9. Lucas
9
LUCAS
PRIVATE RESEARCH NOTES Dr. L. Gautier Project: Saint’s Evolution
Fascinating results from preliminary trials. Subject shows natural predisposition toward darkness when ethical constraints are removed. Chemical catalyst merely reveals existing tendencies.
Personal Note: Must remember to document Saint’s reaction to truth serum. His acceptance of natural state is proving even more beautiful than anticipated.
The fluorescent lights of my private lab hum at precisely 60 Hz—I measured it during one of my more manic episodes last week. Fascinating study on the effects of sustained light frequency on cellular degradation. The burn mark on my left palm provided some delightfully unexpected data points.
I giggle, picking up a vial of my latest experiment. “What secrets will you share tonight, my lovely?”
The door clicks open behind me. Not the usual hesitant knock of my assistants, who’ve learned to approach my private lab with appropriate caution. No, this is the confident stride of someone who thinks they belong here.
“Working late again, Lucas?”
Ah. Ethan. I carefully school my features before spinning in my chair, though I’m sure my smile still shows too many teeth. “Blake! Come to join me in my nocturnal pursuits? I was just about to test the most fascinating compound. The effects on human tissue are absolutely?—”
“Lucas.” Ethan’s voice carries that weary fondness I’ve come to recognize. He looks... haunted. More so than usual. “We need to talk about Beaumont.”
My fingers twitch involuntarily toward the rack of samples from my Chimera’s latest work. “Tragic business, that. Heart failure, wasn’t it? These society types really should take better care of themselves.”
Ethan drops a file on my desk. Crime scene photos spill out—beautiful composition, really. The lighting captures the subtle bluish tint of the victim’s skin perfectly. “Cut the act, Lucas. This is the third death this month with the same chemical signature. A signature that looks remarkably similar to?—”
“To a completely natural cardiac event,” I interrupt, my smile stretching wider. “Really, Blake, you’re starting to sound positively paranoid. Though the epidemiological implications are fascinating. Perhaps we should study the correlation between wealth and unexplained mortality rates? I have some lovely graphs...”
“Lucas.” He cuts me off.
“Speaking of fascinating research,” I continue on, deliberately knocking over a stack of papers to obscure my latest analysis of my Chimera’s work, “let’s talk about your obsession, dear friend.”
Ethan frowns, that adorable furrow appearing between his brows. “My what?”
“Oh, come now.” I spin in my chair, watching him with newly focused interest. Years of friendship, and only now am I seeing the delicious potential. “Your rather magnificent fixation on our vanishing vigilante. It’s really quite beautiful, you know. The way you pursue her with such... passion.”
“It’s my job, Lucas.”
“Is it?” I lean forward, letting my more unhinged tendencies show. Let him see just how insane I really am. “Or is it something else? Something darker, more personal?” My eyes flick to the gun at his hip. “How many times have you wanted to pull that trigger, Ethan? How many monsters have you watched walk free because of procedures and politics and all those tedious little rules?”
He stiffens, but I catch it—that microscopic flash of recognition in his eyes. Oh, this is delightful.
“I’ve seen your case files, friend. The ones you keep separate from the official reports. All those notes about criminals who escaped justice through legal loopholes. The way you track them, almost... obsessively.” I giggle. “Sound familiar?”
“That’s different,” Ethan protests, but there’s a crack in his professional veneer.
“Is it?” I stand, moving closer, studying him like one of my more fascinating specimens. “Or are you chasing her because she’s doing what you’ve always wanted to do? Making the world a cleaner place, one perfectly executed elimination at a time?”
“Lucas—”
“The precision of it attracts you, doesn’t it?” I’m circling him now, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “The elegance of her methods. The way she delivers justice without all that messy bureaucracy. Tell me, when you look at these crime scenes,” I tap the photos on my desk, “do you feel horror... or admiration?”
Ethan’s silence is more revealing than any protest. I catch his reflection in my computer screen – the conflict in his eyes, the slight parting of his lips. He’s beautiful in his uncertainty.
“You know what I think?” I stop in front of him, close enough to catch the faint scent of gunpowder and dedication. “I think you’re not chasing her to stop her. I think you’re chasing her to join her.”
His sharp intake of breath is everything I hoped for. “You’re insane,” he says, but there’s no conviction in it. He’s used to my madness by now, might even be developing a taste for it.
“Brilliantly so,” I agree cheerfully. “And you’re obsessed. We make quite the pair, don’t we? Both drawn to her chaos, her perfect justice.” I tap his chest, right over his heart. “The only difference is, I’ve embraced it.”
“Lucas,” his voice is strained now, “what exactly are you suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting, my dear friend,” I lean in closer, dropping my voice to a whisper, “that maybe it’s time to stop pretending. Stop fighting what you really want. Join us in the shadows. It’s ever so much more interesting here.”
