Despite the charcoal sky, the polished oak casket gleamed under the funeral tent. Raindrops sparkling on the silver cross adorning the casket caught Sean’s eye. He cursed under his breath. “Of all the days it could’ve rained.”

  He tilted his head at the bloated gray clouds. He’d never seen a southern California downpour like this and it came on a day that deserved the sun’s warmth more than any other.

  His friend Rick wasn’t a high-ranking member of The Brotherhood. Yet the casket he laid in told otherwise. Thousands of dollars from Sean’s own pocket—plus donations—paid for it. Not a dime came from Presidents of the Western, Midwest, and Eastern Divisions or the Head Master of The Brotherhood.

  He dropped his head and pretended to pray. He covertly scanned the mourners from behind his dark glasses. As best he could tell, all of them were researchers from the local Chapter.

  A fresh onslaught of uninvited tears coursed from behind his dark glasses. He felt so angry and so helpless. This funeral shouldn’t be happening.

  The priest closed his Bible. Sean joined the line of mourners, each carrying a bright red rose to place atop the casket. He stared at the rose in his hand and huffed. Rick hated red roses.

  “Sorry, buddy,” he said as he placed the rose in the pile. “I’d have preferred a lily, too.” He stepped aside and watched Kenneth place a rose on the casket, mumble a prayer, and step away. The President of the Western Division, Kurt Luzier, followed Kenneth. Sporting a dark suit and tie and dark glasses, he approached the casket and placed his own red rose on top of it. Behind him and the last one in line, stood Veronica’s father. Gripping the handle of his black cane, Mr. Austin hobbled forward. He placed the largest and darkest rose atop the mound of flowers.

  One by one, the mourners dispersed, but Sean lagged behind in covert surveillance of Kenneth’s conversation with Mr. Austin and Mr. Luzier. He’d give anything just now for one of those high tech eavesdropping devices he’d seen on the Internet. He wondered what lies Kenneth spoke in their ears. He didn’t doubt that Kenneth would do anything to secure his position as the next President of any Division. He loved power, just like his dead father.

  Disappointed and downhearted, he ambled back to his car and waited until Mr. Austin was ready to call on him. Images of Rick’s well dressed, motionless form pierced his mind. The mortician’s expertise made it possible for the funeral to be an open casket. It was hard to believe that just days ago, Rick’s face was unrecognizable.

  He glanced down the hill at the flower strewn casket and observed the intimate way Kenneth held Mr. Austin’s elbow as he guided him back to his limousine. Kenneth’s hands tightened into fists. It still incensed Sean that Mr. Luzier chose him to give Rick’s eulogy. The way Kenneth pretended to mourn . . . hell, he didn’t know Rick at all. Not like he did. The tribute had been so generic, so common, and so impersonal; Kenneth could have pulled it from a handbook.

  Rick deserved better.

  The Brotherhood took responsibility for the grand funerals and interments of its members, insisting that employees were actually family. That’s what the name

  “Brotherhood” meant. They were brothers and sisters, by oath and loyalty. Well, that’s what they were led to believe.

  Sean rubbed his chin. He unlocked the driver’s side door when he heard Kenneth’s voice behind him.

  “Hey,” he called from halfway up the sloped hill.

  Sean sighed and looked over his shoulder. Kenneth approached with a smile on his face. Water droplets fell from the ends of his light brown hair.

  “Why the long face, comrade?”

  “It’s my friend’s funeral.”

  Kenneth grinned. “Mr. Austin is ready for you.”

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Tense, Sean exhaled.

  “No need to get nervous. It’s just a talk.”

  Mr. Austin limped up the hill with the support of Mr. Luzier. A recent hip surgery forced the old man to rely on his cane as temporary support. Though frail, he could still invoke nervousness into any researcher.

  Sean’s throat tightened as he waited for Veronica’s father to speak. Instead, the old man greeted Sean with a firm handshake.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Austin.”

  “Any time of day during a funeral is not good.” Mr. Austin gazed at the sky. “But we need the rain.” He raked his fingers through his wavy hair. Sean noticed no signs of gray; parallel wrinkles banding his forehead being the only telltale on his face that signaled his age.

  “Yes, sir. Much needed rain.”

  “Oh, please. Call me Samuel when away from work.”

  “Ahh, Samuel. Of course.” Sean nodded. I knew that.

  Mr. Austin turned to Mr. Luzier. “Thank you for your help.”

