Agent of Chaos (The X-Files: Origins #1)(35)

“Birds are over here.” The librarian ran her finger along the side of the shelves to indicate where to look. “And minerals and crystals are over here in the five hundreds.”

After the librarian pointed Phoebe in the right direction, she told Mulder, “We need to go up to the fourth floor to find what you’re looking for.”

“Okay.” He signaled Phoebe. “Grab Gimble when you finish, and let’s meet up in the study rooms.”

“They’re on the top floor,” the librarian added.

After the librarian showed Mulder where to find books on aconite and historical figures who were poisoned—cleverly titled Lessons in Poison: Historical Figures Who Died from Common Poisonous Plants—Mulder pulled every text he could find that mentioned monkshood and wolfsbane, the common names of the plant that produced aconite.

It took him a few minutes to make his way up to the top floor. He had to inch his way past the students gathered at the shelves facing the center atrium. He spotted Gimble and Phoebe in one of the rooms, sitting at a table piled with books.

“You made it,” Gimble said as Mulder opened the door.

“Poison is a popular subject,” he said, dumping the texts on the table. “What’s the game plan?”

“I must’ve heard you incorrectly. Are you suggesting we need a plan?” Phoebe gave him an incredulous look. Mulder didn’t make plans, unless they involved acting on his impulses and strategizing at the last minute. She seemed like herself again, but he couldn’t forget last night that easily.

“Just this once,” he said, trying to put on a good act. “But don’t get used to it. I’m switching back to the unpredictable guy who makes snap decisions as soon as we walk out of here.”

She ignored him. “I’m already taking notes on nuummite, and you should cover aconite since you saw the autopsy report.”

“Why do I get stuck with birds?” Gimble complained. “I want poison or volcanic rocks. Birds are lame.” Phoebe opened her mouth to respond, and Gimble backtracked. “Forget it. I’ll take birds.”

“I love it when we all agree.” She returned her attention to the volumes open in front of her.

Within minutes, Mulder’s friends were madly taking notes, while he breezed through his pile of books. He didn’t need notes. Even without a photographic memory, it would’ve been easy to remember the information. It was straight out of an Agatha Christie novel.

Mulder leaned back and stared up at the perforated ceiling squares.

“Anything interesting?” Gimble asked.

“It depends. Do you want to poison an emperor or harpoon a whale?” Mulder shut the last book and pushed it away.

Phoebe looked up from her notes. “What have you got?”

“Aconite comes from the monkshood plant, and it’s one of the oldest poisons in history. ‘The mother of all poisons’—that’s what one of the books calls it. It dates back to the twelfth century BC, and cultures all over the world used the stuff.” He rattled off the facts, his volume increasing to match his frustration. “In ancient China they used aconite to make poison darts, aboriginals in the North Pacific coated harpoons with mashed-up monkshood leaves to hunt whales, and the Greeks and Romans poisoned their enemies with it.”

“Fox? Why are you getting so upset?” Phoebe asked.

Mulder ignored the question.

“Forget the whales,” Gimble said. “Will the aconite help us track down the killer?”

Mulder pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. “No. Because monkshood grows all over North America. The killer could have it in his backyard.”

“Are there different species? Maybe that would narrow it down,” Phoebe suggested.

“I doubt it matters. Aconite is a toxic compound in all of them.” Mulder stared out the window, overwhelmed.

“What about the rock?” Gimble asked. “Will that help?”

Phoebe flipped through her notes. “I’m not sure. Nuummite has been around even longer than ‘the mother of all poisons.’ It’s the oldest mineral on earth, formed three or four billion years ago in a volcano in Greenland.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe I didn’t know anything about it until now.”

“If we’re dealing with the occult, the stone probably represents something,” Mulder said. “Like strength or fertility.”

Gimble raised an eyebrow.

“Fertility?” She pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh.

“I was throwing out words.” Mulder raked his hands through his hair, and it left pieces sticking up all over.

“Nuummite is associated with elemental magic and protection.”

“That’s something.” The fire ignited in Mulder again. “It could explain the bird and the arrows.”

“I don’t think so.” Gimble propped his elbows on the table. “There’s plenty of elemental magic in D and D, and none of it involves stabbing birds with arrows made of human bones.”

Phoebe picked up one of the books in front of Gimble. “You didn’t find any connection between birds and arrows?”

“Of course I did. People use arrows to hunt them,” he said. “Other than that? No. But I found plenty of other stuff.” Gimble ran his finger down the margin of his notes. “Magpies are part of the crow family. They love shiny objects, and they steal all kinds of things to build their nests. Magpies are also really smart, and they can mimic the calls of other birds.”