Darkest Misery by Tracey Martin

charge of all matters related to the magi prophecy and the Gryphon-magi-pred tentative alliance we’d been putting together. Perhaps that was why she alone of the Brotherhood members who’d arrived for the meeting had been granted an office. The rest were stuck sharing a conference room.
    Ingrid’s position made her my most logical target if I wanted to poke around for information on the Brotherhood and the source of the potential Phoenix leak. Therefore, the morning of the meeting, I dragged myself into Gryphon Headquarters several hours earlier than necessary. I’d overheard Tom and others planning a pre-meeting meeting yesterday, and I intended to snatch what might be my only opportunity to do something incredibly rude and invasive.
    I intended to search Ingrid’s office. Possibly while laughing at the comical horror of pre-meeting meetings.
    I ducked in the tiny, borrowed room about ten minutes after the pre-meeting was supposed to start. And sighed. When I’d formed this half-brained plan yesterday, I wasn’t sure what I might find, but the possibilities were less than I’d imagined. Ingrid hadn’t brought much with her. Unlike Tom, who’d stuffed his office with a veritable library and armory, Ingrid had only a laptop and whatever she’d packed in its case.
    Mentally crossing my fingers, I checked the laptop first, but though it was on, it had been locked and was password protected. Not surprising.
    I rummaged through her laptop bag next, not expecting to discover anything either. Aside from an odd assortment of pens, a pack of breath mints and a phone charger, however, I also discovered a bunch of papers in an outer pocket. Trying not to get my hopes up, I rifled through them.
    Ingrid had printed out several emails regarding her trip. While the content of those emails wasn’t enlightening for the most part, the one on the bottom of the pile contained a single comment from Tom—a reminder of the dates that he and I would be traveling to Phoenix and Chicago.
    Jackpot. My heartbeat sped up. Besides Ingrid and Tom, eleven other people had been included on the cc line at various points along the chain. I recognized Theo’s name as one of them, and so I assumed the other people were also members of Le Confrérie . It wasn’t much, but it was a start. In my not-so-copious free time, maybe I could do some digging into these people. If nothing else, the list narrowed down the number who I wanted to question. Although, since only five had come to Boston, questioning everyone on it seemed impossible.
    In fact, when I was being honest with myself, all of it seemed impossible. Rubbing my eyes, I sighed again from the futility. I had neither the position within the Gryphons, nor the training, to do any serious investigation. As with the prophecy ordeal in general, I was in way over my head. Nevertheless, I took a photo of the names and email addresses, then I tucked everything away and got out before I further complicated my life by being caught snooping.
    To make my day better, I found a package on my desk when I got back. Ripping it open, I discovered a neatly folded Gryphon uniform inside. What in the world? I held it up, noting it appeared to be my size.
    With a groan, I tossed it on my chair. When I’d first been blackmailed into working for the Gryphons, I’d asked for a uniform. Asked, and been denied. So giving me one now? That meant one thing—the Gryphons were aiming to show they owned me.
    That wasn’t going to happen. This move was way more in-your-face than offering me bodyguards. If the Gryphons wanted to throw some of those into the mix, they were welcome. But I wasn’t donning the black-and-gold uniform. No way could I claim neutrality if I did.
    Surely, this would go over well when I refused.
    My cell rang before I could kick off an argument with Tom, replacing my apprehension with a different sort of anxiety. It was my mother