Chapter 17 #2
"I think those are magical orbs, not donuts," Sam replied, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Though Fabio's pastry air force might have confused the artist."
The room was packed beyond capacity. Shifters from three counties stood alongside witches, vampires, and other magical townspeople.
In the front row, Ivy and Rafe sat hand in hand, with Ivy occasionally checking on the potted plants she'd brought—healing specimens that released soothing aromas to help those still recovering from magical injuries.
"My garden's been in overdrive since your battle," Ivy had told Delilah when they arrived. "The resonance patterns are stronger than ever, as if expecting something else to happen soon."
Before Delilah could ask what she meant, Mayor Grimble had taken the stage, wearing what could only be described as a ceremonial hat of epic proportions.
It resembled the Town Hall itself, complete with a working clock tower that chimed softly every fifteen minutes and tiny windows that actually lit up.
"Distinguished citizens of Assjacket," the Mayor began, his voice amplified by the hat rather than the microphone in front of him. "We gather today to honor those who saved our fair town from certain doom, magical catastrophe, and potential property devaluation!"
Delilah caught Sam's eye and bit her lip to keep from laughing.
"Is there a way we could sneak out the back?" she whispered.
"Not unless you want Mac to track us down. Again." Sam nodded toward his friend, who stood at attention near the stage, his expression serious despite his neon hair.
On stage, the Mayor had moved from introduction to dramatic reenactment, using hand puppets he'd apparently commissioned for the occasion.
"And then, the brave wolf—" he waved a fuzzy puppet with pointy ears "—and the magical seer—" he raised his other hand wearing a puppet with yarn hair and a crystal ball "—confronted the evil witch and her shadow army!"
Councilor Greymane, seated with the other shifter council representatives, pinched the bridge of his nose.
"By the power vested in me by Municipal Code Section 12, Paragraph 7, 'Recognition of Heroic Acts That Prevent Apocalyptic Events Within Town Limits,'" Mayor Grimble continued, producing an oversized scroll from inside his hat, "I present you with these Keys to the City, which actually unlock the secret municipal cookie jar. "
He held up golden keys that sparkled with minor enchantments.
"Is he serious about the cookie jar?" Delilah whispered.
"Deadly serious," Sam replied. "Mac says it's filled with cookies that never go stale. Magical preservation from the 1950s."
Councilor Greymane approached the microphone, gently nudging the Mayor aside.
"The Shifter Council also wishes to recognize these brave individuals," he announced, his dignified voice a stark contrast to the Mayor's enthusiasm.
"Particularly Ms. Delilah Hart, who we formally acknowledge as an honorary pack ally, with all the protections and responsibilities such a position entails. "
He placed a silver medallion around her neck, and Delilah felt a warm sensation spread through her body as the magic took hold.
"It will alert any shifter in the vicinity if you're in danger," Sam explained softly. "It's not given lightly."
Delilah touched the medallion, suddenly overwhelmed. She'd spent her life seeing everyone else's path, always on the outside looking in. Now, somehow, she belonged.
* * *
The medallion's weight felt both unfamiliar and right against Delilah's collarbone as she entered Bread of Heaven.
Fabio had transformed his bakery into what could only be described as a shrine to their victory—if shrines typically featured shark-shaped pastries and edible shadow creatures that dissolved into chocolate when you bit into them.
"Darling!" Fabio swept toward her in a swirl of flour and designer cologne. "The woman of the hour! Well, one of them. I'm obviously the other."
He wore a custom apron emblazoned with "Aerial Pastry Commander" in rhinestones, his auburn hair styled into what appeared to be a tornado shape.
"I didn't realize you were part of the final battle," Delilah said, accepting a floating champagne flute that bubbled with color-changing liquid.
"Part of it?" Fabio clutched his chest dramatically. "I was the turning point! The pastry air force was the tactical masterstroke that won the day!"
Sam appeared at her elbow, already holding a plate stacked with treats. "The croissants were surprisingly effective against shadow creatures," he admitted. "Though I'm still finding sprinkles in places I'd rather not discuss."
The bakery buzzed with the entire town squeezed between display cases and tables.
Mayor Grimble's hat now featured tiny replicas of them all, including a miniature Fabio conducting pastry warfare.
Elder Thornberry materialized beside the punch bowl, ladling liquid into cups that somehow ended up in people's hands without him moving from his spot.
Zelda waved from across the room where she was deep in conversation with Ivy and Rafe. All three of them had their heads bent over one of Ivy's plants, which seemed to be pulsing with a soft light.
"You must try my victory eclairs!" Fabio steered them toward a display of pastries shaped like lightning bolts. "I infused them with the essence of triumph and just a hint of 'I told you so.'"
"I told you so?" Delilah raised an eyebrow.
Fabio's eyes widened with indignation. "The shark's left fin always pointed to danger! The tornado sound effects were Morse code! Was no one paying attention to my artistic brilliance?"
