"Pickling!" Delilah finished. "She's not just collecting artifacts; she's preserving their energy!"
Mac joined them on the floor. "For what purpose?"
Sam's mind raced through the evidence. "Baba Yaga said these artifacts were created for channeling. What if they're components of a larger magical amplifier?"
"Using emotional energy as fuel," Delilah added, eyes widening. "That's why the thefts increased after Ivy and Rafe's situation. Their emotional connection created a magical resonance that attracted attention."
"And now us," Sam said quietly, meeting her gaze.
Elder Thornberry nodded vigorously. "The Collector harvests fear like fine wine! Pairs of magical users create the most potent vintage!"
Sam grabbed his own map, overlaying it with the Elder's scroll. The pattern matched perfectly with the energy readings they'd documented around Ivy and Rafe's garden.
"It's the same signature," he confirmed. "The witch is creating a component of something larger—a piece that connects directly to what happened with Ivy and Rafe."
"And now to us," Delilah whispered.
Elder Thornberry solemnly placed a jar of actual pickles on the map's center. "The Collector's Symphony has many movements. This is but the opening act."
Mac's phone buzzed. "Zelda says the ley lines are pulsing in sequence now. Whatever's happening is accelerating."
Sam looked at Delilah, something unspoken passing between them. "We need to talk to Ivy and Rafe. Now."
15
Sam's patience thinned with each dramatic shadow Vic cast across his office wall. The vampire PI had positioned his desk lamp at the perfect angle to project his silhouette like some budget film noir detective. The effect might have been impressive if Sam couldn't smell the three-day-old blood smoothie congealing in a cup behind the desk. His zombie secretary shambled past, somehow managing to balance a coffee mug that read "Blood Type: Caffeine" without spilling a drop.
"As you can see," Vic gestured around his office with vampiric flair, "I've created an ambiance that inspires confidence in my detective abilities." He adjusted his perfectly styled hair, which caught the light with a subtle sparkle—his custom sunscreen giving him that signature vampire glow.
Sam rolled his eyes. "Your secretary is decomposing on the filing cabinet."
"Meredith is in a transitional state of being. She's very sensitive about it."
Meredith groaned what might have been agreement while a finger fell off and landed in her typewriter.
"Let me get this straight," Sam said, arms crossed tightly to prevent himself from throttling their potential ally. "You want to charge us for information about your client, who is likely working with the witch who's trying to destroy the town?"
Vic reclined in his leather chair, feet propped on his desk. "Business is business, Wolfe. Even apocalypses have overhead costs.
Behind them, Vic's zombie secretary shuffled papers with glacial slowness, occasionally mumbling "Taking a message" despite the phone never ringing.
Delilah stepped forward. "We're not asking you to betray client confidentiality. We just need to know if you noticed anything unusual about them."
"Unusual?" Vic's perfectly manicured eyebrow arched. "Besides hiring me to track magical artifacts while specifically excluding—" he made air quotes, "'no dogs or fortune cookies on this case'?"
Mac suppressed a laugh as Sam's jaw tightened.
"My services aren't cheap." Vic steepled his fingers, his fangs glinting." "I require one of Fabio's blood-flavored macarons, two tickets to Sharknado 2: The Musical Revival's opening night, and Sam has to publicly admit vampires are cooler than werewolves."
Sam's growl vibrated through the floorboards. "Not happening."
"The macarons I can provide," Delilah offered.
"And I can get tickets," Mac added.
"But Sam will never—" Delilah began.
A tremendous crash interrupted as the window shattered inward. Glass fragments sparkled in the air as a familiar figure swung into the room on what appeared to be a bakery rolling pin attached to climbing rope.
