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I want to turn to Kallum, to seek that easy camaraderie I found with him while working this case. I know no matter what happens, he won’t deny me that. If I asked him to stay, to see this case to the end, he would.
That has to be enough.
Agent Rana appears in my periphery, bringing along Hernandez and another black suit. “This is Dr. Markus, the Bureau’s expert historian. He’s been sent in to help assist us.” She introduces the man to her right, apparently keeping her word to replace Kallum should he fail to stay in line.
“You’re up, Professor Locke.” Rana hands him a pair of gloves. “I need your highly qualified expertise on that.” She tics her head toward the wall of bloody symbols.
Kallum looks over at me, a silent question delivered with the leisure arch of his eyebrow.
To remove Devyn as the FBI’s most wanted for Alister’s murder, we need a new prime suspect. Before I step away from this case, I need to make that happen. Nodding once, I give him permission to do what’s necessary.
Undisturbed by the blood, Kallum drapes his jacket over my bag and wanders close to the wall. He studies the symbols briefly before he says, “They’re a derivative of alchemical glyphs.” He points to the top symbol, depicted with a cross inside a circle. “Prima materiaalways comes first. It’s first matter, chaos, the formless base of all material. What the ancients referred to as aether.” He then points to the hierarchy of glyphs that cascade below. “Salt, mercury, sulfur, etcetera. Basic elements, but with variations to incorporate demonic sigils. Not an uncommon practice. Every alchemist had their own style.”
Rana folds her arms across her FBI jacket and trades a look with Dr. Markus, circumspect. “This sounds way off base for our perpetrator, Professor Locke.”
With a derisive curve to his lips, Kallum removes his gloves and stuffs them into his pocket. “If my expertise is in question, you’re welcome to have Dr. Markus take a crack.”
A wave of anxiety crests within me, and I accept the challenge. “Alchemy isn’t just transforming material into gold,” I say, providing Rana some context. “It’s the study into the mystical existence of all matter. The death and rebirth of everything.”
Kallum’s mouth slants into a smoldering grin as his eyes alight on me. “Everything is alchemy,” he says, then motions toward the jars of blood and wine. “Distillation and fermentation are attempts to accelerate the natural order and bring a state of being to perfection. Works on people the same as wine.”
As he says this, I think of Devyn, of her desire to reach a higher plane of existence, of her quest to defy the natural order to achieve this very state of perfection.
“That aligns with Child’s motive,” Dr. Markus comments in echo of my thoughts. He adjusts his thick glasses. “Reaching the state of divine enlightenment.”
“Thank you for pointing out the obvious, Dr. Markus, expert historian,” Kallum says, sarcasm heavy in his tone.
The man clears his throat, undeterred. “This method is an extreme deviation, however. Childs is straying drastically from her philosophical map.”
As I meet Kallum’s gaze, a charged battle of wills snaps between us. I ball my hand at my side and dig my nails into my palm, using the bite of pain to offset the emotions at war.
“All right. Here’s your lecture, agents.” Kallum swipes his hand over his mouth before he folds his arms across his chest. “Hermes is the basis for alchemical practice. As such, there are two opposing forms of magick that derived from texts within the Hermetica. Theurgy andGoëtia. The first is divine and calls on the service of deific spirits, such as angels and gods. The second is dark or black magick, which is dependent on alliances with demons.”
Kallum is a striking figure as he paces in front of the cinderblock wall. I watch him now just as I watched him in the killing fields that first night of the case as he lectured me, rapt, enthralled by him.
“Since its conception, Theurgy has been the chosen practice,” Kallum continues. “Its goal is to become united with higher counterparts in attainment of divine consciousness.”
Hernandez shakes his head as he speaks up. “If this is the best practice, then why resort to black magick?”
Kallum’s smile is devious. “A trade,” he states evenly. “If you want something bad enough, will sacrifice anything or anyonefor it, then the dark arts is, in a sense, a shortcut. Basically, you’re making a deal with the devil.”
I’m held captive by those beautifully clashing green-and-blue eyes, the ones I stared into as I made my very own deal with a devil.
If I sold my soul the day I signed Kallum on as a consultant, then this is my trade.
Not only does Kallum’s evaluation help profile a second suspect, it’s an answer to the question of who will take the fall for Alister’s murder.
The suspect who tortures his victims, the one who practices the darkest of alchemy.
Someone always has to be the scapegoat.
Kallum looks at the chains. “Childs is a purist, incorporating shamanism in her rituals and alchemy from the three metamorphoses in Nietzsche’s allegory.” He delivers his next words directly to Agent Rana. “Childs isn’t the culprit of this torture room.”
As Kallum’s gaze settles on mine, understanding passes between us. He’s done what I’ve asked, and the price is high.
With gloved hands, Dr. Markus inspects a broken clay tablet. “Professor Locke, while I don’t disagree with your assessment, I would like to point out an oversight.”
A nervous flutter pulses in my neck as he lines up the pieces of clay along the dirt floor.
