Sheriff Moonwater stepped back. "I'm going to need you both to step out of the vehicle and explain why there's a semi-sentient map making faces at me through your windshield."
Sure enough, the badge-shaped map had developed a crude face and was now winking at the Sheriff.
"It's new," Sam said weakly.
The map suddenly unfurled itself, expanded to twice its normal size, and displayed a flashing red arrow pointing down the road with the words "URGENT MAGICAL EMERGENCY" pulsing beneath it.
Sheriff Moonwater's hand moved to her radio. "I should call this in?—"
"No time!" Delilah cried dramatically. "Lives at stake! Magic in peril!"
Sam seized the opportunity, throwing the Jeep into gear. "We'll explain later, Sheriff!"
They pulled away, the map settling smugly between them once more.
As they accelerated down the road, Sam glanced in the rearview mirror. The Sheriff stood watching them, hands on her hips. Behind her, the emotion-sensing flowers had arranged themselves in perfect pairs, each duo leaning toward each other like partners in a dance.
"Did you see that?" he asked.
"The flowers? Yes." Delilah's voice had lost its teasing tone. "They're matching the pattern from the library. Pairs. Everything is happening in pairs."
Sam pulled the Jeep into the gravel lot of the Moonshine Diner, a squat building with windows that shifted from frosted to clear depending on the privacy needs of its patrons. The neon sign featured a winking moon pouring coffee into a floating cup.
"We need to regroup," he said, cutting the engine. "And I need coffee."
The map, which had been sulking after its performance for the Sheriff, perked up and pointed eagerly at the diner entrance.
"At least someone's enthusiastic," Delilah muttered, gathering her bag.
Inside, the diner hummed with mid-morning activity. Floating serving trays navigated between tables while the jukebox played tunes that matched the collective mood of the customers. Currently, it was something jazzy with an undertone of anxiety.
A waitress with gravity-defying hair approached. "Booth or counter?"
"Booth," Sam and Delilah said simultaneously, then glanced at each other with mutual suspicion.
They slid into opposite sides of a booth near the back. The vinyl seats adjusted their temperature to match their comfort levels—Sam's cooled while Delilah's warmed.
"Welcome to Moonshine," the waitress said, snapping her fingers to summon a floating tray of water glasses. "Today's special is mood-matching pancakes with emotion-sensitive syrup. I'm Doris, and yes, my hair has been this way since the incident with the levitation potion in '87."
Sam ordered coffee and pancakes. Delilah requested tea and a fruit plate.
"The pancakes here are amazing," Sam said after Doris floated away. "They adjust to what you're craving."
"Is that a professional recommendation, Detective Wolf? Do you bring all your investigation partners here?"
Before Sam could retort, Mac slid into the booth beside Delilah, his broad shoulders taking up more than his fair share of space.
"Good, you two haven't killed each other yet." Mac grinned, his sapphire blue eyes crinkling at the corners. "That's progress."
"Mac," Sam acknowledged, relief evident in his voice. "Tell me you have something."
"I've been checking with contacts in neighboring towns." Mac lowered his voice. "There have been similar thefts—always in pairs, always items with complementary magical signatures."
Doris returned with their orders. Sam's pancakes steamed invitingly, topped with blueberries arranged in a perfect spiral. He took a bite and nearly choked—the pancakes had transformed into a raw, bleeding steak.
"What the—" He dropped his fork.
"Mood-matching food," Delilah said, nibbling a strawberry that sparkled with tiny light flecks. "Reflects your emotional state."
