The rich, heady scent of cardamom and cloves was the first thing to hit my senses. The second, which came with that horrible jolt from blissful unconsciousness to pain-wracked awareness, was the sight of Lucifer himself, draped on a chaise-lounge opposite to where I lay, with a woman draped upon him.

He lay with one leg stretched out, and his arms resting on the gilded frame of the chair and his shirt was unbuttoned, revealing an expanse of hard, smooth pale skin. The woman, a curvaceous siren of a woman with long lustrous blue-black hair and wearing very little in the way of clothing, straddled his thigh and was running her long fingernails down his chest as he inclined his head towards hers, his tongue trailing light and slow along her full, glossy lips. She exhaled a soft moan and slid down to his bare chest where she grazed one nipple with perfect white teeth, her hand gliding further down towards his crotch.

I lay still, frozen by the scene played out in front of me, feeling uncomfortable that they were doing this right here, seemingly oblivious to the fact they had company. It wasn't until Lucifer shifted his gaze to look directly at me and smiled that I realised he clearly wasn't oblivious at all. In fact he was very aware that I was here, and more to the point, he knew full well that I had been watching.

I felt my cheeks inflame and shifted uncomfortably, sitting up quickly and soon regretting it when the nausea swept through me, my vision blurring for a millisecond.

Whispering low into her ear, Lucifer glanced in my direction again and his admirer shot me a look filled with more poison than Snow White's apple as she untangled herself from him. Sashaying across the room, revealing way more flesh than I cared to see, she kept her dark eyes upon me, only stopping to turn back and fix Lucifer with such a hot stare that I felt my own skin burning to be in such close proximity to both of them.

Once she had gone, I took a few moments to take stock of my surroundings and I had to say, that as far as Lucifer's realms went, this one was particularly impressive. The ballroom, despite the horrors I had witnessed there, had been beautiful. The endless gardens too had been breath-taking, bolstered by the fact it had felt wondrous to stand in the sunshine once again. But this place, this room, was quite simply, stunning to behold.

To my left was a huge fireplace that stood almost head-height, carved out of the blackest marble, with intertwined figures fashioned out of the stone and the flames flickering bronzed light over their forms. The chair on which I lay was a long plush red velvet sofa with gold gilded feet, matching Lucifer's chaise-lounge perfectly. Moroccan-style rugs layered the floor and the room was lit by a number of filigree and coloured glass lanterns.

All of this was food for the eyes, but none of it compared to the bookcases.

Surrounding us on three sides, tall bookcases lined the walls and as my eyes drank in the row upon row of leather-bound tomes in a variety of hues, I gasped to look up and see that the bookshelves seemed to stretch out above us at an impossible height. On and on they went until I thought I might never see the top of them as they disappeared into a starlit ceiling of perfect indigo night sky.

With my jaw practically on the floor, I looked back at Lucifer who now sat with one leg resting on the other, his arms still draped along the back of the chaise-lounge and a glint of sheer delight in his eyes.

"I knew you would love it," he said softly.

"How?" I replied, my tone laced heavily with suspicion. The problem was I did love it - no, I adored it - and it made me feel uneasy to realise that he somehow knew that I would, almost as if he had some wire directly connected to my brain, feeding him information I didn't want him to have. I didn't want him to know me. I didn't want him to think he had some deeper understanding of who I was and what made me tick. The idea of that seemed terribly dangerous, despite the fact he had, as yet, done nothing to threaten or endanger me.

He chuckled, raking his fingers through his floppy fringe when it fell across his forehead. "Michael always loved it here so it stands to reason that you would to." His smile was warm, gentle and inviting as his eyes overflowed with what appeared to be genuine concern. "How are you feeling? Much better, I trust?"

"Oh, you know, like I've just been trampled on by an angry mob of marauding dead people." My accusatory glare could have flattened skyscrapers. Lucifer's face fell, a flicker of hurt pulling on his brow and momentarily dulling the rainbow hues his eyes.

"Megan, you can't think that was my doing?" he pleaded.

"I saw them....your demons, or whatever the Hell they are. They were trying to stop me. They did stop me."

"Impossible. They could never lay a finger on you."

"They didn't have to. All they had to do was persuade the un-claimed to carry out their dirty work...your dirty work."

