After the creatures passed, Michaela left the control room. The air felt viscous and hot, pressing into her nose with a horrible, decaying stench. She nearly gagged as she continued on around the corner.

A few guards were there. Their bodies strewn across the hall; their blood smeared against the walls. One clutched his gun in his hand as bloody air bubbled out of his mouth. His eyes focused on her, pleading. He was probably only a rent-a-cop meant to patrol halls, watch the monitors, and never ever go downstairs. He had, and he’d died.

Because of her.

She picked her way through the guards until she stood above one who was still alive. He stared up at her, his eyes afraid. He was already dead; he just hadn’t gotten there yet. There was nothing she could do, so she walked away. As she rounded the corner, she heard his final sigh.

Instead of following Clark’s path up and out of the building, she went down the only other hallway on the same basement level. This hall was smaller, narrower. It was the older part of the building not made of glass but cinder blocks. She nearly reached the end when she saw a small alcove positioned off to the side.

The doors were heavy; the glass on the window was thicker, murkier. A control panel hung next to the door. It glowed a soft blue, lightly illuminating the small area. Michaela took a breath and stepped in.

She guessed what she would find. Michaela looked through the small window. She’d been right. The creature had once been Cassie, but it certainly wasn’t anymore.

Cassie had gone too far, drank too much blood. Somewhere along the way, she tried to save one soul too many.

Her sweet face had hardened into an unnatural blend of angel and human. Her lackluster skin was hard as stone, unmoving and unyielding. Even her slight muscles seemed carved into her body. Like she sensed Michaela watching, Cassie’s eyes peeled open, revealing their blood red color.

Cassie leapt forward and slammed herself into the door, snarling and spitting. Caught in her teeth were slivers of muscle and tendon. They were stained a dingy brown from blood, their razor points honed by the bones she likely gnawed on. Cassie kept lunging at Michaela, biting at the glass with a single-minded hunger.

Michaela didn’t flinch or move. The creature Cassie had turned herself into did not scare her. Michaela had failed Cassie. She let Lucifer convince Cassie she needed to save the souls when he whispered to her rumors of Heaven’s fall and a Purification enacted by overzealous, purist angels. Michaela wasn’t there for her, and Cassie had done what she thought best, putting the souls in the safest place she knew—an angel’s body.

“Cassie.” Michaela pressed her hand to the glass; Cassie to beat against her door harder. Her stained teeth broke against the glass, leaving streaks of reddish-brown blood.

Michaela didn’t understand how Cassie found the secret in the Watchers’ magic. But somehow, buried in that book, Cassie learned that by weakening an angel’s system with human blood, an angel could take on the soul of a human. Cassie cared for the safekeeping, but Lucifer only wanted the finished product.

He had created a hybrid—a super army that would be his answer in the final wars. He had an unlimited supply of blood and more souls every moment the Purification went on. No wonder the fallen angels were terrified. Lucifer wanted them to become monsters like Asz had said.

Michaela had promised she would kill Cassie, and she would.

Cassie stopped beating against the door. She stood, glaring and twitching at Michaela through the glass. It was time. No more waiting.

She pressed the release and Cassie surged out.

Cassie was on her instantly, her teeth closing in on Michaela’s throat. Michaela grabbed Cassie’s throat, not to restrain her but to pull her closer. If she were meant to die here, she wouldn’t stop the creature that had once been her friend.

Michaela doubted neither angel bone nor water would stop Cassie. She was a new creation, a hybrid truly created with death in mind. Lucifer had created a soldier that was strong enough to withstand any weapon, natural or metal.

Michaela closed her eyes and spoke two words.

They fumbled coming out of her mouth. They weren’t nearly as perfect as when Clark said them, but they worked. Michaela felt her hand grow hot. Her grip burned into Cassie’s skin. Cassie flinched, but didn’t slow.

Michaela said them again and again. Each time the words grew more fevered, more eloquent on her tongue. Cassie, her neck scorched, fell back but not out of Michaela’s grip. The burn worked up her face, creeping like black roots. Cassie gasped, and black smoke wafted out.

Michaela didn’t quit until Cassie fell to the ground and nothing remained of her but a scorched hull. Michaela let go, but the fire spread. She watched as Cassie’s body grew black, crumbling into a charred ruin of bones and ash.

There were no feathers. Nothing but the smell of fire and death. Michaela thought she might cry, but the tears never came. She was growing harder, changing into a new creature, adapting to what was demanded of her. She was becoming a killer.

Michaela turned and ran.

When she reached the lobby, Michaela found glass scattered, broken and pointing to the sky. The alarms flashing were useless; no police would come here tonight with the hybrids Michaela had let loose on the streets. Large, shattered pots spilled soil and crushed flowers across the white floors. The pane of glass separating the lobby from the outside entry was shattered, leaving a huge gaping hole where the night’s breeze came in and blew loose papers across the room.

Michaela stepped outside. A smeared bloody handprint slid down the outline of the angel on the sign. The body of a late-night jogger lay beside it, his stomach hollowed and empty. Michaela caught sight of Clark’s car idling on the sidewalk. He waved frantically, eyes wide and scared. A loud crash came from inside the building. With barely a backwards glance, Michaela sprinted toward the car.

“What are you doing here?” she shouted as she threw herself in the car.

“What did you do? You let them go!” Clark shouted back just as loud. He pointed to a crack in the window. “They went all zombie apocalypse on my ass!”

“Their bodies are unbalanced. They crave blood, but it only makes them crazier when they get it.”

“No shit!”

“Where’s the Nephil?” Michaela asked, checking the backseat.

“She saw those creatures and ran off. She said something about warning someone.”

“She’ll be fine,” Michaela said. She buckled her seatbelt.

Clark sniffed. “Frankly, I didn’t appreciate her lack of admiration for my heroic efforts.”

His words were punctuated by the sound of breaking glass. They both looked down the road. The sounds of screams filled the air. When Clark spoke again, the words were much quieter, almost reflective. “A lot of people are going to die tonight…”

Michaela had done what she thought was best. Humans would die. More angels would die. She pictured Cassie in her last moments. She saw Asz with the knife in his hand and peaceful expression on his face. She remembered Molloch on the floor of the cave.

There were many kinds of death in war.

To Clark, Michaela said quietly, “People will die, but the holy angels will come down and stop the hybrids. They will see what Lucifer has done with the souls the Aethere gave him. They will demand to know why the Aethere enacted the Purification if this was the result.”

Clark looked at her, their eyes meeting in the darkness. “Are you sure?”