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‘The Hermetic Order of the Quinta Essentia,’ Felix said. ‘It’s a… group. I was in them, but I’m not anymore.’

This had to be a dream, Ella thought. For years she’d been telling people that underground esoteric cults were urban legends dreamed up by people with too much time on their hands, but here she was, watching one materialize right in front of her. Maybe she never made it out of that barn fire in Oregon.

‘A cult? A religion? What is this so-called group , exactly?’

‘Just that. A group of guys that got together. A brotherhood.’

‘How many members?’

‘Nine. Well, eight now.’

Luca abandoned his post by the wall and took the seat beside her. His curiosity had finally won out over his intimidation routine, and Ella didn't blame him. This was the kind of confession that demanded an audience. He asked, ‘Okay, talk us through it. First, how did you find this cult?’

‘It’s not a cult, and you don’t find them. They find you.’

Ella laughed. Exactly the kind of melodramatic response she’d expect from someone like this. She tapped Felix’s book. ‘Well, we found them.’

‘Only because I made a mistake. I should have destroyed the book.’

‘How did you join them?’

‘They found me from something I posted online last year. I wrote something about a conspiracy, how the FBI and CIA contaminate the skies, effectively messing up the natural order of the elements.’

Ella fought the urge to roll her eyes. People like this gave the government way too much credit. ‘First of all, some of our colleagues barely know how to save a PDF. We’re not poisoning the skies. How did this group find you?’

A flinch rippled across Felix's face. ‘They sent me a message, then offered me a chance to join their brotherhood, providing I proved myself.’

Ella lingered on the word brotherhood. She’d studied enough group dynamics to know how this worked. Isolation. Indoctrination. The slow erosion of individual identity until the group became everything. She'd seen it in terrorist cells, street gangs, religious extremists.

And now, alchemy-obsessed cults.

She glanced at the photographs still strewn on the table. Suddenly, a few pieces clicked into place. ‘Prove yourself? By spray-painting walls? Slaughtering animals? Digging up graves?’

‘What? Yes. Well, sort of. Once you pass the trials, you’re in the brotherhood for life.’

‘The book.’ Luca prodded it with his finger. ‘What is this thing?’

‘Everything the Order believes is laid out in there. Or, what we were supposed to believe, anyway. I wasn’t too taken by it.’

‘And what exactly do this Order believe?’ Ella turned to her partner and saw the curiosity dripping off him. She could read his body language like a book - the slight lean forward, the intense focus. Anything involving the occult always brought out his inner X-Files fan.

‘It’s all mixed up. Death worship, spirituality, elements as the basic building blocks of existence. The eternal transformation of matter and spirit. Pure crazy, but when you're in it... when you're part of it...’ He trailed off, lost in some memory he didn't seem eager to revisit.

A part of Ella wanted to scream. She remembered her old psychology tutor once showing her images from a ‘Stroke Simulator,’ which featured a bunch of objects that had been edited and blurred until they were unrecognizable. Felix’s words felt like the verbal equivalent.

She had a killer to find, and none of this spiritual nonsense was helping.

‘What happened next? You meet this cult, get indoctrinated, then what?’

‘We’d just… get together. Every two weeks.’

‘And do what?’

Felix scrubbed a hand over his face. 'Talk, mostly. It's like group therapy. Everyone sits in a circle. Some people talk, some stay quiet. We didn't go out killing people if that's what you're asking.'

Luca found a picture of the symbols on the rocks at the quarry. He slid it across the table. ‘Well, one of you went out killing people. And you left this message behind.’

‘You keep mentioning symbols,’ Felix said as he inspected the photo, ‘but these are not the Order’s symbols. I don’t even know what these are. They’re not alchemic or spiritual, at least not any that I know of. The Order didn’t do this.’

Ella asked, ‘What makes you so sure? ’

‘Because we drew the same symbols every time. Earth, fire, water, air, transmutation, ascendance. We didn’t do… this.’

She found a picture of one of the defiled graves and pushed it over. ‘Funny, because the symbols on these tombstones these look pretty identical to the ones from our crime scenes.’

Felix inspected it, then held up his palms in surrender. ‘Whoa, hold up. The Order wouldn’t… dig up graves. That’s insane. We weren’t body snatchers.’

Ella sat back and tried to make sense of everything. Somewhere out there was a group of alchemist, occultist wannabes with a shared devotion to the elements. They spray-painted walls, killed animals and may or may not have desecrated graves and murdered at least two people. Ella had no idea where fantasy ended and reality began, and for all she knew, the man in front of her might just be taking her for a ride. A part of her was now convinced that Felix Blackwood was not her killer, because if this bizarre cult didn’t exist, it was the most elaborate defense since David Berkowitz and his demonic dog.

