Glen crouched beside the two strangers who had collapsed against his door, their breathing shallow and uneven. The woman's horns marked her as demon-kind, and the man's protective grip on her arm told Glen everything he needed to know about what they were running from. The man's other hand clutched a rolled paper, fingers white-knuckled even in unconsciousness. Glen carefully pried it loose and unrolled it on his knee. His breath caught. The sketch showed tunnels and chambers beneath the desert, labeled streets, numbered dwellings. A whole city underground. The wooden cart they'd dragged sat abandoned outside, one wheel still spinning slowly in the wind. Glen looked from the sketch to his own door, where his partner stood watching through the window. He'd been searching for rumors of sanctuary for months. Now two people had nearly died bringing him a map.