Page 74 of Chasing Stripes (Enchanted Falls #3)

SEVENTY-FOUR

W hile she worked, Artemis noticed a similar magical thread running along the ceiling. “There’s another one,” she pointed out.

“I see it,” Artair confirmed, his bear shifter size giving him a closer view of the ceiling. “I can handle that one.”

What followed was an unexpected display of shifter expertise. Rust spotted a third tripwire and joined the disabling efforts, his movements precise and confident. Soon, the three shifters fell into a rhythm, identifying and neutralizing magical traps with increasing efficiency.

“Got mine,” Thora announced, carefully dismantling the magic with specialized tools.

“Ceiling trap neutralized,” Artair added moments later.

“Wall trigger disabled,” Rust countered. “That makes three for me.”

“You can’t count the pressure plate as two separate traps,” Thora objected.

“It had two trigger mechanisms,” Rust insisted.

Bartek caught Artemis’s eye and rolled his own skyward in exasperation. A smile tugged at her lips despite the gravity of their situation. Even facing unknown dangers, shifter competitiveness apparently remained unchanged.

“If you three are quite finished with your trap-disabling contest,” Kalyna interjected dryly, “perhaps we could continue before the eclipse begins?”

This sobered the group immediately. They proceeded with renewed caution, Thora and Artair taking turns dismantling magical alarms and traps without further commentary on their respective tallies.

The tunnel gradually widened, the roughly hewn walls giving way to worked stone until they emerged into a vast chamber with a vaulted ceiling supported by ancient columns. Unlike the natural formations they’d navigated, this space showed signs of recent use—modern magical equipment intermixed with historical artifacts, all arranged around a central ritual circle inscribed on the stone floor.

Artemis felt the magic here immediately—old power, layered with newer workings, creating a discordant energy that set her teeth on edge.

And standing in the center of the ritual circle, waiting as if he’d been expecting them all along, was a tall figure in an elaborate robe embroidered with arcane symbols.

“Welcome,” he said, his voice carrying an odd resonance that made Artemis’s skin crawl. “I’ve been expecting you.”

They spread out instinctively, Thora and Rust flanking the sides while Bartek pulled Artemis slightly behind him in a protective gesture. The figure reached up and lowered his hood, revealing a face that twisted and shifted as if multiple identities were fighting for dominance beneath a powerful glamour spell.

“The Collector, I presume?” Artemis asked, surprised by the steadiness of her own voice.

The figure inclined his head slightly. “Indeed. Though I prefer my actual name—Elias Nightshade.”

The revelation struck Artemis like a physical blow. Nightshade—a name she knew from her family’s history books, though it hadn’t been spoken in generations.

“That’s impossible,” she whispered. “The Nightshade line died out over a century ago.”

The glamour on his face stabilized momentarily, revealing features that bore an unsettling resemblance to her own—the same cheekbones, similar eye shape, though his irises shifted between vampire red and fae gold in an unnatural rhythm.

“How little your family has taught you,” Elias replied, a bitter smile twisting his lips. “The Nightshades didn’t die out—we were expunged from the family records after my great-grandmother committed the unforgivable sin of falling in love with a vampire.”

Artemis felt Bartek tense beside her, his tiger instincts sensing the depth of the threat before them.

“You’re my relative,” she realized aloud. “A distant cousin.”

“I’m what your precious family tried to erase,” he corrected coldly. “Half-fae, half-vampire, and denied the birthright that should have been mine.”

“What?”