Mac sighed. "I'll handle it."
Before Mac could move, Zelda stepped forward, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "That's it. I've had enough." She flicked her fingers, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "shrink that ridiculous monstrosity before I feed it to Fat Bastard."
The Mayor's hat immediately contracted to normal size, the headlamps fizzling out with a sad little pop. Darkness enveloped them once more.
"My official mayoral illumination!" Mayor Grimble gasped, reaching up to touch his now-ordinary hat. "This is a violation of municipal code 7.3, paragraph?—"
His indignation was cut short as he walked straight into a pine tree.
"Ouch! Who put that there?" He stumbled backward, directly into another tree. "Assault! Tree assault!"
Sam caught Delilah's eye, and despite the tension of the moment, they shared a brief smile.
"The forest is changing," Zelda whispered, suddenly serious. "Look."
Sam followed her gaze. The trees around them had begun to arrange themselves in perfect pairs—two oaks growing side by side with identical bends in their trunks, twin pines with branches that mirrored each other precisely, dual willows with matching patterns in their bark.
"Like the artifacts," Delilah murmured. "Always in pairs."
"The Collector's influence is spreading," Mac confirmed, his expression grim. "The ritual must be nearing completion."
As they pressed deeper into the forest, branches reached down like grasping fingers. One scraped across Sam's shoulder, leaving a thin line of blood. He caught it in his fist, snapping it with a quick twist.
"The forest is trying to stop us," he said quietly.
"Or slow us down," Delilah added, her eyes reflecting the moonlight. "Which means we're heading in exactly the right direction."
Mayor Grimble stumbled into yet another tree, letting out a muffled curse. "As your duly elected official, I demand these trees respect municipal right-of-way regulations!"
Sam exchanged glances with Mac. "We need to move faster. The Hollow is just beyond that ridge."
In the distance, a silver light pulsed, growing stronger with each beat—like a heart awakening after centuries of slumber.
The ridge offered a perfect vantage point over the hollow below. Sam crouched behind a fallen log, his enhanced vision cutting through the darkness. What he saw made his blood run cold.
The silver witch stood at the center of a perfect circle of stolen artifacts, each pulsing with sickly purple light. The objects—ranging from ancient amulets to modern magical tools—had been arranged in precise pairs, creating a pattern that matched the one they'd been tracking for weeks.
"Everyone in position," Sam whispered into his communication crystal. "Mac, take the northern approach with your team. Zelda, set up the containment wards to the east. Delilah?—"
"Right beside you," she answered, settling next to him behind the log. Her shoulder pressed against his, warm and reassuring. "As planned."
Vic materialized from the shadows, moving with the unnatural silence of the undead. His perfectly tailored suit somehow remained immaculate despite their trek through the forest—until he took one step too far and sank ankle-deep into mud.
"Madre di Dio!" he hissed, lifting his foot with a wet sucking sound. He stared at his ruined Italian leather shoe with an expression of pure horror. "These were custom-made in Milan by a cobbler who's been dead for fifty years!"
"Keep your voice down," Sam growled.
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."
