Page 23 of Chasing Stripes

The projection showed pages Artemis had never seen—hidden between recipes, disguised as culinary notes, tucked into the binding itself.

“Mother mentioned secret pages,” Artemis whispered. “She said she’d show me when I was older.”

“She meant to reveal everything on your thirtieth birthday,” Tilly confirmed. “The traditional age when a keeper fully inherits the responsibility. You only just reached that milestone, honey.”

TWENTY

Artemis stared at the projection, transfixed as it revealed maps of hidden passages beneath Enchanted Falls, lists of supernatural family bloodlines, records of ancient feuds and alliances.

“The magic in the book is special,” Tilly continued. “It doesn’t just hold information—it protects it. The pages reveal different content depending on who’s reading, showing only what they need to see.”

“But that doesn’t explain why Pandora knows about this,” Artemis said, glancing at the woman whose nervous energy now had a salt shaker performing slow loops around her head.

“I don’t know the details,” Pandora said quickly. “Only that it contains more than recipes. Thaddeus...” She hesitated, her eyes darting to the locked door as if fearing he might materialize. “He spoke to someone on his phone while examining it. Said it could be ‘leveraged’ to control certain families. That it held enough secrets to?—”

She stopped abruptly, the salt shaker dropping to the floor with a clatter.

“To what?” Artemis prompted.

“To ‘reshape the power structure of Enchanted Falls,’“ Pandora finished, her voice barely audible.

The implications crashed over Artemis like icy water. This wasn’t a simple theft. If someone wanted the book for its hidden contents, the supernatural balance of the entire town could be at risk.

“Does it contain truly dangerous information?” Artemis asked her aunt.

Tilly’s expression grew solemn. “Nothing catastrophic in isolation. But in the wrong hands... It records certain vulnerabilities. The location of family totems that strengthen bloodline magic. Details about power transfers during specific lunar phases. Even maps to places where ancient enchantments thin the boundaries between realms.”

“And Thaddeus now has access to all of it,” Artemis murmured, connecting the dots. “Why would the book allow him to see those pages? The protection spells?—”

“Can be circumvented by someone with enough magical knowledge,” Tilly finished grimly. “Especially during certain lunar phases.”

The oven timer chimed, its cheerful ding incongruous with the heavy atmosphere. The scent of cinnamon and—unmistakably—strawberries wafted through the kitchen.

Tilly moved to retrieve the rolls, momentarily breaking the tension. “We need to inform the town council immediately. If Thaddeus has the book, every supernatural family in town could be compromised.”

Artemis nodded, her mind racing through possibilities. “We should speak with Sheriff Ironclaw too. Maybe he can?—”

The front bell jingled, cutting her off. Tilly peeked through the kitchen doorway, her expression immediately brightening.

“Well, speak of convenient timing,” she exclaimed with such obvious feigned surprise that Artemis immediately grew suspicious. “It’s Bartek, here bright and early! I completely forgot I invited him for coffee to discuss festival coordination.” She turned to Artemis with transparent innocence. “Be a dear and handle that while I finish up with Pandora? We need to talk council strategy.”

“You invited Bartek? Now?” Artemis hissed, suddenly hyperaware of her flour-streaked face and haphazard bun.

“The opportunity presented itself,” Tilly said with a shrug that fooled no one. “Besides, his pride has connections to the council through Tygra Fangcross. We could use the support.”

“Tygra Fangcross?” Artemis’s eyes widened. “The tiger elder? The one who supposedly shredded an entire vampire coven during the Moonfall War?”

“The very same,” Tilly confirmed cheerfully. “Though I’m sure that story’s been exaggerated. It was only half a coven from what I heard.”

“Aunt Tilly!” Artemis glanced down at her disaster of an apron.

“Don’t worry about your appearance,” Tilly said, reading her mind. “A bit of flour never hurt anyone’s romantic prospects. Makes you look domestically capable.”

“This isn’t about—” Artemis began, but Tilly was already shooing her toward the swinging door.

“He’s waiting, dear. And do try those strawberry rolls on him. Fae confections have a way of loosening even the most stoic shifter tongues.”

TWENTY-ONE

---