Rain streaked down the windows of Herod Preston's penthouse, turning Manhattan's skyline into a blurry watercolor painting. Rose stood at the glass, watching lightning flash between the clouds. Her reflection stared back at her, a ghost of herself caught between the storm outside and the one brewing within.

Behind her, Herod ended his phone call and set his cell on the marble counter with a soft click. The sound pulled Rose from her thoughts.

"Well?" ...