They reached forward together, fingertips meeting the ancient parchment.
The map sprang to life, unfolding itself like an origami creation with a mind of its own. It expanded across the table, lines of ink flowing and changing to form a detailed layout of Assjacket. Glowing red markers appeared at various locations—the tavern, the community center, three private homes.
Then the map shifted, portions folding and twisting until it formed a three-dimensional arrow pointing east.
"The library," Sam and Delilah said in unison.
For a brief moment, the map flattened again, revealing a larger pattern connecting the theft locations—a partial symbol that extended beyond Assjacket's boundaries. Then it snapped back, focusing tightly on the town.
"Did you see that?" Delilah whispered.
"The map doesn't just show what's happened," Zelda said gravely. "It's showing what's coming next."
The map pulsed beneath Delilah's fingertips, its energy vibrating up her arm like a living thing. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the pattern—those weren't random theft locations. They formed something deliberate, a ritual configuration that made her skin crawl.
"There's something familiar about this," she murmured, leaning closer. "Like I've seen it in a?—"
Glass shattered overhead. Delilah shrieked as a blur of tweed and wild white hair tumbled through the small basement window, landing with surprising agility atop Zelda's workbench. Candles toppled, herbs scattered, and all four cats yowled in synchronized outrage.
"Elder Thornberry!" Zelda exclaimed. "The door exists for a reason!"
The ancient man blinked owlishly, bits of glass twinkling in his beard. "Doors are for people with insufficient imagination! Windows are nature's invitations!"
Sam stepped protectively between the elder and Delilah. "How did you even fit through that?"
"Compression spells! Very uncomfortable! Feels like being born again, but with more splinters!" Elder Thornberry hopped down, tracking dirt across the map.
Mac sighed. "I'll get the broom."
"No time for cleaning when darkness gathers!" Thornberry spun in a circle, his eyes wild. "The puppet master hides in shadow! The silver witch dances on strings she cannot see! Beware the collector of power who wears many faces!"
Delilah's head throbbed. The same collector he'd mentioned outside the tavern.
"Two halves of a broken compass pointing north!" Thornberry continued, grabbing Delilah's shoulders with surprising strength. "Always remember to bring extra socks!"
"Extra... socks?" she repeated.
"Wet feet lead to pneumonia! Pneumonia leads to death! Death leads to inconvenient funeral arrangements!"
He thrust something into her hand—a wooden token carved with an intricate symbol—then danced away from Sam's attempt to restrain him.
The token burned hot in Delilah's palm. Before she could examine it, the map beneath them rippled, pulling the token from her grasp and absorbing it completely. New markers bloomed across Assjacket's landscape while the library marker pulsed with urgent red light.
"What just happened?" Sam demanded.
Zelda's face had gone pale. She stared at the symbol now etched into her map, her fingers tracing its outline.
"Zelda?" Mac prompted gently.
She blinked, composing her features. "Nothing. Just Elder Thornberry being... Elder Thornberry."
But Delilah caught the lie in the witch's quickened pulse, in the way her cats had gone utterly still, watching their mistress with unblinking attention.
"The library," Delilah said firmly. "We need to go now."
3
Delilah spread the tarot deck across her reading table, the cards gleaming in the early morning light. Rainbow prisms danced across her shop as sunbeams filtered through hanging crystals, creating a kaleidoscope effect that normally soothed her frazzled nerves.
