people were murderers or rapists, but the hunger grew still. She closed her eyes and concentrated, trying to stop the floor from moving underneath her. She had to get these people to safety. She hoped Coyle would make an appearance soon.
The skiff was roughly half the length of the Dawn’s Edge but only one level. It was equipped with gnomish technology: short, stubby wings would slip out from underneath the craft and, coupled with something the gnomes called a propeller system, bring passengers safely to the ground.
A bell rang. The ship would leave soon. The bridge was full of activity. A few automatons were stationed throughout the bridge, checking on gauges and pressure settings. Men in gray-and-tan uniforms busied themselves with instrument panels. Other servants helped with minor wounds, food and drink, making the passengers as comfortable as possible.
With a dizzy head, Fang kept her eye on the hall. The crowd of passengers was thinning, and she knew they were running out of time. She wondered if this was the best way of doing things. It certainly seemed so. But who leaves a friend—
Were the two of them friends? Embeth certainly thought so. Coyle was brilliant, sharp and brave. Fang felt as though Coyle could handle herself with Moreci. She trusted her to. And yet, Fang knew she was staying away from Moreci because his blood, his very aura, was toxic to her. She wouldn’t survive two minutes in his presence. She almost hadn’t when she’d visited Trevin. She shook her head. Coyle should be on her way.
Soon.
The giant airship groaned. Fang used her sharp senses and listened. Cracks of timber. Shattered glass. Tearing metal.
Not good.
The skiff shuddered, and the crew shouted for all doors to be closed. It was leaving. Fang used her Reach. Coyle was terrified, confused, but close enough to make it to the ship. She would make it. Fang leaned against the doorframe and stared at the hall. And then she heard them.
The Turned were coming.
***
Coyle stepped backward. “What’s... what’s happening?”
The monster took a step forward. “Oh, really now. What kind of a question is that? What’s happening. A more interesting question would be, what’s been happening?”
She raised her pistol and fired. A red cloud of blood exploded on the creature’s chest.
“Now you want to kill him,” Ronan said. “A bit late for that, don’t you think? I mean, look at him.” The creature grunted.
“What do you mean, what’s been happening? I don’t understand.”
“Ah, much better. Let’s take a walk down memory lane, shall we? I challenged you to find me, didn’t I? Yes, and you became a constable until you tried out for the detective spot. But you were disqualified. Remember why?”
“I punched—”
“No, no.”
“My pad of paper was—” Oh, no!
“Yes.”
“You pickpocketed me.”
“You were so delicious that day! Your busy mind fixated on the tests—and me, probably. Right? Always thinking of me. And you never noticed your old lover standing so very close to you, never noticed me bumping into you and taking your little pad of paper.” He laughed. “Oh, it was such a fun game to watch you solve Fang’s little murder mystery, and trust me, I was rooting for you the entire time.”
“Why—”
“And then little Fang introduced herself to you. Did she tell you how she got locked in the clink?”
“No.”
“Me! I was responsible for putting her there. Goodness, I have my hands in a great many things. It keeps me very busy. And here you thought I was only involved in dismemberment and evisceration. Did she tell you how she was broken out?”
“You?”
“Me again. I paid some hooligans to get her out, only I knew Fang would be more than a handful for those putzes. Oh, she’s splendid, just splendid. Anyway, let me tell you about my work. Do you know whose idea it was to infuse aurorium into Moreci and Trevin? Do you know who left the moving-picture box and journal in Trevin’s cavern? Do you know who’s been giving orders to Moreci and Veiul, taking special care not to kill you? Oh! Another big one, and then we’ll move on. Do you know who left the wonderful secret messages for you to work out?”
“You.”
“Me, me, me, and all me. And here you are, up here in a ship about to be blown to hell.”
“But why?”
“Easy.”
“No. Don’t you dare.” She pointed the gun at the creature. At him.
“Oh, but I will. You know my heart, and I know yours. We will always desire each other’s touch. Our ears yearn for the other’s voice. And yet we couldn’t have each other for so many reasons. Shakespeare said it best: ‘the course of true love never did run smooth.’ I love you, dear Sherlyn. Love you to death and back.”
Coyle fired, but her aim was thrown off when the floor cracked open. She screamed and slipped through the broken wood into purple lights and steam. She landed in the debris and scurried up. Her hands were empty. The gun wasn’t anywhere to be found. The book? Gone.
The sound of the ship being torn apart was pierced by Ronan’s cackling. The monster pulled the floors apart and peeked down at her.
“Wait, you’re not leaving, are you? Was it something I said?”
