Chapter 210: 210 Saving the Gala

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210: Saving the Gala 210: Saving the Gala “Then we use that against him,” Gillian said, entering with her tablet and an expression that suggested she’d had an idea.

“He’s monitoring our communications, right?

He knows our plans because we’ve been discussing them openly.

So we feed him exactly what he wants to hear.”

“Disinformation?” Director Chen asked.

“Selective truth,” Gillian corrected.

“We announce that we’re abandoning the gala—make it public, make it look like we’re panicking.

Say that we’re evacuating Eldergrove, moving to a secure Covenant facility.

The Collector will see it as victory, will assume we’re running scared.”

“While actually, the gala goes forward as planned,” Bruce said, entering with Julian.

They’d been coordinating security and had clearly been listening to the conversation.

“We make it look like evacuation while actually moving people into position.”

“And the rescue teams?” Naomi asked from the doorway, where she’d been listening with the other Sirens who would be participating in the evening’s operations.

“We send them in before the gala starts,” Duncan said, his investigator’s mind seeing the shape of the con.

“The Collector expects us to wait until we have cover of the public event.

So we go in early, during what should be our evacuation.

Hit both facilities while his attention is on Eldergrove, expecting us to run.”

“That’s still three major operations with limited forces,” Director Chen pointed out.

“So we get creative with force multiplication,” Julian said.

“The gala doesn’t need our best fighters—it needs our best performers.

The supernatural beings who can demonstrate abilities dramatically but safely.

Our actual combat-capable people go on the raids.”

Mrs.

Pemberton entered with Sasha, both witches looking exhausted from ward preparation.

“The protective network around Eldergrove is almost complete,” Mrs.

Pemberton reported.

“With Emma’s amplification, we’ve created a defense that should hold against anything The Collector throws at us.

But—”

“But it requires Emma to maintain it,” Sasha finished.

“Which means she can’t leave Eldergrove during the gala.

She’s the anchor point for the entire ward system.”

Emma’s face fell.

“So I’m stuck here while everyone else fights.”

“You’re the most important piece on the board,” Mishka said gently.

“If the wards fail, Eldergrove becomes vulnerable.

Every resident here depends on you maintaining those protections.”

“Besides,” Riley added, “someone needs to be here to help Marcus when we bring him back.

You’re the only other Resonant.

You’ll understand what he’s been through in ways the rest of us can’t.”

Duncan was still studying the map, something nagging at his investigator’s instincts.

“There’s something else we’re missing.

The timing.

Why is The Collector scheduling everything for Friday evening?

What’s special about that specific time?”

Thomas pulled up astronomical data.

“Sunset on Friday is at 7:43 PM.

Moon rises at 8:15.

It’s a waning crescent, so not much lunar power for werewolves to draw on.”

“Which puts shapeshifters at a disadvantage,” Bruce noted grimly.

“We’re strongest during full moon, weakest during dark moon.

Friday is deliberately chosen to minimize werewolf abilities.”

“And the tide,” Mrs.

Callahan added, pulling up her own research.

“Clara’s journals mention that some supernatural abilities are affected by tidal forces.

Friday evening is low tide.

Water magic will be at its weakest point.”

“He’s not just planning an attack,” Mishka realized.

“He’s planned it for the precise moment when multiple types of supernatural beings will be operating at reduced capacity.

It’s not about catching us off guard—it’s about catching us weakened.”

“So we’re going into a fight already at a disadvantage,” Duncan summarized.

“Limited forces, split objectives, enemies who know we’re coming, and our abilities compromised by astronomical timing.

Anyone want to tell me how this isn’t suicide?”

“Because we have something The Collector doesn’t,” Emma said quietly.

“We have each other.

He’s spent two centuries studying supernatural beings as specimens, as things to be cataloged and controlled.

But he doesn’t understand what we’re capable of when we choose to cooperate.

Not because we’re forced to, but because we want to.”

“That’s touching, but it’s not tactical advantage,” one of Julian’s security team members pointed out.

“Isn’t it?” Naomi asked.

“Think about what happened when Mishka created the binding song.

She connected minds in ways that shouldn’t be possible because the werewolves chose to be connected.