I wasn't entirely sure that accusing the Devil so vehemently was the smartest thing I could have done right then but my body still ached from invisible bruises and my head was whirling like a spinning top, sending waves of nausea into the pit of my stomach. I expected his rage and his wrath, but instead he averted his gaze for a moment, sucking gently on his lower lip and picking at the gilded frame with his long fingers as if struggling to know what to say in response.

When he looked up again, he nodded and shot me a brief and rather nervous-looking smile.

"I understand your anger and I appreciate how this must all seem to your eyes. It is just the way of things, you must see that? Michael has charged you with saving souls and taking them from Purgatory and it is the job of my....demons, as you so put it, to keep those souls here. They were.....overzealous in their efforts to impress me, I admit. But I swear that I never sanctioned any attack upon you."

My confusion deepened. Every second in Lucifer's company made me feel like the floor had vanished beneath me and I was plummeting from some terrible height, never managing to catch hold of anything to break my fall. Everything felt slightly out of sync when I was near him because he wasn't the man I expected him to be. He didn't talk like I expected. He didn't react in the way I expected. And he certainly didn't look anything like I had expected. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe all this would be easier to understand if he was more like the Devil he was meant to be instead of this vision of an indie rock god with a smile that could melt a glacier.

"Why did you save me?"

"Simple. I saved you because you needed saving."

I scowled. "That's not a reason."

Lucifer's face lit up in amusement. "I'm quite sure that it is. Although, maybe it might please you more if I was to say that I had an ulterior motive?

"It would neither please nor displease me. I just want the truth."

"Ah, spoken like a true angel. Stoic to the last."

I glared at him in frustration. "This is getting me nowhere. I think it's time I left..."

"No, no, please don't," Lucifer cried, looking genuinely distraught as he held out his hands to placate me. "Look, in all honesty, you were quite capable of saving yourself, although thanks to Michael, of course, you wouldn't have known that. So rather than see you suffer, I saved you. And yes, aside from holding no desire to see you come to harm, I did have an ulterior motive. One being that I get to spend more time in your company and other to get the opportunity to speak with you once more. Our last meeting was...regrettable to say the least, and I wanted the chance to explain."

"To explain why you let your demons torture Caelan?" I felt my heckles rise with the mere mention of her name.

His jaw clenched. "To explain why things are the way that they are. I would like the chance to tell the Devil's side of the story. Forget what you have been told, forget what biased scripture would have you believe and hear a different tale, a story of a very different creature to the one you have been taught about. I just request a chance to be heard, is that too much to ask?"

"For what purpose? Why do you even care what I think?"

"Because you are here for a reason and I want for you to make your decision about which path you take with your eyes completely open to the truth."

I snorted with derision. "So you can blind me with lies?"

"Megan, Megan, Megan," he said, laughing. "Always so suspicious. Still, I can't blame you. I am the Devil after all. Bringer of Plague and Pestilence. Prince of Lies, blah, blah, blah." He sighed, as his eyes washed over me. "You know, I like you. You have fire in your belly and I like that in a person. You're really rather intoxicating. I wonder, could you turn the Devil's head, little Megan Garrick? I would rather like to see you try. We would have fun, would we not?"

"You're mocking me."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I'm genuinely delighted. I make no bones of the fact that I enjoyed Michael's company immensely and I believe I'm going to enjoy yours very much too. In fact, I already do. There I said it!"

"Enjoyed?" I said, my inner alarm bells clanging against my rib cage. "You said enjoyed. Past tense."

Lucifer's eyes narrowed for a split-second. "Well, let's just say he hasn't visited in a while." The smile was back but there was a tightness in his expression as if the effort was becoming too much to maintain.

"Why not?"

He shrugged. "How should I know? I've come to realise over the many, many years, that there's very little point in trying to explain Michael's little quirks of behaviour. He is quite the enigma. A frustratingly, obstinate old fool, it has to be said, but nevertheless, an enigma. Still, it's very endearing and of course, why I still love him."

"You love Michael?" I scoffed.

"And why shouldn't I?" he retorted with an indignant scowl. "He is my brother. And for all our quarrels, he remains my brother. We may not always agree, but that doesn't mean my affection for him is ever diminished. Nor his for me. In fact, don't quote me on this, but I think I might just be his favourite." His scowl quickly morphed into a boyish grin.

"He is the leader of the Army of God, he helped cast you out and you're trying to tell me that he loves you still?"