She scrambled up and ran. Howls of laughter echoed through the chaos. She followed the stairs, racing down to the escape ship. She turned down a hall, then headed through a large room. All the while hearing the ominous pounding of the creature’s feet. She stopped, trying to decide which direction to turn. Debris exploded, showering her with dust and chips of wood. The creature’s head burst through a wall, a mouth full of teeth grinning at her. She pushed herself away until
her back pushed into a table.
“You know the funny thing, Sherlyn. You actually took my job position. Yes, I was a detective with the Templars. But, you know, they had a few things they didn’t like about me. Something, something mad as a hatter, they said. They kicked me out, but I wanted to get even. It took some planning, of course. Lots of planning. But it looks like it’s paying off, doesn’t it?”
Claws lunged out and scratched at her side, but she barely escaped their grip. She ran down the hall.
“Oh, stop running, Sherlyn,” Ronan said. “Come here and give Daddy a hug.”
She flew down more steps and into another hall. Unearthly moans filled the air. She glanced behind. The Turned, with their familiar loping, were in the distance. They were after her. She sprinted with renewed energy when a cool wind caught her attention. She turned and followed the stream of cold air. A platform was at the end of the hallway.
The escape ship!
Just a few more yards to safety. But her slight pause gave the Turned the advantage, and they were yards away from tearing her apart. She was above the skiff, on a maintenance bridge, and the small ship’s engines were humming. She turned back. The Turned were almost upon her. She didn’t have time to run down the stairs. With a cry, she ran, leapt over the railing and crashed onto the glass roof of the skiff. She barely had time to roll aside before the ghouls landed next to her.
***
Passengers and crew looked up as the creatures slammed onto the glass roof, one after another. One of them broke through, then another.
The captain shouted to launch.
Cables and clamps unhooked themselves from the skiff, and the craft shuddered. Chaos erupted as the creatures poured in. Shots were fired.
Fang pulled out her daggers and jammed them into the nearest Turned. More Turned landed amidst groups of passengers and attacked. She leapt into the fray.
***
Brittle wind tore through Coyle’s leathers as the skiff dropped nose-first into the sky. She leaned back and glanced up. The Dawn’s Edge loomed above. Streaks of purple lightning crawled over the skin of the ship. The Turned had come after her. She got up, pulled her knives out, and slammed them into the nearest head.
***
The propeller blared to life. Fang slammed her daggers into another Turned, but they kept pouring through the broken glass overhead. Each of them landed and went in a different direction. Some of the passengers bled from open wounds. Some of them were too wounded to recover. And still she moved and fought with every fiber of her being.
Fang looked up. Coyle was doing what she could. Fang smiled, and then she was tackled by a swarm of writhing claws and sharp teeth. She was strong, but handling multiple assailants at once was tricky. Especially when they were ghouls.
And especially when she was dying.
The room lurched. She strained her neck toward the bridge. The Turned were attacking the pilots. Fang glanced up. Coyle had lost her balance and fallen to one side. The Dawn’s Edge spun into view. The crew lost control. They were on a collision course with the larger ship.
She pushed away from the floor with all her strength. Claws dug into her skin. Blood spilled from her broken skin. But she stood, killed the remaining ghouls and raced to the bridge.
***
Coyle gasped. The escape ship was on a collision course with the Dawn’s Edge, heading for the cargo hold. Misshapen ghouls came into view from the open bay. The glass dome skidded just under the cargo hold. The Turned jumped onto the glass surface. Some lost their balance and fell into the spinning propeller’s, exploding into torn flesh. Nevertheless, the ghouls leapt and dropped onto the skiff’s dome, pushing Coyle further away from safety, closer to the edge. She shoved her knife into one and pushed off. Another set of hands grabbed her legs—another knife to the head. She pulled herself into a ball and backed away. More Turned fell onto the surface of the dome and still more dropped into the empty sky as the skiff pulled away from the airship. She stabbed another and another, but still they came.
The glass beneath her chipped and cracked. She stopped and swung into the nearest ghoul. Then another. Then another. Then another. Blood ran thick down her arms, but her blades found their mark time and time again. The fetid breath of the Turned became a noxious vapor to her. Dead hands searched for her skin. Screeches and hisses filled her ears.
Coyle wasn’t thinking anymore. Survival was the only option her body recognized. Her arms pushed and stabbed repeatedly, and still the things came. Her lungs burned. Her arms were stiff. She stumbled back, and they fell on her. Digging. Clawing. Scratching. Howling.
She remembered her Tesla Fist and squeezed her hand. Nothing happened. The hordes came. And then she knew she was going to die.
***
Fang punched a ghoul with her blade and it dropped in a heap. More were tackling the crew and slamming into the controls. The ship leaned to the side and everyone slid and tumbled. She had to get the bridge clear of Turned if they were to make it safely to the ground. She was tackled again, and a horrible stabbing pain burned into her midsection. She ignored the wound and flipped backward, bashing the heads of several ghouls. Fury filled her veins, and she spun in the air with the ferocity of a hurricane. Her bare fists swung into the creatures. Her blades and arms were soaked with gore. Weakness soaked into her muscles.
