14. Evangeline
14
EVANGELINE
INTERNAL ORGANIZATION MEMO PRIORITY LEVEL: HIGHEST RE: Security Breach
Multiple assets compromised. Suspect coordinated effort between:
Former operative A. Cross’s “project”
FBI Agent E. Blake
ME L. Gautier
Local asset J. Reynaud
Note from Councilman Davis: Handle the situation. Personally. [Bloodstain visible on corner]
Dawn creeps through my windows, painting the evidence of my double life in shades of gold. Lucas’s lab reports spread across my kitchen table, their clinical language detailing deaths I’ve orchestrated. My poisons, his cover-ups—we’re quite the team now. The thought should disturb me more than it does.
My phone buzzes with Jazz’s unique ringtone. “Melody, we got trouble. Quarter’s crawling with plainclothes cops. Something’s got them stirred up.”
My stomach tightens. “Where exactly?”
“Concentrated around Madame Laveau’s. They’re showing photos, asking questions.” Jazz’s voice drops lower. “Photos of you, sugar. Different hair, different name, but definitely you. Thing is... Ethan isn’t with them, which ain’t like him at all.”
I move to my window, scanning the bayou. The calm waters betray nothing, but my mind races. Ethan’s absence is a red flag. Has he figured out my connection to the deaths, or is he protecting me? Either way, the noose is tightening.
“Thanks for the warning.” I keep my voice light, though unease prickles along my spine. Where is Ethan? He never sends agents without personally supervising. “Stay clear of it, okay?”
“Like hell.” Jazz’s protective anger warms something in my chest. “I ain’t leaving you to handle this alone. Especially with things feeling sideways.”
“Jazz—”
“Don’t Jazz me. I know that tone—you’re planning something reckless.” He sighs. “At least let me help. My club’s neutral ground, away from prying eyes.”
Before I can respond, my burner phone chimes.
Lucas : Chimera, we have a problem. E knows something’s wrong with Perkins’ autopsy. He’s not letting this go.
“I have to call you back,” I tell Jazz, my mind already racing through contingencies.
I dial Lucas. “Talk to me.”
“He’s obsessed,” Lucas says, his voice tight with worry and something like excitement. There’s a clinking of glass in the background, the sound of monitors beeping. “The way he was going on about Lauren’s case. He’s connecting dots we can’t afford him to connect.”
I absently touch the dried wolfsbane hanging from Grandmother’s rafters. Her voice echoes in memory: “The deadliest plants are the most beautiful, child. Like the most dangerous truths.”
“Lauren?” The name triggers something in my memory. “His fiancée who died?”
“Killed in the crossfire of his last Chicago case. Or so the official report says.” Lucas’s laugh holds a manic edge, followed by what sounds like a muffled groan and more clinking. “He never believed it was random. Now he’s seeing patterns everywhere, convinced everything connects.”
“Does it?” I press. “Connect to Lauren’s death?” Something about Lucas’s tone feels off—distracted, almost giddy.
A pause, filled with strange background noise and what might be Lucas humming. “I may have found something in my research. Meet me at the lab tonight? This isn’t for phones.” His voice carries that manic edge that usually means he’s deep in some questionable science. “Though I must say, the patterns are absolutely exquisite once you see them properly.”
I move to Grandmother’s herb wall, fingers brushing the dried leaves. “Sometimes the truth hides in plain sight,” she used to say. “Like poison in a pretty bloom.”
Standing here where I first learned about power and protection, something feels wrong about all this—Lucas’s strange behavior, Ethan’s absence from his own surveillance operation.
I end the call, mind whirling. Through the bayou-facing window, past the twisted cypress trees, I spot another of Ethan’s agents. They’re getting bolder, coming this close to Grandmother’s territory. But still no Ethan himself, which isn’t like him at all.
My burner buzzes again.
Unknown number: The FBI agent is getting too close. Handle it, or we will.
Ice slides down my spine. The organization. They’re watching too.