  Mr. Luzier nodded and he took the umbrella from Kenneth and placed it in Sean’s hand. “If you need anything, Mr. Austin, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

  Mr. Austin motioned at Sean to follow him. “Walk with me for a moment.”

  The walk. Sean cursed the thought. This is about Veronica. He measured his steps to match Mr. Austin’s hobbling gait as the two ambled deeper into the heart of the cemetery, passing weather beaten monuments and new headstones. The older man’s silence weighed heavy on the upcoming conversation and Sean felt his palms drip with perspiration. He wiped them on his shirt, tipping the umbrella to one side, exposing the older man to the rain.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Austin.”

  “I told you to call me Samuel.” He stopped, hooked his cane over his forearm, and pulled out a pipe and a pouch of tobacco from his overcoat. “Sean,” he said, returning the pouch to his pocket and pulling out a small box of matches, “I’m sure you understand why I’m concerned about Veronica.”

  He suppressed the impulse to heave a deep sigh. “Yes, sir, I’m well aware.”

  Mr. Austin struck a match and lit his pipe. “Are you also aware of her intentions?”

  He nodded.

  “I know she updates you on her progress.”

  “Mr. Austin—er, Samuel—I’m just as concerned as you are about her being in Minneapolis.”

  Mr. Austin held his pipe steady between his teeth and snatched the umbrella from Sean’s hand. “No, you’re not.” Smoke billowed from the side of his mouth.

  The rain dissipated, turning into a light drizzle. Droplets still covered the leaves and grass, causing their color to appear brighter than they were. Mr. Austin’s presence provoked him and he knew he had to choose his words carefully.

  Mr. Austin sucked hard on his pipe, expelling smoke while he spoke. “I heard she went to Dark Sepulcher.”

  “Yes, sir. I begged her not to go, but she went anyway.”

  “It’s obvious she isn’t listening to you.”

  “But, you see—”

  “You’re a valuable asset to this organization, son. More than that, Veronica likes you.” He turned his pipe upside down and smacked its stem against the side of his hand, knocking ash onto the ground. “I spoke to Mr. Luzier and we both agreed that you’re perfect for the task.”

  “Yes, sir, I know, but—” Sean paused. “Task? What task?”

  “Mr. Luzier has agreed to promote you to field researcher. You’re to go to Minneapolis and bring my daughter back unharmed.”

  “Sir?”

  “My daughter trusts you.”

  Sean shook his head. He didn’t want any of it. A field researcher? Just the thought created a mild pain in his chest. “Sir, she’s only called me once. I mean, I’m grateful you decided to choose me, but I’m not right for this.”

  “You can make her listen.” Mr. Austin’s voice grew louder. “Kenneth informed me that you acquired documents for Veronica. In doing so, you violated your oath.”

  “Sir, I—”

  “What you did by helping my daughter is punishable.” Mr. Austin puffed on his pipe. “Do you understand?”

  Sean quickly zipped his mouth shut and he nodded.

  “But I persuaded Mr. Luzier to hand you over to me in exchange for dropping the charges against you and bringing shame to your family.”

  “Yes, sir.” He forced himself to nod.

  Mr. Austin again reached into his pocket, this time pulling out a folded manila envelope. “You will leave tomorrow.” He placed the envelope in Sean’s hand. “And you won’t tell anyone where you’re going.”

  “Sir, I appreciate what you’ve done for me but once again, I have no experience as a field researcher.”

  Mr. Austin held up his hand. “Your parents were loyal members of The Brotherhood, Sean. Being charged with treason will bring shame on your family name.” He grabbed the umbrella from him and walked forward. “After you arrive, you will report to Kenneth via email. He’s now the new Region Leader of Minnesota.”

  Sean looked over his shoulder at Kenneth who stood against Mr. Luzier’s limousine. He waved at him and a feeling of anger ripped through Sean’s mind. That bastard.

  “You won’t inform my daughter that you’re coming,” Mr. Austin continued. “You will keep in contact with Kenneth via email and phone. You will sway my daughter away from Dark Sepulcher. Any information from here on out will be about the sanctuary fires and that alone. Do you understand?”

  “Yes sir,” Sean replied in a defeated voice. “I do.”

  “Don’t mess up this opportunity.”

  Tentatively, Sean unfolded the envelope and peeked inside and found a short stack of bills and a small piece of paper topped by a single plane ticket to Minneapolis.