Page 22 of Crimson Moon Falling

“I’ll be with you in a minute,” a server called in a raspy smoker’s voice as she refilled coffee. The woman was in her late sixties with unnaturally black hair, heavy eyeliner, and deep lines carved around her mouth.

She cleared our table and brought mugs over. “Coffee?” Her nametag read Donna.

The men nodded, but I held up a hand. “I’d like hot tea, please.”

She gave me a look. “You folks passing through?” She pulled a notepad from her apron pocket.

“Just here for breakfast,” Conall replied smoothly. “We heard the food was good.”

“It is.”

“I also have a few questions when you have time,” I added.

She stilled for a split second. Behind the counter, a man emerged from the kitchen carrying an enormous tray of breakfast platters. He was built like a bulldozer. Short but solid, with massive forearms covered in dark hair and a thick neck. His bald head gleamed under the fluorescent lights, and his eyebrows were two thick slashes above deep-set eyes. He wore a stained white apron over a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing a faded tattoo that looked like bear claws.

“That’s Emmett,” Donna informed us. “He’s the owner and cook.”

The man deftly served food and headed back to the kitchen. “Emma’s Café is named after… Emmett?” I asked.

Donna’s mouth twitched. “Yep. What can I get you?”

As we ordered, I watched Emmett work. Even from across the room, I sensed his energy. Emmett was a bear shifter.

A few minutes later, Donna was the one who brought our plates heaped with eggs, bacon, and hash browns.

I stood and pointed to Emmett behind the counter, still cooking. “I’m going to go speak with—”

“Sit your ass down,” Donna rasped in her smoker’s voice. “You gotta eat first while the food is hot.”

“We’re in a hurry.” My voice sounded flat and emotionless.

She smirked. “Honey, nobody rushes Emmett. Not even hot women with weird hair and cold eyes.” She nodded at my plate. “Eat. You look like you need it.”

The coldness inside me calculated our options. We needed information, and antagonizing the waitstaff wouldn’t help.

I nodded and sat. “Alright.” Picking up my fork, I took a bite of the egg and hash brown. They’d both been cooked in bacon grease and seasoned with onion. The food was delicious, and I murmured in appreciation with my mouth full.

Donna nodded. “Best breakfast in three counties.”

Gunnar grunted in agreement as he dug into his huevos rancheros with a full trencher of bacon. The café buzzed with conversation as I ate and observed.

“How’s the food?” Emmett’s deep voice startled me. He’d approached our table silently despite his bulk.

“Excellent,” Conall replied, his posture subtly shifting to protective mode. “My mate and her partner would like to ask you a few questions when you have time.” He motioned to Gunnar and me.

Emmett crossed his thick arms over his chest, his amber eyes fixed on me. “How did a little Viber like you and a troll become partners?”

Viber was a slang term from before the Feds and Apollo Genetics standardized the term “Resonant.” It referred specifically to those who could read vibrations from objects and places. People like my father and me.

“How do you know what I am?”

“Same way I know you’re Eli’s kid. You got his energy signature and that white streak in your hair.” He gestured to the strand. “Both are a dead giveaway.”

Gunnar stared at Emmett. “How’d you know I’m a troll?”

Emmett raised an eyebrow. “Where do you want me to start?” The café grew quiet around us as people sensed the tension. The coldness inside me receded slightly, making room for something warm and urgent. My father’s name had come up twice now in a matter of days. It felt almost surreal.

I slowly stood. “Yes. I’m Riley Blackthorne. It’s nice to meet you, Emmett.”