Page 25 of Midnight at the Magnolia

As I move through the diner, I find myself cataloging faces with practiced precision, making mental notes of whispered conversations. Each detail filtered through years of training and Grandma’s wisdom. The corrupt officials, the bought cops, the businessmen with blood on their hands—they’re all connected in a web as complex as any spell.

I am the venomous thread in this tapestry, each herb and poison in my arsenal chosen to slowly unravel it all. Time to spin your web, little spider. And catch some very big flies.

When my shift finally ends, I hang up my apron with shaking hands. The diner feels suffocating, my various sachets and charms seeming to pulse with warning. I catch my reflection in the window as I’m leaving, and for a second, I see Sarah’s face superimposed over mine, her eyes pleading for the justice she’d been denied. The image is so real I can almost smell her strawberry shampoo mixing with the protective herbs Grandma had given her that last day.

Stepping out into the sultry New Orleans night, the air hangs heavy with the scent of magnolias and impending rain. I adjust the vials hidden beneath my clothes, each one a promise of retribution.

Grandma’s voice whispers in memory:“Every poison has its purpose, child. Choose wisely.”

As I round the corner to my apartment, my fingers brush the warning herbs at my throat just as a figure melts out of the shadows. My hand moves to my weapon, muscles coiling for a fight. Then I recognize Jazz’s lanky form, and some of the tension bleeds out of me—but not all. Even friends can be enemies in this game.

He’s leaning against the brick wall, a cigarette dangling from his lips, the ember glowing like a malevolent eye in the darkness. The scent of tobacco mingles with my protective herbs, creating an oddly fitting perfume for such dark business.

“Took you long enough,” he drawls, pushing off the wall. “Thought I was gonna have to smoke the whole pack waiting for you.”

“Some of us have to maintain a cover,” I say, the weight of my various poisons a reminder of exactly what that cover costs. “Can’t all be mysterious informants lurking in alleyways.”

“The shipment we’ve been waiting for?” Jazz takes another long drag of his cigarette, the ember flaring bright in the darkness. “It’s coming in tomorrow night, not next week like we thought. And Councilman Davis is personally overseeing it.”

My heart races at the news, making the protective herbs at my throat pulse with warning. This is it—the break we’ve been waiting for. If we can catch Davis red-handed, we’ll have the leverage we need to bring down the entire corrupt network.

“Alright, so what’s the plan? When do we move?” My fingers brush against the vials hidden in my clothes, each one chosen specifically for this moment.

Jazz’s expression hardens, smoke curling around him like a shroud. “We don’t. I’m here as a courtesy, Celeste. The team... we think it’s best if you sit this one out.”

The words hit me like a physical blow, making all my protective charms feel suddenly useless. “What? Why?” The herbs against my skin seem to burn with shared indignation.

“You’re getting sloppy,” Jazz says, his voice low and intense. “Getting too close to the case, too close to that FBI agent. It’s dangerous, Celeste. For you and for the operation.”

I open my mouth to argue, but the words die on my tongue. Deep down, beneath all the herbs and charms and careful planning, I know he’s right. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

Or listen to it.

“What’s in the shipment?” I ask instead, trying to keep my voice steady even as my hand closes around the most lethal of my vials.

Jazz shakes his head, flicking his cigarette into the darkness. “Heavy artillery. Military-grade stuff. And a new synthetic drug that’s been tearing up the streets. Word is, it’s got some nasty side effects. Makes people stronger, faster... and a whole lot crazier.”

The implications send a chill down my spine, making me grip the poison vials hidden in my clothes tighter. Weapons and a dangerous new drug... the damage this could do to the city is unimaginable.

“Jazz, please,” I say, hating the pleading note in my voice. The yarrow for courage in my pocket seems to mock me now. “I need to be there. This is what I’ve been working towards for years.”

He looks at me for a long moment, his eyes unreadable in the dim light. The silence stretches between us, heavy with all the things we’re not saying.

“You mean what happened in the bayou.” It’s not a question. “With your sister.”

My fingers find the sachet at my throat, seeking comfort in its familiar weight. “You know what they did to her. What they covered up.” My voice catches. “What they’re still covering up.”

“And you think getting yourself killed will fix that?” Jazz’s voice is gentle but firm. “Or worse, getting caught? Getting exposed?”

“Better than standing by while they bring in more weapons, more drugs.” The protection herbs seem to burn against my skin, urging caution, but I push on. “You know what that stuff will do to the streets. To the kids in this neighborhood.”

“I’m sorry, Celeste.” Jazz steps closer, his cologne mixing with the scent of tobacco and my protective herbs. “It’s not my call. Just... stay out of it, okay? For your own good.” He hesitates, then adds, “And maybe consider what getting caught would do to that FBI agent of yours.”

The mention of Ethan feels like a knife to the gut. “Leave him out of this.”

“Can’t. He’s already in it. Question is, how deep are you gonna let him get?” Jazz’s eyes bore into mine. “Every person you let close is another weakness they can exploit. You taught me that, remember?”

As I watch him walk away, disappearing into the shadows like a ghost, a familiar rage burns in my chest, hotter than any herb Grandma ever showed me. They think they can sideline me? After everything I’ve sacrificed?

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