Searching For- Lily Labeau Rion King In-all Cat... May 2026

Now Celestine was gone, and Mars was the only believer left.

All Cat tilted its head. “A trade. One song you’ll never sing again. One memory you’ll never recover. One tear from a lover you haven’t met yet. That is the price.”

The trail led her through the alleys of the French Quarter, past tarot readers who shuddered when she showed the photo, and into a basement juke joint called “The Drowned Piano.” The air smelled of chicory coffee and regret. Behind the bar stood a one-eyed man named Gutter, who scratched a patchy beard and squinted at the picture. Searching for- lily labeau rion king in-All Cat...

“Where’s the lock?” Mars asked.

That night, she took a pirogue into the bayou, the air thick with fireflies and the distant wail of a saxophone no one else could hear. She sang the lullaby her grandmother had taught her— “Sleep, little sorrow, the moon is a liar” —and scattered shrimp shells into the black water. For an hour, nothing. Then the ripples stopped. The crickets fell silent. And from the cypress roots, a pair of green-gold eyes opened. Now Celestine was gone, and Mars was the only believer left

And somewhere under the water, Lily Labeau and Rion King finally danced.

Rion King smiled. “For someone lonely enough to hear us.” One song you’ll never sing again

Gutter pointed a gnarled finger at the cat in the photograph. “All Cat don’t like humans. But it loves three things: raw shrimp, a lullaby sung in a minor key, and the scent of a person who’s truly alone. You got any of those?”