Page 31

Two hours felt like twenty when you were listening to a lunatic in cyberpunk goggles preach about cosmic consciousness. Luca’s ass had gone numb an hour ago, and his bladder was staging a full revolution. Ella had warned him about stake-outs, about sitting still for hours, but she'd never mentioned what it was like watching a man in designer tactical gear draw circles on the floor while spouting cosmic word salad.

Ezra hadn't stopped moving the entire time. He prowled the circle like a shark testing aquarium glass, pontificating about elements and energy and things that made Charles Manson sound like Gandhi. He'd talk about earth spirits one minute, quantum physics the next. The guy could probably sell enlightenment to the Buddha.

At one point, Ezra had produced a copper bowl filled with what looked like mercury. He'd made them all breathe in the fumes while chanting something in Latin. Luca had faked it, holding his breath while wondering if mercury poisoning would be covered under FBI health insurance.

If one of these masked figures was their killer, they weren't giving themselves away. Everyone played their part perfectly - nodding at the right moments, murmuring agreement when Ezra hit his dramatic peaks. These were like theater kids who'd traded Shakespeare for the occult.

And through it all, Luca's bladder had gotten steadily more insistent. Maybe this was what hitting thirty meant - your body turning against you one organ at a time.

Ezra raised his hands toward the ceiling. His modified welding goggles caught the light and turned it into tiny explosions. ‘The hour grows late, brothers. The elements rest, and so must we.’

Luca breathed a sigh. He’d made it. Two hours of living in bizarro world, surrounded by seven armed cultists and a Viking-cyberpunk hybrid guy who seemed to be on a perpetual acid trip.

And through it all, no one had suspected that the part of Felix Blackwood was being played by Luca Hawkins

Thank Christ it was over. Luca's kidneys were about ready to file for divorce.

‘No homework this week. Take the time to meditate on the mysteries. But prepare yourselves for the next gathering. The veil thins, the eclipse approaches. Our time comes.’ Ezra's voice carried that specific tone that made everything sound profound.

The others nodded like they actually understood what this discount Neo was talking about. They rose from their chairs in perfect sync, like they'd rehearsed it. One by one, they collected their weapons from the floor. Luca waited until several others had retrieved theirs before making his move. No need to draw attention. Once everyone was sufficiently armed again, Luca retrieved his Glock. He made a show of checking it, like he hadn't felt naked as a jaybird without it all night.

The urge to suddenly bolt was strong. His piece was back in hand, his prostate was playing xylophone on his bladder, and he'd got a whole load of nothing from this little venture.

But still, Luca had come this far. No point bailing before he’d milked his stay here.

‘Ezra?’ Number Four’s voice squeaky voice carried that reverent tone cultists seemed to perfect. ‘May I use the facilities?’

Ezra smiled. Even that looked practiced. ‘Of course. As above, so below. The elements flow through us all.’

Seriously? Guy couldn't even talk about taking a leak without turning it into philosophy.

Still, Luca wasn't about to miss his chance. He raised his hand. ‘Yeah, me too. I need to piss like a racehorse.’

The words came out pure New England, nothing like Felix's Jersey Shore drawl.

A few masks turned his way. He felt their stares through identical eye holes. Even Ezra's goggled gaze lingered a half-second too long.

Amateur hour, Hawkins. Four months with the Bureau and he couldn't even keep his damn accent straight. The kind of mistake that got undercover cops found in dumpsters. He forced his shoulders to stay relaxed, praying his face wasn't as red as it felt under the mask.

But then Ezra waved his permission. Luca followed Number Four toward the back of the store, past old clothing racks that looked like steel skeletons. A narrow hallway led to what must have been the employee bathroom back when this place sold vintage dresses instead of mystic crap.

Number Four disappeared inside. Luca bounced on his heels while he waited. A long table dominated one wall, stacked with books that would give a library conservator nightmares. Leather-bound volumes with cracked spines. Paperbacks so worn their titles had vanished. A copy of that book he’d seen in his Felix’s room - Beyond the Veil by Lydia Soulwright. Luca guessed it was a bestseller he was yet to hear of.