Lucifer stretched out, relaxing into the curve of the chaise-lounge. "You know, I always find it terribly amusing when people who were never there claim to know so much about my fabled downfall."

"Then enlighten me."

He laughed warmly. "Oh I intend to. You know, you really are something of a firecracker, aren't you? I must say, I'm very pleased because so many of Michael's creations have been such dreadful bores. I was starting to think he was incapable of making anyone remotely interesting and then here comes little Megan Garrick with her scintillating wit and fearless questions."

"Wait," I said. "Creations? You mean there's more like me?"

"Oh Megan, did you think you were unique?" he said with a small pout, as if he were talking to a child. I bristled with irritation because that's just how I felt. I knew nothing about my creation or why Michael had done this and instead of sticking around to explain it to me himself, I was left to deal with the one person I was sure I should not be taking lessons from.

"I don't think I'm unique in the slightest," I shot back, my cheeks reddening with frustration. "So these others....where are they?"

"My dear, I haven't the foggiest." The mischievous glint in his eyes and the small smirk that danced at the edge of his lips told me otherwise. He knew. He just wasn't about to tell me. "They come, they go. Maybe they didn't meet his criteria for the job. You'd really have to ask him for all the details."

But I couldn't and he knew that I couldn't. "What do you mean about the others not meeting the criteria for the job? What job?"

Lucifer said nothing for a moment, but his rainbow eyes bored into me with such a weighty stare that I had to look away for fear of crumbling under the force of his gaze. One thing was for certain, I didn't believe him about the others. I wasn't even sure if he was telling the truth about their existence in the first place. Maybe that was the lie. Maybe I was the only one. Or maybe I was one of many. My head felt dizzy at the very notion of it all.

"You mean to say that you really don't know?" he said.

I chewed on my bottom lip, hating that I felt so utterly clueless about everything. It made me feel exposed and vulnerable and I was sure that was not a good combination to feel in Lucifer's presence.

Instead of crowing his triumph over Michael's dimwitted creation, Lucifer frowned and shot me a look of such sympathy that I was immediately befuddled by his reaction.

"What? No victory celebration?" I said with a sneer. "I would have thought you'd be dancing around the room right now on realising that Michael had managed to create someone totally clueless as to his intentions?"

"And why would I feel the need to celebrate that?" he replied, his face solemn. "Let me tell you something, Megan: I take care of what is mine. I do not leave it to wander alone in the wilderness. I cherish it. I nurture it. I do everything in my power to care for my own. And yes, it is because I desire their unrelenting loyalty in return, I will full admit that, but how can you expect to be loved when you do nothing to earn it? My subjects - for want of a better word, you understand - know that if they pledge their loyalty and faith in me, then I shall grant them what they want."

"Like your friend that was here just now?"

Lucifer nodded with a nonchalant shrug. "Yes, very much so. Lily does my bidding and in return, I give her the attention she craves. She loves me and I give her back that love ten-fold and more besides."

"So she does what you ask of her and for her troubles, she gets to lay with the Devil himself?"

"If it pleases her, yes. And it does please her."

"I'm sure," I said dryly.

"Don't be embarrassed, Megan," he said, laughing.

"I'm not embarrassed!"

"Of course you're not. And you also didn't just wipe your damp palms down your thighs either."

I looked down to find my hands on my lap, clutching my legs and radiating a sticky warmth through my jeans.

Lucifer leant forward and I almost shrank from the gleam in his eyes, not because it was threatening, but because it was too intense, too full of tempting heat. "Tell me," he crooned softly. "What were you thinking as you watched us?"

"I was thinking that you should get a room."

"With a bed big enough for three?" he smirked.

"No," I gasped.

"I do love how humans are so big on denial."

"Except I'm not human?"

He grinned, leaning back again. "No, you are an exquisite mix of angel and vampire. And as angelic as you might claim to be, your vampire side cannot be ignored. You are a creature of hunger and lust yet you still hold on to that irritating seed of human denial. Why is that, Megan? Would it really hurt you so much to admit your darkest desires? You care little for confessing your hunger for blood and yet you sit here in front of me blushing like a Catholic schoolgirl simply because you can't confess your sins and admit that there was a part of you that enjoyed watching Lily and me together. Maybe Michael has succeeded with you after all. You are so much more like him than the others. You live within constraints when deep down you wish that you could be free. You wish that you could walk over here and kiss me, just as Lily did."