"Wait," Sam frowned. "Are you saying you planted clues in Sharknado 2: The Musical revival?"
"Of course!" Fabio flipped his hand dramatically. "Why else would I insist on that ridiculous shark mating dance? It wasn't just for theatrical integrity—though that was a consideration."
Delilah exchanged a bewildered look with Sam. "So when you made Sam do those absurd fin movements—"
"I was teaching him the ancient shifter warning signals!" Fabio looked between them, exasperation growing. "Did you think I was just being difficult for the fun of it?"
Sam's expression suggested that was exactly what he'd thought.
A crash from the corner interrupted Fabio's artistic outrage.
Fat Bastard, Boba Fett, and Jango Fett had somehow managed to topple an elaborate tower of floating cupcakes, creating a rainbow-colored avalanche of frosting.
The cats scrambled away from the disaster, trailing what looked suspiciously like Fabio's silk scarves.
"My Versace!" Fabio shrieked, abandoning them to rush toward the feline thieves.
Zelda intercepted her familiars, who were now attempting to look innocent despite being covered in both frosting and evidence. "You three are worse than toddlers with sticky fingers!"
Delilah leaned against Sam, surprising herself with how natural it felt. "Did you know about Fabio's clues?"
"Not a clue," he admitted, slipping an arm around her waist. "Though it explains why he kept insisting I feel the 'emotional journey of the left fin.'"
As they watched Fabio salvage his designer accessories, Delilah noticed several townspeople humming the same melody Elder Thornberry always did. The tune seemed to spread through the crowd like a contagious yawn.
Near the front window, a new poster caught her eye—"The Collector's Symphony – Part Two" in elaborate lettering beneath an image of paired magical creatures.
"Did Fabio mention a sequel?" she asked, pointing.
Sam frowned. "That wasn't there when we came in."
As if summoned by their attention, Fabio returned, still clutching rescued scarves. His eyes followed their gaze to the poster, confusion crossing his face.
"That's not my design," he said slowly. "I don't remember changing it."
* * *
The bakery door jingled as Delilah stepped outside, grateful for the cool evening air after the packed celebration inside. The sunset painted Assjacket in shades of amber and gold, transforming even the most ordinary buildings into something magical.
Sam followed her out, his neon green hair practically glowing in the fading light.
The magical backlash had affected everyone differently—Mayor Grimble's hat had started reciting poetry, Vic's fangs temporarily turned into candy corn, and they'd all ended up with hair that would make a punk rocker jealous.
"I forgot how loud Fabio's parties get," Sam said, leaning against the railing beside her. His shoulder brushed against hers, sending a small current of warmth through her body.
"Especially when he's the hero of his own story." Delilah smiled, tucking a strand of radioactive green hair behind her ear. "Though I have to admit, the pastry air force was pretty impressive."
They fell into comfortable silence, watching the sun sink lower. Inside, the celebration continued at full volume, but out here, it was just them and the evening breeze.
Sam cleared his throat. "Your shop reopens tomorrow?"
"Back to finding lost keys and predicting kidney stones." She laughed softly. "Though after all this, a normal day of fortune-telling sounds pretty good."
"About that..." Sam shifted his weight, suddenly looking as uncomfortable as he had in the shark costume. "I was thinking. Maybe dinner? No visions, no missions, just us." His yellow eyes met hers, uncertainty flickering across his face. "Unless you're sick of me after all this."
Delilah felt her heart skip several beats. "I survived you as a grumpy wolf and an even grumpier puppy. I think I can handle dinner."
The tension in his shoulders eased, and the smile that spread across his face made her breath catch. It transformed his usually serious expression into something that made her want to kiss him again, preferably without magical explosions this time.
"The river flows both ways when the moon dances with the stars!
" Elder Thornberry materialized beside them, appearing from seemingly nowhere as usual.
He winked conspiratorially, his wispy white beard catching the last rays of sunlight.
"Remember, timing is everything, especially when it's nothing! "
He took a dramatic step backward, tripped over his own feet, and would have tumbled down the bakery steps if Mac hadn't appeared to catch him.
"I got you, Elder," Mac said, steadying the ancient man with practiced ease. Over Elder Thornberry's head, he shot Sam a thumbs-up and a grin that made Delilah suspect there had been some behind-the-scenes conversations she wasn't privy to.
"Meant to do that," Elder insisted. "Gravity is merely a suggestion after your first century!"
As Mac escorted Elder Thornberry back inside, Delilah noticed movement across the street. A figure stood in the shadows between buildings, watching them. For a moment, she thought she saw its face shift and change, like a mask being adjusted, before it melted into the darkness.
"Did you see that?" she asked, reaching for Sam's hand.
He nodded, suddenly alert. "Another shadow creature?"
"I don't think so. It felt... different. Older."
Sam's fingers intertwined with hers, warm and solid. "Whatever it is, we'll figure it out. Together."
Across the street, where the figure had stood, a single playing card fluttered in the breeze—The Collector, from a deck Delilah had never seen before.