Page 76 of Girl, Unseen

She could see the whole grim ordeal unfurling in her mind. This hadn't been some impulsive thrill kill spree or the work of a psychotic break. This was a cold, calculated slaughter. The work of a precise, obsessive mind.

And they were running out of time to stop her, because by Ella’s math, there was still one victim to go.

Luca's voice cut through. ‘We need to talk to Ezra again. Get the names of his female followers. If he’s giving us cryptic clues like that, he knows who the killer is.’

But Ross was already shaking his head. ‘No can do. Crowley's lawyer just filed a motion to suppress his statements. We're looking at forty-eight hours minimum before we can even think about questioning him.’

Ella swore under her breath. She'd been afraid of that. Ezra might be a raving egomaniac, but he was smart enough to know when to shut his mouth and let his advocate do the talking.

'Forty-eight hours. She could grab another victim by then.’

‘Welcome to the system. Sometimes the wheels of justice need grease.’

They could wait him out, try to gather enough evidence to charge him as a co-conspirator, but that could take days they didn't have.

Ella's mind raced through options. They needed names, faces, some way to identify the female members of Ezra's twisted philosophical club. Even if they got a list of followers, tracking them down would take timethey didn't have. How could they crack that particular nut without tipping off their real quarry?

The idea hit her like lightning.

‘Felix Blackwood.’ She grabbed Luca's arm. He flinched a little. ‘He's out of custody. Back at that farm.’

‘What about him?’

‘We cut him loose this morning,’ Ross said. ‘Couldn’t hold him any longer.’

Ella was already fishing for her keys. ‘If Ezra won’t give me the names, maybe Felix will. His farm’s only about ten minutes from here.’

Luca reached out. ‘You want me with you?’

She remembered her partner’s reaction last time they went to the farm. She’d already pissed him off once this morning. She didn’t need to add another transgression to the list.

‘No. I won’t be long. You can go back to the precinct. Maybe carry on translating that book for me. The final victim will represent the fifth element. Spirit, aether, quintessence - whatever they called it. There might be clues about who she'll target next.’

‘Okay. Be safe,’ Luca said.

She climbed into her SUV and fired the engine. In her rearview, Luca and Ross dwindled to dots. But Ella's mind raced ahead to what waited at the Blackwood farm. To the answers Felix might provide. To the killer who'd been hiding in plain sight all along.

Let me be right. Let Felix be the key. And let me find this bitch before she kills again.

CHAPTER FORTY

Two thousand degrees. That's what it took to render a man into his component elements.

Carbon, calcium, phosphorus. Stardust and sentimentality, as all those New Age types liked to say. But that was the easy part. Rearranging those elements into something new, something better? That took more than fire. That took vision.

Glass clinked against glass as The Alchemist packed away her laboratory. She wrapped everything in old newspaper, watching chemical formulas disappear beneath headlines about missing persons and mysterious deaths. The irony wasn't lost on her. This was once a temple of precision, but now it was just an empty barn.

She'd already disposed of the sodium pentobarbital. One vial at a time, watching clear liquid spiral down the drain. The rest would follow - the pentobarbital, the other compounds she'd collected over months of careful preparation. No evidence, no traces. Just like the transformations themselves.

The last vial of sodium pentobarbital clinked in her pocket - one final hurrah, carefully measured. She'd saved the purest batch for tonight. The last transformation demanded perfection. Unlike the others, this vessel required special handling. After all, what was more delicate than the spirit itself?

The ancient texts had warned about this moment. About the temptation to keep trophies, to maintain some connection to the Work. But she knew better. Everything had to go - the beakers, the digital scales, the careful notes detailing dosages and timing. Let the police find Ezra's costume-shop occultism. Let them waste time decoding his metaphysical ravings while she completed her transformation.

Newspaper crackled as she wrapped another set of beakers. The sound reminded her of Marcus Thornton's last moments, of earth accepting its own. He'd followed the email's trail like a moth to flame, never suspecting that geology would be his undoing. Amateur sleuths always thought themselves cleverer than they were.

Sarah. The marine biologist had been so pliant, so trusting. A spiked drink, a reservoir's embrace, and then nothing but the slow, cold work ofelemental change. Water washed away more than fingerprints. Given enough time, it washed away everything.

The texts were harder to part with. She'd scoured the world for these moldering volumes, traded favors and threats, spent money that should have gone to rent on crumbling vellum and faded ink. Ezra's books were a joke by comparison - mass market reprints and New Age nonsense. But these? These were the real deal. Wisdom of the ancients. She’d already ditched her most important volume – the Corpus Hermeticum – at Madam Butterfly’s. Luckily, the knowledge of that ancient text was already locked away in her head. The Corpus Hermeticum had been her guide and gospel. Its author had promised that the elements held the key to ultimate transformation, to shedding the imperfect flesh and emerging as something greater. Something perfect.

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