Page 32 of The Shadows of Excess

He held my gaze as he listened, then rubbed the back of his neck.

Not a good sign.

“All right. Thanks, Tim. Keep us posted.” After ending the call, Damon took a moment, his head lowered as he processed the information before he looked at me.

I met his reluctant gaze. “No information on the coins, and Dad’s still not responsive?”

Damon turned his water glass around. “Yeah, nothing’s changed.”

“I’m sorry,” Justice mumbled. I could hear the guilt in his tone.

I wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but I had a feeling it would only set Damon off.

For the next several minutes, a heavy cloud of silence descended over us, each lost in our thoughts. Damon stared blankly at the worn-out patterns on the tabletop, his fingers drumming a silent rhythm. I could see the gears turning in his head, likely replaying our recent encounters, searching for missed clues, and thinking of Dad.

Justice sat with a stoic expression, his gaze occasionally drifting toward the diner’s entrance as if expecting trouble to walk through the door at any moment. His vampire senses were on high alert, a silent guardian amid the mundane.

I absently traced the edge of my napkin, my mind racing with questions and fears about what lay ahead. The significance of the coins, the demons’ unpredictable behavior, and the elusive witch with her phoenix. The pieces of the puzzle were there, but how they fit together remained a mystery.

Unfortunately, I felt like we were at a dead end, and we had less than twenty-five days before the demon claimed my soul.

The waitress arrived with our orders, placing the black and blue burger in front of me and Damon’s fried egg burger across from me, followed by Justice’s rare steak. The food, usually a source of comfort and pleasure, now seemed almost like a chore to eat.

Each bite was mechanically taken, more out of necessity than enjoyment. I felt the tension at the table. It was as if a long fuse had been lit, and we were waiting for the bomb to explode. Damon, usually quick with a joke or a sarcastic comment, ate in uncharacteristic silence, his spark dimmed by the unfolding events.

Justice seemed distant, his attention occasionally drifting away from his meal, a subtle reminder of his otherworldly nature and the constant vigilance it required. His rare steak, a mundane choice for most, felt like a nod to his hidden identity. The detail wasn’t lost on me.

I picked at my burger, my appetite subdued by the heavy thoughts clouding my mind. Questions about the mysterious coins, the looming threat of the demons, and losing my soul made it hard to concentrate on food.

Even the diner, usually a place of refuge and nostalgia, felt different now. The clatter of dishes and the low murmur of conversations around us seemed distant as if we were isolated in our own bubble of concern and duty.

After we finished, the waitress brought our bill. Before Damon and I could reach for our wallets, Justice tossed down a hundred-dollar bill.

Damon cocked his eyebrow. “Aren’t we the big money bags?”

Justice didn’t answer and sipped his water. I wondered if guilt was eating away at him, and this was some way of making amends for Dad still being in a coma. It wasn’t his fault, though. I couldn’t figure out why the cure wasn’t working.

I was about to say something to him when the waitress returned with Justice’s change on a black tray. Justice picked up the bills, and something about one of the coins caught my eye. I felt the blood drain from my face.

“Guys, look.” My fingers shook as I picked up a shimmering gold coin so Damon and Justice could see. The minute I touched it, I winced. The tattoo on my arm burned as if someone had branded me.

Justice drew his brows together. “Sawyer, what’s wrong? You look like you’re in pain.”

“My tattoo went from cold to freaking hot.” I scanned the tavern, looking for a sign of a demon or anyone who would have used that coin.

Justice stretched out his palm. “Damon, can I see it?”

Damon grabbed the coin and placed it in his hand, then scanned the diner. “Someone’s playing games with us. We need to figure out their next move.”

Justice twirled the coin between his fingers. “That’s not just any engraving. It looks like an ancient script. We need to find someone who can translate this.”

“I’m going to talk to the waitress about where she got this coin.” Damon snatched it and hurried to our waitress, who’d finished taking another table’s order.

Justice left the waitress a generous tip. “This wasn’t a coincidence.”

My rose tattoo flared, burning even hotter. I rolled my sleeve up, and it glowed brighter, almost like a beacon. Justice and I nervously looked at each other. From the corner of my eye, I caught a dark shadow moving past the diner’s window.

“Justice, the shadow’s back. We’re not alone,” I stated tensely. “We need to move. Now.”

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