Chapter 15 #2
Vic pulled an elaborate bat-shaped emery board from his breast pocket and began filing his nails with aggressive precision. "I've been undead for two centuries, and this is still the worst evening I've had in decades. The things I do for those macarons."
Delilah suppressed a laugh. "Your sacrifice for pastry is noted for posterity."
"It's not just any pastry," Vic sniffed. "Sometimes, Fabio infuses them with AB negative from willing donors. The hint of fear adds complexity to the flavor profile."
Sam rolled his eyes. "If you're done with your food critique, we have a witch to stop."
Below, the ritual site pulsed with increasing energy. The artifacts' glow synchronized, beating like a collective heart.
"The resonance pattern is building," Delilah whispered, her expression tightening. "Just like in my vision."
Sam unfolded the map, which now glowed with the same purple light as the artifacts below. "Zelda, are the wards ready?"
Through the crystal came Zelda's voice: "Almost. These magical fluctuations are making precision difficult. It's like trying to knit during an earthquake."
Mac's team of shifters moved like shadows around the perimeter, placing enchanted markers at strategic points. Each marker contained a counterspell designed to disrupt the witch's ritual—if they could activate them simultaneously.
"The timing has to be perfect," Sam said, checking his watch. "We'll have a three-second window when the resonance pattern peaks."
Vic sighed dramatically. "Marvelous. I could be at home watching my recorded soap operas, but instead I'm timing magical explosions with a werewolf and a fortune teller."
The tension in the air thickened as the witch began chanting, her voice carrying unnaturally through the clearing. Behind her, for just a moment, Sam caught a glimpse of a larger shadow—one that didn't match her form.
"There it is again," Delilah whispered. "The puppet master."
A twig snapped directly behind them. Sam whirled, claws extending instinctively—only to find Elder Thornberry standing there, holding a plate of oddly glowing sandwiches cut into triangles.
"Victory sandwiches!" he announced cheerfully, as if they were at a picnic rather than the edge of magical catastrophe. "Can't fight ancient evil on an empty stomach! The mustard is my own recipe—pickled moonbeams and thyme!"
"Thornberry," Sam hissed, "this isn't exactly—"
"Shh!" Elder Thornberry pressed a finger to his lips. "The sandwiches are listening." He began humming his familiar melody, the sound weaving through the air like golden thread.
Strangely, as the tune continued, the magical markers around the perimeter brightened, their protective energy strengthening. The map in Sam's hands steadied, its glow turning from purple to a clear, steady blue.
"Keep humming," Delilah whispered, her eyes wide with realization. "Your melody—it's counteracting the ritual's frequency."
Elder Thornberry winked, continuing to hum while offering sandwiches with exaggerated gestures.
"Well," Vic said, accepting a triangle with two fingers, "at least dinner is served before we die horribly."
* * *
Sam crouched lower as the Silver Witch raised her arms toward the moonlight. The magical circle beneath her feet ignited with sickly purple flames that cast no heat but sent shivers down his spine. His wolf instincts screamed danger, every hair on his body standing on end.
"The artifacts are moving," he whispered, watching as each stolen item rose from its position.
Delilah pressed against his side, her breath catching. "Just like my vision."
The witch—Morgana Blackthorn, they now knew—stood at the circle's center, her silver hair flowing upward as if underwater.
The stolen items hovered around her, pulsing with energy before arranging themselves in a complex three-dimensional pattern.
Beams of light connected each artifact to its pair, creating a web of magical energy that hummed with increasing intensity.
"Once the Twilight Convergence is complete," Morgana called out, her voice carrying unnaturally through the clearing, "the powers of old will bow to me, Morgana Blackthorn! The fear of generations will fuel my ascension!"
Sam exchanged a glance with Delilah. "Villain monologuing. Always helpful."
"She doesn't know we're here," Delilah whispered. "Her focus is completely on the ritual."
Elder Thornberry continued humming his melody, which seemed to create a bubble of protection around them. The shadow creatures patrolling the perimeter moved past their position without noticing them, their eyeless forms sliding through the underbrush.
"The timing has to be perfect," Sam murmured into his communication crystal. "Mac, is your team ready?"
"In position," came the reply. "Just say when."
Sam signaled to Zelda's position across the clearing. She nodded, her hands already weaving the counterspell they'd prepared.
Behind Morgana, something shifted in the darkness—a presence larger and more ominous than the witch herself.
It moved like smoke, occasionally solidifying into a vaguely humanoid shape before dissolving again.
When it drifted closer to Morgana, her movements became jerky, as if she were a marionette.
"There," Delilah whispered. "The Collector. It's controlling her."
Sam narrowed his eyes. "She doesn't even realize it."
The pattern of hovering artifacts began to spin, gathering speed as Morgana's chanting intensified. The beams connecting them brightened, forming a cage of light around her.
