know it’s getting late, but there’s something we need to show you. I think it will help.”
“I don’t think anything will help me understand,” he responded drily.
She flashed him a smile. “No, this will. At the very worst, you’ll definitely know we aren’t crazy.” Then she laughed when she saw the pissy look of disbelief on his face. “I’m not going to kill another old man if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Remy pushed away from the wall. “Are we going down to the old St. Mary’s Reform School?”
She nodded, earning a wide grin from Luke. She turned back to Michael. “I’ll make you a promise. If you come along with us, and we don’t prove that everything we’ve told you is true, then we’ll leave you alone, and you’ll never see us again.”
His brows lowered in doubt.
She offered him her pinkie. “I pinkie swear.”
Michael shook his head, standing. “I can go home and never have to worry about angels or…whatever again?”
She almost felt bad for doing this to him. “I promise.”
He took a long breath before agreeing. She pivoted, passing Luke on the way out. “Be nice.”
An overtly innocent look appeared on his face. “Of course.”
“Where is she going?” Michael immediately demanded.
Luke turned to him, his grin cold. “You’ll see soon enough.”
Rolling her eyes, she headed out the door. Damn, she hoped Luke didn’t kill him before she wrangled up a minion…or two.
…
Michael followed the two men through the streets of DC in a surreal daze. After he’d stripped off his navy- blue uniform shirt and vest, he felt strangely naked in his Under Armor shirt. He didn’t even know why he’d agreed. Maybe it was because underneath the disbelief, confusion, and even a little bit of fear, he was curious. And besides knocking him out earlier, none of them had tried to seriously injure him, and he knew they could.
The only thought that propelled him through the fog was the knowledge that he could leave this all behind him soon. Chalk it up to a night full of lunatics; wake up tomorrow to happily go about his business as if none of this had ever happened.
They turned off the sidewalk, heading across a street bridge. He wished they’d given him his gun back. Shit, he could be recognized even out of uniform. Streets around here were not kind. “Where are we going?”
Remy glanced at him. “You know the old reform school near Congress Heights?”
He did. Everyone knew where Congress Heights was. It had been one of the most neglected neighborhoods in DC, and only recently had urban developers moved in. With the increased police presence and general cleanup effort, it had improved, but it still wasn’t great.
The three of them turned onto Clay Street, and looming ahead was the once-prestigious reform school that had long since been forgotten. He frowned as Remy grabbed the chain-link fence and, with a simple twist of his wrist, snapped the lock.
His stomach went cold.
The lawn hadn’t been tended in years, and grass had grown to his knees. Bushes and weeds choked the old circular driveway, and sticker bushes latched onto his pants.
“Are we going in there?” he wondered out loud.
Remy passed him a grin before disappearing around the side of the building. Michael turned to Luke, folding his arms. “What are we doing?”
“Remy is going to find us a way in. One that isn’t too obvious.”
“Why would we want to go in there?”
The smirk on Luke’s face deepened. “You ask a lot of stupid questions, you know that?”
His anger flared. He wanted nothing more than to punch the cocky grin off his face, and although the man was a good deal bigger than him, Michael figured he could take him. Or at least do some damage in the process.
Luke motioned him to follow around the side of the run-down brick building. “Come on, Remy,” he muttered, “we don’t have much time.”
Much time until what? God, did he even want to know?
One of the boards covering a lower window splintered apart, startling him. Remy stuck his head out, reminding him of a deranged Jack Nicholson. “Come on in.”
He halted. Every cell in his body warned him not to go in there. Besides the fact that he was pretty sure the floors had to be rotten to the point that it wouldn’t be safe, he also inherently knew he wouldn’t like where any of this was heading.
Luke stepped to move behind him. He held out his arm. “In.”
Michael gritted his teeth. Seeing no way out of this, he threw a dirty look over his shoulder and climbed through the window as carefully as possible. Once inside, he could barely detect his surroundings.
Luke jumped through the window and landed on his feet beside him.
“They are near.” Remy headed toward the door. “Follow me.”
Michael did his best to keep up with him through the maze of broken desks and toppled chairs. Wherever moonlight was able to filter through, he saw gang graffiti painted on the walls and floors.
They left the room in silence, entering the hallway. He was careful to track Remy’s sure footsteps. Sections of the floor had rotted away, but somehow the guys avoided them without even looking. Maybe they were ninjas.
He almost laughed but doubted either man would appreciate that.
They went upstairs and, tired of the silence, he demanded to know what the plan was. Luke threw him a cynical smile, but Remy was a little more informative. “Something you need to see that will bring things into perspective.”
He hesitated at the top of the stairs. “There isn’t anything you can show me that will bring any perspective to this night.”
Luke chuckled but didn’t respond as they made their way down the hallway. At the end, Remy pushed open double doors covered with faded red paint and rust.
Half expecting something to jump out in front of him, Michael was a little disappointed when he realized they were above an empty gymnasium. He turned to Remy. “Is there a game I’m unaware of?”
Remy tipped back his head, laughing. “A game of sorts.”
Rolling his eyes, he turned back to the cracked floor below them. The bleachers had been removed, and only one basketball pole remained. The net was missing and the backboard hung at an odd angle. He felt the men go still beside him.
Luke tapped him on his arm. “Be quiet.”
He wanted to break that goddamned finger, but footsteps echoed across the floor and something… something fluttered in his stomach. It was the kind of feeling he got when he was about to make an arrest but stronger—much stronger. Nervous excitement mingled with apprehension crawled out of his stomach and traveled up his spine in a shudder. He leaned to peer over the railing, but Luke threw his arm out.
“Move back,” he hissed.
From his new vantage point he could still see the area below but was hidden in the shadows that crept over the walls and ceiling.
Someone entered from the court-level doors on the opposite side of the gymnasium, stopping in the middle of the court, beneath a shaft of moonlight streaming through a broken window. It was a boy. Young. Probably not even in his midtwenties by the looks of it. His black hair was spiked, and he wore heavy eyeliner that accented unusually pale eyes. Michael could make out a band on the boy’s black shirt, but the logo had faded.
His palms grew sweaty. “Who is that?” he whispered.
Luke glanced at him sternly. “He was once a Nephilim,” he responded in a hushed voice, “but he’s not warm
