Chapter 7 - The Scent of Bitter Almonds
Before dawn broke, the hurricane clouds parted.
A pale, ghostly mist hung over the Louisiana marshes.
I stood in Donna Maria’s private dispensary on the third floor.
Dr. Russo was examining the green bottle I had found in the cistern.
He held a drop to a chemical strip.
It turned dark blue immediately.
"Concentrated prussic acid," the doctor muttered.
"One drop in the communion wine would paralyze the vocal cords in five minutes.
The victim appears dead, but their heart beats once every ten seconds."
He shook his head in disgust.
"A medieval poison. Sourced from a specialized apothecary in the French
Quarter."
Lorenzo stepped into the room.
His shoulder was tightly bandaged under a fresh black tactical shirt.
He carried an assault rifle slung over his back.
"Who sold it to her, Russo?"
"A French chemist named Moreau," the doctor replied.
"He runs an underground lab beneath an antique perfumery on Royal Street."
Lorenzo turned to me.
"Evelyn. You recognized the bottle."
"I've seen it before," I said quietly.
"Two months ago, Bianca made me carry a wooden crate from a courier in the
Quarter. The invoice had Moreau’s watermark."
Lorenzo walked over, towering over me.
He reached into his pocket and placed Donna Maria’s silver rosary into my hand.
"Keep this. It brought my mother luck. Now it belongs to you."
The cool silver felt heavy against my skin.
"Mr. Moretti, let me come with you."
"It’s going to be a slaughterhouse, Evelyn."
"I know Moreau's courier," I said firmly.
"I know how they move packages through the back alleys. Your men in suits will
scare him off before he speaks."
Lorenzo stared down at me for a long, quiet moment.
A faint, dangerous smirk touched his lips.
"You're not a maid anymore, are you?"
"I stopped being a maid the moment I pulled that dog from the flood."
May you like
Lorenzo nodded once.
"Matteo. Bring her a tactical vest."
