“You sure that’s stable?” Evelyn’s voice broke through the heavy silence, her green eyes narrowing as she leaned against the lab’s doorway. Smoke from her cigarette curled in lazy spirals, only half-heartedly dissipated by the flickering mage-lights overhead.


    Isabella’s gloved hands trembled slightly as she adjusted the copper encasing around one of the crystals.


    "Stable enough" she said, her tone a little lighter than it had been over the past few days. She picked up her pen and recorded the current magic level readings on the small analog indicator next to the two glowing pink crystals.


    "With this number of crystals," she continued, placing the pen down and twisting a small dial. "Even at max output. There is not enough power stored to trigger anything that can''t be contained....in theory."


    Evelyn took one last deliberate drag from her cigarette, letting the smoke curl lazily toward the ceiling before crushing the butt into the ashtray with a practiced flick. Her voice came out dry, a smirk curling her lips. “Oh, amazing. ‘In theory.’ Nothing like a little uncertainty to put everyone at ease.”


    Isabella didn’t look up from her work, her fingers adjusting the copper encasing on one of the crystals with steady precision.


    “You’re not even supposed to be smoking in here,” she muttered, the mild exasperation in her tone tempered by the faintest trace of amusement.


    Evelyn gestured toward the ashtray with an arched brow. “Then why is there an ashtray in your lab?”


    “It’s there for when people do it anyway,” Isabella shot back through a smile.


    She reached for her notebook again, beginning to jot down observations. The sound of scratching ink filled the room, a counterpoint to the eerie hum of the crystals.


    “Rules, huh?” Evelyn quipped, sliding her hands into her coat pockets.


    Isabella stopped writing and glanced at Evelyn. The detective’s face was a mask of confidence, but there was a tension in her jaw that hadn’t been there a week ago.


    “You think the killer will strike again?” Isabella asked, quieter now.


    “Think?” Evelyn shrugged, her coat shifting with the movement. “I don’t have the luxury of thinking. Prepare for the worst and hope you''re wrong.”


    The words lingered like smoke in a closed room, suffocating and bitter. Isabella stared down at her notes, her fingers trembling as they brushed the edges of the pages. Each line of meticulously documented data felt like an accusation. The weight in her chest tightened. Dr. Alan’s body flashed behind her eyes—his skin charred and eyes lifeless. She shuddered and forced the memory away, but it refused to vanish completely. And Peterson—her breath caught at the thought of him. Dr Peterson. Her throat burned as she swallowed hard, the lump there refusing to budge. This wasn’t just research anymore; it had turned into something monstrous. Something that killed. Her team had believed they were creating something for good—something groundbreaking, finally they would be able to start healing a small part of the damage done to the planet''s oceans. But the blood on her hands said otherwise.


    You think I’ll hurt people?  Her voice echoed in the back of her mind. I think you already have. Evelyn''s voice answered from their conversation earlier in the week.  Her vision blurred as tears welled, threatening to spill. She bit her lip, and pressed her palms flat against the desk. The cold bite of the metal giving her something else to focus on. But as the table warmed the moment faded. Her mind still churned, catching on one cruel truth: the lives lost weren’t accidents. They were consequences.


    “What about Christmas?” Evelyn asked suddenly, breaking the spell of silence.


    Isabella blinked, caught off guard. “What about it?”


    “Do you have plans?” Evelyn’s voice softened, a rare crack in her tough exterior.


    Isabella hesitated, her pen pausing mid-stroke. “Not really. Usually, I’d spend it with my mother, but… she’s overseas this year. Work conference. So...was just going to spend it in the lab.”


    Evelyn let out a low chuckle, the sound dry but not unkind. “Sounds about as thrilling as mine. I usually end up nursing a bottle of whiskey and avoiding my neighbors’ invitations to awkward potlucks.”


    She couldn’t help it—laughter burst out of her like a flood breaking through a dam. All that tension, all the weight and pressure that had pressed against her like a vice just moments ago—gone! Just like that. It felt like magic, as if Evelyn had snapped her fingers, and suddenly, she didn’t just believe she might be okay—she knew it, felt it deep in her chest, steady and sure like the beat of her heart.


    Between gasps for air, Isabella grinned, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I could never picture you at a potluck,” she said, the words spilling out.


    Evelyn raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the edge of the desk. “What’s that supposed to mean?”


    “It means,” Isabella managed, her voice still shaking with amusement, “you’re about as likely to show up with a casserole as I am to grow gills. Can you imagine? You, standing there with—what—potato salad?” She doubled over again, the image so absurd it only set her off more.


    Evelyn’s mouth twitched. “First off, I don’t make potato salad. And second—what’s wrong with gills? Might look good on you.” Her tone was dry as a sun-baked leaf, but the faintest smirk tugged at the corner of her lips, barely there, but unmistakable.