"Thirty seconds until peak resonance," Sam said. "Everyone ready—"
A crash and muffled yelp came from behind them. Sam whirled to see Mayor Grimble sprawled face-first in the underbrush, his now-miniaturized hat askew, leaves tangled in his hair.
"Municipal oversight requires... close observation," he wheezed, spitting out dirt. "Carry on, professionals. I'm merely documenting for the town archives."
One of the shadow creatures turned toward the noise, its featureless head tilting.
"Don't move," Sam hissed.
The Mayor froze mid-attempt to stand, balanced precariously on one knee and one hand. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead as the shadow creature drifted closer.
Elder Thornberry, still humming, casually tossed a glowing sandwich past the Mayor. It sailed through the air, landing with a splat several yards away. The shadow creature immediately changed direction, moving toward the unexpected sound.
"Fifteen seconds," Delilah whispered, squeezing Sam's arm.
Below, Morgana raised a ceremonial dagger, its blade gleaming with unnatural light. "With this final offering, I complete the circuit! The Collector's Symphony begins!"
Behind her, the shadowy presence expanded, its edges bleeding into the darkness surrounding the clearing. For just a moment, it seemed to wear Morgana's face like a mask before shifting into something older, more ancient.
Sam raised his hand, preparing to give the signal.
"Now," he growled.
* * *
The clearing erupted into chaos. Sam lunged forward, signaling the attack teams with a sharp whistle that pierced through the night air.
Zelda's counterspell shot skyward in a burst of golden light, colliding with the witch's protective barrier.
Mac and his shifters emerged from the tree line, partially transformed with glowing eyes and extended claws.
But before any of them could reach Morgana, Mayor Grimble stumbled into the clearing, brandishing an official-looking scroll that unfurled dramatically to twice his height.
"Halt right there, magical miscreant!" he bellowed, his miniaturized hat somehow projecting his voice like a megaphone. "This is an official municipal intervention!"
Sam skidded to a stop, his momentum nearly sending him face-first into a shadow creature. "What the hell is he doing?"
Morgana paused mid-incantation, dagger suspended in the air, her expression cycling between rage and bewilderment.
"By the power vested in me by Municipal Code 7.3, Paragraph 2," Mayor Grimble continued, adjusting his glasses with one finger, "you are hereby ordered to discontinue all apocalyptic activities within town limits!"
Elder Thornberry materialized beside the Mayor, snatching the scroll and adding his own flourish. "Pursuant to the mystical bylaws of cosmic jurisprudence and celestial zoning regulations!"
"That's not in the town charter," the Mayor hissed, trying to reclaim his scroll.
"Addendum C, subsection omega, ratified during the lunar eclipse of 1847!" Elder insisted, waving his arms. "Furthermore, the defendant must acknowledge violations of paranormal parking ordinances and the illegal summoning of eldritch entities without proper permits!"
Morgana's silver hair writhed like agitated snakes. "What nonsense is this?"
"The illegal transformation of private property into gingerbread structures!" Mayor Grimble added, warming to the theme. "A clear violation of our Historical Buildings Preservation Act!"
Sam caught Delilah's eye across the clearing and nodded. The distraction was working. The shadow creatures had turned toward the commotion, their attention diverted from the teams moving into position.
"I don't answer to your pathetic paranormal regulations," Morgana snarled, but her rhythm was broken. The artifacts wobbled in their formation, the beams connecting them flickering.
Behind her, the shadowy presence seemed to pulse with frustration, expanding and contracting like a heartbeat. For a moment, Morgana's face contorted in confusion, her movements stuttering as if receiving contradictory commands.
"Are you also aware," Elder Thornberry continued, now wearing a powdered judge's wig that hadn't been there seconds before, "that unauthorized cosmic disturbances incur a fine of fifty dubloons plus two chickens and a firm handshake delivered on the third Tuesday of any month containing the letter 'Y'? "
"There's no such—" Mayor Grimble started, then shook his head. "Yes! Exactly that!"
Sam seized the opportunity, signaling Mac with a quick hand gesture. They sprinted toward the ritual circle from opposite directions, Vic flanking from the shadows with vampiric speed.
"I will not be interrupted by bureaucratic buffoons!" Morgana screamed, but her concentration was shattered. She glanced over her shoulder as if listening to something, her eyes widening in alarm.
"The Collector is displeased," she whispered, suddenly sounding uncertain.
The shadow behind her surged forward, briefly enveloping her before pulling back. Morgana stiffened, her posture changing subtly. When she spoke again, her voice carried an older, deeper resonance.
"Amusing diversion," she said, her mouth moving slightly out of sync with the words. "But insufficient."
With a single gesture, she sent Mayor Grimble and Elder Thornberry flying backward. The Mayor crashed into a bush, his scroll wrapping around him like a mummy's bandages. Thornberry simply vanished mid-air with a pop and the smell of butterscotch.
But the distraction had served its purpose. Sam caught Delilah's eye across the clearing, their gazes locking with newfound understanding.
The battle for Assjacket had begun.