Page 52 of The Shadows of Excess

“It’s a windy road, Damon,” I warned. “I don’t want to go flying off a curve.”

“You won’t,” he claimed as he slid into the driver’s seat and caressed the fine red leather. “I’m a better driver than Mario Andretti.”

I rolled my eyes and retorted playfully, “You’re a legend in your own mind, bro.”

As always, Justice slid into the back seat. “Don’t fly out of here, Damon. We don’t want to draw Maci’s attention.”

Damon flashed a wry grin in the rearview mirror. “Don’t worry, Negative Nancy. I’ll keep it subtle. Flying under the radar is my middle name. Well, that and ‘Trouble,’ according to Sawyer here. We’ll be as inconspicuous as a ninja in a library. Besides, if Maci wants a chase, she’ll have to catch up with the best first.”

Justice leaned back. “She’s a dragon, Einstein. Not a tortoise.”

“Ha-ha,” Damon grumbled. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

Damon turned the ignition, the engine purring to life under his careful touch. His mischievous eyes darted to the rearview mirror, then to the sides, ensuring they weren’t drawing any unwanted attention. With a casual flick of his wrist, he eased the car into gear, his movements deliberate and controlled.

The car glided smoothly out of the parking lot, and Damon maintained a steady, unhurried pace. He navigated with a nonchalance that opposed the tense atmosphere in the car, his demeanor calm and collected, as if we were merely leaving after Elijah had given us a reading.

I glanced at the side mirror to see if we were being followed. Nothing appeared, but it didn’t mean anything. Maci was a shadow dragon and could be tracking us from within the shadows of the forest we drove through. I studied the birds. So far, they hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary.

As Damon drove along the winding road to Shadowcrest Peak, I couldn’t help but gaze in awe at the mystical mountain. Its peak was shrouded in a perpetual ethereal mist, like something out of a fairy tale. The fog clung to the jagged edges of the mountain, dancing and shifting with a life of its own.

Somewhere up there was Whispering Shadows Cemetery, a haunting resting place for witches. It was as if the mountain itself was protecting their secrets with its ghostly embrace.

“I don’t see anyone tailing us,” Damon muttered.

“They could be hiding in the shadows, and we would never know it,” Justice returned glumly.

Damon glanced at the rearview mirror. “You’re just Mr. Sunshine, aren’t you?”

I stayed silent, my stomach churning with anxiety. My palms were slick with sweat as I nervously ran my fingers over the mysterious book that kept shocking me. At least now, I didn’t look like a sunflower. Yet, I could still feel an energy humming through it, and I wasn’t sure why.

What was so special about this book? It was so freaking strange. This was my first time using my psychic abilities to guide us, and I prayed it wouldn’t lead us astray. The thought of potential danger lurking around every corner made me doubt myself, but I knew this was the right path.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

As I glanced down at the book, I absentmindedly began flipping through its pages. Suddenly, something caught my eye. I gasped, struck by a realization that nearly knocked my socks off.

Damon frowned. “What’s wrong?”

The hair on the back of my neck prickled, and I shivered. I pointed to the small print on the acknowledgments page. “I just noticed this. The photographer credited for the Whispering Shadow Cemetery images in the book is Becky Anderson. The witch who was murdered.” My voice shook with surprise and disbelief.

Justice edged closer to my seat. “You’re serious? May I look at it after you?”

Damon raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting to intrigue. “Anderson? I didn’t know that was Becky’s last name. Are you sure it’s her?”

I nodded. “Yes. The book has pictures of all the photographers.”

Damon’s frown deepened, his mind clearly racing through the puzzle. “That’s weird, right? They go through all the trouble to keep a witches’ cemetery hush-hush, then bam, there’s a photo spread in a local book like it’s a tourist attraction. What gives?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s something we’ve got to find out.”

“Can I see the book again?” Justice repeated.

“Sure.” I handed it back and settled into my seat, staring out the window.

Damon glanced at me. “What exactly are we looking for?”

I crossed my arms. “I told you. Two aspens twisted into a pretzel. I’ll know it when I see it.”

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