Page 27 of Curse in the Quarter
The morning light streaming through the Archive windows seemed to pulse with rhythm that matched heartbeats, matched the locket against his chest, matched something deeper that connected all the choices they’d made across lifetimes to this single moment of decision.
Whatever came next, they would face it with the truth between them. No more protective deceptions, no morecareful distances, no more pretending that love alone could shield them from cosmic forces that viewed their connection as raw material for grander designs.
The pattern that had begun with Charlotte’s experiments and continued through Delia’s death was approaching its final iteration. This time, perhaps, knowledge and choice would prove stronger than accident and tragedy.
But first, they would have to survive long enough to discover what their love might become when freed from the limitations—and protections—that had defined it across centuries of separation and loss.
Seven
Bastien bolted upright in his office chair, pen scattering across case files as raw spiritual energy crackled through the Quarter’s ley lines. Not the gentle pulse of everyday magic—this was violent, chaotic, a scream of power being torn from someone who hadn’t consented to give it.
Two blocks south. Maybe three.
Bastien was moving before conscious thought caught up, grabbing his jacket and weapons while the keepsake locket burned against his ribs in warning. The Quarter’s evening crowds parted instinctively as he jogged through narrow streets, their subconscious minds registering the kind of urgency that preceded disaster.
The Blue Note Café’s windows blazed with silver light that wasn’t coming from any type of electricity.
Inside, chaos. Overturned tables, scattered drinks, patrons pressed against walls with expressions of primal terror. And at the center of it all, a young woman convulsing on the hardwood floor while soul burn glyphs carved themselves across her exposed skin in real-time.
A young woman in business attire, probably midtwenties, no visible signs of occult involvement. Normal life until moments ago when something ancient and hungry had marked her soul for harvesting.
The glyphs pulsed with each heartbeat, creating geometric patterns more complex than anything he’d documented in previous cases. Not random supernatural manifestations—organized networks, circuits preparing her consciousness for specific functions within whatever cosmic working was building around Delphine’s existence.
By the time paramedics arrived, the worst had passed. The woman lay unconscious, fever spiking, while residue clung to everything she’d touched—jasmine twisted through hot metal, like expensive perfume poured over heated iron.
Concentrated now.
Aggressive.
Detective Novak arrived as they loaded her into the ambulance, looking like a man who’d cataloged too many impossible cases in too short a time.
“Camille Landry,” he said, consulting his notebook. “Marketing coordinator for a tech startup downtown. No history of drug use, psychiatric episodes, or connection to anything unusual until tonight.” He watched the ambulance pull away toward Charity Hospital. “Third victim in five days. Same markings, same symptoms, but progressed further than what we saw with Carrow or Lafitte. Whatever’s causing this is getting stronger with each transmission.”
They followed the ambulance through Quarter streets that felt charged with residual energy. Novak drove while Bastien processed what he’d witnessed—the systematic arrangement of the glyphs, the way they’d carved themselves in real-time, the violent spiritual disturbance thathad announced another soul being marked for cosmic harvest.
“Any connection to the other victims?” Bastien asked.
“She danced with Emmett Carrow three nights ago at this same café. Normal social interaction according to witnesses, nothing that would suggest contamination.” Novak’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “But the progression is accelerating. Carrow took days to develop full markings. Landry went from normal to completely marked in under an hour.”
“The network is learning. Adapting its transmission methods.”
“That’s what I was afraid you’d say.” The detective pulled into Charity Hospital’s emergency entrance. “Medical staff is baffled. They’re treating her like a fever case, but the markings don’t respond to any conventional therapy.”
They found Camille in the isolation ward, strapped to a bed, her condition having deteriorated beyond what emergency medicine could address through conventional means. The patterns spreading across her torso pulsed with each heartbeat, illuminating symbols that shifted position when observed directly. Not random manifestations—organized networks, circuits preparing her consciousness for specific functions within whatever cosmic working was building around Delphine’s existence.
But these markings showed systematic arrangement the previous victims had lacked. Complete geometries suggesting her soul was being prepared for leadership roles in the expanding network.
“Has she been conscious?” Bastien asked.
“Brief periods. Keeps asking for drinks to serve someone who ‘felt like winter starlight.’ Apologizes for notrecognizing them sooner.” The attending physician joined them at her bedside. “She also hums melodies in a voice that isn’t hers.”
Bastien studied the markings more closely while they waited. The soul burn glyphs had evolved beyond anything he’d documented—not just individual symbols but interconnected networks that pulsed in synchronized patterns. Like a nervous system made of light, preparing her consciousness for integration into something vast and alien.
Detective Novak paced the corridor outside, fielding calls from other precincts about copycat incidents. Through the doorway, Bastien caught fragments of conversation that made his breath falter—more victims, faster progression, medical staff requesting federal assistance.
The attending physician checked monitors that registered vital signs while completely missing the spiritual catastrophe unfolding before their eyes. “Temperature’s holding steady at 102. EEG shows unusual brain activity—patterns we’ve never seen before. It’s like multiple consciousness sources are trying to occupy the same neural pathways.”
More accurate than she knew.
