Page 7 of The Shadows of Excess

Damon held the .22 tighter, his gaze sharp and assessing. “Humans don’t typically work for the PMC,” he challenged. “Spill it. We’re here to fix a serious problem, and I’m not about to let anything get in our way.”

Brody shifted his focus to Tim, a haunted look in his eyes. “We made a bad call, joined the wrong side. They gave us this dragon serum. Made us stronger, faster, more agile.” He glanced around the parking lot, his gaze distant as if haunted by old memories. “But there was a price to pay.”

A spark of recognition flickered in Tim’s eyes, the pieces falling into place. “Sector Nine?” he asked, his voice low but carrying a weight of understanding.

Damon turned to Tim, a frown creasing his brow. “You know about Sector Nine?”

Tim nodded, his expression grim. “Yeah. They started off as a military op, hell-bent on eradicating every supernatural out there. After a time, they got a new leader, someone who made Hitler look like small fry.”

Damon’s scowl deepened, a hint of sarcasm edging his voice. “Great, so we’re talking about a Captain America gone rogue?”

“We paid dearly for our mistakes.” Grady’s voice was tinged with a soft but unmistakable note of regret. “Now, we fight for a balance, protecting both humans and supernaturals alike.”

Damon fixed them with a hard glare, the skepticism clear in his eyes. “And we’re supposed to take your word for that?” His tone was edged with the kind of blunt disbelief that often accompanied his encounters with unknown entities.

I felt the tension ratcheting up. A typical testosterone-fueled standoff would get us nowhere. I glanced around and noticed the shadows stretching longer and more ominous by the minute. My patience wore thin. “Enough with the macho posturing,” I interjected. “We’re sitting ducks out here in the open. Whether we trust them or not, we need to move this somewhere safer.”

Damon stood firm, his feet planted like tree roots, while Tim shook his head in frustration. With a loud huff, Tim’s eyes rolled upward until they were almost completely white. I held my breath, fearing they would roll out of their sockets like billiard balls on a pool table.

Tim shot a glare at Damon, his expression a mix of irritation and urgency. “Your sister’s got the right idea, idjit,” he growled. “If you’re keen on standing out here like a sitting duck, waiting to see what kind of nasty decides to take a bite out of you, that’s your funeral. The rest of us are heading into The Grove to hear these fellas out and figure out a way to cure your dad. So, either get moving or get out of the way.”

Dad clasped Damon’s arm, giving him a look that brooked no argument. His eyes were stern, a silent command that Damon understood all too well. Without a word, Damon fell into step with the rest of us as we headed into The Grove.

The minute we passed the threshold, the tension bunched in the back of my neck relaxed. The familiar, somewhat rowdy atmosphere of The Grove wrapped around me like a comforting quilt, allowing me to breathe easier. Yet the nagging sensation of being watched lingered at the back of my mind. Had something been tracking us or Brody, Grady and Scott?

Now, the big question loomed. Could whatever it was follow us into the crowded sanctuary? Tim, Dad, and the other Guardians had warded this place to keep out the usual supernaturals, but were the wards strong enough to keep out a shadow dragon or Seven Deadly Sins demon?

A gnawing uncertainty settled in the pit of my stomach as I surveyed the crowded bar. I recognized familiar faces among the hunters and regular patrons, and I couldn’t shake the heavy sense of responsibility. If the protective wards of The Grove were to fail and danger found its way inside, causing harm, the burden of guilt would fall squarely on our shoulders.

As Scott stepped in, securing the door behind him, my gaze lingered on it. I half-expected it to swing open on its own accord, revealing some lurking threat. I held my breath, but the door remained firmly shut. After reluctantly tearing my focus away, I followed Tim and the others upstairs, each step feeling heavier than the last.

As I peered out the window into the darkness, I found nothing but the quiet, deceptive calm of the night, but my tattoo was still warm. I lifted my sleeve. The roses glowed slightly as if in warning.

Damon caught up with me. “What’s wrong?”

I pulled down my sleeve. “My tattoo’s warm and glowing. There’s something out there.”

Damon’s expression shifted to alertness with a touch of his characteristic resolve. “All right, let’s not take any chances then. Stay close and keep your eyes peeled. Whatever it is, we’ll handle it. Let me do the heavy lifting, okay?”

I nodded, not wanting to argue.

Some people were leaving in their cars while others were walking toward the establishment. I scanned the parking lot and didn’t see any visible threat, but I couldn’t shake my growing unease. It felt like a foreboding silence before a storm. A reminder that something was coming, something evil, something we’d never fought before.

CHAPTER FIVE

As I stepped into Tim’s office, the familiar scent of leather and freshly polished wood greeted me. The room exuded a sense of authority and importance, with its dark wooden walls lined with bookcases stacked with modern and ancient texts.

In the center of the room stood a massive mahogany conference table, its gleaming surface reflecting the warm glow of the chandelier above. I ran my hand along the smooth wood, feeling a sense of reverence for the decisions that the Elders, including my father, made at this table. While sitting in one of the empty chairs, I couldn’t help but feel both intimidated and comforted by this place that held so much power over our community of hunters.

Damon positioned himself in the chair next to me while Brody, Grady, and Scott settled across from us. Dad and Tim strode to the bookcase, their footsteps echoing loudly in the quiet room.

“I’m not sure this will work. My hunger, it’s…getting worse. I can hear everyone’s heart beating,” Dad muttered, his voice tinged with doubt as he reached for a tome on the shelf.

I licked my lips nervously. “Dad?”

He turned. His gaze seemed to pierce through me as if he was listening to the blood coursing through my veins. It was a chilling reminder of the potent vampire blood in him, courtesy of Justice.

Damon and I exchanged a look filled with unease and a growing sense of alarm. The air turned heavier, charged with despair. Without saying a word, we knew if the cure didn’t work, Dad would become a vampire. A newly made vampire was a hundred times worse than a born vampire. He would be ravenous, bent on death. In a sense, he would become his worst nightmare. The thing that killed the love of his life.

---