Page 22 of Hexy Bear
"How many of you are there?" he asked without preamble.
"Forty-seven confirmed guardian spirits across the continental founder network," Marcus replied. "Plus an unknown number who were consumed too completely to maintain individual consciousness after separation from the collective."
"And you've all been working together?" Aerin asked, her mind racing through the implications for supernatural community defense networks.
"For as long as we've been able to maintain coherent thought," Dr. Whitmore confirmed. "The entity kept usfragmented, weakened, but it couldn't completely eliminate the protective instincts that drove us to try to save others from our fate. We've been attempting to warn vulnerable communities for decades."
Leo's expression hardened as he processed information that recontextualized years of supernatural law enforcement experience. "The mysterious sightings, the unexplained magical disturbances that always seemed to precede major incidents. You've been trying to get our attention."
"With limited success," Marcus said grimly. "The entity's influence over trusted community leaders made it easy to dismiss our warnings as random supernatural phenomena. We needed living allies, people who could act on information we couldn't convey through traditional means."
Aerin stood up from her desk, her academic excitement warring with growing alarm as she understood the scope of what they were facing. "That's why the Cooper family's magical breakthrough was so significant. When they disrupted the entity's control and freed you from the collective consciousness, they gave you the ability to communicate directly instead of just providing warnings."
"They gave us hope," Dr. Whitmore said simply. "For the first time in decades, we had proof that the entity could be fought successfully, that its victims could be freed, that the founder network's protective systems could be restored."
Through the facility's windows, they could see the preparations for Mistwhisper Falls' annual harvest festival beginning in the town square. Vendors were setting up booths filled with magically enhanced produce, while the high school marching band practiced songs that incorporated minor enchantments designed to lift spirits and promote community bonding. It was exactly the kind of celebration that made the town feel like a place worth protecting.
It was also exactly the kind of gathering that would provide maximum impact for a supernatural attack designed to demonstrate overwhelming power.
"The timing isn't coincidental, is it?" Leo said, following Aerin's gaze toward the festival preparations. "The entity is planning something for tonight."
"The harvest festival represents everything the entity seeks to corrupt," Marcus confirmed. "Community bonds, shared traditions, the celebration of abundance and mutual support. If it can turn that joy into terror, if it can demonstrate its power in front of the entire supernatural community, it will achieve maximum psychological impact."
"While also providing access to every founder descendant in the region," Dr. Whitmore added. "The festival draws supernatural families from across the Blue Ridge Mountains. Tonight's gathering will include representatives of bloodlines that have been hidden for generations."
Aerin felt ice form in her veins as she realized the scope of the entity's plan. "It's not just targeting Mistwhisper Falls. It's using our festival as bait to lure every possible bloodline connection into one location for mass consumption."
"We have to warn people," Leo said, already reaching for his radio. "Cancel the festival, evacuate the town, get everyone to safety before?—"
"No," Marcus interrupted, his ghostly form solidifying with determination. "Running won't work. The entity has spent too long preparing for this moment, invested too much energy in positioning its pieces. If the founder descendants scatter now, it will simply hunt them down individually, the way it has been doing for the past century."
"Then what do you suggest?" Aerin asked.
"We fight," Dr. Whitmore said simply. "All of us, together. The living and the dead, the bloodlines and the communitythey're sworn to protect. We make our stand here, where the founder network is strongest, where the original magical protections can be fully activated."
Leo's lion was pacing restlessly beneath his human facade, responding to the tactical implications with the kind of predatory focus that made him dangerous in crisis situations. "What kind of resources are we working with? How many guardian spirits can maintain physical presence during a confrontation?"
"All of us, if we have living allies to anchor our manifestation," Marcus replied. "The guardian network was designed to activate during existential threats to the founder system. With proper support, we can serve as both intelligence assets and active combatants."
"And the entity?" Aerin asked. "How has it been preparing for tonight?"
The guardian spirits exchanged glances that managed to be ominous despite their translucent nature. "It has been gathering power for months," Dr. Whitmore said quietly. "Not just from the bloodlines it's identified, but from the corruption it's been spreading through trusted community leaders. The influence it exerts through compromised authority figures has been building toward this moment."
"Elder Ruth," Leo said with grim understanding. "She's not just a victim of corruption. She's been serving as an anchor point for whatever working the entity is planning to complete. She has disappeared and we tried looking for her."
"The real Ruth Blackthorne has been fighting the influence for thirty-seven years," Marcus confirmed. "But the entity's control has been growing stronger, and tonight it plans to use her accumulated community connections to facilitate its final manifestation."
Meanwhile, across town at the Moondrip Market, Mara was having her own supernatural crisis. The herbs in her apothecary stall were screaming again, their magical signatures responding to approaching danger with the kind of agitation that made her fae ancestry itch with unease. But underneath the familiar alarm of plants sensing threat, something else was happening. Something that made her heart race with protective fury.
The magical connection she shared with Tilly, the bond that had formed through weeks of training and care and love, was pulsing with distress signals that no amount of physical distance could diminish. The six-year-old's power was unstable, chaotic, reaching out desperately for the grounding influence that Mara's presence had provided.
"He's an idiot," she muttered to herself, her Vermont accent thickening with emotion as she began packing emergency supplies with efficient haste. "A well-meaning, protective, absolutely infuriating idiot who thinks isolation equals safety."
She'd spent the past three days respecting Griff's decision, giving him space to work through his protective panic while maintaining careful distance from the Cooper household. But Tilly's magical distress was escalating beyond anything a six-year-old should have to handle alone, and Mara's maternal instincts were overriding every other consideration.
The child needed stability, grounding, the kind of magical and emotional support that could only come from someone who understood both her power and her heart. If Griff wanted to push away the adults in his life out of misguided fear, that was his choice to make. But Tilly deserved better than being collateral damage in her father's emotional crisis.
"Miss Mara?"
