CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Michael pulled into the driveway of the stark Victorian home, and Faith suppressed a shiver. Nina Verbeck wasn't in the office today, but she was happy to see the agents at her home near the university. Faith just didn't expect the home to look so much like a vampire's lair.

"Wicked Witch of the West vibes," Michael muttered. "Why is it that all professors have a creepy streak?"

"It's not like it's the only Victorian home on Earth," Faith said, partly to herself. "And someone has to study the creepy subjects."

"It's fine that it has gables," Michael said about the house, "but maybe paint it something other than Gargoyle Gray and maybe trim the grass?"

Indeed, the grass was overgrown and bunched like weeds. The paint wasn't really gray but a dirty, faded white with equally dirty and equally faded black shingles. It looked gray, but what it really looked like was old and uncared for, like a mind left to rot.

Boy, I am full of joyful thoughts today, aren't I? Faith thought. She looked at Turk, hoping that the shepherd's perpetual joyfulness would cheer her, but Turk watched the approaching house warily, his shoulders tense.

"Yeah, me too," she said to her K9 partner.

Michael parked the cruiser in front of the porch and looked at Faith. "How much do you want to bet she has some kids in a cage in the basement that she's fattening up with sweetbreads?"

"I know you're trying to make a Hansel and Gretel joke," Faith said, "but it fell very flat."

"Whatever."

The three of them got out of the car and walked up to the house. Turk trotted softly, his body coiled like a spring, ready to strike at any moment.

"Stay calm, boy," Faith said. "Let's give Miss Verbeck the benefit of the doubt."

"Maybe she's a crazy cat lady," Michael said. "Is Turk going to have problems with cats?"

"No, he'll be good."

Actually, Faith had never seen Turk around a cat. How had that happened? She looked at Turk. "You're good with cats, right?"

Turk looked at Faith like she was crazy.

The door opened before they reached it, and Nina Verbeck stepped onto her porch. She was of medium height and medium build, with severe features softened by an eager smile that seemed too wide for her face.

"Hello!" she said. "Welcome, agents! I'm so excited to talk to you!"

Faith and Michael exchanged a look. They rarely met anyone so enthusiastic to talk to them. Still, she wasn't wearing a pointy black hat or floating on a broomstick.

"Thank you for agreeing to speak with us," Faith said.

"Of course!" Nina said, "I've just made some tea. Fresh chamomile with ginseng and peppermint! An excellent tonic!"

"Thank you," Faith said.

Nina led them inside, practically bouncing with excitement. Faith was relieved to find that the inside of the house looked a lot more like an ordinary home than the lair of the Baba Yaga. The décor was what Faith referred to as Grandma Chic: flowers, pictures of seascapes and rolling hills with trite inspirational phrases and pastel furniture with soft cushions and an abundance of pillows and blankets.

Nina didn't appear to be old enough to be a grandmother. She was a little older than Faith, but not much. Maybe around forty.

Still, she moved and talked with a joyful fussiness that calmed Faith considerably. She almost felt silly for being afraid of her because her house was a little raggedy on the outside.

Nina poured three cups of tea and said, "So! You want to know what your killer could possibly want with alchemy."

"Yes," Faith replied. "We're trying to get an understanding of how he thinks so we can hopefully head him off before he kills again."

"Well, I'll certainly help any way I can," Nina said, sitting down and sipping her tea. "You have to move fast, of course. He's only one step away from completing the Magnum Opus."

Faith frowned slightly. As far as she knew, the details of the case hadn't been released to the public. "How did you know that?"

"I deduced it, dear!" Nina said cheerily. "The news reports were very clear. Three women found in different poses with different colors of powder on their naked bodies. I, of course, am very familiar with the tenets of alchemy and the formula for the Magnum Opus." She straightened in a manner that reminded Faith of a peacock ruffling its feathers. "It was obvious to me right away that the victims were dealt with as sacrifices to create the Philosopher's Stone."

"Let's start there," Faith said. "What specifically does the killer expect to happen? He'll take his fourth victim and then a glowing rock will descend from the sky and grant him eternal life?"

Nina laughed. "I doubt that. Well, he might expect that, I suppose, but more than likely, he doesn't know what to expect. The literature really isn't clear on how the Philosopher's Stone manifests itself. In early records, the Magnum Opus was seemingly believed to be exactly what it appears to be on the surface, a way to turn lead into gold. In fact, it was the Chinese who first suspected that the Magnum Opus could be a tool to gain eternal life."

Faith raised an eyebrow. "The Chinese?"

Nina smiled. The toothy grin reminded Faith rather disturbingly of a shark. "This is a little-known fact that I will be exposing to the general public when I release my book, but yes. In nearly every aspect, the true power of alchemy was discovered first by the Chinese. The West didn't arrive at the same conclusions for hundreds of years in most cases."

"You sound like you believe in this," Michael said, semi-seriously.

Nina sipped her tea and gave him a conspiratorial look. "Let's just say I think the universe hides secrets not easily explained by science."

