Chapter 8 #2
"This is official municipal oversight, not stalking! There's a form that explains the difference!" The mayor fumbled with his jacket, producing a crumpled paper. As he stepped forward, his foot caught on a pile of ancient fabric.
With a yelp, Mayor Grimble tumbled sideways, becoming increasingly entangled in what appeared to be a centuries-old stage curtain. His struggles only wrapped him tighter, until he resembled an overly bureaucratic cocoon.
"Perhaps help the good mayor while I examine these artifacts?" Vic suggested, already moving toward the writing desk.
While Sam reluctantly assisted the flailing mayor, I joined Vic at the desk. Among scattered papers and magical implements lay a fragmented journal page, the edges charred as if it had survived a fire.
"'The Master's grand design progresses,'" I read aloud. "'The vessels are being prepared for the Great Channeling. Soon, the Symphony will play its final movement.'"
Vic's expression darkened. "I know this handwriting." He ran a pale finger over the faded ink. "It belonged to Ambrose Nightshade, a vampire scholar who disappeared in the 1950s after researching forbidden magic. He was obsessed with something called 'resonance harvesting.'"
"Resonance harvesting?" I repeated, the words sending an inexplicable chill down my spine.
"Taking magical energy from paired practitioners," Vic explained. "Like you and your wolf."
* * *
I reached toward the journal page, curious about what else it might reveal, when my elbow brushed against the crystal orb. A jolt of energy shot up my arm, and I jerked back with a gasp.
"Maybe don't touch the mysterious magical artifacts," Sam suggested dryly, having finally extracted Mayor Grimble from most of the curtain.
"I barely—" The words died in my throat as the orb began to pulse with light. Soft at first, then growing in intensity until it bathed the chamber in an eerie glow. "That wasn't me."
"It wasn't you directly," Vic observed, backing away from the increasingly bright sphere. "But perhaps it was your... resonance."
The orb's surface clouded, then cleared, revealing swirling patterns that matched the ley line configurations we'd been tracking. Purple mist began seeping from its core, spreading through the room like ghostly tendrils.
"Is that... supposed to happen?" Mayor Grimble asked, one arm still tangled in ancient velvet.
Sam sniffed the air, eyes widening. "That's a truth enchantment. Everyone out, now!"
Too late. The mist engulfed us, tasting of lavender and something metallic. My skin tingled as the magic seeped into my pores. A pressure built behind my eyes, then released—like the moment before a vision, but different. Words bubbled up my throat, demanding release.
"I'm not actually confident about anything I do," I blurted, clapping my hand over my mouth in horror. "I'm making it all up as I go and waiting for everyone to realize I'm a fraud."
Sam's eyes flashed amber as he fought the spell. "I'm terrified of losing control and hurting someone I care about." He looked directly at me, the admission clearly painful. "Especially you."
"My visions show everyone's futures but never my own happiness," I confessed, the words flowing unbidden. "I see so many possibilities that I'm paralyzed by choice."
Vic straightened his already impeccable tie. "I sleep with a stuffed bat named Mr. Fangface and I'm not even embarrassed about it." He blinked, looking genuinely surprised at his own admission. "Well, that was unexpected."
Mayor Grimble, still half-wrapped in curtain, wobbled forward. "My hat collection is enchanted to boost my height by three inches! The town budget for 'emergency magical contingencies' mostly goes to haberdashery expenses!"
The purple haze thickened, making it difficult to see across the chamber. Through the mist, I glimpsed Sam moving toward me, his expression a mixture of concern and something deeper.
"I think about you even when I don't want to," he said, voice low. "Your scent is the first thing I notice when I enter a room."
My heart hammered against my ribs. "I've had three visions about us that I didn't tell you about because they scared me."
Before Sam could respond, the map—which had been unusually quiet—suddenly inflated like a balloon and let out a thunderous belch that echoed through the chamber. The sound was so unexpected, so absurdly out of place, that we all froze.