The Collector’s device forces obedience through coercion.

Our strength comes from voluntary coordination.

That’s not just philosophical difference—it’s a fundamental difference in how the power works.”

“She’s right,” Sasha said, her Resonant expertise lending authority.

“Forced amplification and voluntary amplification produce different frequencies.

The Collector’s research might not account for that because he’s never seen supernatural beings working together by choice.

His entire database is built on studying isolated, captive subjects.”

Duncan felt the pieces shifting in his mind, the shape of a plan beginning to emerge.

“So we use methods he hasn’t documented.

Combinations of abilities he hasn’t seen.

Voluntary coordination that produces results his database can’t predict.”

“Which brings us back to force multiplication,” Director Chen said.

“We don’t need more people.

We need unexpected applications of the people we have.

Duncan, what do the archives tell us about known supernatural abilities?”

Duncan pulled up the research he’d compiled from hacked documents.

“They’ve documented standard shapeshifter abilities, traditional witch magic, common Siren powers.

But they’re cataloged individually.

There’s no documentation of combined applications.”

“Then that’s our advantage,” Mishka said, her Siren voice rising with growing confidence.

“We show them combinations they’ve never imagined.

Siren song channeled through witch-created crystals.

Shapeshifter senses amplified by Resonant abilities.

Magic enhanced by voluntary transformation.

Every raid team needs to include multiple types of supernatural beings working in coordinated pairs.”

“Mixed-ability assault teams,” Julian said, already organizing in his mind.

“Shapeshifters providing speed and strength, witches providing magical support, Sirens providing communication and disruption.

Small teams, highly coordinated, using combined abilities.”

“And for the archive facility,” Thomas added, “we need someone who can not just destroy the database, but corrupt it.

Make their accumulated knowledge unreliable.

If we can inject false data—”

“Then even if they recover from tonight’s attack, their intelligence is compromised,” Duncan finished.

“They’ll spend years trying to figure out what’s real and what we planted.”

“I can do that,” Milla said from her position with her ever-present devices.

“I’ve been documenting supernatural abilities for months.

I can create convincing false data that looks legitimate but contains subtle errors.

Feed it into their systems during the raid.”

“This is still incredibly dangerous,” Patricia said, her mother’s concern overriding tactical planning.

“You’re talking about sending people into two heavily fortified facilities, outnumbered and operating at reduced capacity.”

“Yes,” Mishka confirmed.

“But we’re out of safe options.

The Collector has ensured that.

All we can choose now is whether we fight on our terms or his.”

Duncan looked around the Henderson’s dining room at the assembled group—his sister who could command with her voice, the teenage Resonant who’d only discovered her power days ago, the elderly woman who maintained theatrical composure while planning military operations, the investment banker and private investigator turned resistance strategists.

None of them were soldiers.

Few of them had any business planning tactical assaults on fortified facilities.

But they were all that stood between The Collector and the systematic enslavement of every supernatural being he could reach.

“So here’s the plan,” Duncan said, pulling up a detailed timeline.

“Four PM—we announce evacuation of Eldergrove, make it public and panicked.

Five PM—rescue teams deploy to both facilities under cover of the evacuation chaos.

Six PM—Siren choir rehearsal at the community center, highly visible, to make The Collector think we’re still planning the gala despite the evacuation announcement.”

“Wait, are we planning the gala or not?” Riley asked, confused.

“Both,” Gillian said with a grim smile.

“We announce evacuation to misdirect The Collector, but the gala still happens.

We just make it look like a desperate last stand instead of a planned celebration.

Makes us look disorganized and frightened.”

“Seven PM—rescue teams hit both facilities simultaneously,” Duncan continued.

“The prisoner facility team extracts Sarah, Marcus, and the other captives.

The archive facility team plants Milla’s corrupted data and destroys as much of the physical database as possible.”

“Seven-thirty PM—the gala begins,” Mishka added.

“By which point we’ll hopefully have Marcus back and rescued.

Emma amplifies both the gala and the protective wards.

The Siren choir performs, broadcast live, showing the world what voluntary supernatural cooperation looks like.”