“Us?” His eyes narrow, and oh, he’s magnificent in his suspicion.
I just smile, wild and free. “Oops. Did I say that out loud? How terribly indiscreet of me.” I spin away, back to my microscope. “More coffee? I have a fresh batch of that Ethiopian blend you love. Though I should warn you, I may have accidentally introduced some interesting compounds during my last experiment...”
“No coffee,” Ethan says firmly, but he doesn’t leave. Instead, he sinks into my spare lab chair, running a hand through his hair in that deliciously disheveled way of his. “Lucas, if you know something...”
“Oh, I know many things,” I say brightly, already calculating new possibilities. Ethan would look magnificent in my lab, all righteous passion turned toward a darker purpose. “Did you know that certain neurotoxins can actually enhance cognitive function before they kill? Fascinating research. Very hush-hush. Rather like your private investigation notes.”
“I’m serious?—”
“So am I!” I spin to face him, letting my manic energy bubble over. “Always so serious, our Agent Blake. Always so... contained.” I lean forward, studying the shadows under his eyes with scientific interest. “Tell me, when was the last time you felt truly alive? Was it chasing our mysterious vigilante? Or was it earlier, when you first realized some monsters deserve to die?”
A muscle jumps in his jaw. “We’re not having this conversation.”
“Aren’t we?” I gesture to his case files. “Six deaths in the past month. All natural causes. All thoroughly deserving individuals who slipped through your precious legal system. And look at you—not mourning them, not really. No, you’re mourning the fact that you didn’t get to do it yourself.”
“That’s not?—”
“Let me tell you a secret,” I cut him off, rolling my chair closer until our knees touch. “The day I realized I didn’t have to choose between science and justice was the most liberating day of my life. When I understood that my research could serve a higher purpose...” I giggle, remembering the euphoria of that moment. “Well, let’s just say some of my best compounds were developed under that particular inspiration.”
Ethan stares at me, and I can see it—the crack in his armor, the whisper of temptation. “You’re talking about murder.”
“I’m talking about evolution, my darling saint. Yours, specifically.” I reach out, straightening his slightly crooked tie. He doesn’t pull away. Interesting. “You’re so close to understanding. To becoming something... magnificent.”
“Like you?” There’s a hint of sarcasm in his voice, but also something else.
Curiosity. Longing, perhaps.
“Like us,” I purr, letting some of my careful masks slip. Showing him the beautiful darkness that lies beneath. “You’ve seen how perfect her work is. Wouldn’t you love to be part of that perfection? To help shape it, guide it?” I lean closer, dropping my voice to a whisper. “To taste it?”
His breath catches. Oh, he’s absolutely gorgeous when he’s struggling with temptation. “Lucas, if you’re involved in these deaths...”
“I’m involved in everything interesting in this city, dear friend. The real question is...” I tap his chest again, feeling his heartbeat race under my finger, “what do you want to be involved in?”
The silence stretches between us, electric with possibility. I can practically see the war behind his eyes—duty versus desire, justice versus vengeance, the law versus something darker and more satisfying.
“I should arrest you,” he says finally, but he makes no move to do so.
I laugh, wild and free. “But you won’t. Because deep down, you want to know how the story ends. Want to be part of it.” I stand, moving to my private safe. “Would you like to see what I’m working on? What we could accomplish together?”
“We?” Ethan’s voice catches as I enter my safe’s combination with flourishing digits. “You keep saying that.”
“Mmmm,” I hum, shooting him my most manic grin over my shoulder. “Did your mother never teach you patience, saint? All will be revealed in time. Like a properly executed chemical reaction—every element must be introduced in perfect sequence.”
I retrieve a small vial of iridescent liquid, holding it up to the light. The way Ethan’s eyes track my movements is positively predatory. Such potential in him, barely contained by that FBI suit.
“You’re looking particularly delicious tonight, by the way,” I observe casually, enjoying the way his cheeks color. “All righteous determination and barely suppressed violence. Makes me want to run all sorts of fascinating tests.”
“Lucas,” he warns, but he doesn’t move away when I invade his personal space.
“Tell me, Agent Blake,” I purr, perching on his armrest. “What really keeps you up at night? The criminals you can’t catch, or the ones you let walk free?” I dangle the vial before his eyes. “The solution could be so simple. So... elegant.”
His hand catches my wrist, strong and steady. “This isn’t a game.”
“Oh, but it is!” I laugh, not pulling away from his grip. “The most exquisite game. And you’re already playing, whether you admit it or not.” I lean closer, my lips nearly brushing his ear. “Why else would you be here, in my private lab, at midnight, instead of reporting your suspicions to your superiors?”
His grip tightens, but still he doesn’t push me away. “I’m here because you’re my friend.”
“Am I?” I ask softly, letting some of my genuine affection show through the madness. “And what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t help you become who you’re meant to be?”