"You're wrong," I growled, but as soon as I said the words, I was awash with images of me walking over to him, straddling his lap, inclining my head towards his and covering his mouth with my own. Blinking the image away, I rubbed at my tender temples and dared myself to look at him again, only to be met by his wicked grin and eyes that saw too much.

"Really?" he remarked. "Be mindful of that halo, my dearest. It's looking ever so slightly crooked from where I'm sitting. One push and I wager I could knock it right off that pretty little head of yours."

"Interesting that for someone who wants so much for his side of the story to be heard, you're doing your best to antagonise the one person who might listen?"

Lucifer slumped slightly against the chaise-lounge. "You're right, I'm sorry," he said, his face crumpling. "Please, Megan, I don't mean to offend you. I do want you to listen. It's half my problem, I'm afraid. I wanted Michael to listen. It's all I ever wanted really, but I always grew so frustrated at his refusal to admit the truth that I couldn't help but goad and tease him at every opportunity. It's a terrible failing of mine. And now you're here and you really are so like him with your spirit and your courage that I can't help but do the same to you, but I swear that I do not mean to antagonise you in any way. That is the last thing I would want. I'm a dreadful tease, I know. Old habits die hard, please forgive me?"

"Is this how it really is with you and Michael? Both sitting here, talking, like you're not eternal enemies?"

"Eternal enemies we might be, but we are brothers first and foremost and as I said, we have always enjoyed one another's company." He smiled wryly when he saw my bemused expression. "You don't believe me?"

"I'm not sure you're meant to enjoy each other's company?"

"Why on earth not? Michael and I have enjoyed one another's company for longer than you could ever imagine. We fight, we try to outwit one another, we scheme, we plot, we win, we lose, we lick our wounds and start the whole war over again, but regardless of that, when we leave it all to one side, we are quite capable of getting along. And believe it or not, we agree on more matters than you would think. The difference is that Michael chooses to live within constraints and I do not. It certainly does not mean he necessarily agrees with those constraints either, hence why you exist."

"If he doesn't agree, then why continue to be bound by his role?"

"Because he has an enormous sense of duty no matter whether he agrees or not. Michael would have you believe that he accepts our Father's bidding without question. Of course, that is not the case. He is an intelligent sentient being with a mind of his own. The difference is that he chooses to keep those questions to himself. I don't and never did, which is why I languish here."

I looked around, feeling that same thrill ripple over my skin as the first time my eyes coveted the realm in which we now sat. "You call this languishing?"

"Yes," hissed Lucifer, his face hardening. "If you could see where my brothers live, you would know this is nothing compared to the splendour of their world. I do not talk of riches and material things such as fine furnishings and books, I talk of a Kingdom that your imagination could not even begin to fathom! Do you want to know why I conjure realms such as this? It's because I cannot bear to see the world my Father created beyond these walls. I cannot bear the darkness and the misery. I cannot bear the pain and shadows."

"Pardon me, but you're the Devil. Isn't darkness, pain and misery meant to be your thing?"

"Do I look like the kind of creature that should live in darkness, Megan?" His features twisted with such pain that I suddenly felt a pang of sorrow for him that bubbled up inside before I could suppress it. After all, who feels sorry for the Devil?

"Is this your true form?" I said, my gaze wandering from his perfect flawless face, down to his chest which was still exposed under his unbuttoned shirt.

"What were you expecting?" he replied, with a smirk. "Horns, hooves and a pointy tail? I am an archangel. An ousted one, mind you, but an angel nevertheless. Given the opportunity to rise up you would see that my wings are just as beautiful as yours. Do you think I would have earned such a reputation for seducing people to join me if I was really the beast the Church would have you believe?"

"I suppose not, but if what you're saying is true, why would God create such a place as this? Out there, it's so...so awful, so terrible, why would He make so many wait there for judgment?"

"Because it is a test, Megan, can't you see that? He wants to know that they are worthy. He wants them to endure such darkness so they can prove they deserve a place in His Kingdom. This is their Judean desert. This is the wasteland of the Almighty. This is the place in which they must resist the temptations of the Devil before they are deemed worthy to ascend. A tad cruel, don't you think? You've seen it for yourself. You know the horrors it holds, how much they suffer. Does that seem like the work of a benevolent God to you?"