“And if the rescue teams aren’t back by seven-thirty?” Patricia asked.

“Then we proceed anyway,” Director Chen said flatly.

“The gala has to happen regardless of the rescue outcome.

It’s the public face that provides political cover for everything else we’re doing.”

“What about The Collector’s inevitable attack?” Bruce asked.

“He won’t just let the gala proceed unopposed.”

“Let him attack,” Mrs.

Callahan said with unexpected steel in her voice.

“Let him throw everything he has at Eldergrove’s defenses.

While he’s focused on breaking our wards and disrupting the gala, our teams are destroying his facilities and corrupting his database.

By the time he realizes he’s been misdirected, it will be too late.”

“And if it doesn’t work?” Emma asked quietly.

“If the rescue teams fail, if the wards break, if The Collector’s attack succeeds?”

The room fell silent.

No one wanted to voice the answer everyone knew.

“Then we fail knowing we tried everything,” Mishka said finally.

“And we fail together, which is better than surviving alone in a world where The Collector won.”

Duncan’s phone buzzed with an alert he’d set up to monitor specific financial transactions.

He looked at the screen and felt his blood run cold.

“We have a problem,” he said.

“Major fund transfer just hit one of The Collector’s accounts.

Fifty million dollars from an encrypted source, designated for ‘Friday evening contingency operations.'”

“What kind of contingency?” Director Chen asked.

Duncan pulled up the transaction details, his investigator’s instincts screaming warnings.

“It’s marked as payment for ‘asset recovery and elimination protocols.’ That’s not defensive spending.

That’s—”

“A hit squad,” Thomas finished, recognizing corporate assassination language when he saw it.

“He’s paying someone to kill people tonight.

Probably people on our side.”

“Who?” Mishka demanded.

“Who would he target?”

Duncan’s phone buzzed again with another alert.

This one made his stomach drop.

“It’s a bounty,” he said, turning his laptop so everyone could see.

“Posted to dark web supernatural forums thirty minutes ago.

Five million dollars for capture of Emma Henderson.

Ten million for capture of Mishka Classens.

Both alive and delivered to specified coordinates by midnight tonight.”

The amount of money was staggering.

Life-changing.

Enough to tempt even allies who’d come to help.

“How many people know we’re here?” Riley asked, fear creeping into their voice.

“How many of the volunteers who arrived to help might decide that money is worth betraying us?”

“Unknown,” Julian said grimly.

“We’ve identified some infiltrators, but clearly not all.

And now The Collector’s turned this into a bounty hunt.

Anyone in Toronto with supernatural abilities and questionable morals is going to come looking.”

Emma’s face had gone pale.

“I’m worth five million dollars to him?”

“You’re worth more than that,” Patricia said fiercely, pulling her daughter close.

“You’re priceless.

Which is exactly why we’re not letting anyone collect that bounty.”

“We accelerate the timeline,” Mishka decided.

“Duncan, how fast can you get the rescue teams ready?”

“Three hours if we cut corners.

But Mishka, this bounty changes everything.

We’re not just fighting The Collector’s forces anymore.

We’re fighting every mercenary and desperate supernatural being in the city.”

“Then Eldergrove becomes a fortress,” Director Chen said.

“No one in or out until this is over.

Julian, can your security handle that?”

“With the wards Emma’s anchored and every combat-capable resident on defense?

Yes.

But it means we’re under siege before the actual attack even begins.”

Through the Henderson’s dining room windows, Duncan could see Eldergrove’s residents going about their preparations, unaware that they’d all just become targets in a supernatural bounty hunt.

Children playing in yards, neighbors sharing worried conversations, artists rehearsing for a gala that might be their last performance.

His phone buzzed one more time.

Another alert, this one from a source he’d cultivated in the surveillance technology black market.

The message made his hands shake: ‘Collector deployed aerial reconnaissance drones around Eldergrove.

Military grade, thermal imaging, supernatural energy detection.

You’re being watched from above.

No way in or out undetected.

—M’

Duncan looked at Mishka, seeing his own horror reflected in her eyes.

They weren’t planning a rescue operation and a counter-demonstration.

They were planning an escape from a trap that had already closed around them.