Page 31 of Whispers in the Quarter

My burner phone buzzes again. Lucas must be getting impatient.

“The morgue,” I whisper, more to myself than Jazz. “I have to... Lucas needs...”

“Lucas can wait.” Jazz’s voice is steel wrapped in velvet. “You’re not going anywhere until we deal with this.” He gestures to my hand, but we both know he means more than just the physical wounds.

“I don’t know how,” I admit, and it feels like confessing a mortal sin. “I don’t know how to be her anymore—Sarah. And I don’t know if I can be just Celeste either. And I’m Evangeline. I’m... I’m lost, Jazz.”

He finishes wrapping my hand, but doesn’t let go. “Then let me help you find your way back. You don’t have to do this alone, Melody. You’ve got me. You’ve got Lucas, crazy as he is. We can?—”

My regular phone rings, cutting him off. Lucas again, but on my personal line. That’s never good.

“Put him on speaker,” Jazz says quietly. “Whatever’s coming, we face it together.”

I stare at him for a long moment, this man who sees all my broken pieces and still wants to help put them back together. Then I glance out the window, toward the city where Lucas waits with his brilliant madness and fierce devotion.

Maybe that’s the real reason I came back to Grandmother’s house. Not just to hide, but to remember her most important lesson:“Even the deadliest herbs can heal, child, if you know how to use them. It’s all about finding the right balance.”

With trembling fingers, I answer the phone.

“My dearest Chimera,” Lucas’s voice crackles through the speaker, manic energy barely contained. “You’ll never guess what fascinating anomalies I’ve found in our mutual friend’s toxicology report. The molecular structure is absolutely exquisite—your work, I assume? Though there’s something... different about this one.”

Jazz’s hand tightens on mine as Lucas continues, “But that’s not why I’m calling. No, no, something much more interesting has come up. You see, I’ve had a rather illuminating chat with our dear Agent Blake.”

My heart stops. “Lucas?—”

“Oh, don’t worry, my beautiful monster. Our secret garden of deadly delights remains safely hidden. In fact,” he giggles, the sound echoing through Grandmother’s kitchen, “I might have planted some interesting seeds of my own in Ethan’s mind. He’s really quite receptive when you know which buttons to push. Such delicious potential for chaos.”

Jazz raises an eyebrow at me, but I can barely breathe, let alone explain.

“Lucas,” I manage, “what did you do?”

“Only what needed to be done, darling. Though I must say, watching him wrestle with his moral compass is rather like observing a particularly fascinating chemical reaction. All those lovely ethical bonds breaking down...”

“You’re not making sense,” I interrupt, but a cold fear is creeping up my spine. “What exactly did you tell him?”

“Tell him? Oh no, my Chimera. I simply helped him see what he already knew—that sometimes justice needs a steadier hand than the law can provide. That perhaps the monsters he’s been chasing aren’t so monstrous after all.” Another giggle. “He’s on his way to you now, by the way. Seemed quite intent on finding you after our little chat.”

The phone slips from my numb fingers. Jazz catches it smoothly.

“Doc,” he says, his voice steady despite the tension I can feel radiating from him, “you want to translate that into something resembling sanity?”

“Ah, our musical friend! Excellent. You’re with her. Good, good. She’ll need both of us for what’s coming. You see, I’ve rather accelerated our timeline. Pushed a few dominoes that needed pushing. Now we just need to catch Ethan when he falls.”

I stand abruptly, startling both men into silence. The room spins slightly—too much bourbon, too many revelations, too many versions of myself fracturing apart.

“Melody?” Jazz rises with me, concern etched on his face.

“My Chimera?” Lucas’s voice softens, showing a rare moment of clarity. “I did what needed to be done. The game was always going to change. At least now we can control how the pieces fall.”

A hysterical laugh bubbles up from my chest. Here I am, surrounded by remnants of Sarah’s lost dreams, while Lucas pushes Ethan toward darkness and Jazz tries to keep me from falling apart. And somewhere in the city, Ethan’s racing toward us, carrying who knows what revelations or accusations.

“Sugar?” Jazz steps closer, but I wave him back.

“I need...” My voice cracks. “I need a minute. Just... just a minute to think.”

I stumble onto the back porch, into the heavy Louisiana night. The bayou stretches out before me, dark and knowing. Somewhere in those waters, Sarah Deveraux drowned along with her sister. And now, years later, I’m watching the carefully constructed walls between my worlds crumble.

Behind me, I can hear Jazz and Lucas talking quietly on the phone, probably plotting how to handle whatever storm iscoming. Both trying to protect me in their own ways—Jazz with his steady love, Lucas with his brilliant madness.

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