The purple mist rippled, then began to recede back toward the orb. As it cleared, the crystal's surface changed, displaying a shadowy figure moving through what looked like a vast collection of paired magical artifacts—compasses, amulets, rings, all arranged in perfect symmetry.
"The Collector," Vic whispered, all humor gone from his voice.
The orb pulsed once more, then settled into a steady glow. In its light, I noticed Sam studying me with an intensity that made my skin warm.
"So," Mayor Grimble said, breaking the awkward silence. "I suppose we should pretend none of that happened?"
The map made a rude noise that needed no translation.
* * *
I stood frozen, the weight of our shared confessions hanging in the air. Sam's gaze hadn't left my face, and I couldn't decide if I wanted to run toward him or away from him.
The orb pulsed again, this time with an angry crimson light. The floor beneath us trembled.
"That can't be good," I muttered, grabbing the orb and wrapping it in my scarf. The crystal hummed against my palms, vibrating with barely contained energy.
"We need to get that thing to Zelda," Sam said, moving toward the exit. "Now."
A deafening crack split the air as the chamber's ceiling began to splinter. Dust and ancient plaster rained down.
"Move, people!" Vic shouted, already halfway up the stairs. "Immortality doesn't protect against being crushed!"
We scrambled up to the main stage, Mayor Grimble huffing behind us. The theater's emergency lights flickered wildly, casting manic shadows across the walls. The orb's energy pulsed through my scarf, sending waves of magic rippling outward.
"Something's happening," I warned, feeling the distinctive tingle of uncontrolled magic in the air. "The orb is—"
Before I could finish, the prop closest began to rattle.
The door burst open, releasing a flood of Sharknado costume pieces that assembled themselves mid-air.
Fabric fins and foam teeth clicked together, forming three complete shark costumes that began swimming through the air with alarming purpose.
"For the record," Sam growled, ducking as a shark dive-bombed his head, "this is exactly why I work alone!"
I dodged a spinning tornado prop that had lifted off its stand. "Oh please, your missions probably go wrong in much more boring ways than animated shark costumes!"
"You'd be surprised," he shot back, snatching a shark out of the air and ripping it in half. It immediately began reassembling itself.
The orb pulsed again, and the entire set of tornado props began spinning, creating actual wind currents that sent sheet music and programs swirling through the air.
"The door!" I shouted, pointing toward the exit now partially blocked by a whirling mass of fake storm clouds.
Mayor Grimble attempted to take charge. "As the municipal authority, I must insist we implement evacuation protocol seven, paragraph—"
A particularly enthusiastic shark costume swooped down and caught the Mayor's hat in its fabric jaws, dragging it upward.
"My emergency theater inspection hat!" he wailed, jumping futilely.
Sam grabbed my elbow, pulling me toward a side exit. "This way!"
Vic was already there, holding the door open. "Ladies, werewolves, and bureaucrats first!"
The orb's magic intensified as we moved, causing the stage lights to explode in showers of sparks. The shark costumes began swimming in synchronized patterns, paired with the tornado props in an absurd aerial ballet.
"Hurry!" I called to Mayor Grimble, who was still mourning his hat.
He turned toward us, taking a determined step—and promptly disappeared through another trapdoor that had opened beneath him.
"Aaaaaaaaahhh—" His scream faded as he fell, followed by a distant splash.
"Was that... water?" I asked, horrified.
"The orchestra pit flooded last week," Vic explained. "Something about magical plumbing and Elder Thornberry's experimental pipe cleaner."
We burst through the exit doors into the cool night air, the orb still humming ominously in my hands. Behind us, the animated props arranged themselves into perfect pairs—shark with tornado, spotlight with curtain, chair with chair—before collapsing in heaps.
"Zelda's," Sam said firmly. "Now."
I nodded, trying not to think about his confession or mine. "What about the Mayor?"
A soggy figure emerged from the theater's basement window.
"I am formally registering my objection to magical theater renovations!" Mayor Grimble called, his sodden clothes dripping. "Also, I found another artifact down there. It was floating."