Phoenix Contract: Part One (Fallen Angel Watchers Book 1) by Melissa Thomas Page B

sealed her lips and accepted the criticism without a word.
    Desdemona indicated a chair. “Let’s begin the meeting. Sit.”
    Fuming, Katsue took a seat across from Troy. Doing so served the dual purpose of demonstrating her displeasure with him while bringing a sense of balance to the table. To have assumed her usual place beside him would have served to further emphasize the absence of Thrash, Aiden, and Father Bunson.
    Desdemona assumed a seat at the head of the table. “Aiden won’t be joining us. I assume you’re both aware Father Bunson’s been hospitalized following a heart attack?”
    In unison, they responded, “Yes.”
    “I need to inform you that Father Bunson’s angioplasty was successful, but his condition is still considered critical. He will remain in the intensive care unit until his physician deems him fit enough to be transferred.”
    Troy and Katsue shared a worried glance. The jovial priest was a favorite among the younger members of the enclave. Matthew had spent the last year in England, and his unscheduled return had taken them all by surprise. News of Matthew’s illness was equally unexpected and troubling, especially since he had always enjoyed robust good health.
    “Aiden is in attendance, and I have his room information if you wish to visit,” Desdemona concluded.
    Katsue opened her mouth to respond, but Troy beat her to the punch. “We’ll head over there after the meeting.”
    Desdemona responded with a curt nod. “Very well,” she said. “Moving on. Have you made any progress in locating Thrash?”
    Katsue’s eyes narrowed. “No, he’s still missing.”
    “How long has it been now?” Desdemona asked.
    “Eight days.” Troy’s voice and expression were perfectly bland.
    Desdemona regarded Troy with cool detachment. “Do you think he’s dead?”
    Silence fell. Troy and Katsue exchanged a troubled glance. The old woman so easily voiced their unspoken fear. To name fear was to give it power. Through mutual accord, Katsue and Troy had refused to discuss the worst-case scenario. Instead, they had indulged in a determined search for their lost comrade. Hours wore into days, and the days blurred together. Their hope eroded, and the expectation of a bad ending had grown until the weight of it dragged them down. They were both exhausted, close to collapse.
    “No,” Katsue said firmly. “He’s still alive, maybe hiding somewhere. Albinos don’t just kick it without somebody noticing. If his body turned up, our contacts on the police force and at the city morgue would let us know.”
    Desdemona gave Katsue her cool regard and then pursed her lips. “True enough.”
    “We’ve looked everywhere it makes sense to look,” Troy supplied, “and a few places it doesn’t. He’s nowhere to be found.”
    Troy didn’t elaborate and explain how they’d been at it for days. They had checked out every conceivable bar, club, and friend who might possess a lead on Thrash’s whereabouts. So far they had turned up absolutely nothing. Both Troy and Katsue were exhausted with tempers short and nerves on edge.
    “Have you found anything at all?” Desdemona demanded. The Grecian woman was infamous for her intolerance of incompetence—whether real or perceived. She liked answers, neat and orderly explanations, and quickly grew impatient with anything else.
    Katsue bit her lower lip and shifted her gaze to her partner. She stared at him, making it clear she would not be the one to speak of the sword.
    Troy quirked his brow and then reached under the table for the duffle bag which he placed in front of him. “Only this,” he said.
    “Continue.” Desdemona made an imperious gesture with her hand.
    “This was in Thrash’s possession before he disappeared.” Troy unzipped the duffle bag and removed the rectangular sword case. He set it carefully upon the table and pushed it toward Watcher Leromenos.
    Katsue gnashed her teeth as the Greek woman laid her bony hands upon it.
    “What is