An hour north of the city’s peninsula, Clark sped down the empty highway as a quiet chatter from the radio buzzed in the background. The windows were down, and the night air blew through Michaela’s hair. When he cranked up the volume, Michaela opened her eyes and frowned at him.

“…massive collapse in Mammoth State Park. Campers are being escorted out and asked to leave as it is not currently known where the cave-in originated and if the other caves are stable. Rangers are suggesting people cancel their plans if they planned a visit to the park, which hosts hundreds of miles of underground caves. No injuries have been reported at this time…”

“That’s weird,” Clark commented.

“What?” Michaela closed her eyes again with a heavy sigh.

She couldn’t reach Gabriel, which frustrated her, but she probably deserved it after pushing him away all week. She wished Clark would turn the radio dribble down so she could concentrate. If she couldn’t reach Gabriel then she needed to think, to prepare, for the Aethere’s retaliation. By releasing those monsters Lucifer made, she had provoked the Aethere. What she didn’t know was how the Aethere would react or if the other angels would start questioning how Lucifer made the creatures.

“That’s where I found you.” Clark’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“What?” She blinked at him and tried to remember what he had said.

Clark rolled his eyes to the ceiling of the car. “That’s the park where I found you. There was a cave-in.”

Clark turned up the radio so they could both listen to the DJ recap the same handful of details over and over, trying to fill time until the next music set. No one cared about a pile of dirt moving in backwater Kentucky.

But Michaela cared. She mentally transported herself back to the cave with Molloch and the other fallen Archangels. Like before, he talked to her, berated her. She recognized the waterfalls. She heard the river bubbling in the background. She saw the smirk on Molloch’s face when she remembered where they were.

“You didn’t think I’d bring you to just any cave, did you?” His voice echoed in her head. Her thoughts raced away from that moment and landed her back in the car with Clark.

“No, no, no…”

She realized she spoke the words out loud when Clark jerked his head toward her.“What is it?” Clark reached over and shook her. “What is it?” he practically shouted when she opened her mouth but no words came out.

“That cave…” she whispered.

Fallen angels and countless other creatures gathered beneath the arena in a hold that stank of sweat and piss. The night’s fights were about to commence, and everyone was on edge, causing skirmishes to break out every few seconds. Already, blood coated the floor. Creatures slipped and fell in fear while the guards laughed at them.

Gabriel hunkered down in a corner to wait for the doors to open, his sword hanging loose but ready at his side. Most of the time his stare would keep aggressive fighters away, but sometimes he had to use his blade before the doors even opened.

He noticed some of the others whispered and glanced in his direction. He tried to ignore them. He was a novelty. An angel had never been punished to Hell before. He was not a fallen, not damned, yet there he sat.

The ever-present rage boiled within him at the thought. He forced his hand to lie still against the hilt of his sword, which threatened to slash up and across the nearest throat. The urge was just there on the pads of his fingers. It didn’t help that he hadn’t seen Michaela for days. He had no clue what had happened. She could be hurt, or the Aethere might have found her. Or she might just not want to see him after what had happened between them. The thought made him even angrier.

The crowd above them cheered as they watched the fights between Beliar’s beasts. Their massive feet pounding on the roof of the hold sent dust and dirt filtering through the cracks. He wished the doors would open so he could get some fresh air. The feathers of his dirty wings brushed the rough wood of the wall behind him as he shifted his weight. A bead of sweat ran down the side of his face. His eyes narrowed on the group pressed against the opposite wall. They were still talking about him in whispers.

Gabriel watched their mouths closely, which is why he saw her name form on the fallen’s lips. Gabriel rose and crossed the hold in one furious beat of his wings, grabbing the fallen by his throat. Gabriel pressed his sword into the angel’s gut.

“What did you say?” Gabriel growled. The fallen sputtered, unable to speak against the pressure on his windpipe. Gabriel loosened his grip, but the edge of his sword drew blood that trickled down the fallen’s hollow stomach.

An imp next to the fallen spoke. “We overheard the guards talking about her,” it said. Its eyes were too large for his elfish face, glistening green with a secret. Gabriel hated imps.

Gabriel’s jaw gnashed; a vein popped out in the middle of his forehead and throbbed to the beat of his rage. Gabriel spun. The sword made a sucking noise as Gabriel sank it deep within the imp’s chest. Gabriel pivoted back around and grabbed the fallen before the angel had even flinched. Gabriel pressed his blade, dripping sludge, against the fallen’s throat.

“Speak,” he commanded.

“The-the-they said-they-said there was a de-de-death warrant issued on her. That the Aethere were finally sick of her-her-her shit. Please, please don’t hurt me before the fight,” the fallen stammered, holding his hands in the air. His eyes darted to the imp, who groaned and pressed a hand to its belly. The creature wouldn’t die, but the wound definitely hurt. Traditionally, the guards killed weakest at the end of the fights for entertainment; it was never good to enter already bleeding.

“A death warrant?” Gabriel never heard of such. Briefly he wondered if the fallen was once again baiting him, but he saw the true fear in the fallen angel’s eyes. The other prisoners took a few steps away from Gabriel.

The fallen nodded briskly as he eyed the blade still pressed to his throat. “They are going after her. Please, not before the fight.”

“Who are?” Gabriel hadn’t felt this form of anger before. It wasn’t hot or slicing like some of the rages he had experienced in the fights, but chilled and creeping. The new anger settled his resolve, slowed his blood, and cleared his thoughts.

“The Aethere released the Watchers on her,” answered a voice hidden within the horde of bodies.

“Why?” Gabriel bellowed. For a moment, the cheering outside died down.

“We-we don’t know. She did something bad. Made the Aethere look like-like-like idiots. She was trying to expose them. But she pissed ‘em off.”

Gabriel let the fallen go. The skinny angel fell to the floor, trembling and glaring at Gabriel. Gabriel stepped away and headed toward the door in the back. Numb fingers circled around the molding bars, which bent but didn’t break beneath his strength.

“The Watchers can kill her for sure…They know the secret…”

“They wouldn’t even need her bones…”

He tried to ignore the hushed whispers behind him. He didn’t know what Michaela had done to provoke the Aethere to the extent they would send the Watchers after her, but he didn’t care. The only thing he thought was that the Watchers were likely the only group of angels who could actually succeed in killing Michaela, because they might know the original secret to kill an angel. Gabriel knew how extensive and powerful their magic was, and he didn’t want them to have the chance to use it on her. No matter what, Gabriel had to get to her first.

A guard took notice. He drew his own sword and walked toward Gabriel, whose eyes turned from golden to lava. The guard stopped a few steps short, wary and out of reach.

“I need to see Lucifer. Now.”