Michael and Faith exchanged a look. Faith wasn't sure that they'd be content to leave it at that. Something was poking around in the back of Faith's mind about Nina. She wasn't sure what it was, but she was beginning to feel suspicion that went beyond simple wariness.

"Is our killer following a Chinese tradition?" Faith asked.

"Oh no. Goodness no. No, he is Western all the way. I'm simply pointing out that the Western understanding of alchemy is limited. The Chinese are the ones who truly understand the secrets. At least, they were the first to learn the secrets. The West lagged behind, and I'm convinced I learned the truth only by accident."

She sipped her tea and said, "For example, the alchemical formula to produce aqua vitae , the healing serum that can mend even fatal wounds with only a sip, was initially created by Western alchemists to get themselves drunk without waiting for alcohol to ferment. Imagine their shock when they drank it and found their wounds closing and their aches and pains fading from their bodies!"

"You really sound like you believe this," Michael said.

Nina sighed. "I suppose since you press me, I can't say that I believe a simple ritual will grant one eternal life. But I do believe that the spiritual traditions of the ancients had some tangible benefit to their lives. Else why would so many have believed in them for so long? You're talking about traditions that were a central part of cultures ranging from Britain to Japan for several times longer than the United States has existed as a nation, traditions that survived the rise and fall of multiple empires and remained relatively unchanged in practice. The earliest Western texts on turning lead into gold are nearly identical to the most recent texts detailing how to find eternal life. It's fascinating. The result changes, but the method of achieving that result stays the same. It's one of very few cases in history where the reverse isn't the case."

"So back to the killer," Faith said. "Why is he killing people? Do all alchemical traditions call for victims to be sacrificed?"

Nina sipped more of her tea and shook her head. "No. Some require animal sacrifices. Many call for the summoner to spill his own blood. A few even call for the alchemist to prepare all four humors, then stab himself through the heart so that he dies on top of the prepared symbols. Then he will awaken as an eternal spirit. Much like the ancient tradition of vampirism. In fact, there are some scholars who believe that vampirism is the result of an ancient ritual designed to create demons while the Magnum Opus is an ancient ritual designed to create angels."

"But the tradition our killer is following," Faith said, trying once more to bring the conversation back into focus. "Is one that requires human sacrifice."

"Now that is interesting," Nina said, wagging a finger as though instructing a student. "There are no traditions that explicitly call for sacrifice of the human variety. However, the traditions of the Early Renaissance hint strongly that the humors must be attached to the vita vi . The life force. This led many practitioners of the art to assume that sacrifice was required. And, as is so often typical of human societies, the sacrifices preferred were virgin girls."

"Are there records of the sacrifices being posed naked in the shapes of the symbols?"

"Not posed, but always naked. In Western tradition—in fact, in many traditions—the naked form of a young female is considered the pinnacle of beauty. This really isn't surprising when one considers how patriarchal most human cultures are. What do men value more than the female form?"

Nina was clearly more interested in talking to someone about alchemy than she was in helping them catch the killer. Faith was beginning to wonder if they were wasting their time. She would try a little longer to coax some useful information out of her, but if Nina kept insisting on following rabbit trails, Faith might cut her losses.

"Our victims weren't virgins, though," Faith said. "So what criteria might he be following?"

"Specifically," Michael asked, "what will he look for in his next victim?"

"And what kind of person is he in general? Who should we be looking for?"

"Well," Nina said, sipping her tea. "The next victim will be a woman like the other women. Probably of similar age and attractive in appearance. And as for the kind of person?" Her eyes grew almost dreamy. "They will be brilliant, inquisitive, curious. They will eschew blunt mathematical knowledge and concern themselves with the hidden truths of the world. And, of course, he might be a she . I find that the female mind is often more open to the hidden truths than the male mind."

The alarm in Faith's head rang again, a little louder this time. She looked at Michael and saw the same question on his face.

But surely, they couldn't have found their killer by accident like this, could they?

Turk got to his feet suddenly. He stared at the winding staircase that led to the second floor of Nina's house.

"Got something, boy?" Faith asked.

Turk trotted to the foot of the stairs. He sniffed at the bottom step, then bounded up to the second floor.

Faith looked at Nina. The woman didn't seem perturbed in the slightest by Turk's actions. "Do you mind if I join my dog?" she asked. "Just to make sure he doesn't get into anything he shouldn't?"

"Oh, there's nothing up there that will hurt him," Nina said, "but if you insist, you can join him."

Faith looked at Michael. Michael nodded, and she got to her feet and headed to the stairs. Behind her, she heard Michael ask Nina, "So what got you into alchemy in the first place?"

As Nina launched into a monologue on her introduction to the "hidden science," Faith looked up the stairs where Turk had vanished.

Had he identified the same smell that lingered at the crime scene? Could Nina be the alchemist she was looking for?

Heart pounding with fear and anticipation, Faith ascended the stairs.