My laptop, set up on Grandmother’s old workbench where I used to study molecular structures and plant compounds, holds everything I’ve gathered on Ethan’s past cases. Time to do some hunting of my own. Lauren’s case files are heavily redacted, but there are patterns.
Shell companies involved in her case match ones I’ve traced to the organization. The random shooting that killed her happened right after Ethan started investigating corruption in Chicago’s port authority.
The same port authority that connects to New Orleans through shipping routes I’ve been tracking.
“Oh, Ghost,” I whisper to myself, using his nickname for Celeste. “You’re hunting the wrong shadow.”
Another text from Lucas makes my phone buzz.
Lucas: The most fascinating reactions often occur under pressure, my dear Chimera. Like watching consciousness expand in real time...
I frown at the strange message, but before I can analyze it, my regular phone chimes with Jazz’s tone.
“Your boy’s people are getting antsy,” he reports. “Keep asking when they can expect him back. Like they don’t know where he is.”
Something tugs at the edge of my mind—a connection I’m missing. But there’s no time to dwell on it. I need to act fast. Protect Jazz and Lucas, throw the FBI off my trail, and keep the organization from taking matters into their own hands.
I text Jazz.
Me: Need a favor. Big one.
His reply is instant.
Jazz: Name it.
Me: Your club. Tonight. Make sure word of a private meeting gets to Ethan’s people. And I need you to meet Lucas first—he has something for you to pass along.
There’s a longer pause than usual before Jazz responds.
Jazz: Doc’s been real quiet today. Not answering my calls.
Me: He’s probably caught up in an experiment.
It’s getting harder to ignore the uneasy feeling in my gut.
Lucas gets lost in his work all the time. It’s normal. Right?
Jazz: This plan of yours... it gonna keep you safe?
I look around Grandmother’s kitchen, at all the herbs and shadows that taught me both healing and harm.
Me: Trust me?
Jazz: Always, Melody. Even when I shouldn’t.
My chest tightens at Jazz’s trust. He and Lucas, both risking everything to protect me. And I’m about to use their loyalty to manipulate the one man who might actually be on the right side of all this.
My phone buzzes with another cryptic text from Lucas.
Lucas: Did you know certain compounds can completely rewrite a person’s moral architecture? The transformation is quite beautiful to observe. Like watching a saint become a sinner in real time...
I stare at the message, something nagging at the edges of my consciousness. Lucas’s texts are always strange, full of scientific tangents and brilliant madness, but today they feel... pointed. Like he’s trying to tell me something without telling me.
But I can’t focus on Lucas’s mysteries now. Celeste’s killers are still out there, growing more dangerous by the day. And if Lauren’s death connects to the same organization...
I move to my old room, pulling out the dress I wore the night Celeste and Ethan had their first date. Walking around New Orleans.
Time to give Ethan’s people what they want—a ghost to chase. One that will lead them toward Lauren’s real killers and away from my true identity.
Another text from Lucas makes my phone dance.
Lucas: My lab has become quite the confessional today. Amazing what truth serum and the right chemical catalyst can reveal...
Before I can respond, Jazz calls again. “Melody... you sure about tonight? Something feels wrong. Like we’re all dancing to someone else’s tune.”
“When aren’t we?” I try to joke, but his words hit too close to home. Through the window, I watch Ethan’s agents circling Grandmother’s property like sharks scenting blood.
But where is their leader?
My burner buzzes one last time.
Lucas: Whatever you’re planning, my beautiful Chimera... know that I’m already several steps ahead. The most dangerous experiments are the ones we can’t control, but oh, the results are proving extraordinary.
In the distance, thunder rolls across the bayou. Grandmother always said storms had a way of revealing hidden truths. “Like rain washing away masks,” she’d tell me, “showing what lies beneath.”
I check my weapons, my escape routes, my contingency plans. Tonight, I’ll dance on the edge of exposure, trusting in Jazz’s loyalty and Lucas’s brilliance.
Something about Lucas’s messages, about Ethan’s absence, about the whole perfect setup...
The storm clouds gather overhead, promising revelation or ruin. Perhaps both.
Let the game begin.