Page 68 of Chasing Stripes

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The drive to town passed in tense silence. Bartek’s hands gripped the steering wheel as his mind raced through potential scenarios. Beside him, Artemis stared out the window, absently rubbing the swirling golden marks on her arms.

“What did you see exactly?” he asked as they neared the bakery.

“It wasn’t clear—more like fragments,” she explained. “Hooded figures in a circle. Someone speaking about ‘harvesting power’ from magical bonds.” She turned to him, her face drawn with worry. “They specifically mentioned the Blu family lineage. And tigers.”

Bartek absorbed this, adding it to the growing puzzle. “The Arcane Collective. I’ve heard whispers—a secret organization obsessed with collecting magical powers. Most considered them a myth.”

“Not a myth,” Haavi commented from the back seat. “I’ve tracked them before. They’re real, but typically operate in the shadows. If they’re making open moves now...”

“Then whatever they’re planning must be significant,” Bartek finished, pulling up in front of Honeycrisp Bakery.

The building appeared perfectly normal—warm brick façade, cheerful blue awning, windows dark before opening hours. Yet Bartek’s tiger senses prickled with warning as they approached the door. Artemis unlocked it, and they stepped into the familiar space—display cases empty for the day, kitchen clean and prepped for baking.

“Split up,” Bartek directed. “Check everything.” He began circling the perimeter, inhaling deeply to catch any unfamiliar scents.

Near the back door, he paused, crouching to examine the floor. Almost invisible to human eyes, but clear to his enhanced vision, footprints appeared in the faint dust—different from Artemis’s or Tilly’s familiar tread.

“Someone was definitely here,” he confirmed, carefully inspecting the prints. “Recently. Within the last twelve hours.”

Across the room, Artemis ran her hands along the bakery’s walls, her eyes half-closed in concentration. Her fae magic shimmered faintly around her fingertips as she worked. Suddenly, she stopped, palm flat against a particular stone near the kitchen entrance.

“Here,” she called. “Something’s different. They didn’t take anything—they were testing something.”

Bartek crossed to her side, placing his hand next to hers on the wall. He couldn’t sense what she did, but he trusted her magical perception. “Testing what?”

“The magical protections feel altered here,” she explained, brow furrowed. “Like someone probed the building’s magical foundation.”

The bell above the door jingled as Tilly entered, startling at the sight of them already inside. She set down her bag of morning supplies, concern etching her features.

“What’s happened?” she asked, immediately picking up on the tension.

As Artemis explained the situation, Haavi joined them, placing his hand beside Artemis’s on the wall. After a moment, he nodded. “Definitely a magical signature scan. I agree someone was measuring the bakery’s magical output.”

Artemis frowned. “Why would anyone care about that? It’s just a bakery.”

“That’s built on the original founding site of Enchanted Falls,” Tilly interjected quietly. All eyes turned to her. “Your ancestors chose this location specifically for its magical convergence properties.”

Surprise registered on Artemis’s face. “You never told me that.”

“I thought you knew,” Tilly replied, looking genuinely perplexed. “Why else would five generations of Blus fight so hard to keep this precise location?”

A cold weight settled in Bartek’s stomach as the implications crystallized. He pulled Artemis into a protective embrace. “If someone’s measuring the magical foundation...”

“They’re planning to use it for something,” she finished, leaning into his strength.

“You two should go,” Tilly suggested, concern evident in her voice. “If someone’s targeting the bakery?—”

Artemis shook her head firmly. “I’m not abandoning Honeycrisp. We need to understand what they’re planning.”

Pride swelled in Bartek’s chest at her courage, though it battled with his instinct to bundle her somewhere safe. “Where you go, I go,” he said simply.

His phone buzzed repeatedly with messages from the pride, but he ignored them. His priority stood right beside him, her golden-marked hand clasped firmly in his.

The front door chimed again as early customers began to arrive for their morning pastries.

“We can’t close,” Artemis insisted. “That would signal we know something’s wrong.”

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