Page 32 of Whispers in the Quarter

But as I stare into the darkness, I wonder: who’s going to protect them from me?

I turn back to the porch, where Jazz still holds my phone. Lucas’s presence crackles through the speaker, both men waiting for my decision.

“Lucas,” I say finally, my voice steadier than I feel, “whatever seeds you’ve planted in Ethan’s mind... don’t push too hard. Some flowers need time to bloom on their own.”

A delighted laugh. “Oh, my brilliant Chimera. Always thinking in botanical metaphors. Very well—I’ll let our dear agent’s moral decay progress naturally. Though do hurry back to civilization soon. The morgue is desperately dull without you.”

“I’m staying here tonight,” I tell him, catching Jazz’s approving nod. “Handle Perkins’s autopsy however you think best. Just...”

“Yes, darling?”

“Be careful with Ethan. He’s... he’s not a lab experiment.”

“Everything’s a potential experiment, my dear. But I take your meaning. I’ll treat him with the same delicate care I use with my most volatile compounds.”

After we hang up, Jazz pulls me into his arms. I let myself lean into his strength, just for a moment. “You want to tell me what that was all about?”

“I’m not sure I know anymore.” I pull back enough to see his face. “Jazz... what if we’re making a mistake? What if we’re pulling Ethan into something he’s not ready for?”

He studies me with those perceptive eyes. “Sugar, from what I’ve seen, Ethan’s been ready for this darkness a long time. He just needed the right push.” His hand cups my cheek. “Question is, are you ready to let him in? To let anyone in?”

I glance back at Grandmother’s house, at all the remnants of Sarah’s lost potential. Then out at the bayou, where Celeste’s ghost still haunts the waters. Finally, at Jazz, solid and real before me.

“I don’t know,” I whisper honestly. “But I think... I think I need to try. I can’t keep drowning in all these versions of myself alone.”

Jazz pulls me closer as thunder rolls in the distance. “Then don’t, Melody. Let us help you swim.”

In the darkness of the bayou night, surrounded by the ghosts of who I used to be and the promise of what I might become, I make my choice. Not to go to the morgue, not to face Ethan yet, but to trust in the strange harmony forming between Jazz’s steady rhythm and Lucas’s chaotic brilliance.

And maybe, just maybe, to trust that there’s still something of Sarah left to save.

12

LUCAS

PSYCHIATRIC EVALUATION—CONFIDENTIAL Subject: Dr. Lucas Gautier Evaluator: Dr. M. Henderson

Patient exhibits concerning fixations on:

Chemical manipulation of human behavior

“Beautiful darkness” in test subjects

Someone referred to as “Chimera”

Recent obsession with “Saint’s evolution”

Recommendation: Immediate suspension of laboratory privileges Status: IGNORED

The toxicology resultsfrom Perkins mock me from my computer screen, but my mind keeps drifting to that first night I confronted my Chimera about her elegant poisons. The night I chose fascination over ethics, brilliant chaos over mundane order.

I giggle at the memory, the sound echoing off sterile walls. “Oh, how far we’ve come, my dear.”

The evidence of her latest work lies before me—blood samples showing traces of that exquisite compound I’ve cometo know as well as my own heartbeat. Local flora, modified to mimic natural cardiac arrest. My Chimera’s signature, evolved from those first crimes I discovered months ago.

“Your technique improves every time,” I tell the empty morgue, adjusting my microscope with manic precision. “Though tonight’s work seems... rushed. Emotional, perhaps? Most unlike you, saint.”

My phone buzzes. Ethan.

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