Page 34 of The Shadows of Excess

She cast her gaze over him. “He’s in with a client, you sweet-talking devil.” She licked her lips as she eyed Justice like he was man candy. “Who’s that?”

Damon glanced sideways at Justice, a smirk playing on his lips. “That? Oh, he’s our resident bloodsucker. You know, like a mosquito, only less charming and a lot deadlier.”

Justice stopped looking at a painting and gave Damon a deathly scowl.

God, those two would never be bosom buddies.

I ignored them, sat in one of the comfortable lounge chairs, and inhaled the air infused with a subtle aroma of sandalwood and jasmine, giving me some tranquility. I glanced up at the stunning crystal pendulum suspended from the ceiling, gently swaying in an unseen breeze. It was Elijah’s pride and joy.

Justice sat beside me. “I don’t understand. Why exactly are we here?”

I nudged him playfully. “You’ll see. Elijah is amazing. Keep an open mind and give him a chance.”

Damon lingered at the counter, engaging Pandora with his usual charm. My brother always had a way with women, his effortless charisma drawing them in. Yet, beneath the surface of the flirtatious banter, I understood the truth others didn’t see. Damon wasn’t a heartbreaker by choice. It was his defense mechanism, a shield against deeper emotions he feared to confront.

I remembered the shadow of grief that fell over our family when we lost Mom. Dad’s despair had nearly consumed him, a once-strong man broken by love’s cruel twist. That pain had left its mark on Damon in ways he rarely showed. He flirted and smiled, but it was his way of keeping the world at arm’s length, of protecting himself from the kind of loss that had nearly destroyed our father.

Justice’s eyebrows furrowed as he leaned forward, his tone laced with disapproval. “He enjoys toying with women’s feelings, doesn’t he?”

I crossed my arms and sat up straight in my chair, my irritation evident. “That’s not who he is. You don’t know him.” My voice shook with anger.

He offered me an apologetic look and shifted in his seat. “I’m sorry.”

I couldn’t forgive him so easily, though. I remained silent, tapping my foot nervously on the floor as the tension escalated.

I grabbed his arm and spun him to face me, my finger jabbing with each word. “Don’t you dare lecture me about my brother, Justice. You think you know everything, but you don’t. He may flirt and break hearts, but he’s been through hell. Our mom’s death wrecked him, and seeing our dad fall apart shattered him even more. He’s scared that if he falls in love again, he won’t be able to protect her. That something will come along and take her away, too…” My voice broke as tears filled my eyes.

As he opened his mouth to speak, the door swung open, and a man sauntered out. His crisp suit was perfectly tailored, and his hair was styled enough to give off an effortless yet polished look. This was Elijah Starweather, a far cry from the stereotypical image of a psychic.

His presence commanded attention, but there was also a warmth and approachability to him. His sharp eyes seemed to take in everything around him, from the modern decor of the shop to the subtle hints of mysticism. “I sensed some negative energy,” he commented with a knowing gaze.

Damon left Pandora behind the counter, her arms crossed, and her lips pursed in a pout, and he headed over to us. A crooked smile played across his face. “Ah, the all-knowing Wizard of Oz has arrived.”

Elijah smiled, his gaze lingering on Justice and me with a contemplative air. He pointed first at me, then at Justice, his voice soft but carrying an undeniable depth. “There’s a powerful connection here,” he murmured, almost as if speaking to the universe.

A jolt of surprise coursed through me, sending my heart into a fluttering dance. Justice, usually the epitome of composure, showed a rare flicker of vulnerability, his eyes briefly meeting mine before darting away.

Damon’s expression knitted in confusion as he scrutinized Elijah, trying to unravel the cryptic statement. An uneasy realization dawned on me. Elijah wasn’t only speaking about our mission. My pulse quickened, a storm of unspoken thoughts swirling between Justice and me. Could Elijah be referring to something deeper, more personal?

Unperturbed by the tension he’d sparked, Elijah continued, his voice a steady thrum that seemed to resonate with a hidden truth. “Your paths are intertwined in ways you cannot yet comprehend. A bond that goes beyond the present moment, rooted deep in the fabric of fate.”

At that moment, the air around us seemed charged, heavy with implications. I stole a glance at Justice, his profile etched with quiet intensity. The possibility of our connection being more than allies or friends sent an apprehensive thrill through me. The idea of fate intertwining our paths in a tapestry more complex and intimate than I’d dared to imagine left me breathless.

Damon’s gaze flicked between us, a dawning awareness creeping into his expression. As for me, I felt exposed yet intrigued, caught in the gravity of Elijah’s words and the unspoken possibilities they suggested about what lay between Justice and me.

Elijah’s penetrating gaze locked with mine. “Be careful,” he warned, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “The choices you make now will echo through your lives. This bond...it’s a double-edged sword. It can be your greatest strength or your deepest downfall.”

The ominous words hung in the air, the weight of his prophecy sinking into our thoughts like a stone. Justice and I sat in silence, and Damon stood there, stunned. The strain twisted and turned like a cord threatening to snap as we processed his warning about the bond between me and Justice, a vampire with a shadowy past.

I couldn’t deny that part of me wanted to be with Justice, but Elijah said it was a double-edged sword. All I could think about was my family. What if this meant I had to choose between them and Justice? It was a choice I never wanted to make, and it would break my heart.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

In the wake of Elijah’s profound warning, a heavy silence enveloped us. The psychic’s words edged a haunting echo of possibilities and perils intertwined with our fate. My nerves were on edge, and I clenched my fists, half waiting for a loud pop.

Damon cleared his throat, breaking the silence. He fished in his pocket and pulled out the gold coin. “All right, Elijah, showtime,” he stated, a hint of his typical swagger lacing his words. “We stumbled across this little enigma, and it’s got us stumped. Time to tap into that psychic mojo of yours.”

As Damon extended his hand, revealing the coin, Elijah’s demeanor subtly shifted. He raised a slender eyebrow, his expression one of intrigue and caution. The lines around his eyes tightened with a keen intensity that spoke of a mind accustomed to deciphering mysteries.

---