“Wow,” Clark said in awe. “It’s bigger in person.”

They stood across the street gawking at the mammoth building. With all the glass and complicated angles set against the night sky, the effect was similar to a modern castle. According to Clark’s Google research, it was a multi-billion dollar medical research facility that was in the news almost weekly.

“Did you check the address?” Michaela asked. She had never seen the fallen work out of a place so public. Something like dread curled in her stomach. Clark only nodded as he was still too busy gawking.

“Any great ideas?” Clark asked after another few minutes of silence.

Michaela turned back at the building, ignoring Clark. She counted ten stories, all of which were hidden behind tinted glass. Whatever the fallen did here, they had access to some of the top scientists, research data, and equipment. The more Michaela thought about it, the more she figured Lucifer was probably the one who owned the company, which meant getting in wasn’t going to be their biggest problem.

She scanned the building, the lawn, the side streets. Her eyes slid past the street they were on and back again. A manhole cover was situated directly in front of them on the street. Inspiration struck. She glanced both directions.

“Clark, you’re not going to like this,” she said. She pulled her cap down lower on her head.

“What?” He watched her wearily. Michaela eyed the manhole in front of them. Clark groaned. “Dude, I like these boots.”

Five minutes later they were down the ladder and plopped into some very suspicious smelling water. Clark’s silence was loaded with accusations. It wasn’t her best plan, but it was all Michaela had.

Michaela heard Clark shifting behind her, trying to find a cleaner path. The air was surprisingly hot and sticky; it thickened in Michaela’s nose causing a dull ache in the back of her head. The shadows masked the scurrying rodents, whose red eyes glinted in the semi-darkness.

“You didn’t have to come if you didn’t want to.”

“Oh, you tell me that now.” Something scuttled by, and Clark jumped, splashing himself with the murky water. He swore some more. Michaela rolled her eyes in the darkness.

Michaela paused, her nose turned up. Clark bumped into her. The only sound was the constant plopping of water. “What do you smell?” he asked.

“Angel blood,” she said finally.

Clark didn’t speak again until Michaela navigated them to a dead end. On the wall was a large oval grate held on by thick, rusted bolts. Through the grate, they could see a narrow, upward sloping drain. From the expression on Michaela’s face, Clark knew the drain would lead into the basement.

“How are we going to…?” Clark stopped when Michaela positioned herself in front of the grate. He shined the light from his cell phone over the rusted bolts.

The rust from the bars crumbled under her fingers as she laced her hands around them. When she had a good grip, she drew in a breath and braced her body. She pulled with every ounce of strength she had.

Nothing happened at first. Then her body started to tremble; a long, bulging vein throbbed along her forearm. Finally, with a screech of metal, the bolts sprung free. Clark jumped out of the way as Michaela heaved the bent grate to the side.

Sweat gleamed on her face, which was ashen in the scant light. Broken blood vessels traced eerie gold lines across her blue eyes. More blood dripped from her cut hands.

“Ready?” she asked.

Her eyes started to heal; her vision cleared. Clark stared at her hands as the cuts slowly fused together. She wiped the excess blood off on her jeans.

“Sure.”

Michaela climbed up the drain, bent over at the waist. She pressed her hands against either wall as a guide through the darkness. Her feet fought for traction on the slickened concrete. Algae grew along the walls and bottom, making her slip backwards. Clark shined the light behind her, pulling himself into the circular drain.

At the end of the drain was another grate. Michaela wove her fingers through the metal and pushed until one side of the grate sprang free from the wall and bent open. She climbed through the narrow opening, avoiding the broken, sharp metal points. Clark swore and grunted his way through behind Michaela.

Before them was a narrow aisle in the basement of the building. On each side were rows of barbaric, ancient cells. The bars were corroded and bent. Dirt covered every surface. Inside the cells, chains were suspended from the low ceiling. Dark stains covered the entire surface of the floor. Clark’s phone cast long shadows into the empty cells. The air smelled dank and wet, the blood from the cells filling Michaela’s nose with its metallic tang.

“What do you think this place is?” Clark asked.

“Come on.”

Michaela walked down the narrow hallway, refusing to look into the cold and empty cells. The chains and bloodstains caused her heart to race. She felt light headed and sick. At the end of the aisle, with Clark close at her heels, she trotted up stone stairs toward a thick metal door.

When Clark saw the door had a keypad, he groaned. With a frustrated grunt, he gave the door a hard push. Surprising him, it swung open easily.

“It was unlocked,” Michaela said when he grew too pleased with himself. “I doubt this door locks from this side. Besides, if I’m right, they have better security than keypads and cameras.”

Michaela stepped through the door into the darkness. The air smelled like cold medicine so strongly Michaela almost preferred the scents in the drain. Her eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness. The door thudded shut behind them.

“What kind of better security?” he asked with a slight waver in his voice.

Michaela watched and waited. The motion sensor lights flipped on, illuminating a stark and overly simple hallway with only one door—the door at their backs. Michaela assumed it had locked behind them.

They were trapped, which wouldn’t be such a big problem if they could get through the hallway in front of them.

Except they couldn’t.

To answer Clark’s earlier question, Michaela said, “Familiars.”

Five large Rottweilers slid around the corner, crashing into each other, and flinging huge droplets of drool onto the walls. Their growls echoed in the hallway. Their hungry, scarlet eyes settled on Michaela and Clark as they slowed, crouching like they were stalking a sixteen-ounce bloody steak. Huge muscles twitched and convulsed along the dogs’ bodies as they snapped their massive jaws at the air. Drool splattered red across the pristine floors.