But then a different kind of volume caught his eye - a massive tome bound in red leather. Gold letters spelled out ‘ Corpus Hermeticum: The Divine Pymander of Hermes Trismegistus .’ Luca's Latin was rustier than a shipwreck, but he recognized enough to know this wasn't light reading.

Luca leafed through it quickly. The pages felt like they'd crumble at a harsh word. Diagrams, symbols, dense text in multiple languages. He wasn't sure what he was looking for.

Until the dog-eared corner led him straight to it.

His stomach dropped like he'd missed a step in the dark, because there, sprawled across two yellowing pages, were the same symbols that had haunted him since this case began.

Not similar. Not inspired by.

The exact same intricate patterns they'd found carved into quarry stone and sprayed on reservoir rocks. Five symbols that seemed to writhe on the page. The triangle inside the circle, the spiral eating its tail, the others that defied description but sent electricity dancing across his skin. The text beneath was a mess of Latin and Greek, but the illustrations punched the air from his lungs. Each symbol had been drawn with mechanical precision in ink that had long since turned the color of dried blood.

No modern reproduction. No interpretation. This was the source. Patient zero for whatever madness had infected their killer's mind.

He felt like he'd walked face-first into a live wire. This wasn't just some coincidence. Their killer hadn't invented these symbols - they'd found them right here, in this book that seemed older than the mountains. He needed to show this to Ella, get someone who could actually read this stuff.

Then the toilet flushed, and the bathroom door creaked open. Luca stuffed the book beneath his hoody as Number Four ambled towards him. Just another cog in the machine, waiting for his turn to drain the snake. Nothing to see here, move along .They passed without speaking, maintaining the fiction of anonymity, and Luca decided to follow his fellow cultist back down the hallway and out of the door. The book rode against his ribs while his bladder staged a riot, but there was one solution for both problems – get the hell out of here.

‘Going somewhere? ’

Ezra materialized at the end of the hall like something that had stepped out of tomorrow. The other cultist, whoever they were, had already made their escape given the door chime.

‘Just needed to piss.’ The accent slipped again. Not Jersey enough. Not Felix enough.

‘Really?’ Ezra’s goggled eyes bored into him. ‘The facilities are right there.’

‘Changed my mind.’

Ezra came closer, reached out and smoothed a wrinkle in Luca's hoodie in an oddly paternal gesture. A little too close for comfort, too close to the textbook he’d stolen. ‘Welcome home, Felix. We’ve missed you.’

Luca stayed silent. Every instinct screamed at him to just run, but Felix wouldn't run. Felix would stand his ground. He pushed the book against his ribs with his forearm, suddenly feeling like a magician trying to hide a prop.

‘Thanks.’

‘The path of wisdom is never straight. Sometimes we must stray to find our way back.’

What was he supposed to say? Something equally vague? He adjusted his mask a tad, reassuring himself his defining features were covered.

‘We must. But I’m back now.’

‘I’m glad. And I must praise you on that psychic ability of yours.’

‘Oh yeah?’ Luca said. He had no idea what Ezra was talking about.

‘Indeed. You missed the last session, the one where I told everyone to arm themselves for this session. And yet you did just that. I’m impressed.’

Shit . Now, it made sense. Felix hadn't mentioned the guns because he hadn't known about them. Luca's mind scrambled for an excuse.

Play the true believer. Channel your inner cultist.

‘The elements speak to those who listen.’ Luca let his voice drop into that mystic register he'd heard all night. ‘They flow through us all, right? Maybe they connected our... consciousnesses.’

Was that the right word? Or even a word at all? Luca didn’t know, and a part of him was hoping that Ezra would bust his real identity so he had an excuse to haul him down to the precinct right here and now.

No. He needed to confer with Ella first.

‘You've grown in your absence. Perhaps the separation was necessary for your evolution. ’

Luca wanted to laugh. Here he was, a gun under his jacket, a stolen book against his ribs, feeding metaphysical word salad to a guy in steampunk goggles. The FBI Academy definitely hadn't prepared him for this.

‘I better hurry. Places to be.’ Luca edged past Ezra and hurried down the hallway without stopping to look back. Just as Luca grabbed the door handle, Ezra called out:

‘Thank you for coming tonight… Felix.’