Page 90 of Chasing Stripes

Willow Waters knelt beside the unconscious figure, her weathered hands hovering over him as she assessed the magical aftermath. “The ultimate justice,” the elder witch confirmed. “For someone who coveted supernatural power above all else, to be rendered merely human.”

“Will it last?” Hudson asked, ever practical.

“Forever,” Willow confirmed. “His connection to both fae and vampire heritage has been completely severed. He’ll age as a human now, live as a human, die as a human.”

Kalyna circled the fallen Collector, her scholarly curiosity evident despite everything. “Two centuries of hunting rare magical artifacts, only to end up the most ordinary being in the room,” she observed. “There’s a lesson about hubris in there somewhere. I should catalog this for the library archives.”

EIGHTY

Tears welled in Artemis’s eyes, not for The Collector’s fate but for the closure his revelations had brought. “He killed my parents,” she said softly, the words still raw despite their truth. “They died protecting Enchanted Falls.”

Her legs trembled as the adrenaline began to ebb, leaving exhaustion in its wake. Bartek caught her before she could fall, lifting her effortlessly into his arms. She curled against his chest, drawing comfort from his steady heartbeat beneath her ear.

“They’d be so proud of you,” he murmured against her hair. “So proud of the woman you’ve become, the baker you are, the mate you’ve chosen.”

A weak laugh escaped her. “Pretty sure I didn’t do the choosing.”

His amber eyes grew serious as he looked down at her. “The tether may have connected us, but we chose to strengthen it rather than fight it. That choice was ours.”

Around them, the rescued captives were being attended to by council healers. Alaric had rushed to his cousin’s side, relief transforming his aristocratic features as Viridian weakly clasped his hand. The young werewolf was being bundled in thermal blankets by Ursula Stonepelt, the bear elder’s maternal instincts in full force.

The chamber groaned ominously, more ceiling chunks giving way.

“We need to evacuate,” Rust announced. “The structural integrity is compromised.”

“Everyone out!” Hudson ordered, directing traffic toward the various exits. “Mind the debris!”

Despite the urgency, despite the danger, despite the exhaustion weighing on her limbs, Artemis found herself reluctant to leave this moment. Nestled in Bartek’s arms, surrounded by friends who had fought beside them, she felt a curious sense of completion.

The Collector no longer threatened them. Her parents’ deaths, while still painful, had gained meaning and purpose.

She lifted her hand to trace the intricate golden patterns on his forearm—no longer simple handprints but elaborate designs that told the story of their connection. He’d rolled up his sleeves during the conflict, revealing markings that perfectly matched her own.

Without words, their lips met and the energy between them surged, creating a momentary bubble of golden light that lifted every loose object in the chamber into gentle levitation—rocks, books, broken artifacts all rising into the air around them.

“Oh, for claw’s sake,” Haavi shouted from across the room, ducking a floating crystal ball. “Get a room that’s not about to collapse on all of us!”

“Preferably one without centuries-old magical artifacts floating about,” Kalyna added, snatching the recipe book from midair. “Some of us have spent decades trying to access these texts, and I’d rather they not be crushed under falling rubble because you two can’t control your magical PDA.”

Laughter broke the tension as objects gently descended. Still carrying Artemis, Bartek made his way toward the exit, trailing golden light behind them.

One week later,Honeycrisp Bakery glowed with warmth and light. Lanterns hung from the eaves, and fairy lights twinkled in the windows. The scent of fresh pastries wafted through open doors, drawing a steady stream of customers to the grand reopening celebration.

Artemis moved behind the polished counter, arranging a tray of cinnamon rolls that sparkled with subtle magical enhancements. The bakery stood renewed—not just repaired but reinforced. After The Collector’s defeat, supernatural representatives from every faction in Enchanted Falls had contributed their unique magic to strengthen the building’s foundation stones, turning a potential vulnerability into the town’s greatest protection.

“Try this one,” Tilly said, appearing at her elbow with a sample tart. “I used your mother’s blackberry spell with a twist.”

Artemis accepted the offering, savoring the burst of flavor that carried memories of summer afternoons. “Perfect,” she declared. “Mom would approve of your innovation.”

“She always did encourage experimentation,” Tilly agreed, her eyes misty with remembrance. “Within reason, of course. Unlike that time you tried to make cupcakes dance and they escaped through the window.”

“I was twelve!” Artemis protested, laughing.

Her mother’s recipe book had been restored to its place of honor behind the counter, now protected by additional wards contributed by Selene Moonlace herself. Studying its pages had become a daily ritual, each recipe revealing new layers of her mother’s foresight and her father’s protective enchantments.

The doorbell chimed as another group of well-wishers entered, among them Thora and Artair.

“This place smells incredible,” Thora declared, zeroing in on a display of chocolate almond croissants. “Tell me these have magic in them.”

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