Page 6 of The Shadows of Excess

Damon’s sleek red Ford Fairlane car screeched into the parking lot, sending gravel flying in all directions. My heart raced as I braced myself against the dashboard. The scent of burning rubber filled the air as he slammed on the brakes, and I gripped the edges of my seat to avoid being thrown forward.

His attention was fixed on something in the rearview mirror. He narrowed his eyes. “We’re not alone.”

I turned to look, my pulse quickening. Behind us, shadowy figures emerged from a vehicle that had silently followed us into the lot. They moved with purpose, their identities obscured, but something about them didn’t fit the mold of Maci’s minions. We couldn’t chance it. Who were they? The uncertainty hung in the air, a new puzzle in our already complicated situation.

CHAPTER FOUR

The three figures approached our car under the dim, flickering lights of The Grove’s parking lot, their silhouettes casting long, ominous shadows on the gravel. They moved with a purposeful stride that reminded me of mercenaries, each step measured and confident.

Two were built like tanks, with broad shoulders and short, cropped hair, giving them a no-nonsense appearance. The third, standing slightly behind, had long dark hair that fell over his shoulders, adding a contrasting element to the group’s intimidating presence.

A chilling thought popped into my mind as I watched the figures draw nearer. Could they be the new breed of demons Maci hinted about? Their demeanor and purposeful strides seemed to set them apart from ordinary threats. The question that gnawed at the back of my mind was unsettling. If they were demons, which of the Seven Deadly Sins did they personify?

Their presence could be anything from the cold, calculating anger of Wrath to the deceptive allure of Lust. Perhaps they embodied the insidious nature of Envy or the relentless drive of Greed. Each sin carried its own brand of danger, and discerning their true nature was crucial. Yet, in the dim light of The Grove’s parking lot, with only their approaching silhouettes as clues, the answer remained shrouded in gut-wrenching mystery.

Damon reacted instantly. His hand darted into the glove compartment, retrieving a .22 with practiced ease. I mirrored his urgency, my fingers sliding under the gun to grasp the cold handle of a concealed blade. We were tense, ready for whatever confrontation these strangers might bring.

The four of us exited the car and faced the dark threesome. My heart beat harder and harder. I sized them up and decided I could take the shorter one with the blond buzzed crew cut.

The parking lot around us was quiet, save for the occasional distant sound of laughter and music drifting out from The Grove. It was a stark contrast to the quiet, rising tension between us. The gravel crunched under the approaching footsteps, each step ramping up the suspense.

In the dim light, I could see their faces were stern as they scanned the area and us with keen alertness.

As the shadowy figures approached, Tim narrowed his eyes, studying them with a mix of wariness and calculated assessment. He reached subtly for the weapon he always kept close, prepared for any surprises.

“Whoa there,” he called, his voice gruff but controlled. “You mind telling us who you are and what you want before you get any closer? This ain’t exactly a social call, and we’re not in the mood for uninvited guests.”

They stepped slowly, taking in our appearances, ready to attack.

As they drew closer, their movements were slow, deliberate, with a trained precision that hinted at readiness for any sudden moves. There was a high-wire tension in the air, a silent standoff in the dimly lit parking lot of The Grove.

The one with brown hair, who had the build of a seasoned soldier, finally broke the silence. “We’re not the enemy.” His voice was steady and authoritative. “We’re from the Paranormal Mercenary Corp.” He extended a hand, not in aggression but as a gesture of introduction. “I’m Brody O’Hara.”

He nodded toward the man with long dark hair, whose stance was relaxed yet alert. “This is Grady Vaughn.” He placed a hand on the shoulder of the blond guy with a crew cut. “And this is Scott Carter. Dr. Gould sent us to find you.”

Their revelation brought a mix of relief and new questions. Dr. Gould’s involvement suggested a deeper layer to the situation than I had anticipated. Had he suspected what we would find? Damon and Tim hadn’t said anything after we escaped from the abbey.

I glanced at Damon, seeing a flicker of recognition and calculation in his eyes. He cautiously extended his hand. “Grant. Damon Grant.” A slight wariness underlined his tone. He nodded toward me. “This is my sister, Sawyer, and that’s Tim Shoneberg.” He paused with a hint of protectiveness in his posture.

“And John Grant,” Brody interjected with an unmistakable glint of respect. “Your reputation precedes you.”

Dad’s eyebrow arched, his silence thick with questions.

Brody chuckled, lightening the mood. “As a legend, not an enemy. Don’t worry, we’re not here to start trouble. We’re here to help.”

Tim’s gaze shifted between Brody and Damon, and he released a low, skeptical grunt. “Well, ain’t that convenient.” His tone contained a hint of dry sarcasm. “Dr. Gould said we might have company, but he failed to mention it’d be the PM’s finest. Hope you boys are as good as he thinks you are because we’re up to our necks in it.”

Brody glanced at the other two. “We have news, but this isn’t the place to discuss it. The shadows are deepening, and we’re not the only ones who use them for cover.”

The ominous tone of his voice sent a shiver down my spine, a chilling reminder that something malevolent could be watching and listening to us at this very moment. In response, a faint warmth began to emanate from my tattoo, a silent alarm signaling the presence of evil.

It was here, somewhere, lurking in the shadows. Though it might be hidden from sight, it couldn’t conceal itself from the supernatural sensitivity of my tattoo. I rubbed my arm, trying to soothe the eerie sensation as the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. My teeth chattered, a physical manifestation of the intense fear washing over me.

Before we could move, Dad stuck out his palm, his eyes hardened with suspicion. “First off, what are you guys? Before we go anywhere, I need to know.” His caution was understandable, given our mission to rid him of the vampire blood and prevent his transformation. The last thing we needed were vampires who took offense to Dad’s urgent desire to purge this blood-sucking virus.

Scott looked perplexed. “What are we?” He couldn’t hide the annoyance in his tone.

Grady narrowed his eyes. “Humans, if that’s what you’re asking.”

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