But while Felix Blackwood might be innocent of murder, one of his cult-colleagues might not be.

She tapped the book again. ‘Your little Bible here. Who wrote it?’

‘Ezra,’ Felix said. ‘Ezra Crowley.’

Luca shot Ella a grin that said told you so . She ignored him. ‘Ezra Crowley? Tell me that’s not his real name.’

'No, it's not, but I don't know his real name. He kept it secret.'

Ella’s stomach began to churn. Charles Manson. Jim Jones. Paul Mackenzie. All cult leaders who eventually progressed to murder. Could this Ezra Crowley guy have joined the ranks?

‘Tell me about Ezra Crowley. Looks, personality, everything.’

Felix hesitated. He looked down at the table and said, ‘I don’t know. He looked like a guy. Long blonde hair, shaved at the sides, like a Viking. Biggish dude. Definitely on the juice. Maybe it messed with his head.’

Luca leaned closer to Ella and whispered, ‘Roid rage.’ Ella waved it off.

‘And what did Ezra talk about exactly? Anything that might resemble two dead bodies?’

‘Yes and no. I mean, he talked a lot , you know? Cosmic stuff, enlightenment, hidden knowledge.’

‘And you bought into it?’ Ella watched his face for tells. The nervous twitches kept piling up .

‘At first. You know how it is. You're lost, you're searching. Ezra had this way of talking that made everything sound profound. Even the crazy stuff.’ Felix let out a laugh that belonged in an asylum. ‘He'd go on about the elements for hours. Like he's revealing secrets the rest of the world is too blind to see.’

Ella had never dealt with cult members before, be it leaders, followers, or ex-members. She was covering new territory with every step, and a part of her felt like she’d waded a little too deep for comfort.

‘You said you left the group. Why?’

‘I didn’t leave as such. I just stopped showing up to meetings last month.’

‘Why?’

'I saw where we were headed. At first, I thought everything was theatrical. Just philosophy. But then I saw the way some of the others looked at him when he talked about it. Like they were ready to do anything he asked. And then Ezra asked me to…'

Ella folded her arms. Another piece of the puzzle clicked into place. ‘This Ezra guy asked you to get into NYU’s archive, didn’t he?’

Felix held her gaze. Then he nodded. ‘Yeah. I failed, and I didn’t want to face the wrath. So I stopped going.’

‘You were scared of his response?’

'Yeah, I mean, I don't know if you've realized, but the dude is crazy.'

‘I got that. And has he contacted you since?’

Felix pressed a hand to his battered nose then winced. ‘I’ve been getting letters. Threatening ones, telling me I need to show up to the next meeting. One appeared right on my desk at home. No postcard.’

That caught Ella’s attention. ‘Someone went into your house and left you a threatening letter?’

Felix nodded.

'What did these letters say exactly?'

Felix shifted in his chair. ‘Just stuff about betrayal, abandonment.’

It was the old Scientology approach, Ella thought. Once you were in, you were in for life.

But this was eight guys, not a whole organization.

Which meant Ella could get inside.

‘Where do these meetings take place?’ she asked.

‘Madame Butterfly’s. It was a vintage clothes shop on Warren Street. Closed down years ago. One of the members owns the lease on it.’

‘When do the Order meet?’

‘Every other Wednesday. ’

Luca checked his watch. ‘Which means tonight.’

'Yeah. 9 PM to 11 PM tonight.'

Ella studied Felix. ‘How do we get in?’

‘You don't. Members only.’

‘So how does someone become a member?’

'I told you, everyone has to be invited personally. Plus, you can't just walk in. You need the uniform.'

‘Which is?’

‘Black hoody, airsoft mask.’

Luca asked, ‘What’s an airsoft mask?’

Felix made a barrier between his eyes and nose with his hand. ‘Like one of those masks doctors wear. Covers most of your face. The Order’s was green.’

Ella weighed her options. They could storm the place, but that would scatter potential suspects like roaches. Evidence would vanish, leads would die, and they'd be back to square one. Plus, she wasn't sure they had enough probable cause to arrest a bunch of Fight Club rejects playing dress-up in an abandoned store.

But she did have one option.

The idea hit her like lightning. Risky, probably stupid, but sometimes those were the only options left.

‘Felix,’ she said. ‘You still have this uniform?’

‘Yeah. It’s in my closet. Why?’

Ella turned to Luca with a grin. She could already see it playing out in her head. A way to get inside, to see this Ezra Crowley up close, to figure out if he was their killer or just another wannabe messiah with too much time and too little sanity.

‘Because I think it’s about time we joined a cult.’