"It is your demons that torment them, your demons that torture and make them suffer!"

"My demons are what they are because of Him, because of this place. I did not make them like they are. The demons are product of a realm He created. I learned a very, very long time ago that I needed to enlist their help if I was ever to rise up again but I do not control how they go about their business. Their methods are questionable to say the least, but this is the deal that we have. The very nature of this place has made them what they are. Purgatory is a sickness, Megan and everyone who exists here risks being infected with the same terrible disease. It is a twisted realm meant for one thing and one thing only: to stop souls from ascending because they do not meet His standards of perfection. You see, the problem is, He created an imperfect world inhabited by imperfect creatures. He cannot control what they have become but He can control what happens to them after they die. Resist Lucifer, deny him his army and suffer your penance and you shall earn your place in Heaven. Fall into temptation and burn forever in darkness. What choice is that, I ask you? Why are some chosen and others doomed to remain here, when not a single creature is made perfect? I do not agree with the way in which souls come to be claimed by my subjects, but once under my wing, I can at least show them that imperfection is beautiful in my eyes."

Lucifer certainly had a talent for presenting a convincing argument, I couldn't deny that, but a worm of doubt was crawling its way through my gut as I mulled over what he had said. He had painted a very bold picture of himself as the guardian angel of Purgatory, protecting all those considered unworthy and yet he had expressed a clear intention to leave this place and rise up. I had seen the look in his eyes when he had spoken of Heaven. I had seen the flash of colour emblazoned across those rainbow irises and it was the same one I had seen as he had trailed his tongue along Lily's mouth. It was the same look he had blazed at me when attempting to cajole me to admitting my darkest fantasies. It was desire. Pure, unadulterated hunger for a world he had been denied. The question was, in whose name did he want to rise up? The souls he claimed he so desperately wanted to save? Or his own?

As if detecting my troubled thoughts, Lucifer spoke up. "You are struggling with this. I can tell. It's only natural. Years of religious doctrine has had a certain brainwashing effect on culture that I find incredibly difficult to eradicate."

"Maybe scripture has brainwashed the masses," I pondered. "Or maybe that is what you are attempting to do to me now? Let's face it, you need me to believe you. But I have this problem. You claim you want to right the wrongs that God has created here. You want to help the people that He has abandoned. I could get on board with that if it wasn't for the fact I know you want back in and not only do you want back in, but you are going to take it by force. What happens if you succeed, Lucifer? What does that make you? God? You can hardly put yourself out there as the saviour of souls if you plan to make yourself all powerful in the process. It doesn't strike me as the selfless act you are making out it is. You want more and maybe that's why you're here, because you always wanted more?"

He smiled. "Is there something wrong with wanting more? Did you not stray from the suffocating binds of your marriage because you wanted more?"

I blanched at his words, feeling them dig deep under my skin and take root far below the surface. The cushioned couch suddenly felt hard and unforgiving underneath me and the tension prickled along my collarbone, pulling the muscles in tight across my shoulders.

Lucifer leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together.

"Don't feel uncomfortable, Megan. It is not my intention to make you feel shame for your actions, instead I want you to see that is it perfectly natural to desire more. Allow me to let you in on a little secret. Everyone wants more. Everyone yearns for something more than what they have, even though we are taught to believe that we shouldn't. There is nothing we can do to prevent ourselves from always wanting more and do you know why? It is part of who we are. It is how He made us, because we are born of Him and that is who He is. Think about it. Day One, God creates the universe, light and darkness. He sits back, feeling proud of His achievement. It pleases Him. It's rather comely to the eye, but, it's not enough. He wants more. Day Two arrives, He divides the sky from the sea, etcetera, etcetera. How fabulous! Well done! But no, He desires even more. Day Three, well, you know the rest. And after Day Five, is He done? Has He finally satiated his need for more wonderful creations? No, because He wants to be adored for what He has created. He wants to be worshipped. He wants followers. He craves followers so what does He do? Why, He creates man of course! It really is quite simple: we yearn for more because He does. We crave because He craves. And yet, somehow, we should feel ashamed for wanting more? We should be reviled for it? We are led to believe that it demeans us and makes us unworthy. How is that fair?"

