Page 50 of Love Me Darkly
“My intelligence specialist uncovered talk about ritual drug use in some dark web forums,” he told her. “They aren’t just using this stuff to get high and become super soldiers. There’s more to it than that.”
Aveline sprinkled the sample of Datura back into its baggie and fit it between the pages before snapping the book closed. “You will recall that I told you the worshippers of Azrael believe in a veil separating the world of mortals and the spiritual plane. It is possible that by ingesting this compound, the followers believe they are thinning that veil and invoking Azrael himself.”
“Like being filled with the Holy Ghost?”
Aveline smiled, though her eyes held a glimmer that couldn’t be ignored. The things she was saying sounded insane, but Mateo was more aware than ever how serious this had become. He had dismissed the occult aspects of the murders, refusing to believe that they had meant anything. Now he was coming to realize that it was the entire point. The realization changed everything.
“They refer to the drug as BAZ-024. Any idea what that could mean?”
She seemed to think that over for a moment, folding her hands before her on the table. “Breath of Azrael. From what I know of the Book of Azrael, there is mention of a kiss of death, a breath that severs the soul from the body. Maybe they hope to achieve this through the drug. By taking in the breath of Azrael, they hope to slip through that thinned veil and become like the angel themselves—purveyors of death.”
“And the number 24?”
“Can’t be a coincidence. The number twenty-four has significance in many spiritual traditions. It is the number of hours in a day and can represent a complete spiritual cycle.”
“We had assumed it was a batch number or something.”
She shrugged one shoulder. “Two things can be true at once. But consider that the number assigned to this batch isn’t arbitrary. It means something to them—possibly that is the desired version of the drug. The one that allows the ascension they are searching for.”
Mateo rubbed the piece of red cloth between his fingers, knowing he was contaminating the evidence and not caring. There was nothing the crime lab could tell him that Aveline hadn’t already revealed. He now had a deeper knowledge of The Veil and their motives. He now knew the reason behind the drug and its method of delivery. He now fully understood what he hadn’t wanted to see before. The UNSUB was most certainly a devout worshipper of Azrael. He had bought into this cult shit fully and completely, and used it as an avenue for acting out his sadistic fantasies.
“Thank you, Mrs. Marchand. You’ve helped me more than you could imagine.”
Reaching across the table, she rested a thin, wrinkled hand on top of his. Giving it a squeeze, she offered him a smile. Her eyes still held a heavy warning, one he would be a fool to ignore.
“Proceed carefully, Agent. The followers of Azrael aren’t your average sycophants. Their beliefs run deep, and their dedication is unshakable. You face quite a fight. And call me Aveline. I have a feeling we’ll be seeing each other again, and when we do, I’d like it to be as friends. This is N’awlins, after all. You’ve been here long enough to be family.”
Mateo laughed. “Then you call me Mateo, and we’ll definitely be friends. Especially if you’re going to feed me so well.”
Aveline stood with a groan, pressing her hand to the small of her back. “I’ll do better than that, Mateo. How about a container to go?”
“Yes,” he answered before she had even finished asking the question.
Melody stared around the empty hotel room with wide eyes, tucking the keycard Mateo had given her into her back pocket. She couldn’t decide what had possessed her to come here, but after hours of trying to find some way to occupy her time and her thoughts, she had ended up at the Marriott Bonvoy. No one in the lobby had paid her any attention as she’d crossed to the elevator as if she belonged there, taking it up to the third floor. She had knocked a few times in case Mateo was in, but after a few minutes realized he wasn’t. It was early, almost dinner time, and the sun was still shining. He was probably working. With a smirk, she wondered who he might be stalking today since she’d been holed up at home. She couldn’t help a twinge of jealousy at the thought that it could be a woman. A woman he watched with the same intensity he leveled at her.
Impossible, she told herself.
Having been curious about his job title, she’d done a little research. Supervisory Special Agent put him pretty high on the bureau food chain, and made him responsible for a lot. She imagined he worked constantly.
Now that she was here, alone, Melody was suddenly anxious. What would Mateo think if he came back to find her here? Would he be happy to see her? That seemed unlikely, only because Mateo never seemed happy. Every now and then, he would look at her, his face would soften, his lips twitching like he was trying to smile but couldn’t quite manage it. He would probably scowl at her, grab her by the arm, and ask her why she was here. He would stare her down with those molten eyes, peering into her soul and searching for her secrets.
Her belly roiled with both fear and anticipation. She realized there didn’t need to be a real reason for her to be here. Despite telling him to leave her alone more than once, she found herself drawn to him. It was inexplicable, and all the more frightening for that reason.
For lack of anything better to do, she moved around the room, drinking everything in with her eyes. His meager luggage was neatly arranged in one corner, with two pairs of shoes lined up against a wall—a dress pair, and black boots. A cell phone sat on the desk facedown. A half-empty bottle of Scotch rested next to two tumblers, one used and one clean. His laptop was closed next to a stack of folders stuffed with papers. Sticky notes jutted out here and there, with notes scribbled on them. She tilted her head and squinted, realizing that the notes were in Spanish. A smart move if he didn’t want anyone else to know what they said.
She wandered into the bathroom, running her fingers over the handle of his hairbrush and scraping her fingernail over the teeth of his comb. A pair of clippers sat plugged up on the counter and a few scattered bottles of hair and skin products were arranged around it. Finding a bottle of cologne, she sprayed it and sniffed the mist that floated through the air. Her eyes slid closed, and she sighed, recognizing the scent as essentially Mateo. Smoky cedar and leather. Tobacco and black pepper. Not too strong, not from a distance. But she had noticed it when they danced together at Solstice. It had clung to her dress after their time in the storage room. She hadn’t wanted to take it off, lying in bed wearing the dress for an hour after arriving home at the end of the night.
Replacing the bottle, she returned to the bedroom. The bed had been neatly made, but a manila envelope rested on the comforter with a yellow sticky note attached to it. Biting her lip, she glanced at the door. She had no idea when Mateo might be back, but didn’t hear footsteps in the hallway. The words on the sticky note had caught her full attention.
Careful with this one, White Rabbit. She’s fragile.
-Hatter
Before she could talk herself out of it, she dropped onto the bed and took up the envelope. Her hands shook as she eased the top page out just enough to be confronted with an image of her much younger self, the first time she had been arrested. A nest of snakes took up residence in her belly, writhing around each other and making her feel sick. Her vision grew hazy around the edges, and the block letters spelling out her real name wavered before her eyes.
Melody Frank.
Oh God. On no.