    Isabella exhaled sharply, the tension in her shoulders dissolving as she braced both hands against the edge of the table. A faint chuckle lingered on her lips, her breath catching between the remnants of laughter that hadn’t felt this natural in weeks. She shook her head, waves of chestnut hair slipping loose from the knot at her nape.


    "You’re impossible," she murmured, though her voice betrayed her with a warmth she didn’t bother to hide.


    “And I’d like to keep it that way,” Evelyn shot back, her usual smirk replaced with silent laughter of her own. Her green eyes glinted, the hard line of her expression softening as she leaned in, her tone dropping just enough to spark a charge.


    “You could always join me,” Evelyn said, taking a seat next to Isabella. A curl of smoke trailed from the cigarette balanced between her fingers, the faint scent of tobacco curling into the room. Her green eyes held a spark of mischief, the kind that dared you to take a chance and see what might happen. “I promise, I’m a lot more fun than a cold lab and research notes.”


    Isabella looked up, caught for a beat too long in Evelyn’s gaze. The corners of her lips twitched, a blush creeping over her cheeks. She broke the moment by fiddling with the knobs on the crystal amplifiers, her hands suddenly over-occupied with adjustments that didn’t seem strictly necessary.


    “I don’t know,” she murmured, the faintest lilt of a smile betraying her. “Maybe.”


    Evelyn took a slow drag of her cigarette, letting the silence stretch just enough to leave Isabella wondering. Then, her voice came low and playful. “You don’t seem entirely convinced, Hartley. Should I be offended?”


    Isabella snorted softly, glancing up from the crystals with a smirk.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    “Oh, I’m sure your feelings are delicate. Besides, I didn’t say no, did I?” She straightened, her brain catching up with her mouth just a fraction too late,  brushing an errant wave of chestnut hair back into place and her eyes brightened with a challenge.


    “Well, if that’s your version of ‘yes,’ I might need to hear it a little clearer, for the record.” Evelyn replied playfully, the grin that followed as sharp as her wit. She stubbed out the cigarette in the nearby tray, her movements deliberate, the subtle shift drawing her closer to Isabella. "Police reports and all." She trailed off


    The glow of the crystals danced across Isabella’s face as she met Evelyn’s gaze, the light in her eyes softening but never losing that edge of playfulness.


    “You might be able to convince me,” she said lightly, tilting her head just enough to let the words carry a teasing undertone, though her voice softened on the last word.


    Evelyn leaned in a little, the shadow between them narrowing as if the room itself had conspired to draw them together.


    “Oh, I could, could I?” Evelyn''s tone was edged with humor, but there was something quieter beneath it, a steadiness that balanced the moment on the edge of anticipation.


    The faint hum of the crystals seemed to fade into the background as the two drew closer, close enough now that Evelyn caught the faint scent of salt and citrus from Isabella''s conditioner.


    Isabella smiled, a little shy this time but no less sure. “You might have to work for it.”


    Evelyn’s grin softened, her voice lowering as she replied, “I think I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.”


    They were so close now that Evelyn could see the faint scar arcing along Isabella’s brow, a mark she hadn’t noticed before but suddenly wanted to know the story behind.


    Isabella let her eyes drift shut, a soft exhale escaping her lips. The teasing curve of her lips softening into something more yielding. Slowly, achingly slowly, they both leaned in, the world around them fading into shadow and stillness. The warmth of Evelyn''s breath brushed close, intimate and unhurried, carrying the faint scent of pine and lavender—clean and woodsy, a contrast to the lingering smokiness of her tobacco. Isabella’s heartbeat quickened and she took in a slow breath.


    “Detective Blackwood,” a voice broke through, sharp and unrelenting like a shard of glass cutting into velvet. Evelyn froze, the distance between them now an echo instead of a heartbeat.


    Isabella’s eyes snapped open as the owner of the voice registered, Jonah''s one of the newer lab assistants. His voice carried a thread of urgency, ricocheting against the walls.


    “Message from your station. Something about a report.” He continued after a brief pause.


    Evelyn lingered for a moment longer, her sharp green eyes searching Isabella’s face, as if to memorize something that might slip away. Then, with a faint curl of her lip—something between amusement and apology—she stepped back, shadows seeming to ripple, tendrils lashed out all over the room for an ever so brief moment, then pulled tightly around her as she straightened.


    Evelyn frowned, her lips tightening into a thin line. “Of course they do.” She turned back to Isabella. “Stay put. I’ll be back in a few hours.”


    “I’ll be fine,” Isabella assured her, though her eyes lingered on Evelyn a little longer than necessary.


    Evelyn adjusted her coat and stepped into the corridor, her silhouette swallowed by the gloom.


    The mage-lights flickered again, the shadows growing darker as Evelyn disappeared into them, leaving Isabella alone with her thoughts—and the algae.