Each word, each syllable felt like it was being hammered into my skull. The dizziness from earlier was returning and I inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying to find something in his debate I could pick apart. There had to be some loose thread there, a seam I could deftly unravel because if I didn't, then I knew it was me that would become undone.

I rubbed at my sore neck, trying to release the tension that was culminating there and as I rolled my head on my shoulders, I caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of my eye, something I didn't recall seeing there before.

It was a mirror. A wide, full-length mirror hung on the wall between two of the never-ending bookcases.

Its frame was as black as oil and as my eyes travelled over it, the goosebumps rose on my skin, sending a prickling sensation stinging my flesh and making me rub my hands over my arms. My head felt heavy with a thickening fog and yet somewhere deep inside, I felt this nagging feeling that I was meant to remember something, and yet for the life of me, I could not recall what on earth that might be.

"Megan? Are you okay?" Lucifer's voice sounded so far away and I rubbed my eyes and tried to smile reassuringly.

"Yes, yes," I muttered, but I found my gaze drawn back to the mirror. "That mirror...." I trailed off, my words fading to nothing.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Lucifer said.

"Yes, it is beautiful." Yet as soon as I said the words, I knew I didn't mean it. The mirror wasn't beautiful. In fact, there was something about it that made my insides crawl like a hundred asps had infested my stomach and were wriggling and writhing in my gut. I opened my mouth to say it, but as I did, the door opened and Lily appeared, still wearing as little as she did before. She looked pointedly at Lucifer, ignoring me completely and Lucifer tutted, as if some unspoken words had passed between them that irritated him.

"Forgive me, Megan. I am needed elsewhere. I know you will wish to leave soon, but please stay a moment longer until I can return and bid you farewell."

With that he was gone, crossing the room and closing the door behind him, leaving me to try and shake the mist that had descended. I did want to leave. I needed to leave. There was something about this place that wasn't right. The attack had left me stunned and nursing my wounds, not all physical it had to be said, but the longer I had remained here, the more I had felt the nausea creeping in and taking hold. Maybe Lucifer was right. Maybe Purgatory was a sickness. Maybe this place was infecting me, just as it infected everyone else who was imprisoned here.

Megan.

On hearing the whisper, I stood up, too abruptly considering the fog that shrouded my head and I had to turn to catch hold of the back of the sofa to steady myself. My eyes widened as I stared directly into the mirror and saw nothing but the reflection of the room in the glass. I glanced behind me, checking that what I could see in the mirror was a perfect echo of Lucifer's library and seeing nothing out of place, nothing that led me to believe it wasn't the same room and yet when I looked back into the glass, there was one thing missing. Me.

Carefully, slowly, I approached the mirror. I already knew vampire myth about reflections in mirrors was simply that, a myth, a story and nothing more, and yet, I was not there. It was as if the room was completely empty.

I clutched at my hair, turning this way and that, waving at the glass as if it might help conjure my image, but still I did not appear. I was lost, my mind in turmoil. Covering my eyes with my palms, I wiped away the hot tears of confusion that blinded me.

Megan.

The voice was louder this time, as if the person was standing right behind me and I knew it. Oh God, I knew that voice! Lowering my trembling hands, I opened my eyes and moaned at the sight of the dark figure standing behind me. The torment of seeing him there, of seeing the pain clearly etched upon his features, made me clap my hand over my mouth to stifle the sob that erupted quickly and violently to the surface. He reached out and I knew that if he was here, if he was really here, in this room, I would feel his touch on my shoulder and the thought of that made the burning grief ravage my throat and chest. The tears tumbled down my face, the sobs too loud now to suppress.

When his hand broke though the mirror, making the glass ripple like concentric circles on water, I gasped, stumbling forward in shock at the sight of his arm now through to the elbow. On the other side, he mouthed my name over and over again and his voice continued to sound behind me, as if he was right here. He was pleading with me, his eyes full of tears that mirrored my own and I couldn't bear it a moment longer. Reaching out, I grasped his hand, noting how cold his skin was against mine and pulled hard, tugging him through the mirror with such force that we both tumbled to our knees in front of the rippling glass.

He was here. He was actually here, in this room, and I clutched him to me, feeling his body shiver violently as we wrapped our arms tightly around each other, as I buried my face into his neck and inhaled his scent, as I felt his long Mohawk tickle against my skin.

"Garrick," I cried. "Oh my god, Garrick!"