“A law-abiding one,” he mutters, but there’s a hint of humor in his voice.
“Boring!” I declare, finally pulling free of his grip to spin dramatically across the lab. “Law-abiding is for people who lack imagination. Vision! The courage to reshape the world into something better.” I pause, fixing him with my most intense stare. “People unlike you, my dear Ethan.”
He stands abruptly, running both hands through his hair. The gesture dishevels him beautifully. “I should go.”
“Should you?” I move to block his path, close enough to feel the heat radiating off him. “Or should you stay? See what other secrets my lab holds? What other truths about yourself you might discover?”
“You’re insane,” he says, but he’s smiling slightly now.
“Brilliantly so,” I agree cheerfully. “And you’re attracted to it. To the chaos, the freedom, the pure...” I trail one finger down his tie, “...possibility of it all.”
His hand catches mine, and for a moment, I think he might actually arrest me. Instead, he just holds it, thumb brushing over my chemical-stained knuckles. “What happened to you, Lucas?”
“I evolved, saint.” I squeeze his hand. “And you’re so close to your own evolution. I can see it in your eyes—that hunger for something more than paperwork and procedures.” I step even closer, tilting my head. “Would you like me to show you?”
The war in his eyes is absolutely beautiful.
“Your pulse is racing, Agent Blake,” I murmur, my fingers finding the point beneath his jaw where truth beats in steady rhythms. “Quite the physiological response for someone who claims to be repulsed by all this.”
“Lucas—” His voice has gone rough, delicious.
“Shhhh,” I press slightly harder against his carotid. “Let the scientist speak. Elevated heart rate, dilated pupils...” I lean in, noting every micro-expression with clinical fascination. “Your body betrays you, saint. Every time you say no, your pulse screams yes.”
“This is inappropriate,” he manages, but his pulse jumps wonderfully under my touch.
“Oh, absolutely,” I agree cheerfully. “Highly unethical. Professionally compromising. Morally ambiguous at best.” My other hand comes up to straighten his tie again, lingering. “And yet... you’re still here. Fascinating, isn’t it?”
He swallows hard. I track the movement with scientific interest. “I should arrest you.”
“Mm, there’s that word again. Should.” I tap his chest in time with his heartbeat. “But your pulse tells such a different story. Tell me, does it race like this when you think about her? About the perfect justice she delivers?”
“I don’t?—”
“Don’t lie to your doctor, Ethan,” I scold playfully. “These readings suggest otherwise. Besides,” I spin away, my lab coat flaring dramatically, “I’ve seen your private case files. The ones you keep at home? Quite the collection of unsolved crimes. Almost like you’re... keeping score.”
His sharp intake of breath is everything. “You broke into my apartment?”
“Details, details,” I wave dismissively. “The point is, saint, you’re not as clean as you pretend to be. And isn’t that just...” I turn back, grinning manically, “exciting?”
“You’re trying to manipulate me,” he says, but he still hasn’t moved away.
I laugh, the sound bouncing off my lab’s sterile walls. “Obviously! And you’re letting me, which is far more interesting.” I move back into his space, bold now. “Your pulse hasn’t slowed, by the way. Quite the opposite.”
“Lucas, whatever you’re involved in?—”
“We’re all involved now, saint.” I cut him off with a finger to his lips. “You, me, our mysterious vigilante... we’re all dancing the same beautiful dance. The only question is,” I replace my finger with a brief, feather-light kiss to his neck, “are you ready to admit it?”
I step back before he can respond, enjoying the way his composure fractures. “Think about it, my dear friend. Think about what we could accomplish together. All that righteous fury of yours, properly directed...” I sigh dreamily. “The experiments alone would be magnificent.”
“You’re absolutely insane,” he says, but there’s something like wonder in his voice.
“And you’re absolutely smitten with our little vigilante,” I counter. “Don’t worry, saint. Some of us are good at sharing.”
His eyes widen at the implication, and oh, his pulse is practically singing now. “I should go,” he says finally, running a shaky hand through his hair.
“Of course you should,” I agree, opening the lab door with a flourish. “Run back to your rules and regulations. But when you’re lying awake tonight, thinking about justice and chemistry and all the delicious possibilities...” I press something into his hand—a small vial of clear liquid. “Remember this conversation.”
“What is it?” he asks.
My grin turns feral. “Evolution in a bottle, saint. Use it wisely.”
As he leaves, his steps less steady than when he arrived, he pauses and sets the vial back on my desk.
How very utterly disappointing.
I turn back to my experiments with renewed enthusiasm. The game has changed, become infinitely more interesting. My Chimera will be pleased—or possibly murderous. Either way, the results should be fascinating to observe.
“Sweet dreams, Agent Blake,” I murmur to my empty lab. “Let’s see what kind of monster you become.”