Chapter 18 #3
“More?” Aveline urged.
His face went hot, but he wasn’t stupid enough to refuse. “Please.”
A little smirk showed at the corner of her mouth as she went to refill the bowl for him. This time, she came back with a glass of what he discovered was sweet tea. Before he could dive into his second bowl, she slid one of her pepper sauce bottles toward him.
“If you think you can handle a little spice,” she teased.
Mateo snorted. “I’ve been eating raw chili peppers since I was three.”
He doused the dish in pepper sauce and then dug in, lowering his head and groaning at the enhancement of the spice.
His tongue and throat began to tingle and then burn, but he enjoyed the sensation as well as the heightened flavor.
Aveline watched him eat in silence, her stare as unnerving as ever.
Mateo was so involved with his food that he didn’t feel its intensity at first. It wasn’t until he came up for air after polishing off his sweet tea that he registered it.
“How can I help you, Agent?”
There was both a sharpness and a gentleness about Aveline that made Mateo both comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time. It was as if her eyes gave a hint to her dual nature, conveying that she could be warm and helpful but was not to be trifled with.
He pushed the evidence bags across the table toward her.
“The powder was retrieved from an inhaler that delivers a drug of some kind. Lab tests revealed a designer cocktail including PCP and tropane alkaloids. They know the alkaloids came from a plant, but were unable to identify it. I thought maybe you could. The fabric smells like it was contaminated with the same substance. All we know is that the plant compound produces psychotropic and hallucinogenic effects.”
Aveline opened the bags and retrieved the fabric first. The scrap of a victim’s shirt was faded from its original red and stained, but it still held the distinct scent of BAZ-024—sickly sweet and cloying.
Aveline raised it to her nose and inhaled, nodding.
Then, she retrieved the little baggie of powder and tapped some out onto the back of her hand.
Aveline licked the powder, then frowned and wrinkled her nose.
He flinched at her fearlessly ingesting what he had come to think of as poison.
No lab tech he knew would ever put a sample of an unknown substance onto their bare skin, let alone lick it.
“Datura,” she said with a decisive nod. “That is the plant they used.”
“What is Datura?”
“It has other names—zombie’s kiss, Jimson weed, witch’s apple. You probably know it as moonflower.”
Her confidence alleviated his anxiety about her tasting the powder. So far, she didn’t appear to have been affected by such a small amount. He doubted the answer could have been found by any other means, which was why the crime lab had failed.
“What’s it used for?” Mateo asked.
Aveline went to a cabinet, which she opened to reveal rows of what appeared to be mostly cookbooks, but when she returned, he realized she held some kind of reference book.
Curious, Mateo leaned in, realizing that it was an index of plants listed in alphabetical order, complete with drawings.
She found what she was looking for and turned the book towards him.
He noticed on a few pages that she had stapled a small sample of whatever plant was on the page.
Datura had a sample, which she snatched free and handed to him.
He eased it open and sniffed, finding the same cloying, syrupy odor coming from the powder and the cloth scrap.
“Smells the same.”
She nodded, using two fingers to pinch some of the dried flakes.
“See how the leaf crumbles and the veining? That’s Datura stramonium.
You won’t find it in your crime lab databases, but I’ve been using it in my practices since I was a girl.
Potent stuff, highly dangerous. Should be used with extreme caution.
The powder form of it has been sanctified, burned with bone ash so that it can be inhaled. ”
Mateo scowled. “Why would anyone willingly ingest this stuff? The lab coats told us this stuff is deadly in high doses, not to mention the risks of heart attack or stroke when mixed with the PCP.”
“In some cultures and religions, Datura is used to unlock the mind and sharpen the senses. It is used in binding rites, dream rituals, and ancestral communications. When mixed with the other compounds you mentioned, I imagine this designer drug is meant to offer its users an elevated spiritual and physical state. Strength, imperviousness to pain, a mind that is open to suggestion and influence.”
“So, it’s safe to say The Veil uses this to control its members. But not just control them … turn them into soldiers.”
Aveline slowly shook her head. “Not soldiers, agents. Remember, one of Datura’s other names is zombie’s kiss. It doesn’t just make you see things, it empties you completely and fills you with something else. In the case of The Veil, that something is the doctrine of Azrael.”
Mateo shuddered, an uneasy feeling writhing in his gut at the memory of those low, rasping chants.
Blood and breath … blood and breath … blood and breath.
“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.