Eminence

PROLOGUE

Prologue – four years ago

Trey

All eyes are on Draper as he waits for the person on the other end of the line to pick up. Draper's athletic body is outlined by the streetlight glistening through the window he stands before, and the shadow that is cinnamon blond hair looks so dark it is almost violet. If Joel answers this time I will barely be able to hear anyway because the rain storm is too loud. That issue is quickly resolved when he ends the virtual call and sends his phone flying onto the couch behind him. Agent Reece crosses her arms with impatience, her incredibly capable muscles bulging under flawless olive skin. Lightning erupts beyond the east side of the mansion. Faint voices drift down the staircase, but I think I'm the only one who hears them.

"Is there a possibility he's been hurt?" Agent Sebastian is Reece's partner, and he is the one who speaks now. They are both perched anxiously on the sofa, although nowhere near one another. It seems to me this whole house detests each other. Everybody gives Sebastian varying expressions of incredulity as he continues in his strident English accent, "I'm sure there's a brilliant reason why he's been missing."

"Joel is smart," Draper swiftly pronounces, and I wonder if it physically pains him to speak highly of his paradoxical companion. "And strong," he adds. He isn't in any more trouble than I could get in."

It's almost midnight. For three hours Draper has been amiably answering questions from his immediate directors. I haven't stopped them but I don't care to waste my time participating in the discussion. They want to be in control, to know where Joel is even though they wouldn't go look for him if they had confirmation on his whereabouts. To me it doesn't matter where he is or when he comes back. What I want to know is the reason he missed the multi-locational meeting this evening. I'm not on some kind of power trip: I hope he has a good reason for being absent. I hope he has some new clue to give us.

Perhaps I am too optimistic or too forgiving. I probably give out too many chances and believe the best of people, likely to a fault. I follow my instincts faithfully and maybe that has created numerous mistakes on my part, but I also believe I wouldn't be Commander of this mission if I didn't listen to my gut. I must be getting tired because I didn't mean to verbalize my thoughts, but nevertheless I find myself saying, "Do you think he could be following a lead? Do you have any reason to think he might have found him?"

Judging by the silence that ensues I'm not the first one whose mind this idea has crossed. Draper's reply is cautious. "I haven't noticed anything to make me think so, and Joel didn't mention anything-"

An interruption suspends his sentence. My thrill at the sound of a cell phone ring is minimal after I realize it's my own. "Trey."

An agent I sent to St. Louis to oversee the dissipation of a minor territory dispute with a rogue gargoyle conveys in a frantic murmur, "They're dead. They're all dead, sir."

I don't understand. Does he mean there are dead gargoyles? I'm baffled why he would sound so distraught over this. Sure it's sad to resort to violence with creatures who don't know any better but it is a hazard of our career and happens frequently. I say to the agent, "I'm sorry to hear that, but thank you for-"

"No!" he whispers. "Agent Enrico, all the agents: everybody is dead."

My abrupt fathom accompanied immediately by confusion changes the room. All four agents in the living room with me turn simultaneously sporting their own perturbed style to see my face. "How?" I demand.