“And I only stab the bad ones.” Fang sipped her coffee. “You handle confrontation fairly well,” Fang said. Her smile faded, and she stared at Coyle. “How did you survive the man who cut you open?”
Coyle faced the window, but her eyes turned to meet Fang’s.
“He was my fiancé,” she said. “He cut me open but let me live. Said I was his nemesis and challenged me to catch him. And that’s what I intend to do.”
They remained silent for a time and sipped their drinks.
“What do you think will happen when we find him?” Fang asked.
“What do you suppose Embeth would want?”
Fang looked outside and shook her head. “She’s gone. I haven’t seen her since ... our time on the ship. There’s been nothing. Not even a whisper. And now the whole ordeal has made me wonder; was she there with me or not? Either way, I don’t know what I would do without her.” Fang bit her lip, her shoulders trembled. She raised a hand to her eyes. Gibby brought her a handkerchief. Coyle got out of her seat and scooted next to Fang, pulling her close, but said nothing. Coyle was always good with words, but right now there were no words to console Fang. The vampire shook gently and dapped her eyes.
“I’m a wreck,” Fang said, sniffling.
“We’re both wrecks.” Coyle squeezed Fang’s hand. “And together, we’ll be beautiful wrecks.”
Fang dabbed her eyes. “Thank you, Coyle. I know I wouldn’t have survived without your help.”
“Same.”
After a few long minutes, Coyle returned to her seat and smiled. “You know, we’ve never properly introduced ourselves, so let’s do this the right way.” She stretched across the table. “My full name is Sherlyn Rebecca Holmes. My sisters called me Sherlock, just because, right? And Coyle is my mother’s maiden name.”
Fang accepted the handshake. “My Christian name was Charlotte Ann Watson.”
“I promised myself I would never use my surname. It reminds me too much of my father, so I’m just Sherlyn R. Coyle.”
“And I’m just Fang, for obvious reasons.”
They chuckled as bushes and hills and horses passed and the train tracks clicked away. Coyle stared outside, a delightful warmth filled her soul. Fang looked down at her wrist and scratched at the curious dark streaks that had spread from Veiul’s auroium-tipped blade.
***
The locomotive Griffin, en route to Chicago
On different train, heading in the same direction, another pair were conspiring. Two men were having a discussion regarding the proper elements of hunting.
“The most important thing you need is prey,” said one gentleman. His English accent was mild, though his tone was condescending. The small, round frames of his glasses reflected the light from the window, giving his eyes a strange white light. A white scar ran lengthwise from the top of his head, down past his small chin. He took a puff from his cigar before continuing. “Prey for the hunt is the perfect matter, especially at hand.”
The other shook his head and scratched the thin, neatly trimmed beard of his thick jaw. “You don’t understand hunting,” he said in a thick Dutch accent. “I do. I’ve been hunting much longer than you. And the hunting we’re up to will need the right weapons. Besides, lab coats and Bunsen burners are more your style. Leave the weapons of the hunt to me.”
Their discussion continued until finally they were interrupted. A tall, slender woman arrived at their table and cleared her throat.
“Excuse me, may I have this seat?” the woman asked. Her reddish-brown curls lay stacked in perfect mounds on her shoulders and framed a mildly attractive, although sharp features. Her dark eyes darted around and caught everything, much the way a hawk would. Her dress was finely crafted silk from the latest designers in Paris. The shape of her commanded attention and most every eye turned her way.
“But of course,” said the one with his English accent.
She sat, and her personal attendant offered her a cigarette from a solid gold case. The woman pulled one out, and the attendant lit the cigarette with a solid gold lighter before taking his place behind her. She took a long drag and exhaled.
“Doctors, you understand we are heading for Chicago during the grand opening of the World’s Columbian Exposition. It will be quite the scene, as they say. Do keep in mind we are also heading there, not for sight-seeing, but for the successful apprehension of one Ronan James Moriarty.”
Both men nodded, and she smiled. She took a long drag and let the smoke drift lazily from her full, red lips.
“Good to hear. And you also know she is on the Pegasus. Just made an appearance, as a matter of fact.”
“We do,” said the one with the Dutch accent. “I tracked her movements and suspected she would contact detective Coyle in due time.” He side-eyed his acquaintance. “And, although we have a difference as to the execution of our plan, we believe it work, Miss Maycroft.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” she said, nodding to each. “I don’t hire people to give me their best attempt. And my dearest younger sister, Sherlyn is at stake here. Then, Dr. Van Helsing and Dr. Jeckyll, let’s go over this plan on how to kill an unkillable vampire. And since I enjoy games more than anyone, our only rule is: no aurorium.”
The men smiled and shared their plan.
If you enjoyed this story (or didn’t), please leave a review! Please and thanks so much!
Coming May 28th, 2021
Coyle and Fang: Prey for the Hunt
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Acknowledgements
This book wouldn’t be the same without giving proper thanks.
My first thanks go to my wife of 30 years, Katie. My head is full of ideas and I barely make a dent moving forward with them. When I told her I wanted to write a book, she nodded and smiled the way
