Prologue
Department of State, Washington, D.C.
Zoe Somersby tugged at her blouse once more. She hated suits, any kind of suit. They were made as a torture device by men who wanted to ogle women’s asses, and she wasn’t even talking about the pain of wearing high heels! And it was difficult enough to find a skirt or pants that could fit said ass! One of the downfalls of having curves in the modern world.
But convention was to be dealt with, and she knew that sometimes, looks could give a necessary edge. So, she used it, with every last one of her own talents.
Stretching her arms over her head, she winced at the kink in her neck. That was the trouble of being back at her desk. But when she was in the field, Zoe longed to be in front of her computer. One of her many quirks.
Looking at the clock, she grabbed her notepad to head for her meeting. As she proceeded through the hallways of the building, Zoe smiled at the so-serious smart suits walking by. In her opinion, they all appeared to be continuously constipated for the last ten years. People were underestimating fun and whimsy, and that was so sad.
Rounding the corner, she saw her boss still sitting in his office. She pivoted gracefully.
“Hey, Mark! Aren’t you coming to the weekly meeting?”
The older man with impressive bags beneath his eyes lifted his bloodhound face to her. “What meeting?”
Zoe smiled affectionately at the man who put up with so much. “Weekly meeting? Meeting room D? Now?”
Mark tilted his head to his phone and looked back at her, shaking his head. “I have no meeting scheduled, Zoe. I don’t know what meeting you’re attending, but I’m out! Hallelujah! For once, I’ll be able to meet my deadline!”
Zoe was confused and readjusted her tortoiseshell glasses. “I thought it was our weekly meeting. So what meeting am I going to?”
Leaving without listening to Mark’s incoherent mumbling, she walked back to her cramped temporary office, one that changed every time she was back in D.C. and dropped her file before sitting back down.
When she opened the appointment in her calendar, she blinked. The subject readMeeting about the Meaning of Dark Sparrows. Her heart somersaulted in her chest at the reference. Bolting from her chair, and despite her high heels, she walked briskly to the other end of the corridor, toward Meeting Room D. She was tempted to ditch the shoes and start running, but it would have raised suspicions. Tendrils of red hair escaped from her neat bun, but she couldn’t care less. Disheveled looked better on her anyway.
When she pushed open the door, a smile bloomed on her face at the sight of the slender woman with spiky red hair standing there.
“Beatrice! Beatrice Dante, my friend!”
“Crazy Zoe!” Zoe launched herself into her arms, surprised by the sudden rush of emotions clogging her throat.
“Bea. It’s so good to see you!”
From the corner of her eye, Zoe saw a blonde woman step aside, giving them a little privacy and closing the door.
Giving her one last squeeze, Zoe let her go. “You don’t know how happy I was when I read your superhero code name on my computer.”
The older woman laughed and shook her head. “You may be the only one who thinks that me contacting them would be cool.”
Zoe shook her head. Beatrice was an intelligent woman, the founder of Purgatory, an organization dedicated to rescue missions when official alternatives were tied. When she had been saved by her all those years ago, and Beatrice had asked her to return the favor some day, it was clear in Zoe’s head that she would jump at the chance. “Nah! I’m suffocating now in my office, and I want out! It’s only a temporary assignment, but after being stationed in the Middle East and making some significant contributions, being cooped up in this dungeon will be the death of me.”
“Well, I may have something for you.”
Zoe shot her hands in the air, making a whooping sound. “Oh yeah! Anything to get out of this suit and killer pumps.”
Beatrice winced. “Well... what I need you for might require them.”
Groaning, Zoe let her arms and head fall back in defeat before looking at her friend again. “Will it be in a closed office space without any windows?”
Beatrice hesitated, and Zoe groaned. At the sound, the older woman smiled apologetically. “There will be windows. I promise. Please, let me introduce you to the one who’s supervising the whole thing. Gabrielle Thorne.”
Zoe smiled and took the offered hand of the beautiful blonde woman before her. “Blonde, tall, beautiful, and probably deadly. Women must hate you.”
Gabrielle blinked before bursting out in laughter. “Well, I don’t know about that. I never admire myself in the mirror. Does it bother you?”
Zoe looked her up and down before shaking her head. “Not really. My type attracts another demographic.”