    ***


    The lab was still, the kind of silence that amplified small sounds until they filled the space. The steady burble from the algae growth tanks played counterpoint to the faint scratch of her pen, a rhythm too soft to distract but impossible to ignore. The overhead lights cast a sterile glow, their hum barely perceptible, yet somehow louder in the absence of voices. The others had cleared out hours ago, trading lab coats for holiday sweaters, eager for a week of rest. By Monday, most of them would be sipping eggnog by firesides, not tending petri dishes.


    Isabella lingered. Not because she had to—her notes were thorough, and her samples stable—but because the quiet suited her tonight. She tapped the end of her pen against the paper, the motion absent, her focus elsewhere. Her thumb brushed her lower lip, a faint touch that brought back the moment from earlier.


    Evelyn.


    The memory unraveled like smoke, faint but inescapable. That fleeting moment—when Evelyn''s breath had warmed her cheek, close enough to feel but not quite touch—played on a loop in her mind. The air between them had buzzed, a live wire sparking but not quite making contact. It had been a heartbeat, maybe two, but long enough for Isabella to feel the pull of it, the weight of what could’ve been. The smile on her face was warm and genuine, not forced like the weeks prior.


    Her mind drifted further into imagination as she pictured her and Evelyn, together on Christmas day. The two of them having all the time in the world to share the moment that was stolen from the two of them earlier. A dream of what reality could be like if she accepted Evelyn''s offer.


    She shook her head and straightened, setting her pen down with deliberate care. The kiss hadn’t happened, she reminded herself, though the phantom warmth on her skin argued otherwise. She turned back to her notes, eyes scanning the page in a futile attempt to anchor herself to the present. The lab wasn’t the place for this, and yet…


    She sighed, letting the stillness of the room settle over her like a blanket, offering a brief moment of solace she knew wouldn’t last.


    The door banged open. Jonah burst in, his lab coat askew, face pale as the moonlight filtering through the frosted windows.


    “Doctor Hartley! It’s happened again,” he gasped, doubling over to catch his breath. “But… they’re alive this time. You have to come.”


    Isabella froze.


    “What?” Her voice was low, urgent. She shoved back from the table, knocking over a flask that rolled to the edge but didn’t fall. “Who was it? Where?”


    “Lower basement,” Jonah stammered, voice coming between gasps for air. “I don’t know their name. Security found them. Lower basement!”


    She didn’t think twice. She followed him into the corridor. The cold air bit at her face as they descended the stairs, the mage-lights growing dimmer with each step. Jonah’s frantic pace made it hard to ask questions, but she tried.


    “Who… who’s hurt? What happened?”


    “Same as before,” Jonah managed between ragged breaths. “Burns all over their body!"


    The lower basement smelled of mildew and salt, the kind of dampness that clung to walls long forgotten. They turned a corner, and Jonah shoved open a heavy steel door. Inside, an observation room loomed, its dim interior dominated by a wide glass window set into the far wall. A camera on a tripod stood on the other side of the glass, its lens pointed back at the door to the observation room.


    “Where’s the—” Isabella began, but her words faltered as she stepped inside. The door slammed shut behind her with a metallic clang. She whirled around, her hand reaching instinctively for the handle. It didn’t budge.


    “Jonah, what’s going on?” she demanded, her voice tight with unease.


    He didn’t answer. When she turned back, he stood on the other side of the glass, his face distorted by the glass. The camera’s red light blinked steadily beside him.


    “Jonah, open the door,” she said, stepping toward the window.


    He smiled, the kind that turned her blood cold. “You’re clever, Isabella. I’ll give you that. But you’ve been so focused on saving the world that you didn’t see what was right in front of you.”


    She froze, her heart thundering. “What are you talking about?”


    He gestured to the room she was in. Only now did she notice the large growth tanks lined against the walls, their surfaces rippling faintly. Above them, dozens of magic crystals hung in neat rows from the ceiling, pulsing faintly with stored energy.


    “It’s a demonstration,” he said, his tone almost casual. “I’ve been showing buyers what your algae can do. Your work is brilliant, you know that. Revolutionary even. And it’ll fetch a fine price on the black market.”


    Her chest tightened. “You’ve… been committing the murders?”


    “Murders is such a crude term,” Jonah said, tilting his head. “It’s just… business. The cameras record the results, and let’s just say they’ve been very persuasive.”


    "And might I add your discovery of using magic to accelerate the effects was quite amazing!" He continued. "I have to thank you really. I might be able to double the price if this experiment goes well."


    Isabella stepped back, her breath coming in shallow bursts. She eyed the tanks, the crystals, and the faint green glow of the algae that seemed to ripple with anticipation. Her mind raced, piecing together the implications.


    “You’re insane,” she said, her voice low but firm. “You can’t control this.”


    Jonah’s grin widened. “Oh, I don’t need to. I just need to prove it works.”


    He stepped toward the camera, his hand hovering over the recording crystal embedded in its casing. “And you, Doctor Hartley, are about to become my final demonstration.”


    “Good luck, Doctor Hartley,” Jonah said, his voice muffled through the glass.


    Then the water came!