Doubt clouded her mind.
***
The ship tilted, and ghouls stumbled aside and fell. Coyle balanced as best she could and watched the monsters bounce and slide off the ship. The ship lurched and she fell backward, twisting and crawling away from the mass of writhing arms. She pulled herself up and wiped blood from her nose. She wasn’t sure how long she could keep this up. Something had to change for the better.
A massive shape rose from the pile, staring at her with dead, bloodshot eyes. Tubes flailed from a contraption on its back. Glowing orange blood seeped from wounds in its skin, from its jagged mouth, from its misshapen eyes and nose.
“Hello, Sherlyn,” Ronan said. “You were probably wondering where I was. Didn’t want you to worry— Oh, my goodness, what a view! Here, let me get closer so we can enjoy it together.”
Knocking aside Turned, the creature roared and lumbered towards her. She glanced at the edge of the skiff and wondered which death would be better.
The ship lurched again, and she skidded to a stop. Massive waves of air rushed past her. She over her shoulder. The spinning propeller blades were too close. She carefully pushed herself away and glanced up. Ghouls pushed themselves up off the dome and searched for her. The Moreci creature slammed his fist into the glass and raised his arm in the air. Long, razor-sharp shards jutted out from his fist and flashed in the light.
“I have something for you, my pretty little sweet nothing. Where are you? Ah! There you are. And here I thought you were powerful enough. Unless you have an amazing trick up your sleeve? But, no. This is where you die, up here in the sky.”
Coyle fought against the tide of panic. Tears blurred away the shapes coming toward her.
***
Fang looked up at the giant horror. His misshapen body. His impossibly long arm and claws. His glowing, aurorium-infused blood splashed and bled and ran all over him. She was unfamiliar with dread, but the sight before her filled her with it.
“Don’t go up there,” Embeth said.
“If I don’t, she’ll die,” Fang said.
“If you do, you will.”
“Promise you’ll be waiting for me, then.”
***
The small ship shifted and plunged. Coyle’s insides trembled as the ship dropped from the sky. Her body lifted off the glass and floated before the ship righted itself and pitched to the side. She slammed into the glass and skidded. The edge rushed closer. Open sky waited to swallow her.
A hand reached out from the broken glass and grabbed hers. She held it and looked. Fang looked back from the other side of the glass. The ship pitched on end, but she held onto Fang with all her st
rength as her legs dangled in the open air. Turned slid past her and screeched as they tumbled off. The ship rolled again, and she was back on top.
With Coyle’s help, Fang pulled herself out onto the glass roof. They glanced at each other. Their leathers were sliced open and tattered. Blood ran from open wounds and cuts. Their hair was a tangled mess in the wind. They nodded to each other, before facing the beastly Moreci. He opened his torn mouth and roared. Spittle flew from his mouth in red strings.
“Ah, there you are, Fang! So good to see you again.”
“Ronan?”
“You know him?” Coyle asked.
“Long story,” Fang answered.
“The three of us can have a nice, long chat sometime in a cabin with a cozy fireplace. An aged brandy. Dim candlelight. Assuming, the two of you make it out alive.”
“I’m not going to make it,” Fang said. Her body trembled and for the first time, Coyle saw the hopelessness in her eyes. “My head’s cloudy. Can’t think straight. Usually I’m the one who comes up with the plan, but I’m a mess.”
“Stay behind me,” Coyle said. “We’ll find a way. Together.”
Coyle charged and Fang followed, stabbing and slashing anything that got close. Moreci swung at Coyle. She flew back. He grabbed Fang and slammed her into the glass, once, twice and then tossed her aside.
Coyle charged again and leapt on top of him. Her knife slammed into the creature’s skull, but he didn’t drop. He grabbed her, brought her close to his mouth and squeezed. The air rushed out of her lungs. He roared into her face. She tried to twist away, but he was too strong. She could barely breathe.
Fang leapt onto his back and slammed both daggers into his skull. Glowing, orange blood sprayed her face. Soaked into her skin. Every plunge of her blades became weaker.
He tossed Coyle to the side. Her body tumbled, and she reached out to stop herself from rushing into the propellers. The spinning blades less than yard away. She glanced back. Moreci slammed Fang into the glass. Her arms flailed like a rag doll. She was covered in aurorium blood. He tossed her into Coyle. Fang’s broken body slid. Coyle pulled her close, held her tight and looked up.
Coyle and Fang: Curse of Shadows (Coyle and Fang Adventure Series Book 1) Page 25
